Chapter 3 - Still Anni

I’m the Country Director. Second post in Ecuador. Sitting here in the presidential palace, coffee steaming in front of me, cookies I won’t touch but can’t deny are pretty damned tempting. My nametag rests on the table—silent, official. I’m in a meeting that feels like the first step into a world I’ve been trying to navigate for months.

On the way here, in the motorpool of the Ambassador, I was already sweating the shoes I brought. Too big. Way too big. My feet kept slipping out with every step through the guard station, and I swear the guards were politely pretending not to notice. I didn’t want to look like an idiot, so I quietly stole a few sheets from my notebook—discreetly shoved them into the shoes, trying to make them fit. Miraculously, it worked. Go figure. Still Anni—still figuring it out, still fighting to keep my footing.

I sit as ladylike as I can manage—standing straight, shoulders back, trying to look confident even though inside I’m a whirlwind. I remember to smile for the photographer, because this is the moment I’m supposed to own.

Across the table, more nametags—more stories. There’s the young guy, here because of some connection, probably expecting to impress. I’m the second youngest here, in front of him. An older woman trying not to nod off, a brown-noser who’s way too obvious with his eagerness, and a woman scribbling notes, probably hoping not to be called on.

And then—she walks in. The Vice President of Ecuador. The real deal. Here we go.