He smiled.

“After sleeping in my car, I think I can worry a little less about your safety. I’ll give you a ride.”

I should have said no.

But walking alone in the city at that hour was not a good idea.

—Okay. But if it turns out he’s a serial killer, I’m going to be furious.

—Noted.

He banged on the glass separating him from the driver.

—Ricardo, we can go

The car glided through the avenues of Mexico City with a smoothness that no shared Uber could match.

“Why are you so tired?” she asked.

—Full-time career. Two jobs. I sleep four or five hours if I’m lucky.

—That’s not sustainable.

—Life is not the same for everyone.

—No. But you shouldn’t destroy yourself either.

When we arrived at my modest building, I noticed how he was carefully observing the streets.

I was about to go downstairs when he said:

—I need a personal assistant. The salary is high. Flexible hours.

I froze.

“What?”

He pulled a card from his jacket.

“Someone to organize my schedule, answer emails, coordinate my house when I travel. And you clearly need a job that won’t kill you.”

—I don’t need charity.

—It’s not charity. It’s a fair deal.

I took the card

Gabriel Albuquerque — CEO