Step One and Other Thoughts

It was the day of my very first interview for an internship. I wore a dress I no longer love (polka dots), and shoes that I still adore (I'm a BCBG devotee). I changed in a campus washroom after class and skipped toward the home of both of my future internships. I was scheduled to meet with a Promotions Manager. We had spoken over the phone and via email, and I was confident that this would be a big day for me. I stepped off the elevator excited and not at all nervous. This was going to happen for me. Beyond the glass doors was a cheerful receptionist who asked me to wait. I shoved my oversized bag under my seat, hoping the fashionable editors walking by didn't notice it. As a commuter, my black bag was stuffed with books, clothes, food and other essentials. The receptionist made a few calls and then we both sat in silence. After a while she told me that the Promotions Manager had left early because she was sick. I didn't know what to do, but immediately recognized that the receptionist felt really bad for me. Did I look that hopeful, or rather hopeless?

Finally she got on the phone and called the Fashion & Beauty Editor. She wanted my trip to at least be worth my while. Thinking this could be a break for me, I took out my resume and waited. When a woman with dark curly hair came rushing down the hall, I realized that my supposed "opportunity" was completely disrupting this editor's day. I handed her my resume, immediately embarrassed that it had my retail experience on it. It was clear that I was standing there, in a polka dotted dress, wasting her time. She looked up at me and asked me to write my email on it (Oh dear, how could I forget to include it?). With that she turned back toward the office and I realized that there was no way I was going to hear from her. 

Though I landed the Promotions internship, I never got the chance to work with her. I leaped at the chance to help her when the Editorial Intern was busy with other tasks. I respected her and dreamt of having the chance to assist her with editorial. Her writing still stands out to me and the fact that she blogs is just an added bonus. In one entry she discussed her views on being called "soooo Sex and the City," and just happened to read my mind. 

"Don't be mistaken, I've seen the show. I've seen the movie. If there is in fact a sequel, I will see that too. Why? 'Cause it's pretty. I watch it for the same reason I watch Doris Day and Rock Hudson movies: the colours are brilliant, the clothing is smart and the men are dashing. But it is neither groundbreaking nor brain teasing. It's eye candy." -- Freelance Writer, Marilisa Racco on Sex and the City, from her blog, The Chic Storm

Thank you, Ms. Racco for pointing out that going out for drinks with friends doesn't make you Carrie Bradshaw. I love this post and smiled at the Doris Day mention. Not only do I own Pillow Talk, but I even let it play on mute while I tidy my room sometimes. 

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