Authors: Olivia Besse
“The most important one of all.”
“Agreed.”
Max let out a low whistle. “Those are a lot of rules, Benson.”
“Well, we have a lot of crap to take care of, Fletcher.”
“I think there’s something else that I’d rather take care of right now,” he said, smirking at her suggestively as he moved the tray to the floor and slowly pulled the blanket away from her.
“Max!” Riley shrieked, crossing her arms over her exposed chest.
“Look who’s breaking rule #2 now,” Max teased as he leaned in closer.
“I hate you,” she grumbled, scrunching her nose in embarrassment.
“And I like you,” he replied with a crooked smile.
“You’re breaking rule #7,” Riley whispered, gulping down the tiny lump that had formed in her throat as covertly as she could.
“Don’t care,” he mumbled as he gently brought his lips to hers.
And, as Riley’s eyes fluttered closed, it became very apparent that none of the rules ever really mattered anyway.
––––––––
“R
iley Benson?”
“Yes! I mean, here! Er, I mean, yes, that’s me!”
The receptionist gave Riley a comforting smile and motioned for her to follow. “Right this way.”
Good going, fuckwad
, Riley groaned to herself, plastering an overzealous smile on her face before scampering after the pantsuit-clad woman.
Just calm your ass down and try not to ruin the rest of this interview, got it?
Just as he had promised, Max had helped Riley create her “real-life, grown-up” résumé, complete with her very own professional letterhead. Armed with the impeccably formatted document, she had been determined to master the delicate art of the job search and find the perfect post-graduate position for herself. Once she had scrolled through a variety of job boards, however, Riley had come to the crippling realization that she wasn’t actually qualified for most of the entry-level jobs that had been posted.
“Three years of experience?” she had groaned out to Liz in disbelief. “How is that fucking entry-level?”
“Didn’t you hear? ‘Entry-level’ is the new ‘experienced,’ and ‘unpaid internship’ is the new ‘entry-level,’” Liz had replied with a smirk. “Life’s just great, isn’t it?”
“Well, what are you going to do? Shouldn’t you start looking for a job too?”
Liz had merely let out a tired sigh, shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “I’m waiting to hear back from a few grad schools. If those don’t work out, then I guess I better start looking soon.”
“Grad school?” Riley had blurted out in confusion. “Since when did you plan on going to grad school?”
Has everyone been planning out their futures this whole time?
Riley had frantically wondered to herself as Liz proceeded to explain the graduate school admissions process to her.
What if all of the jobs are taken already? What the hell am I going to do?
Fuck, I better get a move on.
And so, going against Max’s advice, Riley had resorted to binge-applying to hundreds of listings, not even bothering to read through some of the descriptions before attaching her résumé and clicking the submit buttons. After all, the odds of a hiring manager calling her back was undoubtedly higher with every additional opening that she applied to, right?
After what felt like an endless parade of failed phone interviews, Riley had started to lose hope. No matter how many practice questions she reviewed or answers she memorized, she always felt unprepared for the routine series of lame prompts that the bored recruiters prattled out over the line. Most of the telephone screenings ended in her mumbling out pathetic answers, her voice cracking and concentration wavering as her nerves took over. And, even following those rare occasions that she felt she had done well, she was disappointed to find that she never heard a peep from those companies again.
But it seemed as though her strategic applying had paid off, as one very well-known advertising company in particular had adamantly requested that she come in for an interview as soon as possible.
Eek! I’m going to be like a modern day female Don Draper
, she had squealed to herself in delight upon skimming over the e-mail they had sent one early Monday morning.
I’m going to need a whole new wardrobe! I wonder if that office does Casual Fridays...
“Have a seat. Brian will be with you in a moment,” his assistant informed her upon greeting her inside of a large conference room. “Can I get you any water? Tea?”
“No, thank you,” Riley tittered out with a bright grin on her face as the young girl nodded her head and left the room. Once the door had clicked shut, she immediately let out the anxious sigh she had been holding since stepping foot into the office building’s shiny lobby.
Don’t mess this up
, she instructed herself, clasping her hands together before awkwardly dropping them to her sides, ultimately proceeding to rest them gently atop the leather-bound portfolio sitting on her lap.
Legs crossed? No, just plant your feet on the floor. Wait, cross your legs at your ankles
—
Fuck! What are you doing? Who cares! Okay, let’s go over this again. If he asks you to give a brief introduction, tell him that you’re a Communications Major who’s graduating this upcoming June, and that you’re eager to start your career in advising. No, not
advising,
stupid! Advertising!
Oh God, it’s hot in here.
Should
I have asked for water? Ugh, my voice is going to crack, isn’t it? Dammit, Benson, you should’ve fucking asked for water! And why did you pick
this
chair? How awkward! You should’ve sat down in the one over
there.
Should I move?
Agh, forget the damn chair. Moving on. Where do you see yourself in ten years? As an Advertising Associate? Crap, what’s the title for a manager at this company? Senior Associate? Associate Director? Why didn’t you look this up before you came?
God, I’m so unprepared. Whatever, I’m just going to have to wing it. Okay, so, greatest weakness? Shit, what was my greatest weakness again? Paying too much attention to detail? No, that wasn’t it. What did that article say again? Was it setting too many
—
“Riley?” a man’s cheerful voice called out, breaking her out of her thoughts. “Brian Johnson. Great to meet you.”
Plastering a saccharine smile onto her face, Riley shot up from her chair and reached her hand out to shake his extended one. “Hello, Mr. Johnson,” she began in as firm of a voice as she could muster. “Thank you very much for meeting with me today.”
“Thank
you
for coming in,” the impeccably groomed man in front of her replied as they both took their seats. Shooting her another toothy grin, he plucked her résumé from the pile of papers in his hand and leaned back in his chair. “I must say, I was very pleased when your résumé landed on my desk.”
You were?
“You’ve got quite the list of accomplishments here. I think you’d make a great addition to the team,” he continued, scanning her résumé with interest. “But before we start, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself?”
Riley gave a little nod before gently clearing her throat. “Well, as you can see, I majored in Communication Studies and am planning to graduate this upcoming June. I’ve always been interested in advertising, and I’ve taken a few courses in Media Strategies and Mass Communication—”
“Wait a minute,” he interrupted, a slightly perplexed frown on his face. “It says here that you graduated last year?”
“Last year?” Riley repeated in confusion.
Brian peered at her curiously. “With an MBA from Stanford?”
“Stan...ford...?”
“Are you not Riley Gorschowitz?”
Who the hell is Riley Gorschowitz?
After surveying the stricken look on Riley’s face, Brian let out a low whistle. “I apologize. There must have been some sort of clerical error or misunderstanding down in HR. I, uh... ha, this has never happened before.”
Riley gave off her best attempt at an easygoing laugh, though it just came out from her mouth as a warbled wail of some sort.
“Well, since you’re here, I could still tell you a bit about the company,” Brian offered, an awkward smile on his face. “We’re a digital media advertising firm with a number of offices around the globe...”
Oh. My. God
, she moaned to herself, barely paying attention as Brian blabbered on about what a great agency it was.
I
knew
this was too good to be true! But, seriously, what the fuck? Is this a joke? How does this even happen? Is the universe playing a prank on me?
“We have people from all sorts of backgrounds on our team, from analysts to strategists to researchers,” he was saying. “All with many years of experience, though, of course,” he seemingly felt the need to add, as if to reiterate to Riley that she wasn’t fit to fill any of the open positions at hand.
Make it stop
, she pleaded to no one in particular as she nodded along to his spiel.
Please, just make it stop so I can go home and cry into my tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream.
“We
do
have internship opportunities available,” Brian hinted, shooting her an encouraging smile. “Unfortunately, all of the spots for the summer
have
been filled, but I’d be more than happy to keep your résumé on hand should any future positions open up in the internship program.”
Great, I’m not even eligible to be a fucking intern
, Riley grumbled as she nodded good-naturedly at his proposal. “That sounds great,” she chirped out, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as her butt grew numb. “And thank you
so
much for taking the time to tell me more about the agency. It seems like a very good place to learn a lot about every aspect of the advertising industry.”
Blah, blah, blah, who the fuck cares
, she screamed in her head as the words tumbled out of her mouth, disgusted with herself for acting like such a sycophant to this person who couldn’t care less.
Just excuse me so we can both go on our ways. Come on, Brian! There’s no need to be this cruel!
“Great,” Brian said, seemingly reading her mind as he slowly rose up from his chair. “Again, I’m
very
apologetic about the misunderstanding. And I’ll
definitely
forward your résumé to the internship coordinator,” he added before shaking her hand once again and leading her to the door. “It really
is
a great program!”
I am going to be unemployed and miserable
, Riley mused once she was slumped against the corner of the elevator.
I’m going to become one of those girls in my mid-twenties who floats from internship to internship, surviving on dollar menu tacos and the salt of my own tears
, she lamented as the sound of her heels clicking against the cold marble tiles of the lobby echoed in her ears.
If I can even
get
a fucking internship in the first place.
Fuck. Why couldn’t my last name just be Gorschowitz?
––––––––
“Y
ou don’t need to beat yourself up about it. It’s not like it was
your
fault.”
“It was the shittiest feeling ever,” Riley groaned as she rolled around miserably. “I
literally
exploded when he said ‘Stanford.’”
“Okay, I’m not sure if you understand what the term, ‘literally,’ means, but—”
“Max, what am I going to do? I’m going to be unemployed!”
“First of all, stop applying to jobs that you’re not qualified for, because then you’re just wasting your own time and energy,” Max began with a smirk as he turned around in his desk chair. “Second, only apply to things that appeal to
you
. You’re going to end up hating whatever job you get anyway, so you might as well hate it a little less because it’s interesting.”
“I guess...”
“Third, you need to stop freaking out during your interviews.”
“How?” Riley cried out, resting her head on his pillow. “I turn into a mess whenever someone even
mentions
that word. My throat tightens up and my heart beats faster and my hands get clammy and I forget everything that I’m trying to say—”
“Sounds like love to me,” Max joked in a whimsical tone.
“Shut up,” Riley grumbled under her breath. “I just
suck
at interviews.”
“Why?” Max asked with a shrug. “Interviews are stupid. They’re just tests to see which candidate’s the best at bullshitting for that allotted period of time. Just tell them everything that they want to hear.”
“Well, when you put it
that
way...”
“Why do you get so scared anyway? It’s just another human being on the other side of the desk.”
“A
powerful
human being,” she reminded him.
“Not really. Just imagine that it’s Audrey you’re talking to, or something.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m mentally retarded!”
“Look, if you get an offer for a phone screening, they’re already partially convinced that you wouldn’t totally fuck up on the job,” Max explained. “The whole point of the phone interview is to find ways to ding you. You just have to find ways to prove them wrong.”
“How can I prove the other person wrong when I’m too busy having a nervous breakdown?” Riley moaned as she buried her face into the pillow.
“By not having nervous breakdowns,” Max teased before turning back to his computer.
“Do you think I’ll
ever
get a real-life interview?” she asked with a heavy sigh. “One that’s actually meant for me, I mean.”
“Once you stop scaring off your phone interviewers, sure,” Max replied. “Getting passed on to the in-person round is the hardest part. But after that? Easy.”
“How so?”
“Well, at that point, they’re already aware that you have the skills to get the job done. They just want to meet you to make sure that you’re not creepy or insane,” he told her, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement as he did. “Actually, maybe it won’t be so easy for you, then.”