I’d applied for another job that I was so excited about, but I hadn’t heard back in so long that I figured they weren’t interested. But then I got an email the other day inviting me to complete an online assessment. I think online assessments are complete bullshit, but I still did it. Literally five minutes later, they called me to schedule an interview.

Without giving away too much, it’s for a company that is not known for apparel launching an apparel and accessories line. The job is lead that launch in terms of creative direction, licensing, design, marketing, etc. It sounded like a really big job and I was honestly shooting for the moon by even submitting my resume. I was genuinely surprised when they even wanted to bring me in for an interview.

After speaking with the recruiter, we scheduled my interview for Monday after work.

Valerie emailed me on Monday morning.

“Hi Reese,

We’ve spoken to all of your references except Scott. We can’t seem to get ahold of him. Is there another reference you can provide?

Thanks!”

I’d already spoken to Scott and asked for permission to use him as a reference. He’d happily agreed and said that the job sounded like a perfect fit for me. But apparently he didn’t actually want to help me after all. So I gave them another reference while thanking Scott for literally nothing at all.

The office I interviewed at was at a big brick building in Chelsea. I had to be buzzed in by the receptionist and I waited in the lobby for the recruiter to come fetch me. The lobby was small and cute with fresh flowers everywhere and a small desk area that housed the receptionist. Over to the side was a fully stocked coffee shop/bar.

“Please help yourself to coffee or tea,” the receptionist told me.

I thought about it, but it looked like the bar offered ceramic mugs rather than an accident-free paper cups. I decided not to risk it.

The recruiter came downstairs and got me – a cute brunette with a leather jacket draped over her shoulders. She led me upstairs to a glass enclosed office. I noticed that the office appeared to have that open concept like my current office has with everyone’s desks lined up in rows. There were huge picture windows lining a side wall, letting in a ton of natural light. All of the walls were brick and I noticed several mobile white boards filled with ideas scattered everywhere.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water? Kombucha?” the recruiter asked.

Okay, fine. “I’ll have a water.”

She came back with a glass of water and let me know my interviewer would be with me shortly.

“Shortly” ended up being 20 minutes. Eventually a cute middle aged woman sauntered in. She had a black lob, chunky heeled mules, and again, a leather jacket draped over her shoulders.

“Hi Reese. Thank you so much for coming in to meet us today,” she said. “I’m Angie, the director of marketing here. Why don’t you start by telling me a little bit about yourself?”

There’s no such thing as a “little bit” about me and I launched into a full rundown of my education and work background. I always have a lot to say. Angie smiled and took notes in her Moleskin and didn’t interrupt my spiel.

“And what are your career aspirations?” she asked next.

Ah, the one thing I didn’t cover. I didn’t give her a specific role, but told her what I liked doing and what I want to be doing eventually.

Angie closed her notebook. “And what questions do you have for me?”

Uhh, all the questions! Since it seemed like there was a huge chunk of the interview missing (where was the introduction?) I spent the next hour and a half asking her questions (Can you tell me more about the role? Who would I be reporting to? What were their goals for this project? What team was bringing this to life?) I’ve never had an interview like that.

Once I’d asked every question I could think of, Angie asked, “Do you have time to meet with one more person today?”

Knowing that the walker had taken Tucker out just a few hours prior, I said I could. She left and a couple minutes later, a tall bald man joined me in the little conference room.

“I’m Frank! How are you?” he greeted me with a strong handshake. Before I could answer his apparent rhetorical question, he said, “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

Again? I went back into my spiel, but a condensed version because Frank didn’t seem like he wanted to hear my fluff. And he was taking notes and watching me with a steely gaze the whole time.

Once I was finished, he said, “We’d really like the person in this role to be creative and innovative which it seems like you are. We are asking candidates to do a take home project. We want you to create a top, bottom and and an accessory that is all a part of a cohesive line. We ask that you to come up with a logo and a tag line that would be used throughout the marketing in conjunction with the ‘launch.’ Do you think you can handle that by Friday?”

Ooo, a project. I let him know that Friday was plenty of time and I was excited about the challenge.

“Good,” Frank said, getting up to leave. He slid a card across the table to me. “Email me when you are proud of what you come up with. And I’m available if you have any questions.”

I left the interview really excited for a chance to prove what I could do. I don’t have any experience designing apparel, but the project was really about what design/logo was on the clothing, not so much the actual silhouette. And I could fumble my way around InDesign and Illustrator enough to create something amazing.

Brady was already home when I got home. He was sitting at the dining room table on a video conference call on his laptop. A warning would have been nice because you could clearly see me walking in in the background of his screen. But maybe it’s a good thing. Let the gals know he’s off limits.

Brady came and found me folding laundry after his call.

“Hey. I might be able to work from home on Monday evenings,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied, not exactly sure where he was going with this.

“So we can spend more time together.”

Wait. That was cute.

“But if you’re working, we won’t be spending time together,” I pointed out.

“I’ll be able to get more work done with less distractions and it’ll eliminate my commute time. I’m hoping by the time you get home, I’ll be wrapping things up and we will have the whole evening to look forward to.”

I smiled like a maniac, touched that he’d put so much thought into it.

We got changed and went to an Italian restaurant nearby for dinner.

“Would you want to go Philadelphia this weekend?” Brady asked.

“Hmmm, I dunno. Why? Do you want to go?” I replied.

I haven’t spoken to Carly in a few weeks because she’s just so busy. She posts pictures and videos of the baby on Instagram everyday talking about how happy and lucky she is to have such a perfect daughter. She’s one of those “I can’t believe my little princess is 5 months old. She loves applesauce, morning snuggles and being the sweetest angel in the world,” kinda people. But then she’ll randomly message me and Kendra in our group chat complaining about how tired and overwhelmed and miserable she is. She isn’t even back at work.

“Chris mentioned it and I thought it might be a fun trip. It’s up to you though. If you’d rather stay in the city, we can,” Brady said.

“No, I think we should go.” I figured it’d be nice to see a friend and especially a friend like Carly because I really do miss her. I feel like we’ve grown apart the past few years and it’s sad, but since we are less than two hours away from each other now, maybe we can rekindle our friendship.

On Tuesday, Brady texted me letting me know that he was going to watch the election results at a bar and did I want to come? Nerdy, but I said I’d go. We had dinner at the bar with Brady’s friends and they literally just wanted to watch the voting coverage. I got bored and started bothering people in my phone. I actually didn’t even realize that I sent Nick a picture of my purse, vegan buffalo wings and beer until he responded.

“Looks like you’re having a good night! Can I see your face?”

I happily sent back a serious-face selfie with my red lipstick.

“Taking selfies again?” Brady asked me.

“It’s for my mom,” I fibbed.

Nick took a screenshot of the picture I sent him and then he didn’t even respond. Whatever, dude. Enjoy masturbating to my selfie.