Page 44 of Can't Stop Now
“Just stop. It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it anymore,” Will said, his eyes looking slightly pained again. “We’re almost to the hotel, right? How much longer does the GPS say? My interview starts in an hour.”
“GPS says we’ll be there in about 30 minutes. You should be fine. You’re gonna do great, Will, I know it,” Jacob said. He fought back the choked-up feeling that had returned, swallowing and staring out the window again. The sun was shining behind a big mountain on the horizon, and the green landscape of Colorado had given way to the dry desert of Santa Fe. Jacob felt a bittersweet loneliness sink in, meeting the guilt that was already there.
Twenty-Four
Will
Will fumbled nervously at the desk in the hotel room, doodling on a little notepad that was provided in the room. They had just made it to the hotel and checked in, and his phone interview was set to start in three minutes. Jacob had graciously gone downstairs to the bar in the hotel lobby so that Will could have privacy. The day had been a whirlwind, his head ached, and Will just wanted to do his best, and get the interview over with.
The phone rang exactly three minutes later.Here we go, Will said to himself, wiping his hands on his jeans and then answering his phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this William Stetson?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Hi William, this is Marcy Medgrove with Stellaria Incorporated. You’re interviewing for the position of Graphic Illustrator with the new Stellaria Magazine imprint, correct?”
“That’s right. Gareth passed along my information,” Will said, hoping his voice didn’t sound too nervous.
“Gareth? Gareth who?” the interviewer asked curtly.
Shit, Will realized he didn’t know Gareth’s last name.
“Gareth, from Cleveland. I met him at the art festival and he passed along my portfolio to Stellaria.”
“I see. Okay William, I have a few questions for you tonight, it really shouldn’t take long. Firstly, how many years of experience do you have with producing designs for media, specifically on a tight schedule?” she asked, her voice clipped and short. Will could hear the sound of her typing something on the other end of the phone, and he wondered if she was even really paying attention to the phone call.
“Oh, well, I just graduated with a degree in Fine Arts, and during my time, I often had to juggle multiple projects at once, all with tight deadlines. I never missed a single deadline throughout my four years,” Will said, nervous.
“I see. So, specifically with media, print or digital, for publications, what experience do you have?”
“Well, as of yet, I have nothing published, but my whole portfolio is available on my website. We had many courses that focused on print and digital media, so I’m familiar with what is expected and am very comfortable with quick deadlines,” Will said, probably speaking too fast, and feeling like he wasn’t really saying anything of substance.
“Alright, William. What can you tell me about your online marketing skills?”
“Marketing. Well, in school I did focus more on the artistic side of the business, making sure that my illustrative skills were honed before delving into marketing. But I do have experience with social media, and one account where I post videos of my illustrations has over fifty thousand followers,” Will said.Is social media even considered online marketing?he thought. He felt his heart sinking as the interview went on, and he noticed he was sweating. She asked him a few more questions, and he answered with varying levels of confidence as the phone call went on.
“Okay. Lastly, William, I want to ask how you think your vision as an artist would fit in with our process at Stellaria.”
Will answered to the best of his ability, trying to stuff in as many art world buzzwords as he could, hoping to impress the interviewer. He had a feeling he was doing exactly the opposite. She finally, mercifully, ended the call, and he hung up. He put his head down into his hands, resting on the tabletop.
He knew he had bombed. He wasn’t expecting the call to be so businesslike, and had expected the interviewer to ask more about his technical painting and drawing skills than his business and marketing acumen. He remembered what so many of his professors in school had said, how art was more about selling yourself than about being technically skilled, and he realized just how right they were.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, taking a deep breath and leaning backward in his chair.Oh well, he thought, maybe they’ll be desperate enough and I’ll get the job. But inside he knew it probably wouldn’t happen.
He rubbed at his eyes, thinking of how shitty the day had turned out so far. He had woken up alone in bed with a hangover, then Jacob had dropped the bomb on him about his ex-girlfriend Carrie. Will still couldn’t really believe it, even though he had apologized to Jacob.Of course, right after I let him fuck me, he turns around and says he’s getting back with his girlfriend, Will thought, feeling his thoughts spiral into sadness again. He took a deep breath, his mind racing.
Screw it, he thought, deciding to go down to the bar and meet up with Jacob. He couldn’t be happy, successful, or find a guy who would ever actually commit to him, but he could forget his sorrows through drinking. He knew it was ridiculous, but he didn’t know what else to do at the moment. He made a mental note to himself to stop drinking so much once this trip was over.
He went out through the hallway and walked down to the hotel lobby. The hotel was distinctly southwestern, with Adobe-style decor. If it had been under better circumstances, Will thought that he’d probably love being here. He found the small bar and saw Jacob sitting at the other side of it, nursing a beer. An attractive brunette was sitting a few seats away from him.Great, Will thought bitterly, maybe Jacob can hook up with her tonight, but he immediately felt bad for thinking that way about Jacob.
Will sat on the other end of the bar, and ordered a gin and tonic. He knew Jacob could probably see him clearly from the other side of the bar, but after earlier today and then the catastrophic phone interview, he just wanted to be alone.
He stared down at his phone, drinking and mindlessly scrolling through social media. He scrolled through announcements of his friends’ new jobs, fun summer adventures, one couple posting pictures from their engagement.
“Well, con-graaatulations,” Will muttered under his breath, bitter at the contrast of everyone else’s apparent success compared to his own failure. He ordered his second drink and saw a figure sit down at the seat next to his.