After Life

46

"Thank you for coming in, Miss Jennings," an older woman, with an unfortunately lopsided haircut smiled at me. "I know you have other interviews this week, but I seriously hope you consider coming to work with us."

"Thank you for seeing me," I smiled in return, taking the hand she offered. In my free hand, I tucked my portfolio into my bag, trying to carry out the act gracefully. "I only have one interview left, for tomorrow. Hopefully then I will be able to take some time to consider my options."

The woman laughed, folding her hands in front of her. "Well, I hope our position will be one of those considerations. Your work is quite impressive."

"Thank you. I will definitely be giving my full consideration to any positions offered, I assure you."

"Just let us know your decision, one way or another, by early next week if you could. You are certainly our first choice, but if you chose another avenue, we have other wonderful prospects to consider."

"I will," I assured her with a nod. "Thank you again for seeing me."

With that, I was ushered down a short hallway to a waiting elevator, which whisked me down to the lobby of yet another busy high rise.

This had been my fourth interview this week, and so far each one had indicated that they wished to offer me an opportunity, asking me to follow up with my decision within the next week. I was reeling under all the possibilities, from magazines, to upscale studios. I had figured I would have one or two options to choose from when graduating. At no point had I considered the scale in which I would be facing.

Word of my final project, both through those who had viewed it directly through attendance at the exhibit the week before, and apparently through the proverbial grape vine of those within the industry, had made the rounds. Over the two days following the exhibit itself, I had received three other calls from prospective employers, asking to meet with me.

In total, I had five interviews this week, the last of which being with Mike Ward and National Geographic tomorrow. Each interview was completely different, each opportunity requiring me to tailor and revamp my portfolio to suit its specific focus. From fashion, to lifestyle, to a little bit of everything. Each night this week I had spent going over and over my photographs, pulling out some to be replaced by others. As if I wasn't nervous enough at the fact so many people were considering my work, I also had to be astute to what it was they would want to see.

So far, each job offered something different. Each one had aspects that were positive, and others that made me question if it was right for me. One, while a great studio, was on the complete other end of the city, and I had no doubt that the commute would be hell on a daily basis. Also, it left little in the way of travel, and although I understood the chance to do so while starting out was usually limited, it was something I was striving for.

Another offered the chance to document scenes all over the country, the travel being extensive. That too was a great opportunity, a high scale magazine looking for a new take on National events. But the man interviewing me made me incredibly uncomfortable when he spent more time staring at my chest than my portfolio.

Turning the corner of the block in the direction of home, I felt tired and worn. I knew I should be enjoying the experience, and be ecstatic that so many possibilities were being offered to me. But I just couldn't seem to let myself immerse in it completely, as a small part of my mind was always elsewhere.

More namely, on Harry.

He had gotten the job in Seattle, and other than the occasional text, I had heard very little from him this week. He had received documents via email the day following the call confirming his hire, of which he was to review, complete, sign and fax back to secure his spot. Once that was done, it was official. He was leaving.