Like Real People Do

White Chocolate Mocha

The one where one door closes and another one opens.

//

Ultimately, it was the white chocolate mocha that was my downfall.

Because I got to the building early, I stopped by the coffee shop in lobby, but the line was so long that by the time I actually got my drink, I had about five minutes to chug it down before heading towards the elevators.

I really should have known better than to rapidly consume a drink that rich. My stomach was already churning from nerves and the massive amounts of sugar only unsettled it further. Maybe if I hadn't indulged my coffee habit, I wouldn't have started to feel nauseous in the midst of the interview with one of the most prestigious architecture firms in New York. And maybe I wouldn't have then proceeded to empty the contents of my stomach into the interviewer's trash can.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't get the job.

"You don't know that for sure," my older sister, Leona, always the optimist, reassured me on the phone as I tucked my feet beneath me and sank into the couch with a much needed glass of chilled white wine, despite the fact that it was currently one in the afternoon.

"Oh, I know. It was catastrophic," I nodded for my own benefit, turning up the melodrama. "I'm talking like blood spilled no survivors catastrophic."

I could practically hear her eyes rolling. Twenty-five years of being my sister still hadn't accustomed her to my propensity for dramatics. "Oh, come on, Cece. You gotta think positive. Maybe they understood because it happens all the time."

I highly doubted that. Though, the partner with whom I had interviewed hadn't thrown me out after I'd filled her trash can with the contents of my stomach. She'd simply asked her assistant to come take it away and then allowed me to continue. Which was incredibly sweet of her, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to get over that level of embarrassment, especially since it happened in front of someone who would be my future boss. I couldn't work for someone I'd never be able to look in the eyes.

"That actually wasn't the worst part," I admitted, leaning back against the arm of the couch and taking another gulp of wine. Amazingly enough, my demonstration of my upchuck reflex hadn't been the most unsettling part of the entire interaction.

"What are you talking about?" Leona sounded skeptical, which was understandable considering everything I'd just told her.

"Well," I sighed, preparing myself to weave a tragic tale. "She asked me why I wanted to be an architect and I had no idea how to answer."

"That's bullshit," she replied. "You've known exactly what you've wanted since mom and dad give you that Lego set for your sixth birthday."

Technically, she was right. I'd set my mind to being an architect at a young age and every educational moment which followed was working towards that goal. I'd breezed through undergraduate and graduate school and had been ready to take my place at the firm I'd dreamed about working at for years and one interview question had derailed everything.

But what if my focus had been the problem? What if channeling all of my energy into one thing for the majority of my lifetime had caused me to miss the bigger picture? What if choking during this interview was a sign that my life was meant to go in a different direction?

I believed in fate. I believed that everything happened for a reason. And right now, the events of the past few hours were indicating that I had somehow gotten sidetracked and that there was something bigger in store for me than working at a prestigious architecture firm.

"I think, maybe, I just need some time to regroup," I said slowly, hoping she would understand. Despite only being three years older than me, Leona was more inclined to be protective, a side of her I absolutely adored and appreciated now - though when we were kids, it annoyed the hell out of me.