by Jack Harbon
“Uh… are you sure this is the place for me?” he asked. He wasn’t sure he’d want Yellow Fall on his resume if it was still putting out ads like that one.
“Well, the CEO reportedly fired everyone on the team for that project, and from what I can see, he’s done a total revamp of the company. They’ve had some pretty successful ones. The Christmas advert for Forever 21. The blowout sale for Hamilton and Hale. If you ask me, he’s made up for that—pardon my French—bullshit.”
“If you’re sure they’re not going to ruin my other job opportunities…”
“All I’m saying is, you should think about it,” Ira said. “They don’t say what the position is for, but I’m thinking it’s an assistant or something. I only heard about it through word of mouth. Super selective. You know how it is.”
“Yeah,” Kit said absently. He skimmed a few more paragraphs on the website before he closed the computer. “Well, thank you so much for letting me know, Ira. I’ll let you know what I’ve decided in a bit, alright?”
“Definitely. Have a nice night!”
“You too.” Kit hung up his phone and stood. He was surprised to see two sets of eyes on him when he walked back into the kitchen.
“What was that about?” Trish asked.
“Damn, nosy,” he teased. “Ira called me to let me know that Yellow Fall is looking for an assistant. Well, he didn’t tell me what exactly the position was, but that I’m probably qualified for it. Entry level.”
“Yellow Fall?” Trish huffed. She shook her head vehemently. “Turn it down.”
“Trish,” Bria exclaimed. “I know you don’t see it for them at all, but Kit needs a job. Unless you want to start pitching in more money for rent and food?”
Trish glared at both of them before sighing.
“It’s not like I’m going to start working for them and suddenly hate women,” Kit offered.
She shot his optimistic comment down with an eye roll. “Doesn’t mean you won’t be working for a bullshit company.”
“All companies are bullshit, Trish. Eat the rich.” When she didn’t smile at his joke, he added, “Okay, how about this. I wait and see if any of the other places I applied are interested, and if not, I’ll check out Yellow Fall?” He knew that when Trish formed an opinion, there was no way she’d change her mind quickly. She was hardheaded and stubborn, but that was just another part about her that Bria fell for.
“Kit, you can do whatever you want, but just know that if you get hired at that place, I’m always going to have something to say. I’ll keep it cute though.”
“See, everything is working out perfectly,” Bria said happily. “Trish is going to find her Danny Zuko, and Kit is going to get a job and help out. We’ll have to get you some new clothes, though.”
“I have clothes, Bri,” he said.
“Seriously, what’s wrong with what he has on?” Trish looked him over and shrugged at his khakis and button up.
“Well, for starters, Kit owns approximately zero ties or solid-colored shirts. All of his shoes are Nike and none of them are dressy. And you need a haircut too.”
“What’s wrong with my Nikes?”
“Don’t blame me, blame white corporate America,” she shrugged.
“Fine. We’ll go shopping Saturday afternoon. Trish, you can come if you want.”
Trish crinkled her face. “I don’t want.”
Kit laughed out loud and said, “I don’t either. But Bria’s word is law around here.”
“You bet your ass it is.” Bria winked at him across the table.
2
Sell Yourself to Me
“I look fucking stupid,” Kit said to himself, turning to look in the bathroom mirror. When he’d tried them on in the store the shirts all looked nice. Now he just looked like a child playing dress up in his father’s closet. He knew he’d need to get his pants tailored to fit him properly but that would have to wait until after his first paycheck. He didn’t have the money today. On top of that, he was already running late.
“Kit, hurry your ass up. A bitch gotta pee.”
“Alright, Trish, jeez,” he said. He opened the bathroom door and maneuvered around her, heading to the couch and grabbing his phone from the cushion. Bria stood by the front door, watching him. When he looked up at her, she gave him a reassuring smile. Despite his jittery nerves and the constant negative ‘what ifs’ running back and forth in his mind, he smiled as well. She had that ability.
“Don’t take no for an answer. You’ll do fine, okay?”
“Doubt it,” he muttered, adjusting his tie. “But thank you. I’ll let you know how it went once I get done, alright?”
“Sounds good,” she said. Bria stepped out of the way and let him open the door. She made sure his messenger bag was properly laid across his chest then pecked him on the cheek. “Go get ‘em.”
The city was as busy as it always was. That might have been good if he wasn’t already running late. As it were, the constant traffic on and off the sidewalks was a mess, and he had to bob and weave through the crowds to make it to the subway on time. He collapsed into his seat and pulled his phone from his pocket. Almost mechanically, he put in his headphones and turned on his music. The last thing he wanted to deal with this morning was subway performers and people chest boxing over the last seat.
He opened Chrome and typed in the company’s name. Yellow Fall.
From Wikipedia and a few other sources, he learned that the company had been created in 2014, and up until recently, they were quite unknown. It wasn’t until their campaign with Grandeur that anyone knew who they were, and not for any good reason. He was impressed by how well Yellow Fall had turned itself around. Had this been a handful of other companies, their doors would’ve been closed and this would have been a stain on Ari Naser’s career as the CEO.
At his stop, Kit stepped out of the subway car and took in a deep breath. When he glanced down at his watch and saw that he had fifteen minutes to get there, he took off, careful not to bump into anyone.
Fighting someone before his job interview was a guaranteed way to end up on WorldStar. On top of that, Ira had pulled a lot of strings to get him this interview—a lot more than anyone else at the temp agency might have done—and he wasn’t going to waste that.
He made it to the Yellow Fall building with five minutes to spare. Rather than heading to the receptionist’s desk immediately, he dipped into the bathroom and looked over himself. He brushed his hair again, styling it perfectly, and sniffed under his arms to check if he needed more deodorant. Bless Bria and her constant DIY projects. The deodorant she’d made him still held up even though he’d been jogging for nearly ten minutes.
Kit popped a mint into his mouth and left the bathroom, confidently marching up to the front desk. The brunette woman looked up at him and smiled expectantly.
“I’m here for the interview with Ari Naser. Kenneth Bayer,” he said.
While she searched for his name, he looked around the room. It was simplistic, a few modern chairs stuffed in the corner that surrounded a table full of magazines, framed images of ads they’d done hanging on the walls, and a beautiful Persian rug spread out underneath him.
“Well, I have you scheduled for an interview, but not with… Not with Ari.”
“No?” he said, leaning in closer to her notebook. He saw his name but couldn’t read who he was scheduled to meet with.
“No, it says you’re to meet with Roman Li.” The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place his finger on where he’d heard it. The receptionist looked up at him with an embarrassed smile. “Is—is that okay? He’s just about done with his other—”
Before the woman could finish her sentence, the elevator doors opened, and a woman came running out with mascara tears streaming down her cheeks. She headed right for the bathroom without a word. Kit blinked and looked back at the receptionist.
“What was that about?” he asked, laughing nervously.
“That…was the woman from Mr. Li’s eleven o
’clock interview.”
“Oh. Cool. Coolcoolcool.” Kit’s nerves were back on one hundred. He’d been at sixty for a good minute but now he couldn’t even pretend to not be nervous.
“Right,” the woman said, looking back at her book. “You can just head up to the sixth floor. You’ll know his office when you see it.”
Kit nodded sluggishly and slowly made his way to the elevator. Before he could get too far, the woman called his name and tossed him a small toy.
“What’s this?”
“Stress ball,” she winked. “Trust me.”
Kit said his thanks and stepped into the elevator. His hand shook as he reached forward to press the floor number. When the door closed, he held his face in his hands and took deep breaths.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered. He thought about slapping himself to get out his nerves but refrained. He could do this. He didn’t cry easily, and at the end of the day, whatever this Roman guy said didn’t matter to him. The worst he could say was no and that was that. The sliver of confidence that Kit built up evaporated the moment the elevator doors parted again. He took an uneasy breath and stepped out.
The receptionist hadn’t been wrong. He could clearly tell where Roman Li’s office was. It was the only part of the floor outside of bathrooms and a kitchen that had interior walls that weren’t made entirely of glass. In fact, Roman’s office walls were floor-to-ceiling mirrors. He could see his own reflection, and he suddenly felt very small.
“Fuck,” he said to himself once again. Kit puffed his chest up and walked straight ahead, right down the aisle that led to the room made of mirrors. He raised his hand to knock but the door opened instead.
“Come in,” the man behind the door said, stepping out so that he could enter. Kit nodded and stepped inside the office. He was immediately hit with the smell of sandalwood and spotted a tan candle burning on one of the shelves behind his desk. The flame was dangerously close to the books.
Kit took a seat and turned to look at Roman but caught his breath. The mirrored walls of Roman’s office were two-way. He could see all of the same people talking and working and they couldn’t see him.
“Surprise,” Roman said casually, taking a seat across from Kit. He folded his hands together and placed them on the desk, taking a long look at Kit. His thick brows were unmoved, a blank expression on his face. With his sharp cheek bones and strong, prominent nose, he looked as intimidating as he did beautiful.
“You’ve got… Uh, you’ve got a nice office here. I’ve never seen one like it before,” Kit offered.
“Let’s not do that,” Roman said.
“Sorry.”
“Tell me, why are you here, Mister…” Roman leaned down to look at a sticky note on his desk. “Mr. Bayer?”
“Honestly? I’m here because I need a job and Yellow Fall is something that really interests me.”
“Interests you how?”
“Well, for starters, you guys… You didn’t exactly have the ideal rise to fame. But the company’s turned itself around and I can really appreciate a group that recognizes their mistakes and fixes it to the best of their ability.”
Roman nodded slowly and smirked. “Had it not been for their PR nightmare, I wouldn’t be here today.”
“Small victories,” Kit said, clearing his throat.
Roman’s dark eyes sparkled the same way he’d seen Chad’s when they were at the club. Whether Chad was looking for a guy or a girl, he was always excited by the thrill. The thrill of the hunt. Kit broke the intense gaze and looked to the table behind Roman. It was a mess, but at least it was distracting, something he could focus on rather than the fact that he was pretty sure he was sweating far too much.
“Since you know quite a bit about the company, which of my campaigns are you a fan of?”
Suddenly Kit remembered where he’d seen Roman’s name before. He was listed as the Chief Creative Director on the company’s website.
“I—I’m a fan of them all. You’ve really managed to…to turn the company around and point it in the right direction, and I think—”
“Kenneth, don’t kiss my ass. I already pay people to do that.”
“Sorry,” Kit said. “I liked your Hamilton and Hale one. It was smart. It didn’t talk down to people looking to shop there. A lot of these commercials act like the customer can’t tie their shoes and need to be talked to very slowly. But not Hamilton and Hale.”
“Mission accomplished, then,” Roman said. Though he still seemed determine to embarrass and rush Kit, his tone softened the next time he spoke. “I have your resume right here in front of me but I don’t really care about that. It’s all just fluff. Especially since I’m only looking for a personal assistant. Instead, I want you to tell me about yourself. Better yet, sell yourself to me. Convince me that you’re worth my time, my money, and my respect.”
Kit felt on the spot again. He kicked himself for not looking up the interview process when he was researching on the subway. He wanted to say something, anything, but froze up, his confidence shot. Roman waited for him, obviously entertained by his fear.
“You don’t have anything to say?”
“I… I…”
“Kenneth, Kenneth. You came to an advertising agency and you didn’t expect a question like this?”
Kit said nothing. His face reddened, hot with humiliation. “It’s for a personal assistant position. I didn’t think—”
“Right. You didn’t think,” Roman said, standing up.
As he passed the corner, his hip bumped the desk and the cup of pens and pencils nearly spilling to the floor. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and enjoy my lunch. You can show yourself out. It was…interesting to meet you, Mr. Bayer. Hopefully one day you’ll be properly prepared for your next interview.”
Roman left the room, shutting the door behind himself.
Kit was left in silence.
He felt sick to his stomach, a mixture of anger and sadness churning deep in his gut. He wanted to flip the desk and fall to the floor in tears. He’d been humiliated with one single question. One task, and he couldn’t even do that. And being talked down to like a child? It made him see red. He stood and reached for his messenger bag. As he started for the door, Bria’s words came back to him.
Don’t take no for an answer.
He dropped his bag and turned around to face the office again. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
The first thing he did was move the cup of pens away from the edge to avoid nearly spilling it again. He set the small tin of paperclips and the rolodex in the same area as well. After that, Kit gathered up the small stack of the files and alphabetized them by the words on the side tab. He turned around and did the same to the papers on the table behind the desk. Last but not least, Kit rearranged the bookshelf so that the candle wasn’t in danger of setting the whole place ablaze.
When he was done, the office looked brand new. He checked his watch. Only fifteen minutes had passed. He didn’t feel like crying anymore, but he was still upset by Roman’s dismissal of him. He was a human being and he didn’t deserve to be talked to like that. Kit snagged a sticky note and a pen, scribbling down two short words.
‘Sold yet?’
He stuck the note to his resume, slapped that down in the center of the desk, and stormed out of the office. The gazes from the other glass rooms fell heavy on him, but Kit ignored them as he marched to the elevator. Kit met eyes with the receptionist on his way out and caught her smiling at him.
3
Run Me My Money
Kit was still in a funk by the time he got home. He’d tried stopping by the ice cream shop a few blocks from his house but that only made him more upset. Not only was he out of a job opportunity, but they didn’t have his favorite bubblegum ice cream either. He unhappily flicked his tongue over the plain chocolate cone as he searched for his keys in his pocket. He closed the door softly and turned to see Trish and Bria cuddled up on the sofa.
�
�You’re home pretty late,” Bria said. She reached for the remote and paused the movie playing. “How’d it go?”
Kit simply laughed. Bria’s shoulders sank.
“That bad, huh?” she asked.
“That bad. He was a total prick to me. Acted like I was an idiot because I was stumped by some question, and it wasn’t even a good question.”
“What was it?” Trish asked.
“He told me to sell myself to him. I had to make him want me, show him what I could do. Like, Trish, you said your old manager had you sell an item of clothing to her. He wanted me to do that, but I’m looking to be an assistant, not some sales associate.”
Kit placed his bag down and kicked off his shoes, plopping down on the other couch. He could only half-heartedly eat the cone of ice cream, but Bria smiled and happily took it when he offered. “I don’t know,” he said. “I spent all day applying to more jobs, so I want to focus on those. This job would have paid great, but no use crying over spilled milk. Or spilled pens.” Neither Bria or Trish got it, but it at least made Kit smile.
“I’m sorry,” Bria said, placing her hand on his shoulder. “But don’t give up. Eventually someone will want to hire you in an instant. Just keep trying.”
“I will,” he assured her. This may have been a rough start, but Kit was pretty confident with himself. If he had to, he could get a job working fast food. They probably didn’t gleefully embarrass the people they were looking to hire.
That thought still stung Kit.
He’d been treated like he was less of a person in Roman Li’s office, and he had half a mind to write him a letter. Being in New York, he’d become accustomed to assholes in suits glaring at homeless people on the sidewalks, but even still, the arrogance of some people surprised him. Kit wondered if he’d approached the situation differently, maybe the outcome could have been different. Maybe if he’d strode in the room like he owned the place, Roman might respect him more.
He kicked the idea clean from his mind. No, he wasn’t that kind of person. He’d nearly become that guy in college, and he refused to go back there. He could only be himself, and if people didn’t want that, they could move on and leave him alone.