For an unemployed person, I’m awfully busy. Today didn’t feel any differently than a regular working day. I woke up at 8, crushed a cup of coffee and ran out the door—10 minutes late. Except today, I didn’t get on a bus or a subway; I got into my [mom’s] car and drove to south Jersey for an interview.
This was a bit of a two-for because not only am I very excited about this agency’s work, I also happen to have an old colleague at the agency and we were going to lunch. I was looking forward to hearing about the work he had been doing. It was a win-win situation. Oh, and I was also headed to the blueberry capital of the world. HELLO MUFFINS!
The agency was awesome. Energy emitted from every corner. From the friendliness of the staff, to the art, cardboard cutouts of celebrities and work-in-progress taped to the walls. That’s the thing about agencies. Walking into their world is like walking through a diary of secrets. The interview went well and I was asked back. I left feeling psyched. Could a company actually care about the creative work and not just be a set of yes-men to clients? I feel like I found the unicorn of advertising agencies.
On my way home, I called my sister (with a hands-free phone thingy of course) and went into detail about the day. I filled her in on my latest plans and the line-up of meetings and interviews I was preparing for. I’ll admit it, I gushed. I even told her about my Irish ex’s phone call the night before.
Let’s call him ‘N.’ N and I have had an on-again-off-again relationship/friendship for 2.5 years. I fell in love with him the moment I saw him in October 2011. On our third date I told my parents I was going to marry him. On our forth date, he told me he was married. Fucking green cards. And so it goes. We’ve been through a lot and he, more than most will be missed when I leave NYC.
So he called last night telling me he saw a picture on Facebook and thought I had left already. I won’t lie—I felt a bit of happiness knowing he’d jump like that (it’s the small things). We left the conversation with an Irish accented “love you” and hung up. “Can you believe it?!” I gushed to my sister asking, “What does he expect?”
An hour later, I’m beaming from my great day. The great fortune I was having. Maybe I’d even call N when I got back to the city. And that’s when it happened. The universe served me a giant piece of perhaps blueberry humble pie. I’m waiting for a bus back home, I go to use a restroom in a busy, happy hour full bar, and slip on my high-heel boots. The loudest, most ungraceful fall ever. My laptop bag is open and make-up, a brush and my laptop slide across the floor. My scarf gets tangled in my purse. I make a loud, weird choking noise. At least 7 people helped me up. I decided to pretend like my knee didn’t hurt, I saddled up to the bar, sucked down a beer, and accepted my pie like a champ. Maybe tomorrow I’ll just shut up and live my life without the gush.