One day I realized it can be useful to talk to yourself
'Ok, I'm gonna walk in there, be a brave one Gabriella, at least just for now.' I was talking to myself again. A specialty, I always liked to say. But this time, I really needed that push that only I could give me. That push saying that Gabriella, if you doesn't go in there right now, you're so screwed. So I went in.
You might wonder why I was in such a desperate need of the push. I'm not that brave. I'm the shy girl. Always have been, always well be. There really is nothing you or I can do about it. And trust me; I've tried to do everything about it. And this day, I was late for my first job interview. It wasn't much, it was only a little job at the campus Starbuck at Yale University, but it was very much needed. And of course I was late.
It was all my fault. I scheduled the meeting too short after my last class, knowing that there's always something that makes me stay in the lecture hall after the last class of the day. One day it was the professor, wanting to talk to me about my paper. The next day it was a student that needed some kind of help of some kind. There was always something, and this day was no exception. I was on my way out of there when the headmaster walked into the room. "Ms. Montez," he said. "I was wondering if you had a moment to talk to me." I always have a moment to talk to everyone. That's my problem. So of course I said yes. And he talked and talked and went on forever. I kept looking at my watch but he didn't see it. So 30 minutes later I finally got out, with an appointment to meet with a possible freshman to guide around campus and take to class for the next couple of days, but so very too late for the job interview.
So I was late and I was so very sorry and that was my words as I walked into the office. "I'm so sorry I'm late Mr. Bolton. I got hung up after class and I didn't get away." Then I looked up at the what-I-had-thought-to-be-an-older-man-than-it-really-was. I was speechless. I had never seen such blue eyes in my life. I know it sounds cheesy, but that's the way it is.
"Ms. Montez." Mr. Bolton said and pointed his hand to the chair in front of his desk for me to sit down. "It's ok that you're late. I can understand being hung up after class. I have been myself sometimes." The only thing I could manage to do was nod and so I did. I nodded and nodded for what I believe to me several minutes. I saw his mouth move, but I didn't hear anything. I was only nodding. "Ms. Montez?"
"Sorry, what?" I snapped back to reality, embarrassed for actually acting the way I did. It was a job interview for Christ's sake.
"Your résumé? Did you bring it?"
"Oh yes I did," I said and took it out of my purse and gave it to him. "Here you go." He opens it and studied the insides, including a few notes from some of the professors, saying their best about me. I don't mean to sound proud or anything, but professors always liked me. I've always liked school. Not in the 'oh no is it time for summer vacation', but in the way that I did my home work the best I could and paid attention during class and all that. Let's just say I didn't exactly fall asleep like my boyfriend in High School did. Ryan Evans might have had it when it came to acting, singing and dancing. And baseball too, when I think about it, but he was never a wiz when it came to normal school work.
"This is really impressive," Mr. Bolton said before he started shooting questions at me. I paid attention to his words this time and not everything else about him. I answered the questions the best I could, and I do believe my answers were good.
At the end, I thanked him for letting me come and being so nice about the fact that I was late, shook hands with him – melting inside at the touch – and walked out of the office and straight into Starbuck itself where I ordered the largest cup of coffee they had. As I sat there, I was talking to myself again. A gift, you might say when I'm done with this story. "Gosh I hope I didn't mess that up completely. But how the hell am I supposed to think clear when the interviewer is so damn hot. Do they think that anyone can think straight with a super-hottie-bomb like that in the room? Are they really serious? God I hope I get this job. I wanna see him again. Please please let me see him again."
"Are you talking about me?" A voice said behind my back and I twirled around in my seat, looking into those piercing blue eyes again. I felt like the time when I was 6 and my Mom caught me taking a cookie from the cookie jar and I felt my cheeks turn red.
"Huh? Umm… No… I-uh-I was just talking about, you know…" I stuttered and he smiled at me. "Umm… do you want to, like, sit down?" I manage to say after a few seconds of silence. It really was only a few seconds, but it sure felt like forever to me.
He smiled at me again and I couldn't do anything but smile back and melt into his blue eyes as he sat down across the table I was sitting at. Our conversations got more and more light as we talked and I realized I was falling in love with him. Troy Bolton, son of the Starbucks manager at the Yale campus; set with the most beautiful piercing blue eyes, the most sexy muscles a girl could ever dream of. And I still have that, so thank god for the gift of talking to myself.