Chapter 1
"I'm here to see Stephanie…" I glanced down at the crumpled paper in my hand to check the name. "Ritz," I finished and shoved it back into my purse.
The receptionist – a man, I noted – nodded and picked up the phone, punching in a few numbers as he doodled swirls on the paper in front of him.
"What's your name, sweetie?" he momentarily glimpsed up from his paper at me.
"Emilia Duncan," I told him as I admired his perfectly ironed blazer and purple tie. Clearly he was gay.
"Emilia Duncan is here to see you, Miss Ritz. Shall I send her up?" he spoke into the phone before hanging up. He stood and walked around the granite counter. "Follow me."
True Religion jeans topped off with European shoes. My gay-dar was spot on.
He pressed the 'Up' arrow beside the elevator door and instructed me to take it up to the nineteenth floor. Stephanie's assistant would be waiting for me in the lobby.
This was my first job interview after I graduated from college and I was beyond nervous. I checked my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator before the door opened. Everything seemed to be intact except that my dress was wrinkled. That's what happens when you sit in two hours of LA traffic I suppose.
"Emilia, this way," a petite woman waved me over. Maybe I shouldn't have worn heels. I towered over her. But height was equivalent to power, I reassured myself.
There was a woman with short blonde hair facing the door and two other girls sitting across from her, anxiously clutching their portfolios.
"Take a seat and we'll begin interviewing," the woman who met me at the elevator said.
"All right, let's see here," Stephanie spoke as she sifted through some papers on her desk. "Rebecca, stand up for me." The blonde to the right of me stood up timidly and placed her resume book on the chair behind her. "Rebecca, how long have you been in LA for?"
"Just a few weeks," she answered, her voice trembling.
"What made you apply for a job at William Morrison Endeavor?"
"I-I…WME is a prestigious agency and I believe I would be a great benefit to the company," she replied as though she rehearsed that line over a thousand times.
"How would you benefit the company?"
"Well, I-I am a great communicator…"
"Clearly," Stephanie interrupted. "Thank you, Rebecca. Candice will validate your parking on your way out."
"Um….O-Ok," Rebecca whimpered and grabbed her stuff before bolting out the door.
That was brutal. And so was the next. Except Marie fled in tears after being harshly criticized from head to toe – her hair was too curly, skin too dark, legs too muscular, etc.
"Looks like it's all up to you, Emilia," Stephanie said, searching for my paper in the pile. "San Diego native," she mused. "Communication major, Editor-in-Chief of a student-run magazine, blah blah blah. Tell me something interesting about yourself."
"Well, I am tri-lingual. English, Spanish, and Italian."
"Ok," she said, not sounding too impressed. "Now, tell me. Would you consider dying your hair blonde?"
My eyes opened wide. "Uh, no. No way," I laughed, running my fingers through my auburn hair.
"All right. I like that you aren't a pushover. What is your idea of a good night?"
I scanned my resume, wondering why she was asking such absurd questions. "I guess just hanging out at home watching movies or going to a concert."
"Good," she nodded as she pondered another question to interrogate me with. "Do you have a problem being the center of attention?"
"Well, I've never really had that problem. I'm really just a behind-the-scenes kind of girl, but I mean…I wouldn't mind having the spotlight once in a while."
Stephanie smiled for the first time as she stood up and shook my hand. "I'll see you Monday morning. 9am sharp. And dress casually."
I walked out of there not knowing what happened…at all. I think I just landed myself a job?