A/N: Okay, guys, thank you so much for reviews and general support, it means a lot to me. I've been sort of mind-snatched, since I just started up a Twilight-fic, which for now takes some time as I have three fics to update. I'm trying my best to keep all three "alive", I wouldn't want to put any of them on hiatus, I enjoy writing them far too much. Okay, info over, enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: I, the author of this story, do not own any of the characthers associated with Gilmore Girls. That honor belongs to the wonderful Amy Sherman-Palladino. I have no intention of making any money on this (in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm losing money over it…).
20. Offended by the Mid-Casablanca sugar high?
"Well, Miss Gilmore, I must say, you've given us quite a lot to think about. Your resumé is outstanding, your character references excellent. You are young, but not lacking in journalism experience."
Rory was at her first job interview, at , and she was surprised at the high praise. They had been back in Philadelphia for a week and a half, and she had felt that she hadn't gotten her resume and references in order the way she would've liked to. The editor of the Philadelphia Inquirer seemed to think otherwise, and Rory thanked God, the Cookiemonster, whoever was up there for making sure her references didn't suck. She had asked her boss at the online paper to write a reference for her, and she had managed to quickly skim through it. It was fine, she got very positive feedback. After that, she had figured she could need a character reference from someone she worked under at the Yale Daily News. This came with a certain dilemma: Paris or Doyle? A reference from either one of them could contain almost anything, Paris would try to overdo it and Doyle would… well, just try to get it over with. She still decided on Doyle, reasoning that since Paris hadn't really been a journalism major, it would look better to have Doyle give her a character reference.
Only problem was that Doyle took his time, which was never a good sign. She only got the reference a couple of hours before the interview, and had to toss the reference, still warm from the printer, into her folder and then rush off so as to beat traffic. Still, it seemed to not be Doyle's usual random rambling, and Rory made a mental note to read through Doyle's character reference when she got home.
"Thank you, sir," she replied instead with a smile. "I… I just hope I can live up to the expectations."
"I'm sure you can, Miss Gilmore. Now, would you tell me something about yourself?"
"I'm Rory Gilmore, well, technically Lorelai, my mom named me after herself, but everyone calls me Rory. I've always wanted to become a journalist, the new Christiane Amanpour…"
"Really, Christiane Amanpour?" the editor asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes, she writes the most amazing things, and she gets to travel. I actually met her once, it felt very surreal."
"Meeting our idols often is," he acknowledged, nodding his head at her explanation.
"Anyhow, the Amanpour-part has been put on hold for a while. I enjoy writing about almost anything. During my time at the Yale Daily News, I was assigned to the Features-section, and I did various articles for that, as you can see from my portfolio. The past year I've been following the Obama-campaign for an online paper, which was a new and exciting experience for me."
"In what way?"
"I got to experience the real life of a journalist. I don't mean that working at a school paper isn't tough, because it is, but this… This went beyond going across campus to review the ballet company's latest recital, it was the real world, and in the real world you live out of a suitcase, you don't sleep, you eat junkfood, sleep in drafty motels, all for the glory of getting to ask one important question and call it your own. It took me some time to get used to this new life, but I see now that it's all worth it."
"I see. Well, Miss Gilmore, what would you see yourself doing here at the Philadelphia Inquirer?"
"I'd like to try writing columns. It gives the writer much more freedom, and you can bond with the readers over things they know. Right now I sort of commute between Philly and my hometown in Connecticut, and there's a whole life there, a gallery of personalities, situations and memories that are just waiting to be put down on paper."
"Commuting? Would this in anyway affect the quality of your writing and the ability to keep to deadlines?"
"That's the beauty of it. It would enhance it. I have not missed a deadline yet, and I'm not about to break the trend. Articles can be submitted via the Internet these days, and I will still be in Philly, my… fiancé co-owns a bookstore here, so him and me would inevitably have to commute between Pennsylvania and Connecticut anyway," Rory explained enthusiastically. She wanted this job so bad, and if she could get to write a column the issue of communting or not commuting would be solved.
"Which bookstore is this you're talking about?"
"Oh, it's Truncheon Books…"
"Ah, yes, I know that one. I think Arts & Entertainment did a piece on them last year. Very interesting place."
"It is, it's also the reason behind the commute. They're opening a subsidiary of sorts in my hometown, and my fiancé…" Rory had to take a moment. Suddenly, calling Jess her 'fiancé' felt so ridiculously good. "Well, he and a friend got appointed to take care of it, and him and me are sort of a package deal now."
The editor scrawled down something on his papers, and then turned back to Rory.
"Well, seeing as you haven't been writing columns before, would you mind writing one as a tryout?"
"Right now?" Rory asked surprised, taken aback by the request.
"Well, you have stood out from most of the applicants already, but we would need to see that you are capable of the job before we can pick you as the lucky applicant who gets the position."
"How long do I have?"
"Let's see… Will thirty minute suffice? No wait, make it forty-five, then we'll both have time to get some lunch."
"Right… Thank you."
Rory didn't move, she didn't know if her time had begun yet. Forty-five minutes to write an outstanding column that would secure her the job at the Philadelphia Inquirer. Forty-five minutes that would possibly change her world.
"Tick, tock, Rory Gilmore."
The editor smiled encouragingly at her as she stumbled out of the chair, took her bag and headed for the door that led out of the office. Of course, the elevator took forever, and the queue to the cafeteria seemed endless, so when she had overpaid for a cup of coffee and a stale bagel, fifteen minutes had already passed. She took a small legal pad and a pencil out of her bag, and just stared at it, taking a bite off the bagel. It tasted horrible, not even remotely like something Luke would whip up for her and her mom. Food. That was easy. She began writing, detailing her and her mother's eating habits, or seen from Luke's perspective: lack thereof.
From food it was easy to segue into candy, and the standing pool for Friday Movie Nights regarding who would hit a sugar high first, also detailing the time that Kirk tried to undermine the honest pool with an attempt to be a bookie, but the only ones who placed bets with him were himself and his mother, so he quickly abandoned that one. Rory also wrote about the one time she almost ended up with a sugar high. She blamed the Tootsie Roll/Milk Duds-ratio her mother had put together for the evening. Lorelai blew off that weekend's pool, much to the townpeople's chagrin. Her mom may have been the greatest Poptart- and candy-fan out there, whose eyes got all glazed if you waved a pot of coffee in front of her, but when it came to her only offspring, none of that mattered, even less when that offspring dozed off mid-Casablanca, which was very uncharacteristic, if not straight out blasphemy.
Rory finished up with five minutes to spare, racing towards the office after clearing the elevator.
"Am I late?" she huffed as she swung open the editor's office door.
"Right on time, come on and sit down," he greeted her, and motioned to enter.
She fluttered over to the chair she had been sitting on before getting sent off, and tried to calm her pulse. She was not late, she had the column, it was all good… For now.
"So, Miss Gilmore, did you get anything written?"
"Yes, sir," she replied. "I think it may be too long. I get the rambling from my mom."
She handed him the paper with her column-attempt, and felt the nervosity spike. What if it wasn't good? Or if he found it offensive? Maybe he knew someone with diabetes who had gone into sugar coma, and here she had rambled on about how unacceptable it was to hit a sugar high in the middle of Casablanca! Rory instantly felt the need to just snatch the paper out the the editor's hand and just let the whole thing be.
"These are all real people you've written about?"
The question took Rory by surprise, and she snapped out of her frantic reverie.
"As real as you and me. Of course, should I get the position, I would edit the names, not that it would be hard to point them out in the street if you saw them."
"I see. And I take it you have recovered from the near-coma experience?" the editor grinned.
"Oh yes, my mother adjusted the ratio, and graciously let me win the pool for a month. Not that we actually win something ourselves, but we have a lot of fun with it, especially now since we know that Luke, our main coffee-supplier, put in a wager for mom to win every single week when she let me win."
The editor laughed heartily, putting aside the paper with her column.
"If you don't mind, I will keep your column as a workprint, since you haven't written columns before. Other than that, I think we're done here for today."
They both rose from the chairs they were sitting on, and Rory felt extremely formal and absurdly grown-up when she shook the editor's hand.
"Thank you, sir, for this opportunity," she said, shaking his hand profusely, trying to put her best foot forward.
"The pleasure was all mine, and I daresay you will give more experienced journalists a run for their money, Miss Gilmore."
She smiled at this, feeling all warm inside. She had a shot, she could get this, it wasn't completely unrealistic. She thanked him again, and headed for the office door.
"Miss Gilmore, one more thing," the editor called after her.
"Yes?" Rory turned around.
"Should you get this column, you need a name for it. Do you have one right now?"
Rory thought about it. A name for her column, one that fit, that described her and the content of the column. Something that sounded much like Stars Hollow. A smile played on her lips.
"My little corner of the world," she replied, before nodding goodbye and heading off towards the elevator.
It was good. It was perfect.
A/N: *gasp* What did Doyle write about Rory? Suggestions, anyone? Also: should Rory get the job at the Philadelphia Inquirer, or should she continue and go on another job interview? Leave a review and tell me what you think!