Interview

Time was dragging by. The last time Ashlyn looked at the clock it was 1:23. It was now 1:27. The anticipation of this interview had started a month ago, and was only three minutes away now. She stared down at her long fingers, that had once danced beautifully along the keys of a piano. Her musical dreams had long faded along with her love of the arts. She had her surroundings memorized by now, having arrived an hour early. She was in a beautifully furnished waiting room, the walls painted a gleaming white, the leather couches and chairs deep black. The décor consisted of beautifully crafted lamps whose stands twisted in all sorts of odd angles, the wide wood plank floors stained black. The artwork on the walls seemed tormented and dark, something she would never have painted in the days of studying Fine Arts in graduate school. She could not believe she was finally here, or why she was even here. It had been four years since she had graduated with her masters and Ashlyn had spent far too long working in bars, babysitting her neighbor’s children, finding anyway to pay her bills. It did not take long for her to see art was not something people truly appreciated, or anything that would provide her with livable income. So in the past couple years she quit painting, quit playing music, and focused on finding a “real job”.
A good friend of hers living in Chicago called her to tell her she had just landed a job with a salary of $100,000 a year and Ashlyn could easily join her. Ashlyn was so tired of being broke she decided to apply, with Caity as her reference. They asked her to come to Chicago for an interview which led her here. Ashlyn had no idea what to expect. The receptionist was young, nice but stand offish, and perfectly put together. The company had made a ton of money off of a software program that helped businesses to better organize their finances, something Ashlyn had no idea how she would help but was willing to put in the time to make good money. Caity said she didn’t know how she would fit either, but she seemed to love it.
“Ashlyn, Ms. Taylor is ready to see you now.”
Ashlyn stood up, picked up her briefcase and took a deep breath as she was led back to Ms. Taylor’s office. Ms. Taylor stood up as the receptionist introduced Ashlyn. Ms. Taylor was six feet tall, had long auburn hair that she left in loose big curls, and a smile that looked extremely jaded. She was probably once very beautiful, but stress had left her face looking worn, her under eyes dark and her teeth stained from much coffee. She smoothed her expensive black skirt and shook Ashlyn’s hand.
“So nice to meet you Ashlyn, thank you for coming all the way from Georgia to see us.”
“Of course, such a pleasure to meet you as well Ms. Taylor. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to interview with you.”
The two of them settled down into their seats. Ms. Taylor folded her hands on her lap and smiled at Ashlyn. She seemed overall welcoming, but exhaustion stole any positive energy she would have liked to bring into the room.
“Ashlyn, I feel like all interviews start this way, but I want you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me about yourself. Not what you think I want to hear, or how you would be good for this job, but what you know about yourself. What things you have found about yourself that you value, that set you apart from the next person that would walk into this office. I want you to tell me who you think you are at this point, and where you want to go.”
Ashlyn thought she had prepped for every type of interview question. She had the tell me about yourself question nailed. She grew up in Atlanta, went to undergrad there, loved working with people and selling (lie), loved getting to network (lie), was great at customer service and couldn’t wait to serve more people (also a lie), and would leave out or barely mention her masters in Fine Arts, and only mention her Bachelor’s in journalism (which she also double majored in design). She had a whole edit of her life perfect for sales at Ms. Taylor’s company, but she knew at this point she couldn’t lie. Ashlyn decided to try for the truth, and even if it didn’t land her the job maybe it would help her to be really honest with herself.
“Ms. Taylor, if you want me to be honest with you, I have loved music and art since before I could walk. I devoted all of my life up until the past couple years to learning all I could about the two. I know how to play numerous instruments, have been in a number of failed bands, have entered countless art and poetry contests. I have my masters in Fine Arts and loved every second of it. But it’s not applicable to real life.”
“Real life. Not applicable to real life? Ashlyn, do you think I dreamed of becoming the head of a software company?”
“Well, I’m not sure. A lot of people dream of starting their own successful businesses.”
“You can spend your whole life chasing the wrong things. You can chase money and success. You can get a job in an office making a lot of money just by saying exactly what the employer wants to hear. Then you wind up in a position that does nothing for you, that tears at your soul every day, and you see that success was nothing you thought it was. You see that by stashing your dreams in a box under your bed, you end up with some life that was never meant to be yours in the first place. I bet when you see art a small piece of you wants to run to a canvas and break out your paintbrushes. Every time you hear a song that is close to something you would have written, you long to lock yourself away with pen and paper and write your own. The thing is Ashlyn, I research everyone that comes in here vigorously. I know you went to graduate school at SCAD, did incredibly well there, and have talent most of us only dream of. I look at you and I envy the future ahead of you, the career I know you will have once you drop the expectation of the job you are supposed to have. If I hired you, you would end up like me. I once dreamed of acting school, and was a star in many school plays. But sales bring in money, and that’s all my parents cared about. I brought you in here to ask you why you are starting to give up, and why you would come so far to do that. I’m sorry if it’s none of my business. But I guess I just wanted to encourage someone to really do what they love. And maybe Caity had a little something to do with it too.”
Ashlyn stared at Ms. Taylor. She was completely thrown off by what was being said, and a little bit angry she wasted her time and energy on this interview. She wanted to leave and call Caity and ask her what the hell she was thinking.
“I know you are probably angry Ashlyn. This company will continue to grow because people like Caity love making connections and love dealing with people. There are people who are great at this, and you might even be really good at it. But to watch your life go by wishing you could just be yourself, I don’t want to see you do that.”
Ashlyn picked up her briefcase, angry tears starting to well up in her eyes. She couldn’t say anything to Ms. Taylor, and frankly hoped she would never see her again. Rushing out of the room she saw a bathroom to right. She ducked in and took a good look in the mirror. Under her makeup she was pale, tired and looked almost as exhausted as Ms. Taylor. She remembered the days at SCAD where she could roll out of bed, throw on paint stained clothes, walk to class surrounded by beautiful old buildings and even more beautiful park squares and she never once thought about what she looked like. Her skin was always glowing in excitement for the next project, the next stroke of her brush. She washed her face in the sink, letting the mascara wash down the drain. She pulled her hair down from it’s tight bun, took off her blazer, undid a few buttons on her stiff shirt and took a deep breath. She saw herself for what she was. She was an artist, a musician, a writer. She was beautiful for the things that made her her, not what didn’t.
Caity walked into the bathroom, an empathetic look on her face.
“I’m so sorry Ashlyn. We’ve been friends forever and I didn’t know what else to do. I talked to Ms. Taylor about you over lunch one day. I talked about my very talented friend who no matter how many times she was told was extremely talented and should do what she loved, would never listen. Ms. Taylor said I could have been talking about her. When I told her that you asked if the company had any openings, she said bring her in, let me talk to her. It was a running joke for months. When I saw that you wouldn’t stop applying for jobs that had nothing to do with what you wanted I figured, hey, maybe this will work. You just wouldn’t listen. Not to yourself, not to the people who loved you. You’re lucky no one did hire you. You were born to create Ashlyn. We were all looking at you over our accounting and management books as you made beautiful art day after day. I’m sorry I made you come all this way. But, if you still love me, I want to take you to some places I found around the city that scream Ashlyn. I want to show you that people do what they love all the time. I even set up some short appointments with people that I think you need to talk too.
Ashlyn looked down at the shoes she couldn’t afford, the skirt that fit her awkward and the hands that felt neglected.
“Caity, I kind of hate you right now. But I also know you’re completely right. I’ve never believed in myself, I’ve never thought I could be anything. You are an amazing friend. Let’s get out of here.”
Caity and Ashlyn walked out of the bathroom and towards the waiting room. As Caity told the receptionist she would be gone for the rest of the day, Ms. Taylor entered the room. She put a hand on Ashlyn’s shoulder, and Ashlyn couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her, even if she was almost a complete stranger.
“I put in my two weeks yesterday. I’m going to start taking acting classes and live off of the money I’ve saved for awhile. You have my contact info, please keep in touch with me, I’d love to see what you do. I know you will do it.”
Ashlyn knew there wasn’t ever a way she could repay Ms. Taylor for what she did for her in just a short hour’s time.
“Thank you, Ms. Taylor. I don’t know what else to say whatever I can-”
“What you can do for me Ashlyn, is keep an eye out for anyone who buys into this whoever they are isn’t good enough model, and to encourage people to be who they are. Which I bet you can do just by being who you are. You look a lot better with your hair like that and without all that make up on. It’s nice to see you. Take care Ashlyn.”
Ms. Taylor walked back to her office. Caity gave Ashlyn a tight hug and they left to go explore art studios, independent boutiques, and finally a solo pianist and vocalist. There Ashlyn looked around the listening room, which was small but packed and fell in love. The music touched so many people, and you could tell everyone was touched by this one person doing what they were meant to do. She looked at her friend Caity, who would do anything to help a fellow friend follow their dream. She knew in that moment that she was coming home. She had left that place inside of her that lit her up and comforted her soul, all at the same time. She had ignored that ache far too long.
Ashlyn arrived at her apartment late in the evening. Still living in Savannah four years after graduating SCAD, she opened her windows to see spanish moss hanging over every tree branch with unique and beautiful architecture lining the street. She took in a breath of the thick Savannah air and began to search for her long packed away art supplies. In the morning she would begin to paint, and begin to map out her future step by step. But for the night she would relax into her apartment, into herself, and find for the first time she was perfectly made to do some things, and those some things were perfectly made for her.