Getting back on the horse.

I’m feeling somewhat defeated. After two weeks of being a New Yorker, and three weeks of being unemployed, I’ve decided that maybe it’s time to get a job. Money’s been going fast, as I expected. But now that I’m a New Yorker, it’s important that I have certain things, like an air conditioner, new sun glasses, a bikini wax. You know, all the essentials.

I made today my official “Get a Job Day.” If anything, it was a big step up from yesterday’s “Get a Rug Day” (there will be more on that adventure later). I woke up early (10am) and donned my winning interview clothes. My first stop was a meeting with the Big Important Creative Director at a Big Important Ad Agency. I had been trying to set up this meeting for weeks, and as I ascended the seven stories in the elevator, I felt pretty good. I was oozing confidence through my shiny new heels, my crisp button-down shirt, and my snazzy pin-striped pants.

Big Important Creative Director (we’ll call him BICD) of the Big Important Ad Agency (we'll call it BIAA) greeted me at the elevator with a messy uneven half-beard, jeans, and a sloppy T-shirt. “Sorry I’m kinda out of it. I went out last night and I’m a little hungoverer.”

I looked from my shiny new heels to the shoelaces that trailed from his untied sneakers. Perhaps I overdressed a tad.

“Okay, let’s see your book.”

I admired the view of Manhattan from his Big Important Corner Office as he flipped through my portfolio. My baby. My two years of hard work bound with a thin silver spiral.

“Uh huh. Yeah… you want my advice? I’d gut it and write some new stuff. More exciting. More hard-hitting. You could get a job with this portfolio, but it probably wouldn't be a very good one.” I’m paraphrasing here, but that was the gist of it.

I left his office ten minutes later with a bottle of Aquafina in my hand and my dreams shattered in pieces on his blue office rug. I took my flip flops out of my bag and changed out of my heels. I took off my button-down shirt and headed down Madison Ave. in my tank top.

I stopped by a couple more ad agencies to drop off what I had previously thought of as my ticket to a great job, but what I was now starting to think of as a spiral bound piece of crap.

I sat for a while in Maddison Square Park watching the nannies push their charges on the swings. Maybe I could be a nanny. I like kids. I’m a real good swing-pusher.

Then I went to the one of the three nearby Starbucks and got a Frappacino. Caffeine makes everything better. I started to reexamine things.

The fact that I’m putting myself out there and showing my work (that I’m proud of, by the way) in a big new city, trying to get a great job. I think that’s pretty damn cool. I know I’m smart. I know I’m a good writer. And I’m not going to let a BICD with a hangover tell me otherwise. Even if he does have a corner office with a really good view. I wouldn’t want to waste my BA working in his BS BIAA anyway. Hmph.