“He’s doing great, thank you for asking. How was your night?”
“Full of booze and way too many pretty women. I’m still not sure why you’re not among them.”
“Because I’m allergic to all the glitter, sir. Which you still have in your hair, by the way.”
“You’ve always got my back, Olivia. Did you call to confirm the interview for this morning?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. Nine on the dot. They should be here any minute.”
“Perfect. Send them in once they get here,” I said.
I sat down in my seat and pulled my briefcase into my lap. I pulled out the documents I would need to go over, including the portfolio I was sent. The work was impressive, but nothing I hadn’t seen before. Every advertiser I’d found seemed to be stuck in this minimalistic trend. And Sumptedo was everything but. Hell, the name was a mashup of ‘sumptuous’ and ‘hedonistic’, for fuck’s sake.
What the hell was minimalistic about that?
But it was the last page of the portfolio that caught my eye. Logos bursting with eye-catching color and mesmerizing designs. That was the kind of shit I was looking for. Bold colors on a dark background. A weaving fluidity between the darkness and the light. I pulled that sheet of the portfolio to the front as a knock came at my door, and I gave my hair one last shake before I called out.
“Come on in,” I said.
The door opened and I didn’t bother looking up. If this advertiser could deliver full-time what they had on the last page of this portfolio, then they had the damn job. They were the only person who didn’t seem to be stuck in such a fucking rut, and that was what I needed.
Someone who could push us beyond the comfortable landscape like I had the entire damn hotel industry.
“Mr. Aaron, thank you for your time.”
“And thank you,” I said. “This page of your portfolio is very interesting.”
I slid the piece of paper across my desk before my eyes leveled with the person sitting in front of me.
“Interesting. Usually people don’t enjoy that page. That’s why it’s in the back.”
“Well, I’m not usual. That type of thing is what I’m looking for. Do you have anything else like that you can show me?”
“You don’t want to know about my education? Or my awards? Or my prior history?”
“I hate history. Always have. It was boring in school and it’s boring now. And awards don’t mean shit. It means you nailed something once, and I’m not interested on once. As far as education goes, there are plenty in this company who do the best work that aren’t educated in the field they operate in now. So no, I only want to know what I’ve asked for. Can you deliver on that?”
I hooked my eyes onto the person in front of me and waited for them to deliver. That was what I needed. Someone who could deliver without question. Hands rifled through bags and pulled out notebooks full of shit, and my expectations began to dwindle.
But the disappointment was interrupted by my phone ringing.
I gazed up at Olivia, ready to scold her for interrupting, but she was pointing down at the phone. Harshly. With her eyes wide and her lips puckered. I furrowed my brow and held up my finger, pausing the interview so I could take the call.
“This is Ryan Aaron. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Mom. What’s going on? Yeah. Yep. No, I’m free. I’m coming. I’ll lock up right now. Just stay there. Mom, stop crying. I can’t-... Mom!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose as her frantic voice continued to rant in my ear.
“I’m on my way,” I said. “I’m coming now.”
I hung up the phone as I stood from my seat.
“I’m very sorry, but this interview is going to have to wait. I have a family emergency, and I’m needed.”
“Is there anything I can do, Mr. Aaron?”
I picked up my briefcase and placed files into it before I closed it on my desk.
“Yes,” I said. “You can bring me something more formal than a doodle book.”