A Second Chance at a First Impression
Eight.
“Kathy?” I said poking my head round the door the next day. “Why do I have an interview with Rolling Stone?”
I walked into her office and put my hand on my hip, cocking it out to the side and waited for an answer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Katy.” She smiled, trying to feign innocence.
“Come on Kathy, I know you did it; who else would have?”
“Okay,” she sighed, sitting down in her executive’s chair. “About a month ago I was looking for that Maria’s press release on your desk. I remembered you saying something about leaving it in one of the drawers in the filing cabinet. So, I was looking in there for it and there was a big manila envelope, I thought it was in there.”
She unbuttoned her jacket before hanging it on the back of her chair. “I took out the paper in there, and there was something with your name at the top. I know I should have put it back and left it alone, but I began reading and it was good, really good.”
“It wasn’t that good.” I muttered, speaking of the three of short stories and reviews I’d done of CDs and - very few - gigs I’d been to in the past few years.
“Katy,” she smiled getting up and walking over to me. “You’re a good writer, believe in yourself. My friend Harry works at Rolling Stone and he was complaining about how one of their junior reviewers got fired and I remember you saying, just after you started working here, that you’d love to be a music journalist. I just happened to mention your name…and fax over a couple of the reviews…” she added on the end in hushed tones.
“But, I don’t think I’m good enough. I mean, Rolling Stone? It’s Rolling Stone one of the most respected music magazines in the world and they want me.” I just couldn’t comprehend it, I knew I could write, but I never thought I was good enough to acquire such an honour. Just being asked for an interview meant a hell of a lot to me.
“I always knew you had a knack for writing, but until I found those reviews, I never knew you had such a way with words. You can manipulate them to get them to evoke whatever you want from someone.”
For a second I had to stop, to get such praise from someone I looked up to was a big thing. I valued and respected Kathy’s opinions a lot; she was such an influence on me. She went out on a limb to hire me, when she hired me, I was 19, and had very little experience. She picked me ahead of people who had been in the business for years and probably would’ve done the job a lot better than I did.
“Thank you.” I whispered, looking up at her, suddenly feeling like a child.
“You’re welcome Katy, it was nothing.” She said, bringing me into and hug and bringing me to tears.
I walked into her office and put my hand on my hip, cocking it out to the side and waited for an answer.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Katy.” She smiled, trying to feign innocence.
“Come on Kathy, I know you did it; who else would have?”
“Okay,” she sighed, sitting down in her executive’s chair. “About a month ago I was looking for that Maria’s press release on your desk. I remembered you saying something about leaving it in one of the drawers in the filing cabinet. So, I was looking in there for it and there was a big manila envelope, I thought it was in there.”
She unbuttoned her jacket before hanging it on the back of her chair. “I took out the paper in there, and there was something with your name at the top. I know I should have put it back and left it alone, but I began reading and it was good, really good.”
“It wasn’t that good.” I muttered, speaking of the three of short stories and reviews I’d done of CDs and - very few - gigs I’d been to in the past few years.
“Katy,” she smiled getting up and walking over to me. “You’re a good writer, believe in yourself. My friend Harry works at Rolling Stone and he was complaining about how one of their junior reviewers got fired and I remember you saying, just after you started working here, that you’d love to be a music journalist. I just happened to mention your name…and fax over a couple of the reviews…” she added on the end in hushed tones.
“But, I don’t think I’m good enough. I mean, Rolling Stone? It’s Rolling Stone one of the most respected music magazines in the world and they want me.” I just couldn’t comprehend it, I knew I could write, but I never thought I was good enough to acquire such an honour. Just being asked for an interview meant a hell of a lot to me.
“I always knew you had a knack for writing, but until I found those reviews, I never knew you had such a way with words. You can manipulate them to get them to evoke whatever you want from someone.”
For a second I had to stop, to get such praise from someone I looked up to was a big thing. I valued and respected Kathy’s opinions a lot; she was such an influence on me. She went out on a limb to hire me, when she hired me, I was 19, and had very little experience. She picked me ahead of people who had been in the business for years and probably would’ve done the job a lot better than I did.
“Thank you.” I whispered, looking up at her, suddenly feeling like a child.
“You’re welcome Katy, it was nothing.” She said, bringing me into and hug and bringing me to tears.
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Not much of a chapter, but I couldn't think of anything else I needed to put in this one.Comments?
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