“Yes. I read it for figuring out ways to promote this place.”
“Oh?”
He nods. “Yeah. Lots of good tips in there. With social media, you don’t need to hire PR, marketing, or advertising people like you used to.”
“I guess.” I look down at my book and flip through the pages slowly, wondering if it’s worth finishing considering that this stranger just told me my job was obsolete. “But what about long-term strategic branding, connections …” I trail off when I see someone walk through the door and up to the counter.
Following my gaze, he says, “Oh, I better go. Nice chatting with you. Enjoy your book.”
“Same here. Thanks.”
I watch him return to behind the counter and greet the new customer while I try to shake off his comment. True, social media is changing the game for the average person, such as a thirty-something guy who works in a coffeehouse, but there’s a lot more to my industry than some “tweets.” If anything, social media enhances what I already do, and I spend the next couple hours with my head buried in this book.
BACK AT HOME, before I can sink into an all-evening depression, an email appears in my inbox from one of the smaller recruiting agencies asking if I can come in tomorrow morning. Not bad for Day One of the job hunt! I think, and I instantly reply that I’ll be there.
This means I also need those samples for my portfolio.
Kate never called me last night. No email either. I consider texting her, but decide not to. Perhaps she worked late, or was out last night, and will call me later today when she’s free.
I wait until seven o’clock, when I’m sure Kate must be home from work. I dial her number and it rings until her voicemail picks up—“This is Kate. Leave a message.”
Gah! Why isn’t she answering? Or worse, why is she ignoring me?
“Hi, Kate. It’s Allison. I’ve started my job search and have an interview with a recruiter tomorrow. I’d love to include those press releases for the Newberry and the Carmen’s campaign in my portfolio. Call me.”
Unable to keep my eyes open, I go to bed at eight.
SITTING IN THE small, windowless office at the Pivot Agency with its dingy industrial carpet and scuffed gray walls, I’m not sure what to think. (Though looking at the brown tips of the hanging plant in the corner, I am wondering whose idea it was to place a plant in a room with no sunlight.) The woman recruiter behind the desk is wearing her blouse half-tucked in, half-out, and it’s not clear which one was the original intent. Her brown hair is a bit of a mess, but her kind eyes beam eagerly at me through her oversized glasses, dispelling my anxieties that the career opportunities she presents will be just as haphazard.
“Such an impressive resume,” she says. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”
“Of course! Thank you for responding to my email so quickly.”
Be cool, be cool, don’t be desperate, I warn myself, though feeling poised to leap at the first opportunity she mentions.
“So, listen, you’re in luck because we have a bunch of positions in marketing and public relations right now. For example, RG Communications is looking for an assistant in their media department, as is the Pavilion Group.”
O-kay. Or maybe I’m not so ready to leap, after all.
“That’s great,” I reply, cautiously, since I’m not sure why she’s telling me about assistant jobs. “So I’m looking for something at the managerial level.”
She clicks through her computer files. “Okay. Well, here we go. Talcott is looking for an Account Executive with at least one-year experience. You have over ten!”
“Yes, well, that sounds like it might be pretty entry-level. …” My pride aches at the very real possibility of having to take a lower-paying position. “Is there anything that mentions management? Or someone with several years of experience?” I ask carefully. I don’t want to appear ungrateful; after all, she is the first recruiter to contact me.
She flips through some printouts on her desk. “Other than the account executive position, there’s nothing else managerial, except for an office manager. …” She looks up at me. Her eyes shine hopefully, magnified through her glasses. “Would that be something you’re interested in?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I shake my head. I hate to disappoint her. “But I’m not strictly interested in agencies. What about in-house positions?”
“Hmmm … We don’t tend to get a lot of those in, but I could make some calls,” she says, still enthusiastic, despite my growing gloom.
“Thanks, that would be great. And though I’d prefer to work in the city, if there’s something interesting in the suburbs, I’m open.” The idea of commuting doesn’t thrill me, but beggars can’t be choosers. Though I can’t completely start over at the bottom of the ladder; I have bills to pay and self-esteem to raise.
“Okay. Good. Great.” She nods vigorously. “Let me do some more research, make some calls today, and I’ll be in touch with you soon.”
I thank her, but I walk out of our meeting with my hopes low. Despite her enthusiasm and promises, I suspect she simply had a quota to fill and was desperate to place me anywhere to fill it. Luckily, when I leave I have a couple missed calls and emails from the other agencies. So this meeting may have been a miss, but I’m not completely defeated. Yet.
Thursday and Friday, I meet with the other agencies, and I succinctly summarize those meetings over dinner with Jordan on Friday night.
“‘We don’t have much at your level at the moment.’” I parrot back their dismal words. “And no one seems to have any in-house jobs. But, they all said that I have an impressive resume and promised that they would make some calls.” I cross my fingers. “So hopefully next week something will happen.”
“What about my law firm? Want me to ask if they’re looking for anyone in the marketing department?”
Though it’s a kind offer, considering that Jordan constantly complains about everyone she works with, wariness trumps my desperation.
“Thanks, but for now I’d rather try for an agency position since I like the variety of clients and projects. But, depending on what happens with these recruiters, I might ask you to look into that.”
“Sure thing.” She nods and changes the subject. “So what was Kate’s response to this whole debacle?”
“Good question. I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet, and her lack of response is completely stressing me out.” This is an understatement. I’ve been sweating over Kate’s silence all week.
“She hasn’t called you yet?” Jordan says in disbelief.
I shake my head. “Nope. And I’ve both called and emailed her. I’m getting a little worried. She was sick on Saturday, and so maybe it’s something serious? Or she’s just swamped catching up?”
Given the circumstances, these excuses seem feeble even to my ears. Yet one never knows—something bad could have happened. Maybe she got fired, too. Although her Facebook status shows that she’s clearly been at work (Boo, it’s Monday again. #nomotivationmonday) and out and about this week (Almost got run over by a biker on the lakefront. #ihatebikers). It also seems that Kate’s Facebook page could use some better personal branding, and maybe I should recommend my new book to her.