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I stare at the date. Ugh. It’s still the exact same day as my favorite town festival.
Easy out. Every year, I volunteer at the table for the local Habitat for Humanity chapter, recruiting volunteers. That’s way more important than some stupid reunion.
Right?
I’m about to close my laptop when I get a notification. I look at email and to my utter shock, there’s a reply for the professional fluffer job.
Hi Marley. You sound like a good fit. What’s your number to text?
I blink. What does that mean?
Hi! Thank you. Could you tell me more about the job? What kind of set? I grab a pen and start chewing on the cap.
We’re filming today. You know. The standard. Text me 555-444-0001.
The standard. What does this person mean by ‘the standard’? Self-doubt floods me. This is some staging lingo I don’t know, but I’m clearly supposed to know.
Play it cool, I tell myself. Fake it till you make it. It’ll be fine. Remember your bank balance.
I pull out my phone and start texting.
Right. It sounds very interesting. I am available if you’d like to see my resume and portfolio. It’s Mallory, by the way.
Reminding myself that if I don’t get the gig, the world doesn’t end, I take deep, cleansing breaths that expand my diaphragm.
It’s the only diaphragm I use lately, so might as well exercise it.
You have a portfolio? LOL. Wow. That’s real professional. Most of our people come to us word of mouth, but a bunch of them quit and went pro, on their own. So we got desperate and listed on Craigslist.
I frown at the phone. Is this person mocking me?
Another text comes through from him. Her? Not sure.
We need someone right away, Mallory. You sound like you know what you’re doing. All we really care about is that it gleams in the light and has staying power. It’s the focal point, right?
I sit up straight. This is promising. I need to say the right affirming words to make them understand I would be a valuable addition to their team.
Oh, I’ll make sure it all stands tall and looks beautiful.
There. Mission accomplished.
Great. You’re hired.
“What?” I squeal, shocked and relieved. Finally! Someone values me professionally!
We need it to shine. Bring whatever it takes to really make it shine.
Wow. They obviously care about lighting and art direction.
No problem. With enough spit and polish, anything can shine, I reply.
Spit, huh? I like the way you think. Attagirl.
I’m a little taken aback by attagirl. Seems… gendered. Demeaning. I need to show them I’m made of serious stuff.
I’ll send you my standard freelance contract shortly. Your ad said cash paid at the end of the day. What is the fee?
The pause before his (her?) next text comes through feels like a kind of soul death. Was I too blunt? Did I blow it? Please tell me I didn’t blow it.
