HOW IT STARTED
I left the interview convinced that the Creative Assistant job would be mine. Turns out, I was the only one persuaded. Later that day, I got an email from the HR recruiter: Access Denied.
But then again, this email was different. I’ve applied to enough jobs to know that employers don’t usually tell you to call them back after they reject you for a job. It was clear this recruiter was rooting for me.
During our call, she let me in on a secret and we devised a plan.—“They loved you,” she said, “but decided to go with someone already in-house. I think we just need to get you in the door and then we can go from there. I have another Assistant position available. In the Consumer Marketing Department. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me!” I said.
We put our plan into action. I got the job and went to work.
A few weeks later, I was cc-ed on a department-wide email from the Senior VP of Consumer Marketing. He was meeting with Martha Stewart and the executive board next week. He needed to bring them something new. “What’s the next BIG thing in Marketing?” he asked. I replied within seconds, and then he was at my desk. He said, “Tell me more about Facebook.”
Facebook was a hit with Martha, and so was I. A few weeks later, the SVP came around my desk again. “I pulled some strings,” he said, as he handed me copy of the freshly minted May 2008 issue of Martha Stewart Living Magazine. “You deserve it.”
There it was! My name on the masthead of a Martha Stewart magazine. “Thank you!” I said, like Cinderella to her Fairy Godmother. This was definitely a wish granted. I had a plan, and my name on the page was proof that it was possible.
Next thing, we got the news: Martha was merging offices. Another wish granted, I felt like there was a gravitational force pulling me closer to a creative core. After the move, I realized, all this time, I’ve been through the door, but now I was definitively in the building. From a few stories away, I sent the Editor in Chief of Martha Stewart Living an email.
When the elevator doors opened, there was so much color. Fresh flowers, hanging photographs, printed fonts. I walked past rows of desks, strategically pacing my strides. Fast enough to appear as if I belonged, but slow enough to peek over a few shoulders and soak in the creative vibes.
The Editor welcomed me into her office. We exchanged pleasantries and I described Operation Dream Job to her in not-so-many words.
“So, what’s the purpose of this meeting?” she asked again. This Editor was not interested in reading between the lines. And she was definitely not interested in me.
“Thank you for your time,” I said, before closing the corner-office door behind me. I walked back to the elevator, slow enough not to be noticed, but fast enough to blur the beautiful background of my dreams existing just beyond my grasp.
Back on my gray floor, I sat at my gray desk and swiveled in my gray chair.
I needed a new plan.—If I couldn’t go to the creative, I would have to bring the creative to me.
HOW IT’S GOING
Consumer Marketing is methodical, strategic, and risk-adverse. Change comes slowly or not at all.—The banner used to be blue. Now it’s pink. And the offer is kind of different. Apparently, “50% OFF 12 ISSUES” tested better than “6 ISSUES FREE.” But the price is the same. The image of the chocolate Easter bunny is the same.
On my computer, I opened the shared Marketing drive and found the Excel file with the results from the A/B test we ran not too long ago. I needed to remind myself that the bunny was still there for a reason. Since rolling out two years ago, the chocolate bunny with the blue ribbon has consistently outperformed other images. Something about the bunny makes people want to subscribe. And that’s our goal here in Consumer Marketing, subscription acquisition. Our focus is on the numbers.
I tried to focus on the numbers. I attended the monthly meeting and returned to my desk informed by this month’s strategic moves. I opened a PDF of the design files and started to annotate the minor but specific changes. For the billionth time, I thought, in the time it’s taking me to do all this, I could have already changed the color and gotten it approved. Then I composed an email to the design agency, summarizing the updates and attaching the PDF.
I know what will happen next. They will change the color, but it will still be all wrong. This design agency seems to specialize in billable hours of back-and-forth emails as they work on adjusting the hue. I could change the color in a fraction of the time, for a fraction of the cost.
I thought, What if I focused on the numbers? The number of billable hours. The number of emails. The number of edits I could have performed.
I compiled these numbers into a binder with copies of invoices and annotations. My binder was fat, and I was convinced. If given the opportunity, I could save the department a lot of time and money.
Impressed with my projections of estimated savings, I started to talk about my findings and my ideas.
That’s how it was going. Until they told me to stop. Now I have a decision to make.
HOW IT ENDS
I am caught off guard when my direct manager approaches my desk and asks if I have a moment to talk. “Let’s find somewhere private,” she says with a weak smile, and motions for me to follow her. I am happy to follow her anywhere; all roads lead away from this desk.
We chit-chat as we walk across the office floor. I ask about her baby, and she tells me the sweetest story. She asks if I’m dating anyone, and I tell her, “It’s a long story.” We reach our destination, a small meeting room.
She closes the door, and we sit at the table. For the first time, I suspect that something is wrong. We’ve met in this room dozens of times. This room is usually easy, like butter. Suddenly, I need a steak knife to cut through the tension.
She begins to speak, and my bloodstream floods with opposing emotions. I feel hot, but my sweat is cold. I am relieved. No, I am terrified. I am relieved and terrified?
I stop trying to label my reaction and return to the room. She is still speaking. I am ready to listen.
She says, “We love having you on the team, Charlotte, you know that.” I nod and she continues, “The problem is, you are not happy. So, you need to make a decision. If you want to continue working here, you’ll need to find a way to be happy doing your actual job. But, I know you want to be doing something more creative. So maybe it’s time for a new opportunity. We want you to be happy, and you just aren’t. We’re here to help you however we can! References, recommendations, all glowing, of course.”
She stops talking, then starts again. “I know this is a lot. Take all the time you need to think…” At that point, I stop listening and start to think, mostly about this meeting being over.
On Monday, I return to the office. I retake my position at my desk. Something is driving my desire to stay. Is it shame? For getting in trouble. They are giving me a second chance. But will redemption make me happy? Or will I resent myself for staying somewhere safe? Maybe I am just scared of the unknown. For whatever reason, I return reformed, ready to recommit to my responsibilities and focus on the numbers.
At first, I focus on the numbers. But all I want is to use my words. Not here. Not out loud. I start typing, compulsory confessions to friends on Gchat. The truth is out there. The truth is, it’s over.
I submit my notice and say my goodbyes.
I start to dream even bigger. Why not? Everything is about to change.