Page 2 of Accidental Getaway

I cruise down the mountain toward Denver in my trusty little Subaru wondering where six months have gone and how the heck I’m still so stuck.

When I first moved home, I thought a few weeks would be all I needed to get back on my feet.

I thought I would sleep, eat mom’s homemade mac ’n’ cheese, go hiking with my dad, and then get my butt in gear.

My focus would turn to finding a new job and moving on.

But the longer I laid in bed and the more I put off my job search, the harder it got to want to do anything.

I would sit around and play games on my phone or tag along on all of my mom’s errands.

And the longer I went not looking for jobs, the further I dropped into depression—unable to see a way out. It was a vicious cycle.

Finally, after a couple months of doing nothing, Piper begged me to apply to be an assistant at the same start-up marketing agency she worked at.

The agency is entirely remote, so I didn’t have to move or start over in a new place with new people, which would have terrified me.

And because I was applying to be an assistant, I hoped to avoid talking about my job in Chicago and what happened.

As it turned out, I didn’t even have to interview; Piper’s recommendation was enough to get me the job.

And for a while, things felt better. I had a reason to get up in the morning again. Though, I’m starting to dread that same routine that gave me so much security in the beginning.

I yearn for something exciting to happen, but at the same time, my chest feels tight any time I think about taking steps toward the future I want.

It’s easy here. I don’t have to worry that I’m going to mess everything up again or humiliate myself in front a client.

I don’t have much of a life, but I also don’t have much to lose either.

It feels safe. Most days, that is good enough for me, but every once in a while, I wonder if things might be different if I try again.

And those rare days are the ones where I get my hopes up and fill out job applications.

Forty-five minutes later, after cursing downtown parking for being so impossible, I walk through the doors to the marketing agency on the eighteenth floor of a high-rise overlooking the city.

After checking in at the front desk, take a seat on a plush leather chair in the waiting area.

Though, the moment I do, I notice my mouth feels like sandpaper, and I can’t ignore it thanks to my nerves.

I grab a cup of water from the water dispenser in the corner.

With a tight grip on the cold cup in one hand and my portfolio in the other, I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath.

“Miss Swanson? Dan can see you now.” A woman in a little black dress beckons me.

“Great, thank you!”

I look around for a trash can to toss my cup. My eyes go wide when the water inside it splashes up as the cup hits the bottom of the can, but the woman pretends not to notice. She escorts me into a sleek office overlooking the baseball stadium. My dad would be so jealous.

A man with a perfectly-tailored blue suit and tie stands to greet me. “Hi, Jenni, my name is Dan. Come on in. ”

I know Dan is the hiring manager from stalking the company online after sending in my application. He went to Stanford and has worked here in the seven years since. He loves to ski and he has two Dobermans, according to his company bio.

“Have a seat. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I try not to cringe at this question. Even after so many interviews, I still haven’t figured out a satisfactory way to answer it.

“Sure.” I paste a smile on my face. “I’m a Colorado native, and love hiking, and camping.

” I picked these details to share because I know the firm represents a major recreational clothing company.

“If you take a look in my portfolio, I did my senior project on marketing principles for the outdoors enthusiast.”

He flips through the folder I gave him when I sat down. “Excellent. Your portfolio is very impressive.”

“Thank you. I really strive for excellence with every project, no matter how big or small.”

“I can see that,” he says, looking at a magazine ad for a mommy blogger’s cutesy first-aid kit brand that has been taking off.

Most of my portfolio is made up of assignments I did in school or spreads I have created in my own time.

One Aspen Sky campaign made its way in there, too, because I did 90 percent of the work.

But I didn’t include anything from my days in Chicago.

“Tell me, why you are pursuing a career in marketing?”

“I have always been inspired by the challenge of creatively meeting the needs of two groups of people at once. I love when a campaign not only helps the client increase their business but also when it helps get the right product or service in the hands of people who need it. I think it’s a beautiful synergy that often gets overlooked when people see marketing as an extension of consumerism. ”

He nods. I believe every word of what I just said, but I also read an article from one of the firm’s partners who basically said the same thing, so I’m hoping it’s the right answer.

After a few more questions, I’m sitting taller in my chair and the tightness in my chest has eased.

I haven’t hesitated or talked in circles.

And when he asked me to name a recent marketing book I’ve read, he said he was currently reading the same one.

I have been right on point for the whole interview.

“Jenni, I have to say, your portfolio and the way you carry yourself is very impressive. I love everything I’m seeing.

However, this position requires at least a year of experience and I just don’t have any wiggle room on that.

According to your résumé, you haven’t done much since graduation, outside of your current position as an administrative assistant.

I don’t even see any internships. Can you help me understand the gap? Have you held a marketing job before?”

And there it is—the sound of the other shoe dropping.

I have experience. I have a ton of experience.

But I can’t put that experience on my résumé without having to explain why I left Prewitt Luxury Marketing after two internships and nearly two years of building my career.

But I can’t do that. Nor do I want anyone calling the firm to check for references.

I left in such a messy way and in such a hurry that even the people who liked me probably wouldn’t be able to recommend me.

Well, we liked her, but she basically disappeared overnight, and no one ever knew why. I don’t think that would go over well.

“I had a personal situation that disrupted my career path,” I finally explain.

“I know it’s far from ideal, but I have stayed up on trends and done work for friends.

I know I have the skills and ability to handle the workload.

In my job as an assistant, I have my hands on a very wide range of projects. ”

He looks over portfolio once again. Does he realize he holds my future in his hands? That he can make or break me? All I need is one person to overlook my lack of “on paper” experience and give me a chance. I can prove them all wrong…I only need a chance.

Dan sits up straight and wrings his hands.

With that simple body language, I deflate. He is bracing himself to tell me something I don’t want to hear.

“I sympathize with your situation. I really do,” he says. And I wait for the “but.”

“I think you have a ton of potential, but we really aren’t in a position to hire someone without experience for this role. There are HR mandates I have to follow. You might have better luck at smaller firms. We also have a robust internship program you can look into next summer.”

I rise from my chair, ready to get as far away as possible before the self-loathing kicks in. “I understand. Thank you for your time.”

“Please come back when you have some more experience. I think you’ve got a lot of talent.”

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t. It feels like I’m up against a brick wall and the only option I have is to turn around. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

And it’s not as if that would be easy, either. As humiliating as it is, I’ve looked at internships. That’s how desperate I am. But they all want students. I even looked into grad school, but I already have a mountain of student debt that I can’t add to in good conscience.

As I head back to my car, I can already hear the conversation over breakfast tomorrow morning.

Mom will offer me a steaming mug of black coffee she knows I hate and when I refuse it, she’ll ask me how I’m doing with “you know… with everything.” She is always vague, as if naming my depression will make it contagious.

Then, Dad will ask about my “job situation” and I’ll have nothing to report.

Mom will smack him because she’s perfectly happy with me being home adding in a “You shouldn’t be so hard on her. ”

Then, one of them will inevitably bring up my younger brother, Jeremy, who is off in Seattle working for a tech company that’s paying his college tuition because he started designing video games for them while still in high school. He saw his dreams and never looked back.

This same conversation happens once a week, like clockwork. I can practically set my watch by it.

It makes me want to scream.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m so grateful that they took me in because I don’t make enough money to afford my own place, even in Pineview Springs. But that fateful night I left Chicago and drove through the night to get here, I never thought I would still be here. I don’t know where else to go.

More experience. It’s always about more experience. But how can I magically get myself more experience if no one will hire me because I lack it?