They don't know how to make the most of your talents. They don't know what to do with you.
Those two statements have lingered with me since last night. Truth hurts or stings. It's not like my father is lying. Have you ever had a job where you brought forward-moving ideas to the table only for your "team" to shoot them down? You've proven that you're not only a reliable employee but an employee who likes to think big and maximize her creativity. But you're just not appreciated.
This is the feeling I walk with every day at work. Still, I suck it up until I can land a new job that I am passionate about. And in the meantime, I am continuing to rack up experience that I know will serve me in the future.
There's no work for me today. That means I can clean and catch up on shows.
When it comes time to watch the Enda Show, the TV is no longer background noise as I declutter my home, instead it now has my full attention. So I get comfortable on the couch and take in the theme song that I know by heart and admire the host as she appears on her stage. She's gorgeous as always.
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"We have a great show for you today!" Enda says, looking directly into the cameras. "Our up-and-coming designers' showcase continues..."
I'm not watching the show as a fan. I'm studying it. I pay attention to the topics, how long the topics are, the segments, the script, everything. I've even emailed some of my ideas.
When a commercial break comes, I decide to find something to eat instead of fast-forwarding.
It's when I start heating up a Jamaican patti in the microwave that my phone rings. I can hear my loud ringtone from upstairs where I left my phone.
Nothing to see here, just an unknown number. The number has a 212 area code and I see they've left a message, but I don't get my hopes up because it could be a scam phone call and not a callback for an interview.
There's no harm in checking, right?
"Lovie, hi. It's Enda. Call me when you get this, please." Click.
I'm frozen.
Maybe I'm dreaming. Maybe I haven't woken up yet.
Before I can do anything, my phone rings again. It's from a different number, a cellphone probably.
"Hello?" I answer, despite my anxiety.
"Hi, is this Lovie?" I know we can't judge someone's race off the phone, but I'm pretty sure this is a white girl on the phone right now.
"Who wants to know?"
The person pauses before giggling. "Oh, I'm sorry, I should have probably introduced myself first. I'm Hilary, Enda Halling's assistant. She's trying to reach you."
"Why?"
"Oh. Um, she'd really like to speak with you, is that okay?"
Suddenly the phone sounds muffled. Then it sounds like it's being moved. Or grabbed.
