The Interview

Javier had moved to New York from Valencia six months earlier, and he had sent his portfolio to more than forty design agencies. Only one had answered. The interview was on Tuesday at ten o'clock, at a small agency called Brightline in Brooklyn. He had prepared for a week, and on Monday night he ironed his best shirt twice.

On Tuesday morning everything went wrong. The subway stopped between two stations for twenty-five minutes, and nobody explained why. When it finally started moving again, Javier ran up the stairs, bought a coffee to calm down, and crashed into a man who was walking his dog. Half of the coffee went on his shirt. He arrived at the agency at ten fifteen, out of breath, with a large brown stain on his chest.

That evening, his roommate Kim found him lying on the sofa. "So?" she asked. "How did it go?" Javier sat up. "It was a disaster at first," he said. "The receptionist looked at my shirt and asked me if I was all right. I told her that I had had a small accident with a coffee and a dog."

"And the interviewer?" Kim asked. "Her name was Diane. She was very serious. She asked me why I was late, so I told her about the subway. Then she asked me what I knew about the agency. I said that I had seen their work for a children's museum and that I had loved the colors. She didn't smile once."

"That doesn't sound so bad," said Kim. "Wait," said Javier. "Then she asked me to show her my portfolio, and I realized that I had left my tablet on the subway. I almost cried. I told her that I was very sorry and that everything was online. She asked me whether I could find it on her computer, and of course I couldn't remember the password."

Kim covered her face with her hands. "Oh no. What did you do?" Javier laughed for the first time that day. "I asked her if I could have a piece of paper. She said that I could, so I drew the idea for my best project from memory: a poster for a jazz festival. While I was drawing, I explained every decision. She watched me for ten minutes without saying anything."

"And then?" Kim asked. "Then she told me that in twenty years she had never seen anyone do that in an interview. She said that most designers could make beautiful things on a computer, but that very few could think clearly when everything was going wrong. She asked me when I could start."

Kim jumped up from her chair. "You got the job?" Javier nodded. "I start on Monday. She told me that I should bring a spare shirt, just in case." At that moment his phone rang. It was the subway's lost and found office. Someone had found his tablet, and it was waiting for him at the station.