Luckily, my jacket was open when it happened. It covers the spill up fairly well, but I still hit the bathroom first and try to wash the coffee out. It helps to an extent and I hold my clothes beneath the hand dryers before leaving to find the receptionist who I am meant to inform that I'm here.

It's fairly easy to find the Marketing Department thanks to the many directional signs on the walls. As if Sinas would let its customers or possible business partners get lost in the vastness of their building. I’m grateful for it since I need to get there as soon as possible. I would be even earlier if I hadn’t run into that asshole earlier! This is seriously going to bug me all day.

When I do arrive at the right department, I find a young woman likely in her late 30s to early 40s sitting behind a beautiful mahogany desk. Her space is immaculate: papers stacked perfectly, folders color-coded, and even her writing utensils ordered by height and type. She's typing away on her computer while speaking into an earpiece with the typical sweet tone that receptionists are stereotypically known to have.

A lump has formed in my throat, one that's difficult to swallow. My brain, being the useless shit that it is, continues to remind me how important today is and that I shouldn't be freaking out. However, telling me not to freak out while repeating over and over that this is very important doesn't help me not freak out!

How do brains even function? I don't get it.

I wait patiently for Mary—at least, that's what the nameplate on her desk says—to get off the phone. Her eyes catch me for a moment and she gives a smile while signaling with her head to take a seat. Silently, I do exactly that and sit on the black leather couch that is pressed against the glass wall right across from Mary's desk.

On either side of me are dark mahogany doors just like her desk that likely lead into the office spaces. Directly in front of me is another glass wall that shows a meeting room with a long black table and chairs to fit about twenty people. The sun is shining brightly through the open windows, giving the lounge area a very open and warm feeling. There is minimalist art hanging on the walls in the soft colors of white, green and yellow. A few foe plants reside in the corners, giving the lounge an almost earthy feel to it. It helps quell the building nerves in my stomach to an extent.

"Carter Wells?"

I perk at the call of my name, standing immediately with a charming smile directed at the secretary that’s now looking right at me.

"Sorry for the wait," Mary says once I'm back at her desk. She hands me a form and paper, pointing to the meeting room I was admiring a moment ago. "Please fill this out in the meeting room. I will let Mrs. Juritsy know you're here."

Taking the paper and pen I do as I'm told and fill out the form while in the meeting room. It's pretty normal, asking for my name, address, schooling information with a few questions like, Why do you wish to work for Sinas? What do you hope to learn from your internship with Sinas? 

See, those are trick questions. If you gave a real response like, I need a job so I don't starve or I really like money then they won't hire you. It's not as if marketing makes me all giddy inside, but it's something I don't hate and feel I can do for the rest of my life, simple as that. If I were to be honest, there is something I want to be but it’ll never happen. I’ve come to accept that.

Anyways, instead of telling the truth, they want to see how well you can bullshit your way through the answers. Essentially, interviews are meant to find out how good of a liar you are.

Just as I finish the form, a new face appears in the meeting room. I quickly stand and smile upon the entrance of a kind looking woman that can't be out of her 30's. Her strawberry blonde hair is pulled back into a curly ponytail. Bright blue eyes are lined softly with light eyeliner making them pop even more and a soft blush can be seen on her round cheeks. She wears a young but still professional floral white dress that reaches just above her knees.

"Carter, my name is Kennedy Juritsy, it's so nice to finally meet you! I hope you found us easily." She holds out her hand for me to shake once she's around the table. I happily take her hand in mine, remembering that stupid saying my marketing teacher always said “make sure your shake is web to web.”

Maybe school isn’t totally useless.

"It's a bit hard to miss. Sinas sure made sure that they stood out no matter where you are in town," I joke, since everyone knows the Sinas building. It's the newest building around and it screams modern.

"So true! Oh, I see you've finished your form." Kennedy holds out her hand once more this time asking for my completed paper. I hand it to her before she requests that I follow her back to her office. In doing so, we go through the mahogany doors to the right of the entrance. Behind them is an office filled with workers who I thought would be in cubicles but it's as open and bright in here as it was in the lounge.

I can't help but to admire the very friendly atmosphere. People are communicating with one another, their desks in view allowing them to easily ask for help or show their work to colleagues. There's even a soft hint of the smell of mint that makes the office seem more friendly and less daunting. It's certainly not what I expected but I'm not complaining.

I guess I figured everyone would be stuck up, focusing on their own work in dark cubicles. Isn't that what's always on TV? Sinas is so serious, too, and I can't help but wonder how they get away with such a bubbly atmosphere.

"Please, take a seat," Kennedy says after we reach her office, which is as warm as the outside area. There are pictures of what I assume to be her children on the walls, colorful drawings that must be from them, as well as a few achievements of her own. Her desk is nothing like Mary’s, though. I can see she quickly tried to clean it before I arrived, but it still resembles the desk of a very busy woman.

"I apologize for the mess," Kennedy giggles once we've both taken a seat. "I clean and I swear a minute later my office explodes."

"I totally understand. My room is a disaster around finals week. I’m surprised I can find myself, let alone any school work."

Kennedy cringes at the mention of “finals,” causing me to chuckle at the expression. Seems she doesn’t want to discuss her college years because she quickly requests that I tell her a bit about myself.

Ah, yes, the dreaded “about me” section of an interview, so ensues the subtle bragging that we all have to do during an interview. The nerves I felt earlier slowly dwindle away as they normally do. I've always been the type to freak the fuck out before a test rather than during one.

Speaking makes me calm down, allows me to focus on something other than the anxiety hanging over me like a heavy fog. Kennedy's personality certainly helps too; she has a smile on the entire time we speak and is very animated, seeming to really enjoy our conversation. It makes it easier to keep talking until we realize that over an hour has passed.

"I really would love to keep speaking with you, Carter, but as you know we have other interviews. Our last one will be tomorrow." Kennedy stands from her desk while I get up as well. She holds out her hand yet again, shaking mine while thanking me for the nice talk. "Expect to hear from us very soon. Thank you for your time."

I am escorted out of the office by Kennedy, not feeling nervous until I exit the lounge to head home. My stomach drops, quickly squishing itself into a knot while I replay our conversation earlier a million times in my head. Of course my mind has to point out every little thing that I probably said wrong and berate me for it. It's so hard not to curl up into a ball right here and die.

At the same time, I know I did all that I could. My portfolio is immaculate. I’ve worked my ass off my whole life, doing volunteer work, doing my best at school, socializing with anyone who even looks at me and, yes, it all helps me in the long run. I always feel like I could have done better, should have done better but it’s over with now.

I’m simply feeling jittery because I really want this internship. My father would be incredibly proud of me. I bet he’d throw a party simply because I got an interview. I can’t imagine what he would do if I actually got the internship. I chuckle at the thought.

Not to mention the opportunities and the doors that it will open for me are endless. My brain can't even wrap around the idea of actually working with some of the top businessmen and women in the U.S. I'm basically guaranteed a job right after graduation if I get this internship. It's like putting a flashing sign over my head that says hire me!

The only downfall is working in the same building as that jerk from earlier. I growl just thinking about the stranger who immediately dampened my mood.

Please, if I do get the internship, don't let me be anywhere near the asshole from this morning.