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“I’m good right here.” I don’t want to delay this a moment longer.
He plants his feet, shoulder-width apart, folding his arms across his chest, and gives me his complete attention. “Beforeyou begin, I do have to tell you that you’ve set a high bar for yourself.”
He states the obvious. “I’m not surprised my competitors have set a high bar. They’re all very talented. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
His chuckle should act as a warning bell, but it has the opposite effect. I find it comforting, giving me a confidence I shouldn’t possess. “Humble, I like that.” He points to the Magic baseball cap I have on the top of my afro. A last minute, why the hell not decision. “My daughter goes to school with your younger sister. May I?”
The mention of Stacy immediately put a smile on my face. “Yes, Stacy.” I tip my head to allow him easy access to the ball cap. Thank goodness Devon at least left me this tiny scrap to distract David from this pathetic start.
David retrieves the hat, and I pause, unsure whether to jump into my pitch right away or give him a few moments. With his focus clearly on the hat, I do the latter. A soft hum escapes his mouth as he runs his fingers across the crease of the hat, inspecting the seams. It’s a surprising move, not one I would expect from a CEO. Rather than feeling concerned, his action causes me to relax. My words to Mrs. Whitehead earlier repeat in my head,They’re evaluating my design. Not me.
“My daughter can be a klutz sometimes,” He starts in an unlikely place that tugs at my heart. “First day at college, nervous, looking to make a good impression. She spills her latte across her shirt.” I feel tears well up in my eyes. The image of Devon gliding across the café, offering a wink at me right before spilling a drink. “Your sister Stacy was there, grabbed her by her wrist, marched her to the women’s room and gave the shirt off her back to my daughter Allison. It was a Zara original. You designed it for your sister’s first day at college.”
My smile bursts wide. Pride brightens every corner of this enormous arena. “She’s a special young woman.”
“She said the same about you. They became fast friends, and when she found out who her father happened to be, told her to wear it when she spoke about getting you on today’s docket. My daughter sang your praises. Told me if I didn’t allow you to pitch, it’ll be the biggest mistake of my life.” David’s gaze remains locked on the baseball cap. “I took the shirt into my office the next day. Called in contacts from six design firms to give me their impressions. Hence my earlier comment, you’ve set a high bar.”
He twists the cap, holding it up high, then lowering it. Inspecting it from every angle. While he’s focused on the hat, I try to remain tethered to the earth. His compliment serves like jet fuel to my damaged heart. His words of validation are more than I’ve ever received from my employer.
“I love my daughter very much. Allison will be twenty-two next month; she’s almost grown. This franchise is my baby now. My daughter and your sister got you to the table.”
I nod. Message fully received. “I understand. Thank you in advance for this opportunity.”
David places the cap on the small table, repositions himself directly in front of me, and waves a hand. “Let’s see what you got.”
***
I respond to his questions on autopilot. Hours upon hours of preparation saving me from making nervous mistakes. I know this information inside and out. “As you can see here on the detailed project plan, we address the issues of scalability and seasonality here and here.”
I direct David to two additional subsections of the three hundred lines of the project plan. I give him a moment to review them while I try to maintain my faltering focus. A few minutes ago, David asked his assistant to connect my laptop to the giant jumbotron. His ask coinciding with when I flashed my photos of Devon in the various designs.
I had planned every element of this presentation except my reaction to seeing Devon on the giant screen. How did I not know this beautiful man was an actor? He’s made for the big screen.
Seeing him like that makes everything click. Up there, I don’t see the bumbling barista trying to play last minute fill-in model. I see an accomplished actor in his element. David’s comment on the third picture nearly breaks me.
“Handsome guy. Please tell me you have him under contract. If we decide to move forward… I’m just saying.”
He’s a handsome guy. And I kicked him to the curb. Told him to never call. That I never want to see him again. He isn’t the only one who spins lies.
“You’re extremely thorough.” David’s comment pulls me back to the present. Our scheduled five minutes of Q&A now approaching twenty. “I think I have all I need to make my decision.”
I hand David the backup jersey, the only prop I’ve used for the presentation. He gives it a look I can’t read. The minute we reached the Q&A section, David switched gears. From observer to CEO, CFO, and COO, asking probing and piercing questions. He challenges every crack in my response. Digging into every area I didn’t address to his satisfaction in the presentation. Overall, I think I’ve done well, but his body language and demeanor doesn’t give me the slightest clue.
“Thank you so much for your time.” I’ve prepared scripted closing remarks, but my instinct tells me to forego it and addressthe biggest concern I have. One that David has been too kind to call me on.
“I’m not a multi-million-dollar company with a hundred employees. I appreciate you letting a single proprietor pitch to you. I know you must have concerns, and I’m happy to address each of them if I make it to the next round.”
David pulls out his phone, and I feel like I’m losing him. He swipes across the screen, his brows furrowing. “There won’t be a next round.”
I steel my face and attempt to not show my disappointment. I’m out. He doesn’t even need to go back and compare my presentation and materials against my competitors to see how I stack up. I don’t. I’m not making the first cut.
“Well, I appreciate…”
He lifts a finger in my direction to halt my goodbye. “Yeah, really? Who?” He’s speaking into his phone, walking away from me. It must’ve been on vibrate because I never heard it ring. I stand there with my hands in front of me, unsure what I’m supposed to do. Am I dismissed? Should I pack up?
“Got it. Escort them in.”
He doesn’t have to say it. The next firm is here. My time is up. I disconnect my laptop from the jumbotron connection.
