Post-Collegiate Contemplation

“You’ve got a college degree? What are you doing here?” The words came into her ears harsher than Holland meant them. What was she doing here? This particular customer had been coming in every few days since she had started work here, which had allowed a regular flow of comfortable small talk to be exchanged.

“Turns out a degree in linguistics isn’t as practical for getting a job as I would like.” Margot replied, disheartened. She moved away from the front counter to begin making the usual hazelnut latte that accompanied his sandwich.

“Linguistics, huh? Couldn’t that land you a job in editing or maybe even teaching?” Holland asked, moving down the counter to speak as Margot heated up the coffee machine.

“Potentially, but every job either needs more experience or there’s a problem with my visa, especially with the teaching jobs.” The steel grey machine started to emit a smell of fresh coffee, and seconds later the brown liquid poured out of the spout.

“Maybe a junior editing position? I know multiple companies that seem to have a revolving door of new editors.” Gauging the look on Margot’s face, Holland hurried to say “I know it’s discouraging, but I don’t think a Harvard graduate should sit in a coffee shop forever. That’s talent wasted right there.”

With that, he took his purchases and waved goodbye, walking out the door and leaving Margot frustrated with the manner of her current job. It had been her dream to go overseas and live and work there, but she hadn’t anticipated her inability to be hired for any job. As she walked home through the streets of Belfast, Ireland later that day, she felt her heart sink with every step, knowing a long night of searching for jobs lay ahead.

Several days passed before Margot saw Holland again. Those days were filled with late nights next to the window staring at the screen showing recent job listings, followed by waking up the next morning to walk to her minimum wage part-time job at Hotel Chocolat. The store had turned from her favorite place to walk and get a drink to the symbol of rejection. Rejection from any job actually using her master’s degree.

Two hours into her shift, she started to look up every time the doorbell rang, thinking it might be Holland. It had been a couple days since he’d been in, and this was around the time he’d usually pop in. She was helping a customer and when she looked up at the line that was forming, Margot recognized the slightly graying head that sat a little above the rest. After Holland had gotten his croissant and coffee, he lingered at the end of the counter, slowly sipping the coffee. When the line had dissipated, Margot made her way down to where he was still sitting.

Glancing up from the paper he had brought with him, Holland said “I thought that line would never end. Can’t chat, but I was hoping you had a copy of your resume on you.”

Stunned, Margot said “Why on earth do you need my resume? I’m just a worker in a coffee shop and you’re the CEO of one of the top law firms.”

“I have a friend in publishing who is interested to hear your story. Resume, please?” Holland said patiently, extending his hand as though he expected to receive a folder.

“But why? If it’s about a job, I have no work experience in the field I want to enter, not to mention the problems with hiring someone without a secure visa. You don’t owe me any favors, Holland,” Margot said emphatically.

“Of course not, this isn’t about owing anyone anything,” he said, snatching the folder out of her hands that she had retrieved from her backpack. “See you in a few days, Margot. I have a strong feeling that my friend will love you.”

The shock that Margot felt lingered for several days, but she tried her hardest to shake it off and forget about it. It would probably just fall through, like the thousands of other jobs she had applied for. This is why she became incredibly confused when she checked her email a week later and was greeted with this email:

“Hello Ms. Rowley,
After a stunning recommendation from my good friend Holland, your resume did not disappoint. My name is Gerald Cortes, and I am the editor-in-chief at DF Publishing, and I am prepared to offer you a position as a junior editor, with a contract for six months. I would love to meet and interview with you as soon as you have a chance.
Best regards,
Gerald Cortes”

After skimming over it several times to ensure she wasn’t misreading, Margot began to formulate a reply. As she got ready for work, there was now a sliver of hope at the possibility of this being one of her last shifts at Hotel Chocolat. All she knew was that Holland was definitely getting free coffee today.