The look of shock hadn't yet left my face when I came back to my desk from the early morning meeting. It was December 2nd, and I had just been laid off.
As I took a moment to compose an email to my fiance Steve, to let him know the news, I noticed that the new Time Out New York had been placed on my desk. Upon further inspection, the headline read, “Laid off?” “YES!” I said aloud and opened the magazine to read the article. There it was, two full high-gloss pages of shameless people promoting themselves in hopes of earning work. At the end of the article, an email was provided for people to send in their jobless story for a potential upcoming issue. “Why not?” I thought. I minimized my email to Steve and began to compose an email to the editor at Time Out. My subject line read, “I just got laid off…like 3 minutes ago…HELP!!!”
Over two months went by without a word from Time Out, until the afternoon of February 13. The editor emailed me and asked if I was still unemployed and had time to stop by their 10th Avenue office to have my photo taken for an upcoming issue. I believe my exact words back to her were, “Hell yea!”
I had my photo taken last week. As a treat to myself, I got a manicure before the shoot. I didn’t want potential employers looking at my unkempt nails and wondering, “How can she manage an RSVP list if she can’t even keep her nails trimmed?”
Time Out’s offices are like something out of a romantic/ comedy movie where the entire space is industrial and loft like, everyone is dressed New York chic and has an endless cup of coffee attached to their hand. All the space was missing was Kate Hudson with her spunky sidekick, planning their next night out on the town.
I was escorted to a small corner of the office in front of a white backdrop where the photographer robotically handed me my props- balloons and a clipboard (this was their interpretation of an event planner). "Whatever," I thought and posed for over 30 photos. There was no small talk. I was in, took my photos and I was out. Just then I realized that there were hundreds of people, like me who came to take their photo at Time Out in hopes of the right person seeing the article. It was no wonder that the photographer looked drained.
To date, I am still awaiting the call to find out what issue of Time Out my face will be shamelessly gracing in high-gloss style.