Iris. Her name is Iris.
Well, Ms. Iris is a girl on a mission—after taking a sip and thanking Davis, she dashes outside like her life depends on it. Just before stepping outside after her, the man with her turns to me again in no immediate rush to accompany his girlfriend. Not that it seemed to matter; she didn’t pause to wait for him either. After assessing him, I notice he is only wearing a charcoal henley button-up shirt with jeans in the middle of fall.Weird flex, but okay.
His eyes linger on me, then he leaves. While driving home, I fixate on how odd this whole interaction was, but I decide I need to drop it. I have plenty of other things to think about anyway, like how to enjoyably run my old man’s shop for the rest of my life.
Why didn’t she acknowledge him at all during their coffee run, though? Why the hell did he wink at me like that? While pulling into my driveway, I realize I’m thinking about this so… excessively. Too excessively.
For fuck’s sake. I’m definitely in trouble.
Three
Iris
Iarrive at work precisely on time. Walking into my office, I take a whiff of my wallflower air freshener: eucalyptus and mint. I gaze at my birchwood desk, taking note of the stack of resumes waiting for me. I set my latte down and after I take a seat, I lean back for just a second, staring at the decor lining my walls and resting atop my desk. I’d describe my office style as Bohemian but colorful. I love adding pops of color to minimalist spaces—especially varying shades of green.
I could stare off into space for hours. Honestly, a break from thinking would be pleasant. Instead, I lean forward and accept defeat. It’s time to get lost in my inbox. I used to have a hardtime clearing out my inbox, but in recent years, I have gotten into the habit of responding to every single email I receive within one business day. I find it is a good way to keep myself busy during slower event seasons. I start sifting through emails, losing momentum with the click of each key.
“Good morning, Iris!” Soi’s receptionist, Pen, peeks into my office. “Your first interview is here.”
How have thirty minutes already passed?
“Great, thanks, Pen! You can tell him I’ll meet him in the conference room in about five minutes. Thank you.”
Pen swiftly nods and rushes out. She has been working at Soi for over five years after relocating to Washington from the South. I wouldn’t be remotely surprised if her diet were composed of cheerios and sunshine. Her enthusiasm and sweet southern charm helps us all get through the slow season. I grab the top resume staring at me to re-acquaint myself with our first candidate.
Aaron Jones earned his B.S. in Business Marketing and walked across the stage just one year ago. His skills lie in Microsoft Excel, Budgeting, and Events Music Playlist mastery.Choosing our next hire is our top priority in the Events department right now, so I cross my fingers and head to our conference room to begin.
After six interviews, my confidence in finding our next event planner today is dwindling. Don’t get me wrong; I’ve met various talented candidates today. I thoroughly enjoyed some of theinterviews, and no one seemed overly nervous so far. Hell, I might have been more anxious for them than they were.
However, they all had one thing in common: their pitch lacked passion. For this interview, we require candidates to pitch an event idea for our annual fundraiser event. Soi sets aside a generous amount of funds to host one local fundraiser event annually. The candidates each pitch a local cause Soi could support and why. Then, whoever gets hired gets the opportunity to help organize that very event with our Events team as their first major project. The new candidate doesn’t run the event, but the experience is always very valuable. When Soi hired me, I pitched afurbaby blanket drive event. I helped when needed and raised tons of funding for the local animal shelter to purchase new bedding for their surplus pets.
So far, our final candidates have shared some creative ideas, but the proposed events lack passion. Not to mention, I have not made a genuine connection with any of these applicants yet. Lena used to make interviewing look so effortless—she tends to make everything look effortless, though. Lena, my predecessor, left this past spring, promoting me to Head Events Director. I miss working with her fiercely, but we still keep in touch. For the most part. I snap out of it and refocus on the task at hand. It looks like our next candidate is named Joy.That’s a promising name, right?
Pen ushers Joy into the conference room. Her blonde waves and freckles make her appear youthful and bright as she introduces herself. The energy in the room shifts for a split second, and my sliver of hope returns.
“So, Joy, what interests you about this opportunity?” I ask.
“Well, I’ve lived here all my life except for college, and I’ve watched Soi Connect become what it is today. It didn’t happen overnight; it took years for Soi to build up its reputation locally. In a way, I want to go on a similar journey. I know I justgraduated this past April and I started college a bit later than the average student. It’s clear I don’t have as much experience to offer as I probably should, but I’d love to be given the opportunity to grow as Soi has. I have always enjoyed event planning and feel like I could help make a difference.”
I find her enthusiasm refreshing. After answering several interview questions, Joy pitches her fundraiser event idea to me. She shares that an antique shop downtown, Aged Emporium, recently underwent new ownership after the previous owner fell and could no longer run the shop. The previous owner opened and ran the shop for over two decades. While listening, I feel an outpouring of empathy for the former owner—he must be devastated. I haven’t visited Aged Emporium in years, so I had no idea this even happened. I’m willing to bet other people in town aren’t aware either.
“Even if you don’t select me, I think it’d be amazing for Soi to consider hosting a grand reopening event for the antique shop, providing the funding we earn in the fundraiser directly to the family. I’ve known the family for years; they truly deserve all the support they can get,” she says. I can’t explain why, but this idea feels soright,goosebumps spread across my arms. This type of event ignited my passion for event planning in the first place all those years ago.
We conclude the interview, but it’s clear as day: Joy will fit right in at Soi. The amount of thought she put into each answer struck me. As a courtesy, I’ll still host the last interview, but the odds of my decision changing now are slim. We don’t have enough locals at Soi anyway, so adding her to the mix will spice things up.
Once I conclude the last interview with Craig, a rather monotoned fellow, I head back to my office. My inbox isn’t too out of hand, so I do some quick research on Aged Emporium. The website can definitely use some work. After clickingthrough what feels like a million tabs, I finally find the current owner’s name and email address:Jasper Alcott.I jot down his information on a sticky note and add the note to my planner, tucking my planner back into my tote. I am beyond ready to go home and snuggle with Truman. I close my laptop and prepare to leave when Pen sneaks into my office.
“How did the interviews go?” she asks brightly.
“I am proud to announce I think we found our next hire, Pen.” I sigh in relief. “She is a local who has lived here most of her life, and the idea she pitched for our fall fundraiser is perfect—it’s almost too good to be true.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Pen exclaims. “Can I just say I am so relieved you found someone? You’re so picky; I was totally worried.”
“I’m notthatpicky.” I slide my tote’s leather strap over my shoulder. “I’m honestly just usually indecisive.”
“Whatever you say, honey,” Pen winks, heading out into the lounge. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow; get home safely tonight. The roads are slick.”
“The perks of walking everywhere,” I say, flipping my office’s light switch off. While walking to the front entrance, I put on my coat and slip my AirPods in as I step outside. Immediately, I get chills from the brisk cold air. Daylight hours in the Cove are pleasurable; I typically only need a sweater to get by. But evenings are a different story entirely. Now that the sun sets earlier each evening, the cool air consumes the Cove starting at around 5:00 p.m. daily.
