I’m sitting at my table with my hair wrapped in a towel in pajamas, even though it’s only the afternoon. I get lost in a few emails, remembering that I have to schedule everything for that campaign I booked for Dylan.
Since I need to figure that out quickly, I shoot him a quick text.
Me: Hey, remember that campaign we talked about? I need to schedule it in. Still up for it?
I put my phone down and scroll through my content calendar on my laptop. I need to make sure I can achieve everything I set out to do.
The pile of boxes in the corner of PR keeps stacking, so before I dive into homework, I decide to film an unboxing.
I put my phone on the tripod and start filming myself opening up each box. On my sixth box, a text message comes through.
Dylan: No.
The message lingers on the screen for a moment, then disappears, leaving my reflection in the camera.
Okay, well… there’s my answer.
I’ll have to edit my face out of this video. I return to unboxing, wondering what the hell I did to deserve that. Each box feels heavier than the last.
I stop filming and open our text messages.
Dylan: No.
That’s it. No explanation. No three little dots. He’s giving me a simple no.
I close his text messages and film myself again. I need to get this over with. I put on a smile that feels inauthentic and push through. I only have a few more to go.
When that’s done, I rush over to my laptop and decide I need to find a male model for this campaign. I can’t dwell on whether Dylan can’t do it; I need to problem-solve. He joked that I could ask Scott, but I need to keep my distance. I’ll text a friend.
Me: Hey, Will. I have a last-minute faceless job that pays $500 an hour.
Will: Tell me when and where.
Me: Does Saturday work?
Will: Sure does.
Me: Let me sort out some details, and I’ll text you the time and location. Thanks!
Will: Sounds good.
That was easy, and he’s reliable, so now I need to book a photographer assistant and scout locations.
After an hour of searching up and down for the best location, I finally find one. I booked a photographer assistant.
A text notification comes through, and I think it’s Will. But it’s a friend I haven’t heard from in weeks.
Lily: Hey! Do you want to hang out tonight?
Lily: Girls’ night? I was thinking we could junk journal with some magazines, drink some fizzy drinks, and talk.
Me: Say no more. I’m on my way.Lily: Your place?
Me: Come on over!
I stand up and stretch my back, smiling. This is perfect. Exactly what I need. I walk down the hall into my bathroom to do my hair.
27
