by Tyla Walker
"One of the things that we have to do is to sift through our roster. We have an archive for everyone that we've employed as a model. I'll assign batches for review, and what you need to do is to pick out those whom you think will fit the bill. Create a list, then send it to me," I instruct.
"Another is to think of your contacts and connections. Maybe you can reach out to them to ask if they have what we need. Or probably you have a friend who'd like to work as a model. Reach out to them, then let me know," I add.
"I don't think that I need to remind all of you that all of these are confidential. XYZ doesn't want any leaks for their brand relaunch. They're one of our biggest clients, and we need to maintain their trust," I say.
"I'm confident that we'll be able to do this, even if we have to turn every stone in Philadelphia to find suitable models. If you don't have any questions, you may go back to work now," I announce.
There's a little chit chat in the room, then everyone goes back to their own station and starts their work. I open my laptop, give out assignments to certain people, then I begin to flip through the hundreds of profiles that we have.
An hour later, I'm starting to get frustrated. My eyes are hurting from staring at the screen for too long, so I decide to take a breather.
I stretch my legs as I walk around my office. I really don't have a checklist of whatever it is that I'm looking for in a model, especially in this case. But there's a certain charisma or x-factor, if you want to call it that, which when I see it, I know right away that they're the ones for the job.
I ask Maddie to bring in the folder containing the portfolios that we received during our most recent go-see. Maybe I'll have my luck there.
My phone rings, and it's Mark, one of our senior photographers.
"Hey, Devon. I would like to know if you're open to the idea of getting someone who's got zero background on modeling for the XYZ account?" he asks.
I stop and think for a few seconds.
"Of course," I answer. "As long as their professional enough to do what is asked of them, then I don't see any problem with that."
"Got it. I have several in mind who might be interested. I'll get their profiles and send them your way so you can personally look into it," he says.
I end the call, then I go back and sit behind my desk. I flex my arms and fingers, getting ready for the task ahead.
I start flipping through the photographs. A lot of different faces in various angles and poses. But none of them really stood out.
Sure, we've got a diverse pool – from gender, color, ethnicity, and even size. But how different is that from what the other agencies have?
I'm getting bored looking at all these models who are definitely hot and gorgeous but doesn't have the spark. I'm searching for something else. I want to do something bold and different.
Suddenly, I remember the woman with whom I almost collided earlier. She's stunning, and there's something in her eyes and smile that caught me off-guard when she looked at me earlier.
There's only a handful of offices in this building, I'm guessing she's either a guest or someone who's applying for a job since she had a visitor badge pinned at her chest. I need to find out.
I call Maddie and tell her to coordinate with the building reception to get a copy of those who went in and out of the building between 1 pm and 5 pm today. She replies that she'll get back to me as soon as she has the list.
I imagine her face as I close my eyes and think.
Who is she? Could she be the one that I'm looking for?
Four
Jenna
Finally, it’s my first day of work as a merchandiser at XYZ.
I’m very excited. Early in the morning, I start to prepare myself for today. I fill myself with a quick breakfast, then I’m off to catch the train and the bus that will bring me to the business district in Philadelphia.
I happily tap my badge at the turnstile in the lobby, then I wait for the elevators. I join a wave of people entering the elevator, then I push the floor where I’m headed.
I arrive at the office fifteen minutes earlier than the scheduled time. As far as I know, I’ll first have an orientation in the morning, then I’ll start working in the afternoon.
Once again, I approach the receptionist and tell her that it’s my first day today. I’m really looking forward to this, but at the same time, I’m also a little bit apprehensive. She welcomes me warmly and tells me that she hopes I enjoy my work here.
So far, I like the vibes in this office. Everyone that I’ve met is friendly and helpful. I must admit that I’m a little nervous since I felt like an outsider moving into this city and then looking for work. But, I’m slowly getting the flow of things.
The same person from HR who gave me my job offer comes by. Once again, she congratulates me and welcomes me on the job. She confirms that we’ll be having our orientation for the first part of the day.
She asks me to follow her into one of the meeting rooms. There, a projector is set up. She points me to one of the chairs where an XYZ branded notebook and pen are waiting for me. I sit down, get my notes ready, and wait for the presentation to begin.
“Please make yourself comfortable,” she says. “There are coffee and water at the back should you need them. Comfort rooms are on the other side of this hallway. This isn’t anything formal, so feel free to let me know if you have some questions.”
We go through the company’s history. I learn how XYZ has grown into the internationally known brand that it is right now. I feel proud that I’m now part of this organization.
Next, we discuss the company’s mission and vision. She also runs through the core values to which the company adheres. She makes sure that I understand each one and hopes that I’ll embody them too.
There are a short bathroom and coffee break. I get myself a cup of coffee and get to know the HR personnel a little bit more by making small talk. Once we finish our coffee, we’re back to the presentation.
The last topic that’s shown is about the company’s rules and policies. She explains that the company isn’t that strict when it comes to their employees, but everything will be measured by their output. They’re expected to provide quality work each and every time.
We engage in a little Q&A, then we end the orientation. She tells me that I can already have my lunch break, but I need to be back at 1:00 pm. This time, Kelly would be taking over and will guide me through the details of my job.
I go out of the building and walk around the block to also familiarize myself with then nearby establishments. There are plenty of coffee shops, some bookstores, restaurants, banks, and an assortment of retail shops.
I spot a nice-looking deli, and I go inside to try it. They’ve got an incredible selection of meat that could go into your desired sandwich. I give my order, then I eat my lunch at a table near the door. I observe the office people going in and out of the deli.
I’m back at the office just in time. Kelly’s waiting for me at the reception, and then she ushers me into our work area. I’ll be reporting to her directly. She introduces me to three of my teammates. They smile at me, but I feel like there’s some distance.
Maybe it’s just my imagination. After all, it’s my first day today, and we really don’t know each other.
Kelly gives me an overview of the work that we’ll be doing and what is expected from me. She knows that I’ll give my 100% on this.
And then, real work starts. Right now.
Time passes by very quickly, and before I know it, it’s time to go home. I say my goodbyes to the team and Kelly, then I’m out of the office.
I arrive at Aunt Gloria’s home, and a delicious smell greets me at the door.
“Do I smell roasted chicken?” I ask Aunt Gloria as she greets me.
“Yes. With garlic mashed potatoes. I know you must be tired and overwhelmed by your first day of work, so I prepared something hearty for you,” she says.
“You’re really my favorite Aunt,” I tell her
.
“Well, I’m your mother’s only sister. I don’t think you have much choice,” she responds.
We both laugh and then proceed in eating dinner. Everything’s so good, I’m so full.
After eating, I help Aunt Gloria wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. Then, I call my mom so that I can video chat with my little boy. I miss him so much that I have to hold back tears while talking to him. This is the longest that we’ve been apart.
I tell him about my first day at work, then he tells me what he’s been up to the past few days.
“I miss you so much, mommy. Can you come home?” he asks.
“Don’t worry, Elijah, it’ll not be for long that we’ll be together again. Even Grandma,” I assure him.
It’s about his sleep time, so we end the call.
I open my temporary closet to survey my clothes. I didn’t bring a lot of clothes, and winter is near. I need to find a strategy so that I can update my wardrobe without breaking the bank, as I’m saving up for our apartment lease.
Being plus-sized, it’s usually hard to find good, quality pieces. But, I’ve already mastered the art of dressing up. I make sure that I accentuate only one asset at a time – my long legs, my curvy ass, or my ample breasts. I make a mental note to check out shops nearby.
As I get myself into the bed, my mind wanders back to the model-looking guy that I bumped into the other day. Although going into a relationship is the last thing on my mind right now, I won’t run if an opportunity presents itself. I wonder if most of the bachelor here in Philadelphia are as hot and as good looking as that man.
I sleep with a smile on my face. I hope I dream of him.
Five
Devon
I'm a visionary. Everybody knows that. I'm very much aware that a lot of people claim this for themselves, but believe me when I say something because I only speak the truth. A truth that's based not only on my own opinion as that would be too self-serving but based on others' as well.
Damn. I sounded preachy-on-a-Sunday-morning right there. I shake my head both amused and in disbelief. Guess I still surprise myself every now and then. So yeah. That's me. And by now, you're already aware of this, I'm sure.
It's not just because of the fact that I belong to this cutthroat industry. Literally, people will slit the throats of their competition to get a slot in my agency and others. DKM is among that list of must-get-into when it comes to modeling agencies.
Admittedly, we're still trying to climb higher and reach an even better status in our chosen field. That's why I need to wrack my brains for XYZ. A lot of things are running in my mind, but someone takes up more than half of my brainpower.
It's that girl. The girl I bumped into on my way to the office. I still can't get her off of my mind. Which is saying something. Day in and day out, I am part of an audience to women, and I judge them based on their appearance and the way they project themselves.
Not judge in the way you imagine it. But "judge" in the way you would in choosing the right model for the right designer. If designers want a certain look, then that look is what we look for in these aspiring models.
Yes, I used the word "look" more than once in a single sentence, and no one can do shit about it because they all know I'm Boss. The "B" is capitalized, people.
So yes, aspiring models. Although now that we've made a name for ourselves and are continually growing our brand, we've become a haven not only for those who are starting out their careers. But also for those who are already household names in the modeling world as well.
I won't drop names, but I'm a hundred percent sure you've heard of some of our models. They're considered celebrities and rightly so. What with the paparazzi chasing after them wherever they are. That and the millions of fans and followers they have in reality and in social media.
Ultimately, that means more business for us. There's no such thing as bad publicity, so we take it. This is also the reason why we make sure we take care of them. Safety and security have become a top priority for our models, and we take those factors very seriously.
I believe that's among the reasons why we're a favorite. It's because we don't treat our people like machines. We take care of them and make sure the environment they work in is suitable for them.
I empathize in that way. I put myself in their shoes and think, "Will I work okay if I were with these kinds of people? In this setup? In this environment?"
The world's best boss in the making? I'd like to think.
My phone rings and pulls me away from my thoughts and back into the reality that I still need to find a girl with the "look" which I can't exactly put into words. All I know is that I've seen that "look" and it's that girl from the lobby.
And with my power and string of connections, I find out that her name is Jenna. I head to the Starbucks that right next to my building and wait for her, as I've arranged that we talk in the next hour about signing her on for our newest project.
The doors of the infamous coffee franchise swing open. And as though stage lights are lit towards her, she walks in. She walks in with magnificence, radiance, and a beauty that's both strong and delicate. She's darts her head left and right, trying to spot where I am.
She hasn't met me, of course, and I doubt she knows what I look like. After all, I'm the boss who's usually behind the desk and away from the cameras. I take a while sitting, staring at her as she inches closer to where I'm seated.
I do it on purpose, not to be mean, but to give me more time to gaze at her face. Her physique. While she's unaware. Not in a stalker type of way. You see, when models come in for an interview, they have their gear and shields up because they know they need to put their best foot forward.
So observing Ms. Lawrence like this, while she's unaware and her guard is down, allows me to see her in a different light. And she's stunning. I have no words to describe her but that. Stunning.
"Ms. Lawrence," I finally say out loud as I raise my hand and beckon her to sit with me.
"Mr. Koflar," she turns my way and smiles.
For some reason, I'm taken aback. My heart's pounding, and I feel… I feel.. Fuck. I feel nervous. Me?? Nervous?? I run the fucking company. Why is this happening?? Of course, I keep my cool and offer her a seat.
"I'm so sorry for the last minute call, Ms. Lawrence," I start off our conversation. "I hope you didn't have a difficult time traveling here on such short notice?"
My eyes are so tempted to fix on her curves. She's not your ordinary Size 2 model. In fact, she's the opposite of what the media perceives as a "model's body." And because of this, she's perfect. Her curves, wide hips and bulging behind. Damn.
I'm saved by her gorgeous face. Those eyes, and full lips. They keep me from staring at her breasts and ass. Wow. She's really something else.
Plus, I'm a professional. Women can be clad only in a two-piece, and I'd be able to judge them without falling into the other side of being hypnotized. I know my boundaries, especially being in this industry. I HAVE to.
Yet there's something about Ms. Lawrence, Jenna, as she insisted I call her, that's bringing me to that other side I was referring to.
Before I let myself slip into it completely, I tell her that we should see each other for dinner tonight and discuss this project further.
In that sexy, husky voice of hers, she agrees, and we part ways. My eyes, lingering on her as she walks away.
Six
Jenna
Alone once more with no one to talk to. I sigh as I stare at the other tables with groups of women. I shake my head, warding the sadness away.
No, no. I'm here to work, and I want to prove it to myself and to anybody else who may think otherwise. I'm already getting a few stares as it is. More than a few, to be less political about it.
When I say stares, I don't mean the good kind. The way a man would, at a woman he finds attractive, and vice versa. Not the way persons of the same gender stare at each other when they wish they were wearing the other's amazing outfi
t.
This is different. I don't even know why. I heard that northerners tend to be chilly and that they take time to warm up to other people. I don't actually mind, but... I don't like the way they look at me, as if they measure my worth or something.
Also, I keep hearing words about me, and I refused to give a damn. I'm so not into trashing other people. Nah-uh. Not in my vocabulary. Still, I can't retaliate. I keep silence and try to pretend I don't hear words like "fat" or phrases like "she is so in need of a diet."
I'm in the lady's restroom, and right before I get out of the cubicle, I hear these words, with my name in the mix. The staring was one thing, but now, fat-shaming and name-calling? Are we in fucking high school?
Let me take that back. Even high school students nowadays are better people than these… these… nope. I won't stoop down to their level and act in the same manner. I'm better than that, and my momma taught me well. I just hope their momma's don't hear their children speak or they'd be ashamed for them.
"She's such a size 10," I hear one say. "As in ten times bigger when up close!"
A chorus of laughter and jeering follow her cruel words and applause. Or high-fives. I can't really tell, what with me trying not to make a sound here in the toilet cubicle. My feet raised, so these jerks don't find out that someone's listening in on their conversation.
That someone, the target of their gossip.
Oh. Shit. I'm losing my balance. Not emotionally. I'm not THAT kind of drama queen. I'm losing my balance sitting on the covered toilet with my feet up! If I make the slightest sound, all hell will break loose! Or all hell will break if this seat will no longer be able to hold me up for longer!
"DON'T. FUCKING. PANIC," I say to myself.
The voices of them perky mean girls go silent.
Oh shit! OH SHIT! HELL. Did they hear me? Why did I have to talk to myself out loud? Why?! And who does that? People who aren't being bullied when they're past college is what. I don't know. I'm just saying random things now because I'm not thinking straight anymore.
