Do You Know Sangay?

"I am very good at what I do," I say to him.

He looked at the neatly put together file of articles and pieces that I had given him to convince that I was fit for the job.

"It is a very impressive collection of pieces that you have written," he says taking turns looking at the file and my face.

I had been looking forward to that moment since the day I decided I wanted to write for a living.

He put down the file and let out a big sigh. I had never met the man but according to Niten he was a very big deal in the local media scene. Niten is my "friend" who told me about the job at the soon to be famous newspaper of the state. I put the air quotes in friend because that is what we are trying to be. We will get into that later but for now let's focus on the interview.

"Don't be intimidated by his magnanimous aura," Niten said to me before shoving me through the glass door.

"I am not easily intimidated."

I saw him roll his eyes as he walked me towards the editor's office.

When we reached the door, he mouthed 'good luck' and gestured me to go in. I took a deep breath and knocked twice.

"Come in!"

"That is the deepest voice I've ever heard in my life," I thought to myself.

I walked in nervously to a brightly lit room that smelled like lavender. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust with the bright lights and as I squinted my eyes and scanned the tall figure letting out his hands for a handshake, I immediately became attentive and returned the gesture. It took more than a minute to adjust what was happening around me.

He was a tall man with long wavy hair in the most comfortable checkered shirt and jeans ever. He looked like he knew he could pull off a casual shirt and jeans look any day.     

Saying something as strong as "I am not easily intimidated" is one thing but when you put an inexperienced 24-year-old want-to-be a writer like me in a fully well-lit room with someone who is a) smart and experienced b) good-looking c) tall d) knows how to pull off a jeans and checkered shirt and e) has the deepest voice I've ever heard in my life, you are bound to feel intimidated.

There are two things that make me feel intimidated-

1.      People who look good in a well-lit room. I say this because I don't look good in a well-lit room. I have seen myself in those big shiny mirrors in showrooms and malls. I've seen my oily skin, I've seen a couple of greys peeking through my regular hair and I've seen my face when I feel intimidated. It is not a good look.

2.      People who talk about current affairs and politics and sports. I am not a big fan of all the things I mentioned just now. I mean sure I look at the trending topics on my Twitter and Facebook feeds but other than that I really don't know what is happening in the world and let us not get started on who won the game last night because I am not a sports guy. I don't watch football or cricket or UFC or hockey and I just don't vibe with politics, no reason at all. The closest thing I watch for a sport is WWE and that too the segments featuring women wrestlers.

"You must be Sangay."

"Oh yessssssssss," I said dragging the ssssssss.

"I am Wangden, please take a seat," he said signaling towards a chair.   

Wang was everything that I was not. He was well-versed, well-dressed, well-everything. The only thing I had that he didn't at that moment was my conscience telling me to get the hell out of the well-lit room and run for the hills. Then I remember that I had put everything on the line for a job I knew absolutely nothing about. All I knew was to write. Decently.

Put together nicely in my file were a bunch of interviews and pieces I had written out of my love for music and entertainment.

As he tucked his loose string of hair behind his ear, not once but thrice, I frantically said, "I am a very fast learner and I can write almost anything."

He looked at me and smiled. I plastered a nervous smile across my already sweaty face.

"Your writing is not the problem but we need someone who can edit and add to the news sent by the reporters out there in the field," he said.

"And with the kind of pieces you write I don't think we have anything to work with."

I pursed my lips and prepared myself to hear the final verdict of the interview.

"I cannot believe this is the first interview of my life and I am already being rejected," I thought to myself.

He stood up and began walking around the room.

"Since we are a new newspaper, we cannot afford to hire someone who cannot contribute something useful to the paper," he added.

I had already given up on the interview. My mind slowly started drifting away and away from the interview. I began thinking of getting back to doing interviews and writing articles that made me happy. Although I was not getting paid by the magazines and websites I wrote for, I was happy to do something related to writing and it felt good when people appreciated my writing.

When I lose interest in something my mind automatically starts to drift away. It is like my physical body is in one place and I am nodding and occasionally blinking but really, I am not there. That is how I got through most of my classes in high school because I was "there".

As I was thinking about getting out of there and to not lose my mind about the rejection, he said, "however," taking a long pause.

I immediately became attentive.

"We need new blood here. Your style of writing and the topics you cover can help us capture audiences that are more in to the entertainment and pop-culture side of the industry."

Realizing that I still had a chance, I fired my last shot.

"I can cover news stories too," I said confidently.

"I am a fast learner and I am good at pointing out people's mistakes."

"That is good. I will email you a bunch of articles that need reconstructing and heavy editing. Once I see your editing skills we will see about the job."

I stood up with my file. He extended his hands which I immediately grabbed with both of my hands, one hand underneath the handshake.

"We need to work on that handshake," he said amusingly.

I smiled back and got the hell out of the ridiculously well-lit room.

I let out a big sigh of relief as soon as I was out of his office.

"Hey! That was fast," I turn back to see Niten approaching with a coffee in one of his hand.

"Yeah? Then why it felt like an eternity in there?"

"I am sure it wasn't that bad and besides the job is definitely yours because you are one of the only two people applying for it," he said casually sipping his instant machine-made coffee.

"Thanks?!!" I said sarcastically.

"Well what do you expect from a new newspaper that is building itself from the ground? And who buys newspaper these days? People get all the news from their social media."

"Then why the hell are you working here?"

"Because boy's gotta eat," he said almost breaking in to a song.

"Look, you had to start somewhere and trust me the person you met in there is a big deal in this city. You would be lucky to work for him."

"Lucky if I get the job," I said.

"The job is yours. They need a copy editor and you are a good writer so don't worry," he said reassuring me.

Regardless of the outcome, it actually felt good to do something on my own, like things were falling into places and that everything moving forward will be good and right.

I looked at my phone and realized I had to do something important. I thanked Niten for calling me about the interview and promised to treat him once I had the job.

I hurried out of the building and looked at my phone again. A reminder had popped up.

"TELL RAY ABOUT YOUR SECRET."