You know it's all the same, another time and place.  

Repeating history and you're getting sick of it...

Can you feel it now?  These walls that they put up

To hold us back will fall down.

                      
Six months later

                      

"Good morning!  Welcome to Starbucks.  What can we make for you?"
                      

I forced a smile as I repeated the greeting and adjusted my headset.  I took the drive-thru order and asked them to pull forward.  I input the information into the register and looked around as I greeted the next car in line.  Working the window wasn't my favorite part of this job, but I tried to remind myself to be grateful that I had a job.  I went through the motions of taking orders, accepting payments, and sending customers on their merry way with their beverage of choice on autopilot.  
                      

Thinking (naively at the time) that I would be able to find another internship or job where I could use my passion for music and the education I'd spent the last five years earning, I had applied for a part-time position here.  My search for a marketing position was continuing to prove futile, and my part-time job had soon become full-time out of necessity.  My dream was proving to be continually evasive.  
                       

I had quickly moved into an assistant manager position and my paycheck helped me stay afloat.  Working here allowed me to indulge my coffee addiction without breaking my budget and the free wi-fi let me continue to search and apply for positions during my breaks and after my shift.  My position also helped give me an excuse to not go home for the holidays.  It was hard--being alone for Thanksgiving and Christmas for the first time--but it was easier to lie to my parents from across the country then face to face.  They were still under the impression that my internship hadn't fallen through.  When they asked me how it was going I told them things were great!  I told them I had moved up to a better position, but was still in charge of the coffee.  Both things were obviously true, just not about the situation they thought...
                      

I prayed for forgiveness after every phone call with my parents, but I think God understands.  
                      

At least I hope He does.
                      

I went through the rest of the morning shift, trying to keep the nervousness from taking over.  I had an interview this afternoon.  The first one in a while and I was trying not to freak out.  It was an assistant position at an ad company downtown.  It had nothing to do with music but, at this point, I didn't care.  Anything other than caramel macchiatos, iced lattes, and white chocolate mochas at this point would be better than nothing.  If I got this position maybe I wouldn't feel like my whole life had been a waste.  What was the point of working my butt off to graduate cum laud when no one was willing to give me a chance to put my hard-earned knowledge to work?  I knew there were probably hundreds of applicants trying for this position, so I had stayed up all night tweaking my resume, working out my answers to all the typical questions, and picking the prefect outfit.  I wanted this.  I needed this.  Please God, let me get it.
                      

At two o'clock, I handed the restaurant over to the manager, took off my black apron, and hurried out to my car.  I had just enough time to get home, take a quick shower, change, and then drive across town for my appointment.  Everything ran according to schedule and, as I gave my name to the receptionist, I breathed a prayer of thanks for no snarl-ups on the freeway as I sat down to wait.  I anxiously tapped my toes inside my Steve Madden pumps, and adjusted my black pencil skirt.  My blue eyes darted around the lobby while I kept a small smile on my face--trying not to let my nerves show.  My stomach growled and I placed a hand over it, hoping no one had heard.  In order to make it on time I hadn't had time to eat.  I promised my stomach food as soon as the interview was over.  I saw a few others sitting in the lobby.  Each one dressed like me and each had the same forced expression of cool confidence on their faces.  We all knew what we were there for and so we avoided making eye contact for very long.  Or striking up any conversation.  We were all competing for the same position and were thus considered the enemy.  Obviously, the interviews were running behind schedule since there were so many of us waiting.  I tried not to get frustrated.  If I had known, I would have stopped for a quick burger or something.  I hoped my stomach would stay quiet until this was over.

I watched and waited while everyone else in the lobby was called back.  Apparently I was the last one scheduled for the day.  That was either good, or bad.  The interviewer had either already made up his or her mind about who they wanted to hire and were just going through the motions to appease HR, or I had the opportunity to completely blow them away and make one last big impression on them before the decision was made--and hope they would pick me, since I was the last one on their mind.  

"Lauren Michaels?"

My heart jumped into my throat as my name was called.  I looked up at the middle-aged man with dark hair who was holding a piece of paper.  I stood and smiled as I began walking toward him.  

"Ms. Michaels." He said, stretching his hand out.  I took it firmly and confidently.  "Nice to meet you.  I'm Jordan Walker." He smiled warmly.  "Follow me."  His friendly grey eyes calmed my nerves slightly.  

I walked a step behind Mr. Walker as he led me through a maze of hallways, offices, and conference rooms.  Finally, he opened the door to his office and held it for me as I stepped inside.  He indicated a chair for me to sit in, then sat down himself behind a large desk.  My eyes flicked over the room, surprised at how homey and comfortable I felt in it.  I wondered if Mr. Walker had had an interior designer decorate the room with its warm browns, rich blues, and creamy ivories.  In my experience, guys weren't usually this good when it came to decorating.  As my eyes turned back to the man in front of me I caught the glint of a gold band on his left ring finger and smiled.  Not an interior designer.  A wife.  

I don't know why, but knowing Mr. Walker was married made me like him a little bit more.  I knew wearing a ring didn't really mean much these days, but it was a step in the right direction and, if the multiple family pictures sitting in frames on his desk were any indication, Jordan Walker was one of the few who value family and marriage.

"Your resume says you've been working at Starbucks for the last six months." He began.  His eyes looked over the papers in front of him then back up at me.

"Yes, sir." I nodded.

"That's not really in the ad business." He remarked.

"Yes.  I know."

He looked at me for a moment then leaned back in his large overstuffed chair.  "Tell me why you think I should hire you."

This was it.

Could I sell myself?  I had one chance to market myself to a marketing genius.  Here went nothing.  

I launched into my pitch, telling him everything I'd done in school, my passion, my determination and work ethic.  I described the ideas I had come up with and sent to Starbucks headquarters since I'd been there.  Of course, nothing had come of my ideas yet, but I hoped it showed I did have what it took to be in the ad business.  I presented him with copies of the recommendation letters a few of my professors and my current manager had written.  I answered every question he asked without hesitation.  I could see I was giving the right answers by the approval in his eyes.  I tried not to let my confidence get the better of me, though.  I'd been in this position before.  I'd "aced" numerous interviews only to receive that dreaded call, email, or letter saying the position had been filled.  

"Bottom line, Mr. Walker," I said, closing my argument.  "I really want this.  I know you have hundreds of applicants to consider and there are probably many who are more qualified than I am, but I can promise you, no one will work harder than I will.  If you give me a chance, I won't let you down."  

"This isn't a glamorous position, Ms. Michaels." He replied.

"I know, sir."

"It will be long hours, and I have to warn you I'm not the easiest person to be around when I'm working under a deadline."

"I understand."

Mr. Walker sat, looking at me for a moment.  I could see him mentally pitting me against the other applicants he'd seen today.  I prayed I'd made a good enough impression.  Finally, he leaned forward and stood.  "Thank you for your time, Ms. Michaels." He said, indicating the end of the interview.  I stood, gathering my purse and the notebook I had brought with me.  "I will be making my decision by close of business tomorrow.  We have a big campaign starting up in two weeks and I need whoever I hire to be able to hit the ground running."

"Of course." I nodded.  "I understand."

He held out his hand as he walked around his desk.  I shook i and smiled.  "Thank you, Mr. Walker.  I look forward to hearing from you."

He opened his office door, directed me how to get back to the lobby, and I left--hoping and praying this was the open window I had spent the last six months looking for.  It wasn't in the music business, but at least it was a step forward.  And who knew?  Maybe the big campaign Mr. Walker was starting would be really interesting and fun.  If nothing else, I knew this opportunity would help me get where I wanted to go.  

As I drove home, I made sure my phone's ringer was on and turned it up.  I wasn't going to take a chance at missing Mr. Walker's call.  

Please let him call.