After the Awkward Photo Shoot of the Year ordeal, I spent some time in the makeup room snapping shots of my bathing suit, Yulia’s supplies, and a few behind the scenes selfies. I’ve drafted a few social media posts that are meant to give viewers an inside look at the ad making process and build anticipation for the final result. It’s a good way to make potential customers feel more connected to the brand, and gives them the impression that they have access to exclusive content. Plus, the casual nature of the photos is on brand with what our client seems to be looking for in thecampaign.
I have a meeting today to go over our social media strategy now that the first shoot is complete, and while I haven’t been asked to prepare anything, I’m going to walk in there and show them that I’m worth a lot behind the camera, even if I didn’t so well in front ofit.
I show up at the P&T building way too early, and after deciding that sitting in my car practicing a presentation I’ve already memorized is probably going to do more harm than good for my nerves, I head to the boardroom we’re using for the meeting. The door is open and I assume it’s going to be empty, but the sound of voices makes me pause a few stepsaway.
“Jim, level with me. The shoot was complete shit and you knowit.”
“I don’t think we got the setting right is all. I’ve had the team whip something up that’s at least worth showing to theclient.”
I hear a sound between a snort and a bark of laughter. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe. I saw the photos. She’s no model,Jim.”
“Then we have to turn her into one. She’s what the client wants.” I recognize Jim Sanders’ voice. “I showed them her work from the showcase, thinking it was on brand and that we could replicate it if the client agreed. Then I got an email, several emails in fact, telling me they wanted the exact same model from the pictures or nothing atall.”
“She’s replaceable, Jim,” says the second man, who I’m starting to suspect might be Harry. “How hard is it to find some Spanish girl who can fill out a bikini? She doesn’t evenwantto model. I half expected her to walk off the set and quit. I kind of hoped shewould.”
Blood starts rushing in my ears. I move closer, careful to remain out of sight behind the half opendoor.
“She won’t quit. I’m leading her on with a job offer here at P&T.”
“You’re not seriously thinking of hiring her on afterthis?”
“Of course not,” Jim scoffs. “She’s hardly P&Tmaterial.”
I almost throw the door open right then and there. It’s only the fact that my throat has gone dry and I have no idea what I’d do when I came face to face with them that holds meback.
“Well, let’s see what the team has come up with,” Harrygrumbles.
Someone taps a few keys on acomputer.
“I told them to imitate the showcase photos as best they could,” Jim explains. “Here, I’ll put it up on theprojector.
More keys are tapped and then Harry sucks in a breath. “That’swhat you’re showing to theclient?”
I can’t take it anymore. I push on the door and let it swing open, quietly enough that neither of the men notice. Their backs are to me, and both are staring at the advertisement blown up larger than life on a two meter wide projectorscreen.
Despite the fact that I’m almost shaking with anger and embarrassment over the way they were talking about me, I can’t help but echo Harry’s feelings when I see the photo:that’swhat the client is going tosee?
Up on the screen, I’m crouched on the wood panelled floor in some sort of weird kneeling position, hands braced on the ground in front of me. The picture was taken mid-hair-flip, while I was also trying to follow the photographer’s direction to look at him and Harry’s reminder to seem relaxed. The result is an almost eerily blank smile that does nothing to mask the panic in my eyes. The hair flip doesn’t add any sort of sex appeal; instead, I just look like I had a run-in with a bad case of staticelectricity.
If I had to summarize the overall outcome, I’d say I looked like a swimsuit model that was trying and failing not to barf in the middle of ashoot.
I’m still trying to get over how awful I look when I notice the text that’s been added to the image, and when I make out the words, my fists clench at my sides and I barge into the room, calling out Jim and Harry’snames.
“How dare you!” I shout, striding up to them and thrusting a finger towards the projector. “You’re going to stand around saying I don’t have what it takes to work for you, and then steal my ideas to use on your owncampaign?”
In white letters along the bottom of the ad, the font almost identical to the one Aaron and I picked, is the phrase ‘#favouritebathingsuitfeeling.’
“Well?” I demand, when neither of them offers any kind ofanswer.
“I can understand why you’re upset—” Jim begins, but I cut himoff.
“Please don’t patronize me. I heard enough of that in yourconversation.”
I glance between him and Harry. I want to call them out on how appalling the things they said about me were, but screaming and shouting isn’t going to make them take me any more seriously. I force myself to keep my voice even. “I took this job on the understanding that I was being considered for a further position at P&T. I also took it with the assumption that, as an employee, I’d be spoken about with a basic level of respect and professionalism, whether or not I was in the room myself. Calling me a ‘Spanish girl who can fill out a bikini’ isn’t exactly in line withthat.”
Jim tries to jump in again but I don’t give him a chance tospeak.
“For those reasons, I won’t be able to continue with my work here. Please accept this as myresignation.”
