As he stepped out of his car and readied himself to enter the realm of the audio gods, Ben tucked his black EV t-shirt into his black Levis and looked down at his black Reeboks.
“I’m as ready as I’m ever gonna be,” he muttered under his breath as he strode purposefully toward the big double doors at the front of the building. He paused at the door, took a deep breath to still the twinge in his stomach, and then reached for the handle. He gave it a manly tug before entering the lobby with his head held high and walked straight to the reception desk.
“I’m here to see Frank,” he said with the most mature but casual voice he could muster for someone of a mere 20 years of age.
“And you are?” asked the receptionist, with just a faint trace of haughtiness, as if Ben could clearly not really be someone that Frank would know.
“Ben Davis” he said, again with the calm, mature and casual voice he had already used seconds before. “I’m here for an interview.” He could not see that she had rolled her eyes while looking down at the appointment book.
“Please have a seat,” she uttered. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Ben looked around at the lobby and noticed that there was a nice-looking leather couch along the wall behind him.
But what really caught his eye was the array of large, framed pictures of what looked like super-awesome shows and tours from years gone by. “Whoa…” came out of his mouth almost as a whisper as he chose one of the pictures and approached it. He stood staring at the rock stars on stage covered in a wash of colored light and dripping with sweat.
He walked over to another picture, this one of a political rally. “This is exciting stuff” he said under his breath just as he heard doors open behind him and the sound of footsteps approaching as someone walked into the room.
Ben turned on his heel just as the man said “Ben?”
“That’s me,” was his simple reply. The man introduced himself as Frank and asked Ben to follow him to his office. Frank Martin had the look of mature confidence to which Ben aspired. And although he must have been only 40, to Ben thought he looked like “the old guard.” Ben felt a tickle of electricity as the moment had finally come.
He felt for his Sharpie and greenie. Check.
He looked down at the CD jewel case in his hand. Check.
He had his resume in his hand. Check.
He was ready, and he knew it…
Taylor Jensen is a freelance pro audio writer.