The Job

1984, I needed a break, things as of late had not been

going my way—new city, recently divorced, indebted

to attorneys and the IRS, small cramped apartment I

could barely afford, crappy part-time job as a server

at El Torito Mexican Restaurant, funds running low.

I took a chance soliciting free lance illustration work

to a small ad agency just a few blocks away from my

place.

The art director, a young woman looked over my anemic

portfolio and something she saw apparently struck her

fancy, a couple of pen and inks.

Just so happened she had a client who needed a few

simple renderings for which my style of work were aptly

suited. She gave me the okay to proceed.

And in a couple of days I returned with the completed

drawings. She was pleased; I got paid, and everyone was

happy.

About a week later the owner of the agency called me

and asked if I would be interested in the art director’s

position? Seems that the young lady got another job

and he needed to fill the new vacancy immediately.

We set up an interview for the next day. We hit it off

nicely, and I got the job. And the pay was more than

satisfactory. I was able to start my new art director

job right away. (So long, El Torito, see you in hell.)

Now, I was an artist of modest talent, but had never

held a position of such responsibility as the new position

would require of me. Having seen the work I did for the

previous director, the owner of the agency though of me

as quite an exceptional find.

And I will admit, I considered myself as possibly good

enough, but secretly I figured I wasn’t nearly as good as

he thought I was. Anyway, I showed up to work the next

day in a clean shirt and tie.

                                                       -30-

Chris Hanch 6-22-2020