Nothing remarkable happened next, and I learned a valuable lesson that only dawned on me years later. Every week, we would meet with an executive from Blumhouse and have lunch together. Some were nice, while others weren’t.
The most notable one was from Jason Blum’s right-hand man, Cooper.
I had heard a lot about Cooper from others at Blumhouse. He was a Harvard graduate and believed that the brightest folks were graduates from Ivy League schools. I didn’t if this was true, but I heard from his coworkers I got to know. He would walk into the kitchen once in a while to grab food. I was excited to meet him, but he didn’t seem friendly. Maybe he was focused on his task? I am not sure.
All the interns scram into the conference room with their lunches and waited for Cooper to show up. There were a lot of interns there that day for some reason. Cooper walked in and sat down. He wanted us to go around the table and introduce ourselves. He wanted us to answer some basic questions, and these are the ones I remember.
What is your name?
Where are you going to school?
What is your major?
I felt intimidated because my fellow interns were from big named schools, as I mentioned in the previous post.
I was second to last, and my turn was coming up.
I said in a confident voice. Hello, my name is Frshta, and I attended the California State University of Northridge. My major was Communication studies. Cooper asked where is the Cal State University of Northridge. I said in Northridge, Ca. It was not too far, but I couldn’t believe he hadn’t even heard of it. The room was silent and tense. Then, he said, “ Your major is communication? So, what is that? Like learning to communicate?” I could feel myself turn hot from embarrassment. I answered that the communication major is diverse and combines performance, reading, and writing. Then he moved on to the last person.
I had no chance, and I knew it. I sunk into my chair and hoped no one would notice me again. I was mortified and could feel balls of tears forming, but I fought them. He made me feel exactly what I was already feeling. Before, it was my insecurities, but he made them a reality. I don’t know if the others realized it, but Minerva did. She told me to brush it off and that I was hear despite what Cooper believed.
It started becoming a nightly tradition to cry home from Blumhouse while I sat in traffic for two hours to get home.