Unemployed Squirtmania
The red, boldface text of the automated email seemed to burn straight through Kendall’s laptop screen: Thank you for your interest in the position, but we have decided to move forward with candidates whose qualifications more closely align with our current needs.
Kendall let out a ragged, exhausted sigh and slammed the laptop shut.
That made forty three. FORTY THREE applications sent out into the digital void over the last two and a half months only to get cold rejections.
At 24 years old, with a freshly minted marketing degree and a mountain of student debt, she felt completely invisible, chewed up, and spat out by a corporate job market that didn’t even deem her worthy of a first round phone call.
Her savings were dwindling, her rent was due in two weeks, and a heavy, suffocating blanket of inadequacy had settled deep into her chest.
"Hey, Buster," she murmured, her voice cracking slightly in the quiet of her cramped apartment.
At the sound of his name, a golden retriever mix trotted over from the rug, his tail giving a sympathetic thump against the floorboards before he rested his chin heavily on her knee. His dark eyes looked up at her with an unconditional adoration that made the lump in her throat grow even tighter.
"Yeah, I know," Kendall sighed, reaching down to scratch him behind the ears. "I need to get out of this room. Let's go for a walk."
Ten minutes later, Kendall was walking along the shaded, paved path of the city’s popular riverwalk.
The mid afternoon sun filtered through the thick canopy of oak trees, casting dappled shadows across the concrete.
The air was warm, thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and distant river water.
Kendall had pulled her dark hair back into a messy bun, wearing a pair of tight, faded denim shorts and a loose gray tank top that did little to hide the frantic, anxious rhythm of her breathing.
She was trapped deep inside her own head, mentally recalculating her dwindling bank balance, completely oblivious to the bustling world around her.
Buster, however, was highly attuned to his surroundings.
As they neared a shaded wooden bench, Buster suddenly let out a sharp, happy bark, his tail wagging frantically as he veered off the path, dragging Kendall along by his leash.
"Buster, no! Heel!" Kendall gasped, her sneakers skidding slightly on the pavement as she tried to pull the seventy pound dog back.
But Buster had already made up his mind. He had marched straight up to a man sitting on the bench, sitting down heavily on the man’s polished leather shoes and resting his large head right on his knee.
"Oh god, I am so incredibly sorry," Kendall stammered, her face instantly flushing a bright, embarrassed pink as she yanked on the leash. "He’s usually much better behaved than this, he just loves.."
"Hey, it’s completely fine. Don't worry about it at all," a deep, rich voice interrupted her.
Kendall paused, her breath catching slightly as she actually looked at the man.
He was an older man, easily in his early fifties, and he exuded an aura of absolute, effortless authority.
He was dressed in a tailored, crisp white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal thick, forearms dusted with dark, silver flecked hair.
He had a broad chest and a heavy, masculine frame—a classic, powerful dad bod that looked incredibly solid beneath his expensive clothing.
His hair was a thick salt-and-pepper blend, cut short, and his face was sharp, with deep-set hazel eyes and a rugged jawline shadowed by a neat, silver stubble.
The older man smiled, a warm, incredibly charming expression that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and reached down with a large, broad hand to scratch Buster right under the chin. Buster let out a blissful sigh, his eyes half-closing.
"See? We’re already best friends," the man chuckled, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that sent an unexpected, subtle thrill straight down Kendall's spine.
He looked up from the dog, his hazel eyes locking onto Kendall’s face, tracking slowly down her bare shoulders before returning to her eyes. "I’m Felipe."
"Kendall," she managed to say, clearing her throat as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "And this troublemaker is Buster."
"Nice to meet you, Kendall," Felipe said, his gaze lingering on her face.
He had a grounded, confident presence that made the frantic, chaotic noise in Kendall’s mind instantly quiet down.
He patted the empty space on the wooden bench next to him.
"You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders today, Kendall. Why don't you take a load off for a minute?"
Ordinarily, Kendall would have politely declined and kept walking.
She was 24, cautious, and unused to being approached by distinguished older men.
But today, the sheer exhaustion of her job hunt had left her raw, and there was something about Felipe's mature, commanding warmth that felt incredibly safe.
"Thanks," she murmured, stepping forward and sitting down on the edge of the bench, leaving a respectful distance between them. Buster immediately curled up at their feet.
"So, Kendall," Felipe said, turning his broad torso toward her, resting one heavy arm along the back of the bench. "What's got you looking so stressed out on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon?"
Kendall let out a self deprecating laugh, staring down at her sneakers. "Is it really that obvious?"
"I manage over four hundred people at a global logistics firm," Felipe replied, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Reading people is my job. And right now, you look like a candidate who just got a very bad email."
Kendall’s eyes widened in surprise. "How did you... yeah. Exactly. I just got my forty third rejection letter. I graduated a few months ago with a marketing degree, and I can't even get an HR assistant to look at my resume. I feel completely unqualified for everything."
Felipe’s expression softened, a deep, empathetic look replacing his corporate smirk.
He leaned in just a fraction closer, and Kendall caught the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne—something expensive, smoky, and distinctly masculine, mixed with the clean scent of laundry detergent and warm skin.
"Listen to me, Kendall," Felipe said, his voice dropping into a lower, authoritative register that made her chest tighten with a sudden, strange heat.
"The entry-level job market right now is a broken system. It’s automated keywords and lazy algorithms. It has absolutely nothing to do with your worth or your intelligence. Don't let a bunch of automated servers make you feel small."
Hearing those words from a mature, successful man felt like a sudden, massive validation that Kendall hadn't realized she desperately needed.
She looked at his sharp jawline, the silver in his stubble, and the heavy, broad shape of his shoulders under his white shirt.
She felt a sudden, fierce blush creeping up her neck, her nipples instantly hardening against the thin fabric of her gray tank top as a wave of nervous, hyper-aware excitement coiled deep in her belly.
"Thank you," she whispered honestly, her blue eyes locked onto his. "That... actually means a lot coming from someone who actually knows how the corporate world works."
Felipe smiled, his eyes dropping to her lips for a brief, torturous second before snapping back to her eyes.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, matte-black business card, handing it to her.
His large, warm fingers brushed against hers for a fraction of a second, and the brief contact felt like a jolt of pure electricity hitting her skin.
"Tell you what," Felipe murmured, his thumb rubbing lazily against the edge of the card. "Look me up on LinkedIn tonight. Add me, and send over a copy of the resume you’ve been using. I’ve hired hundreds of marketing executives in my career. Let me take a look at it and see where the leak is."
Kendall stared down at the card. Felipe Vance. Senior Vice President of Global Operations.
"You... you would do that for a stranger?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"You're not a stranger, you're Buster's mom," Felipe grinned, standing up from the bench.
He stood over her, his six foot frame broad and imposing, his dad bod looking incredibly powerful in the afternoon light.
He looked down at her, his hazel eyes flashing with a heavy, subtle promise.
"Send it over tonight, Kendall. Let’s get you hired."
As Felipe walked away, his confident, heavy strides taking him down the path, Kendall sat on the bench for a long time, her heart hammering a wild, frantic rhythm against her ribs.
For the first time in months, the heavy weight of rejection was gone, replaced by a sudden, dangerous curiosity about the powerful older man who had just stepped into her life.
The moment Kendall got back to her apartment, the frantic energy of the encounter on the riverwalk pushed everything else out of her mind. She barely even took off her sneakers before she opened her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she navigated to LinkedIn.
She typed his name into the search bar: Felipe Vance.
His profile popped up instantly, and seeing his corporate headshot made Kendall’s stomach do a nervous, hyper aware flip.
He looked incredibly distinguished—wearing a dark charcoal suit, his salt and pepper hair perfectly styled, and that same sharp, confident jawline shadowed by silver stubble.
His title was intimidating: Senior Vice President of Global Operations at Vanguard Logistics.
He had thousands of connections, articles published in major business journals, and a resume that screamed absolute power and corporate dominance.
Kendall looked down at her own sparse profile. Her hands shook slightly as she clicked the Connect button and added a brief, polite message:
Hi Felipe, it was great meeting you and Buster on the riverwalk today. Thank you again for offering to look at my resume. I’ve attached the current version here. I appreciate any feedback you can give me! – Kendall