To: Khun Pawat Nuenganan
Subject: Interview Results for the Assistant Director Position
Emer Entertainment would like to thank Khun Pawat Nuenganan for taking the time to interview with us. After careful consideration of your qualifications, we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you the position.
However, we firmly believe that you will find a job better suited to your abilities. We wish you the best of luck.
HR Department Emer Entertainment
"Ugh..." A long sigh escaped as Po placed his phone down on the long table covered in a faded, patterned cassaro fabric.
He stared at the oak-themed, old-fashioned suit shop where he worked part-time with a sense of despair.
This was the twenty-third rejection email he'd received.
The prospect of securing a stable, full-time job seemed dimmer than a flickering lightbulb about to burn out.
"Still no luck with the job?" asked Uncle Choi, the sixty-year-old shop owner, busy fitting a suit on a mannequin. "What did you do this time? Didn't they seem interested in you?"
"Maybe I didn't answer their question about the three-year gap well enough."
"What did you say?"
"I told them the truth about what I'd been doing."
Uncle Choi shot him a disapproving look.
"What? Why are you looking at me like that? I don't want to lie. Isn't honesty important when people are working together?"
"It is," Uncle Choi replied, holding a needle in his mouth like a seasoned tailor. "But not for the kind of work you're trying to do."
Po stopped, meeting Uncle Choi's gaze briefly, unsure of what he meant.
"Go grab me some extra pins," Uncle Choi ordered, dropping the topic. He turned his attention to complaints about food, his weakening knees, and his worsening eyesight, scolding Po for picking up thread in the wrong shade.
Po teased back, joking that even with poor vision, Uncle Choi was sharper than someone like him, who had perfect eyesight.
-
Siam Suits, Uncle Choi's shop, was a family business passed down from his grandfather. In a quick two-minute story, Uncle Choi would always share how his grandfather had come from Shantou on a junk ship with nothing but a pair of scissors, saving up to open a tailoring shop. Hia Choi's father inherited the business, but for the next three hours, Uncle Choi would boast about how, when he took over, he became known as the most handsome tailor in town. Young women flocked to his shop regularly.
Po doubted that last part since the shop only tailored men's suits.
-
The shop closed at 7 PM. Po pulled down the steel shutters and locked the glass door. Uncle Choi had been yawning non-stop since the afternoon. He once mentioned that old age made staying up late difficult, though waking up early was his forte. Po wouldn't know. He was still young and had been living a night-owl lifestyle for three years.
His college peers used to say he had a bright future in production.
During his studies, Po excelled in design, editing, and graphics and even won a short film competition. He was scouted immediately after graduation with a higher starting salary than his peers. But eight months into the job, he quit and hadn't done anything significant since.
No further studies. No thrilling adventures abroad to share over dinner. No heavy family responsibilities. Apart from helping Baifern manage the Mars fanbase, Po only had two things in his life: his part-time job at the suit shop, which didn't take much of his time, and...
"Here," said Phi Tile, the owner of the sandwich shop where Po bought his daily meal, handing him two sandwiches.
"Uh..." Po hesitated, remembering he'd only ordered one.
"Like always," Phi Tile replied, as if it were routine. For three years, Po had ordered two sandwiches: one filled with vegetables and bacon, and the other with tuna.
"But..." Po began to protest, but Phi Tile didn't listen.
"One hundred twenty baht."
"Uh..." Po reluctantly paid, wondering how he'd finish two sandwiches.
"So, how's the job hunt? Any luck?" Phi Tile asked.
"Nothing yet."
"Here's the thing. These days, you don't need a regular job. Start your own business instead."
Po looked up, thinking Phi Tile might pitch his sandwich franchise, but he didn't. "Check this out." Phi Tile showed him a clip of a young entrepreneur presenting a new feature for a video editing app popular among teens.
"That's Earn, the founder of EarnChop," Phi Tile explained.
Po blinked, watching someone his age passionately pitch their app's features.
"Cool, huh? He graduated, poured his heart into building this app, and raised millions in funding. The logo, the branding - everything is so well thought out."
"Ah, right."
"He struggled alone for years, but look at the results. He's releasing a how-to book soon. You should read it - it could inspire you."
"Uh... sure. Thanks. I'll be going now," Po said, carrying his two sandwiches in a bag printed with the word LOAF on the side.
---Po turned on the light in his condo, placed the sandwiches on the kitchen counter, and sat down. Phi Tile's words echoed in his mind: Earn built everything by himself.
The room was filled with remnants of EarnChop - logo drafts, merchandise, clothing, a mug. Even the second tuna sandwich had been Earn's favorite.
For the past three years, Po had dedicated himself to Earn's success, helping design the logo, assisting with app development - believing that Earn's future would also be his. But in the end, everything connected to Earn wasn't his at all.
TO BE CONTINUED.