Not That Interested

Chapter 2: The one with the stapler eater.

Working with graphic designers is a personal nightmare. I have a bachelors in illustrative design from Karachi's top-notch art school, and I have to admit that they taught us nothing about tolerating shitty designers.

"What is that blue patch on the left corner?" I ask Waleed, the intern working with me on the current book cover project.

I am working as a project design artist at a well established publishing house. My job is to create thematically fitting book covers for different authors, or even illustrations wherever necessary. In a way, I am doing my dream job. I love books, and I am passionate about art, so I get to earn money doing something I actually enjoy; combining books and art.

Waleed is a scrawny kid with messy hair, he is still in his sophomore year at a graphic design institute, and his uncle's connections with our Publishing House (Lighthouse Publishers) has landed him this summer internship. He is too tall for his comfort, has a mild case of acne, and has a terrible color sense.

"Umm, your painting's base was blue, and the book's title was 'Something Blue' so, I figured adding the blue patch to the poster would be, umm cool?" He stammers.

"This shade is nothing like my base color, which was more "mint" than 'Cookie Monster'" I resist the urge to break Waleed's iPad screen.

The digital design looks miles away from my original sketch. I feel a tick forming over my left eye, something that surfaces after prolonged exposure to Waleed.

"Remove all of these silly filigrees. Ugh! nothing like what I drew up! Also, for God's sake change the font! You do know comic sans is practically a haraam font!" I gesture towards the pixelated title credits.

He blushes under my criticism, "Sorry. I'll get in the corrections."

"Do that, and ASAP! You know Ghauri (my boss) has a one week deadline for the launch of this book."

I feel slightly guilty when he takes his kicked puppy face and shuffles out of the design room, but really, I cannot bear to witness horrendous colors and nauseous fonts within the space of one poster.

As soon as Waleed leaves, my co-worker, and best friend, Adiba strolls inside the design room. laden with huge files, Adiba's petite frame is barely visible. 

We are so opposite to each other, it's astonishing that we are inseparable. Unlike my 5 foot 7" frame, Adiba is barely five feet. I have long Mahogany brown wavy hair, Adiba has jet-black silky straight locks that fall just below her ear in a sharp bob. My eyes are an unusual bluish-green/grey color, while hers are Bambi brown, fringed with impossibly thick lashes. She is a Mountain Dew person, while I am a coke fiend.

I think you get my drift.

The only thing we do share, is a mutual career passion for arts and literature. We are so lucky to able to work together!

"Hey soul sister! mind helping me with the files?" she croaks. No, seriously. She croaks. Adiba has an unusually smoky voice. It is hilarious, when people see her tiny, slim petite frame, they expect a high pitched squeaky voice, but no! When my best friend opens her mouth, it sounds like she has a perpetual sore throat. It's not an ugly sound, it's just, kind of unexpected. Naturally, she hates it.

I jump up to grab her files, and place them on the large worktable littered with scrap paper, paints and pencil shavings. She wraps her arms behind me in a tight squeeze. "Geez, Adiba! Can't breath...Leggo!" I wheeze out.

"Hey babe, you done with the Blue Cover?" she inquires as soon as she sprawls down on the only available chair. Darn. I shrug and sit cross-legged on the floor.

"Yep, totes done with the painting, but the graphic design intern is getting on my nerves, the idiot."

"Probably cause he is in love with you."

"Shut-up. He seriously has no color sense, or font sense, or common sense. I'll probably end up hounding Shahzeb (our best graphic designer) to do the final editing on the book launch posters." I jerk my sketch pad towards me, as I add details to the cartoon submarine I am drawing for a children's book.

"Hmm. Babe, did Areeb tell you he is dropping by today?", she casually drops this news on me.

My pencil nib shatters as I fumble, slightly flustered at knowing this information.

"What? No, he didn't tell me! I haven't seen him since graduation. I thought he was celebrating his own graduation in Turkey or somewhere!"

My trio of friends includes just one "Guy" friend-Areeb. We three (Adiba, Areeb and I) have known each other since we were in diapers. Our parents are friends, and we grew up together. We went to the same school and college, only splitting up when we reached university. My parents generally discouraged any contact with guys (unless they were married, or like 80 years old), somehow they always trusted me around Areeb. He was family. He is the only male species, I am actually comfortable with.

For our careers, Adiba and I chose a local Art school, while Areeb stalked off to an engineering school in Islamabad. We still used to meet up during winter and summer breaks, but it clearly wasn't the same. I missed him terribly when he was gone. His reckless overlong hair, shiny dark eyes, whip smart humor, and heartbreaking good looks weren't something he always had, he grew into them. So I always felt like he was "Ours" because we knew him before he was cool, and "The Shit".

"He was in Turkey, and he just got back. So obviously, this calls for a lunch meetup. He said he will pick us up in T-minus ten minutes." She scrolls through her phone as she informs me.

"I am busy. Ghauri wants the first draft tonight" I busy myself with a poems book cover.

EMV (Evil Mina Voice) calls me out on this hesitation, 'You're pissed because he didn't text you first'

"Babe, it's lunch break. Ghauri can get off your back for an hour! freaking stapler eater."Adiba mutters under her breath.

Our Boss Ghauri is obsessed with stapler pins being in the right compartment AT ALL TIMES. If we place the large ones in the small cabinet, we suddenly find our workload doubling silently. Honestly, I find him slightly crazy, and totally adorable.

"Don't call him a stapler eater." I hiss back.

"Don't bail out on Lunch today then" Adiba, is nothing but persistent.

Persistently annoying.

I try to dream up more excuses to not go. My eyes catch sight of my reflection in the spotless mirrored wall of the design room. I am casually dressed in an old comfortable Green Kurti (Traditional, short shirt), and even older jeans. My unruly curly hair is pulled back into a loose bun, and my face is completely devoid of make-up. Typical work-look for Mina Amin.

I smirk at Adiba,  "I'm not dressed for it."

"It's not your Shaadi (wedding) YET! it's just lunch dude." Adiba grins evilly.

"Not you too!!" I glare

"Don't be a party pooper Minnie Mouse!" her whining is getting to me. This is her strategy with me, whine about something so long, and so hard, that I'd give in, just to get her to shut up.

"Ugh! Okay, okay! lemme call my Mom and let her know about it." I gave up the struggle.

"Yay! Now Areeb better pay for the Lunch, THAT will make my day!" she cheers, just as I hear a deep voice snort from the doorway.

"In your dreams Shortie!"

Areeb is here.

Author's Note:

Photo in description is of Adiba. She is a famous Pakistani Actress/model, Syra Yousaf

DO let me know your thoughts on my writing. Hate it? Like it? Don't care for it?

Please Vote and Comment!!