On the ride down, I share a conversation with a fellow from the support team. Small talk ensued:

“Are you from Chicago?”

I respond, “Nah, I’m from Maryland.”

“Isn’t it really cold out there?”

“Yeah, sometimes, but it’s not as cold as it gets here.”

We were about to discuss the current weather (it already feels like winter, where the heck did fall go?!) when we reach the bottom floor and go our separate ways.

I exit the building, walk west on Jackson until I reach the Jimmy John’s. I enter the small vestibule and then attempt to push open the door to the food place actual. It doesn’t budge. I see two young girls ahead of me through the glass pane. They look at me, but to my luck, don’t seem to laugh at my inability to operate a door. I push slightly harder and it finally snaps open. I step forward and give a slight nod, raised eyebrows, and light smirk to flaunt my triumph. One of the girls smiles and I proceed to the line to get my meal.

In line, I look back at the girl, she looks to be in her early to mid 20′s, blonde, and cute. It might be my imagination, but I think she is eyeballing my book, Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger. I start to imagine myself approaching her, saying some witty line about my struggles with doors that seem to have vendettas against me. Instead, I am snapped out of my musing by the cashier who takes my order.

After I pay for and receive my sandwich, I look back and see that the two girls have left. I walk back to the entrance to return to the office and see that one of the girls had forgotten her scarf nearly fallen on the floor, dangling off the lower footholds of the highchair. I exit outside and try to find them walking away, thinking I could catch up to them and bring them their scarf. It takes only a minute and I see them rounding the corner of Jackson and Franklin. I could try to run after them, but I had failed to grab the scarf myself since my hands were full with my book and food.

I stood there outside for a minute thinking I could valiantly rush in, grab the woolen scarf, run after the girls, and return it to them safe and sound. I contemplate the chivalrous nature of going out of the way to return something lost to a beautiful lady. I always wanted to do something impulsive, quixotic even.

I turn in the opposite direction to go back to the office, where I eat my lunch, uneventfully.

Then I think to myself, “Damn.”

“THAT’S IT!”

The shout momentarily gives you pause. The van turns. You look out the window and see that you are arriving at some gas station. Everyone else in the vehicle seems to hold their breath, not making a sound, but sensing what is to come next. The van comes to a halt at the lot. The driver exits and stamps around to the passenger door, yanking it open, the loud rolling sound piercing your ears.

“GET OUT! NOW!”

You sit in your seat, trying to register what is going on. You look for aid from those around you, but none will come forward. You slowly unbuckle your seatbelt, your hands quiver at the sudden shift in the emotional atmosphere. You step down from the van and stand still for the next command.

None is given as the driver shuts the door, walks back to the front and starts up the van again. The tears start to come streaming out of your eyes when you begin to see what is going to happen to you. You begin to cry again, not out of frustration, but out of shear fear and the reaction to being ejected.

The van begins to pull away. You continue to stand there and wail, a sad sight with your little TMNT t-shirt, shorts, and tiny OshKosh B’Gosh shoes. You open your eyes to see the van continue on, hoping that they will immediately realize their mistake and turn around.

It goes down a block and then turns the corner, out of view, disappearing from the scene.

You open a drawer which contains a mess of papers, notebooks, and all sorts of litter. You look through them and see that you found a collection of drawings and writings from your childhood.

It really makes you think of the simpler times of your youth… well, not all of your childhood was what you’d like it to have been, but you then yearn for the times where you didn’t have to worry about things like work, money, and the other responsibilities of the world.

You feel the need to just crawl into bed, wrap yourself in your covers, and pretend that you’re shielded from the stress and problems of being an adult. You long to be hugged and embraced, being told that you’re loved and protected from the fears that haunt you. You dreamed of actually smiling innocently, having fun, lost in your naiveness. Heh, how silly and lame are you?, you think to yourself.

A sadness creeps over you when you try to think of anytime where you felt happiness when you were young. But no moment comes to mind. You don’t remember a time where you really loved being a kid. Were you in a rush to be an adult? Or was it filled with things that you forced yourself to forget?

You dig deeper into the pile and find one of your little notebooks that you had to write in in grade school. Looking inside sends you into an even deeper depression. The first subject you wrote about was a trip you took with your family to the aquarem (actually the aquarium, but you couldn’t spell that well at the age of eight). This was well before your parents separated. You look at the other page and see that you also drew a little picture of your family in pencil and crayons: father, mother, you, and your little sister. You laugh a little at how crazy, tense, and awkward it would be if you all get together like that today. Then you just stared at the picture, thinking about how happy you must have been to write about such a memory. And then you felt a rage to tear that book apart and forget that you ever found it.

The place is dark, yet the lights are dim and bright enough to see the people around you. Everyone is dressed real nice, looking their best and feeling good about it. Some are sitting, some standing. Others are moving, talking, smiling, drinking, dancing, caressing… the bodies are close yet there is enough room to sway to the booming music. You cannot resist the beats yourself.

You approach the girl, looking at her, and begin to dance real close. She responds to you and moves in close as well. You don’t care about how bad you think you look dancing. It doesn’t matter how fancy your moves are. Your hands seem to move on their own. You hold her hand and the two of you let the music carry you away. Nothing in the world could bother you now. There are no worries. No apprehensions. No regrets. No pressure. You feel nothing but a light euphoria that you don’t want to end. Your hands are now holding her hips, and she makes no move to reject you. In fact, she moves in tighter, and your bodies are now embracing each other. The intimacy rouses you. Your bodies twist and turn to the music; your legs bend up and down, your shoulders sway this way and that, and your hips move back and forth.

You are caught up in the moment. The atmosphere has intoxicated you—and it feels good.

It feels like forever, but after a while, the hold you two have on each other loosens. You don’t feel any disappointment at all as she steps back and moves on her own. You take a brief look at her and admire her. Not just for her beauty, but for the fact that she shared those moments of bliss with you just now. You then turn and walk back to get yourself another drink.

There’s the street—but you pass it too quickly, distracted by the unfamiliar territory. You drive on a bit further to find a suitable place to turn around. Getting lost at this point won’t help you. The place looks a little bit seedy as well; but this is no time to panic either. Calmly placing the paper with directions on the passenger seat, you navigate your way back to the path you need to be on.

The late afternoon is marked by the sun colored a sharp redish orange in the cloudless sky. The interview had to be this late since you had work that day and they weren’t available on weekends. Thank goodness you were able to leave a little early; the people you work with also had to look for new job prospects and understood completely. After about an hour of maneuvering through the city, you find the street that held your final destination, a moderate sized office building surrounded by the typical semi-filled parking lot. You pull into an empty spot, turn off the engine, and sit for a couple minutes. The watch tells you that you are still a bit early. You decide to rest a little bit after the stressful drive, reclining your seat and closing your eyes as the audio system emits the sounds of your favorite CD.

A couple minutes pass by as you let yourself fall into a calm and relaxed state. It wouldn’t do to rush into the office looking sweaty and desperate. Glancing at the time, you get out of the car and walk inside the building. The first place you look for though is the restroom, of course. Once the duties are completed you glance at yourself in the mirror and straighten out your outfit: a dark blue button down shirt, black slacks, and a light blue neck tie. You fiddle with the tie a bit, to ensure it isn’t out of place and not too short and not too long. Confident in your appearance as well as your attitude, you stroll out to find the office.

It takes a couple minutes as you wander around… some of the offices weren’t marked with a number. You finally stroll down a long hall near the back of the building and glance inside one of the glass doors. There looks like a group in a meeting around a round table. You turn around and make your way back when suddenly the door opens and your friend pops out. She calls out your name, and you find yourself relieved that you finally found the place you were looking for. Pleasantries are exchanged and you then are asked to wait a little bit longer in the lobby. They’re still in a meeting it seems and that needed to be concluded before I was seen.

Coolly, you accept that fact and say that you’ll be sitting in the lobby, even though you are a bit annoyed that they can’t hold their end of the meeting time. Waiting, you mess around with your cell phone, go over your resume that you brought, and review the typical interview questions in your head. This has been your first interview since the one for your last job—practically over a year ago—and you feel the nervousness creep up again as well as the excitement of meeting people that you could possibly be working with in the future. A good fifteen to twenty minutes go by…

Finally someone is sent out to fetch you. As you enter the office, you glance around and see how make shift it is. It seems everyone shares that one big office space. You are greeted by your friend and then introduced to everyone. You desperately try to memorize names to faces, but you soon forget them. Then the CEO is introduced and you shake hands firmly and vigorously. You make eye contact and smile, thanking him for the time to meet you. He smiles as well and thanks you for coming all the way up there to see them. You are then passed on to the ones who will be interviewing you. One is some HR type and the other is their programming or technical director.

The three of you sit down at the same round table you saw earlier. You learn that the meeting was a bit longer than expected since the CEO had just returned from another country; his wife had just given birth there. So, of course, once he returned he had to catch up on the latest on what was happening. They apologize and you accept and say that you still appreciate their time to meet you. Then the questions and chitchat begin. You had brought your own notepad and pen to take notes, but you find yourself talking more and hardly writing anything down. You stumble on some of the technical questions about programming, but you find yourself able to recover in some way. You ask your own questions as well, hoping to learn more about what they have to offer and if they were really what you were looking for.

The interview flies by and you don’t find yourself as nervous as before. The idea is that you talk casually and confidently as if you were already working with them. If they are comfortable talking with you, then you know you can definitely be comfortable working with them. You share a few laughs, learning a little about their own quirks as well as exposing your own. Soon, all is said and done, and the three of you stand up and shake hands. You walk over to the CEO and shake his hand again and thank him again for his time. Your friend had left earlier to go home. You feel a little sad but you don’t blame her; she had been there the whole day and didn’t really need to stay any longer.

On the drive home, you try to remember everyone’s names to no avail. You conclude, however, that while they were nice enough people, it doesn’t seem like a right fit to work there. They are new start up company, and they didn’t have as many benefits as you had liked. Also, the commute would be insane. They didn’t have any type of relocation package, but they did offer some type ‘work from home on some days’ deal. That was fine though. You had an interview. You knew you needed the practice, and now you can deal with the questions you were unable to answer the next time.

It was now the early evening and the sun was beginning to set. Your return home is impeded by even more traffic. That doesn’t bother you at all anymore. You didn’t need to rush home. You were relieved to be done with the pressures of the day. Your tie has been removed, your shirt unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up. The window is down letting in the summer air. You play your CD again, listening, relaxing, and not really thinking about anything at all…