So You Call Yourself A Man. Carl Weber

seemed to say, When I need your opinion, I’ll ask for it.

      “Mr. Harrison, there is something I don’t understand, though.” He looked down at my resume and frowned. I hated this part; this was where he asked me why I hadn’t been working the past three months, then I decided whether to tell the truth or to lie. “Why are you applying for a job as a UPS driver? You don’t have any experience as a truck driver. You’ve never even worked in the delivery field.” He sat back in his chair, staring at me with his beady eyes. I felt like I was shrinking before him, and the more I tried to sit up, the smaller I became. I wasn’t expecting this question because James made it seem like the job was in the bag.

      “I understand that I don’t have any experience, but I do have the proper license and I’m very motivated. I’m extremely motivated.”

      “I’m sure you are, but if you were me, would you hire a guy with a computer background to drive a truck?”

      Damn, the redneck had me on that one. He had used reverse psychology and it had worked. I tried to remain confident, but at that point I knew the end was near.

      “All I can tell you, Mr. Weinstein, is that I wanna work for UPS, and I’m sure I can be a damn good driver.” I felt like a slave begging the massa to take me out of the field and put me in the house.

      “I believe you could be a good driver, but for how long? How long would you be happy driving a truck, Mr. Harrison? Six months, a year tops.” He shook his head. “No, Mr. Harrison, you’re not a truck driver.”

      “Mr. Weinstein, please, you don’t understand. I really need this job.”

      He glanced at my resume one last time, then slid it into a folder, sighing as if he was sorry. But that redneck motherfucker wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry at all. He’d achieved his goal. He didn’t want me to have this job in the first place. Unfortunately, my stupid ass listened to James and my desperation to find a job, instead of my intuition and my wife, who, although supportive in the end, wanted me to keep my ass in Seattle. I was tempted to cuss this redneck’s fat ass out before I left, but I wasn’t sure how that would affect James. So instead, I stood up and said, “Thank you for your time,” as if he’d done me a favor.

      “Sit down, Mr. Harrison,” he ordered, and the only thing that went through my mind was, No he didn’t! At that point, I’m sure he could see the contempt on my face, so he rephrased his demand. “Mr. Harrison, would you please sit down?”

      I took a deep breath and did like he asked. Why, I don’t know. Slave mentality, I guess.

      “Mr. Harrison, I basically promised James I’d give you a job as a driver, but after looking at your resume, I just can’t do it.”

      That motherfucker had the nerve to smile. I pushed myself out of my chair. He’d already made it clear he wasn’t going to hire me. I wasn’t about to let him ridicule me further. “I think you made that pretty clear the first time.”

      “Mr. Harrison, I have one last thing to say, and after that you can leave.”

      The second I walked out of the UPS building, I took a deep breath, wiping away a single tear as I dialed my home phone. Jessica answered on the second ring, and the first thing that came out of her mouth was, “Did you get the job?” There was no “Hello,” no “Hey baby,” not even a “How did it go?” None of that. Just a straight-to-the-point “Did you get the job?”

      “Well…” I replied rather solemnly, but before I could answer, she cut me off.

      “Oh, God, don’t tell me you didn’t get the job, Sonny.” Her voice cracked with concern, and for a second I was afraid to answer.

      “No, hun, I didn’t get the job as a driver,” I replied, but all I could hear was her breathing. “Jes, you still there?”

      She finally responded, her words even sadder than before. “What are we going to do?”

      “We’re going to celebrate,” I told her with excitement.

      “Celebrate? Celebrate what? Being broke?”

      “No, my new job as a UPS computer analyst.”

      “New job? Computer analyst?”

      “That’s what I said.”

      “But you said you didn’t get the job.”

      “I said I didn’t get the job as a driver, but that’s only because they wanted to offer me a job as an analyst.”

      “You got the job?” she mumbled happily.

      “That’s right, baby, so pack your bags, because James hooked us up and we’re moving back to New York.”

      “You got the job?” she repeated, like she still didn’t believe me. I knew she’d been concerned about me being out of work, but I never knew just how much until now. I guess that’s why she allowed me to come to New York and interview. She was afraid that if I didn’t, I might not get a job anywhere.

      “Yes, baby, we got the job.”

      “Thank God,” she said, and the relief in her voice made me smile. “So when are we moving? Oh, my God, I’ve got so much to do.”

      “I’ll be back in about a week or two. I’ve gotta find us a place to live and get a few things straight here. Do you think you can get everything ready to go by the time I get back?”

      “Sweetheart, you can count on it,” she replied, in a voice that assured me the job would be done.

      6

      James

      Brent, Sonny, and I were at Madison Square Garden. By halftime the Knicks were getting their butts whipped by Shaquille O’Neal and the Miami Heat. That was okay, though. The night was still young, and after the game we were going to head over to Hooters to celebrate Sonny’s new job and Brent’s last few nights as a bachelor. I tried to arrange a big shindig at a strip club with all of our friends, but Mr. Born-Again Brent nixed that idea a couple of nights ago. I had to twist his arm just to get him to let Sonny and me take him to Hooters.

      Despite his holier-than-thou protest during the week, Brent had been in high spirits from the minute we picked him up and headed to the game. I think he was a little more excited about the whole Hooters thing than he wanted to admit. I guess that’s how it is when you’re going to be married in less than twenty-four hours. You wanna see someone else’s titties one last time. You don’t necessarily wanna touch ’em, but you do wanna see ’em. Then again, even for an old married guy like me, a beer and some titties sounded pretty good. Who knows, I thought, maybe if we were lucky and he drank enough beer before the end of the game, Brent might let us take him to a real strip club.

      I turned to Sonny, who as usual had his cell phone glued to his ear, talking to that bubble-butt, gold-digging wench he called a wife. Damn, I couldn’t stand that bitch. It seemed like she was calling every half hour on the hour since he got into town just to see what he was doing. I felt like grabbing his phone and saying, “He’s at a basketball game, bitch! Same place he was half an hour ago when you called. Damn! Give the brother a break so he can watch the game.”

      I didn’t blame her as much as I blamed Sonny, though. We were all dedicated to our women, but I’d never seen anyone as whipped as him. He was mesmerized by that oversized ass of hers. He acted like he was a dog on a leash and she was his master. I was convinced that anything she said, he’d do, and that included jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge. I was starting to get heated just thinking about it, so it was a good thing my cell phone began to ring before I opened my mouth.

      I reached in my pocket and hit the talk button without looking at the caller ID. A big mistake, I soon found out.

      “James.” It was Michelle, and a wave of anxiety came over me when I recognized her voice. I was supposed to drop off $200 by her house earlier that afternoon, but my route had more packages than I anticipated, and I ended up doing