Exit Interview

A man faces some tough questions during his final exit interview.

Charles Blauman sat in the small waiting room with several others.  No one spoke, or even moved much.  They just sat there, mostly staring straight ahead.   Aside from a single puffy yellow flower in a clear vase on the receptionist’s desk, there were no distractions.  No windows, artwork, file cabinets, magazines, nothing.

The receptionist appeared to be reviewing papers, circling things with a pencil and making notes.  There was a short pile of papers on her left and another on her right and one sheet in between that she was working on.  She would finish the one in front of her.  Move it to the pile on the right and replace it with one from the pile on the left, then repeat the process.

The desk was in the middle facing the door.  On the left side of the room were two chairs one currently occupied by an elderly woman, the other by a very heavy set man who appeared to be in his 60s.  Opposite them sat Charles and a teenage boy. 

“Mr. Blauman?” the receptionist said almost as if it were a question. “ We’re ready for you now.”  Charles thought it was strange that she just spoke up without a prompt or a phone to let her knew that it was his time.  She stood up and opened a door leading to a hallway behind her desk. 

“You’ll be in interview room C and will be meeting with Mr. Michaels.” 

She escorted Charles down to the interview room and let him inside.  The interview room was as plain as the waiting room- a desk and two chairs.  Aside from an almost identical plant from the waiting room on the desk, the room contained nothing else.

“Mr. Michaels with be with you shortly.” The receptionist said and closed the door behind her.

Several minutes passed and Charles just sat there, looking at the flower until a man entered the room.

“Charles Blauman?” the man said.

“Yes” Charles said as he stood and shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Mr. Michaels and I’ll be conducting your interview.  Please have a seat.”

Both men sat.

Mr. Michaels placed a white three ring binder on the desk in front of him and opened it up to the last page.

“OK, lets see,” he ran his finger down the page, “Charles Blauman…” He looked up, Do you prefer Charles, Charlie, Chuck, something else, a nickname perhaps?”

“No Charles is fine.”

Alright then, Charles Blauman, born 1961, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Elizabeth and Charles Sr.  Two younger siblings, Sister Tina and brother Thomas.  Both living I assume?”

“Yes they are?” Charles said.

“And your parents? Still living?”

“My father passed away several years ago.  Mother is still alive.”

“Very good.” Michaels said.  He made a note.

“And children, Eli and Grace correct? Both currently away at college I see.”

“Yes.”

Now, about you,  in high school you were an average student.  Marching band, track team, no serious girlfriends.  Were you a virgin when you graduated high school Mr. Blauman?”

Charles didn’t see that question coming and felt himself blush slightly.

“Um yes.”

Mr. Michaels made a note on the paper.

“Good.  And when did you lose your virginity Charles?”

Why was he asking this? Charles thought. How is that relevant?  Mr. Michaels looked up from the binder, “Mr. Blauman?”

He let out a kind of sigh, “Um, my sophomore year in college.  But is it really necessary to …”

Michaels waved his hand and shook his head as if to say, don’t worry. “It’s all just part of this process.  There is no need for embarrassment.   Now, what was the girl’s name?  I assume it was a girl?”

“Yes it was a girl! Karen Westfall.”

“Karen Westfall, OK.” Michaels made another note.  Flipped forward in the binder, made another note and flipped back.

“And this was at …” Michaels looked over the paper, then turned the page to the second to last sheet  “…Penn State correct?”

“Yes”

“And it was consentual?” Michaels asked.

“Yes, of course it was.” Charles answered.

“And while you were at Penn State, how many other women did you have sexual relations with after this Karen Westfall?” Michaels asked.

Charles was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with this line of questioning and kept telling himself, it’s routine.  Not to worry.

“A few I guess.”  I met my wife my junior year so…”

“So?” Mr. Michaels asked.

“So, I was with her for those last two years at college.”

“I see.” Michaels looked like he checked off a couple of boxes on the papers.

“Of those ‘few’ that you did have sex with your sophomore year, did you have sex with any of them against their will?” Michaels kept his head down but his eyes looked up at Charles.

“No! Of course not!”  Charles said forcefully. So much for the routine questions, Charles thought, why does he keep asking that?

By all accounts in college and throughout his life Charles Blauman was a kind and considerate man.  Everyone seemed to like him.  He was thought of as a good employee, a devoted father and a loving husband. He and his family lived a normal middle class suburban life.  One might even consider it a boring life.  But that is how he liked it.  He wanted to be thought of as a good man and that is how he thought of himself.  

This line of questioning made him uncomfortable.  These were questions he never thought he would be asked.

What are you most proud of in your life? He thought he might be asked.

My kids.  He had planned to answer.

What is your fondest memory? - My wedding day.

What is your biggest regret? �" That I didn’t travel more.

He had ready answers for all the questions he thought he would be asked.  He thought he was prepared. He was not.

“Were any of them inebriated at the time?” Michaels asked next.

“No.” Charles lied.

“So there was no alcohol involved at the time you had sex with these girls?” Michaels questioned.

“Well sure there was alcohol. It was college and we had parties and met girls.” Charles said.

Mr. Michaels continued, “ There was alcohol at the parties where you were meeting and having sex with girls but none of the girls were inebriated?”

“Come on! What does this have to do with anything?  It was a long time ago and yea, there were college parties and there was alcohol and I suppose some girls got a little drunk.  We all did.  And listen, it wasn’t like I was running around from party to party having sex with a ton of drunk women, it wasn’t like that!”

“I see.” Michaels continued. “I asked if any of them were inebriated at the time, and you said no.  Yet there was alcohol available at the party.  So I would like to clarify, the girls, that you had sex with at these parties, did they not consume any alcohol prior to having sex with you?"

“They probably did. And look, I told you, there weren’t a lot of, I mean, there was only a couple of girls that I was with in college, it’s not like… ”

“ A few.” Michaels interrupted.

“What?” Charles said.

“A few.  You said you were with a “few” not a couple.”

Charles shook his head and raised his hands, palms up, “ Ok a few.  I don’t know for sure.  And what’s the difference…”

Michaels interrupted again, “ A couple is generally regarded as two, while a few is defined as not many, but more than one.  So a few could mean two, but it could also mean three, four maybe even five in the right context.  So since you stated originally that you were with a ‘few’ girls in college, am I to assume that you don’t know the actual number?”

Charles sat back in his chair and stared back at Michaels.  Michaels stared back at Charles.  A few long seconds past.

“Three.” Charles said a bit sarcastically. “I was with three girls aside from my wife while I was in college.”

Michaels made another note in the binder, “Alright, three then.  And you knew only miss Westfall’s name?"

“Another girl, I think her name was Jackie.  She was a friend of a friend that I met at one of the parties. And we went out a few times after that.” Charles stated.

“A ‘few’ times?” Michaels said.

“Yea. Not many but more than one.” Charles said, more sarcastically this time.

“Ok, good.” Michaels said.  “And the other one, you do not remember her name?”

“No.”

But you do remember having sex with her, correct? Michaels asked.

“Yes.”

“Now you stated that they probably were consuming alcohol at the parties prior to you having sex with these girls.   Do you feel that any of them had reached a point where they might not have been in complete control of their faculties at the time you were having sex with them?” Michaels said.

“Any sex I have ever had was consensual!” Charles said defiantly.

“Mr. Blauman, please answer the question I asked you.  To the best of your recollection, were any of the women you had sex with not in complete control of their faculties?  That is, were they able at the time to make a rational decision about whether or not they wished to have sex with you even though they may have been consuming alcohol at the time?”

Charles let out huff, “ Yes, they were in complete control of their faculties.” He paused, and then added, “ to the best of my recollection.”

“Ok then.” Mr. Michaels said. He flipped the page in the binder and read down the page before continuing.  “I just have two more questions about your college years.  Mr. Blauman.  Do you happen to recall the legal drinking age in Pennsylvania in, um, what was it? 1981?”

“I don’t know.” Charles said.

“You don’t know?” Michaels asked.

“I don’t know.” Charles repeated.

Michaels flipped back and forth between a couple pages in the binder. “ OK, according to this it looks like it was, um…21 years of age.” Mr. Blauman, you weren’t 21 years of age at the time of your sophomore year in college were you.” It wasn’t asked as a question.

“No, I suppose not.”

“ Hmm, Do you happen to know if the girls you were with were also underage?”

“ I do not.”

“ And I don’t suppose anyone at the parties bothered to ask at the time, did they?”

“I don’t know.  It wasn’t …well, no one ever bothered to ask.  It was a college party.”

Charles Blauman was obviously frustrated and upset.  The way that the questions were asked made him seem like a horrible person.  He was not a horrible person. He knew he had never forced himself on anyone and there was no evidence to the contrary.  He didn’t understand the point of all this questioning.  Why not ask about the good things he had done?  He was a good man, a loving father and husband.

“During your marriage Mr. Blauman, were you faithful to your wife?” Mr. Michaels interrupted Charles thoughts.

“Oh for God’s sake, Of course I was.”

“No affairs?”

“No!” Charles said with emphasis.

“I see.” Mr. Michaels checked a couple of boxes on the paper in front of him and turned the page.

“Did you ever steal from any of your employers Mr. Blauman?” Michaels asked.

“Of course not!”

“No?”  Mr. Michaels asked in an accusatory way.

“No.” Charles said emphatically.

Have you ever masturbated while at work Mr. Blauman?”

Charles leaned back in his chair �" shocked.  “What!  Really?  You just asked me that? Now that really is not…”

“Please answer the question Mr. Blauman, I assure you this is strictly routine.”

No, I haven’t.  Charles said with a tone of disgust.”

“No?  Hmm. ” Michaels ran his pencil down the page in front him and made a check mark on the page. Then circled something.

Charles watched him and before Michaels looked up,  “OK, maybe once.”

Michaels continued to run his pencil down the page and made another check.

“Or, twice, Charles shouted, I don’t know.  Sometime if it’s a slow day and I’m bored…”

“So your employer had agreed to pay you to masturbate?”

“No, but… “ Charles had no where to go on that one and decided it was best to just stop. “No.”

Mr. Michaels continued, “ Can I assume Mr. Blauman that you were envisioning a sexual moment with your wife while you were masturbating at work and being paid by your employer?”

“You can assume anything you like.” Charles said, annoyed.

“Sarcasm Mr. Blauman?  This really isn’t the place for that.”   Mr. Michaels said as he shook his head slightly.

“Who is Theresa Epple?” Michaels asked abruptly.

“Really? Are you serious?  Charles just stared at Mr. Michaels, who stared right back at him.  Seconds past and Charles started to fidget, then let out a sigh.  He knew where this was going.  “She’s my neighbor.”

Michaels flipped a page in the binder and seemed to scan the entire page. “She’s quite attractive.”

Charles cleared his throat.  Still fidgeting, he looked down and away from Michaels “Is that a question?”

“Just an observation.” Michaels flipped to the next page of the binder and read, “ 37 years old.  She’s married I see.” He emphasized the word married. “Husband Tom Epple, age 40.  I see the Epples have a pool.”

Charles remained silent and crossed his arms.

Michaels looked up, waiting… “A pool Mr. Blauman?”

 

“Yes, they have a pool.  You know that.  Why are you asking me about the Epple’s pool?” Charles knew why he was asking and also knew based on this line of questioning where this was going.  He was not looking forward to it.

“ I am not so much concerned with the Epple’s pool Mr. Blauman as much as I am the view of this pool from your upstairs guest bathroom.  Mrs. Epple, (he emphasized the Mrs.) likes to tan by her pool doesn’t she?”

“ I see where you are going with this.” Charles shook his head and rolled his eyes. ” Yes.  Yes, I have occasionally seen Theresa sun bathing by her pool from my upstairs window.”

“On any of those occasions, Mr. Blauman, Did Mrs. Epple remove the top of her swimsuit?"

“Look, you apparently know the answer to that so why are you bothering to ask?  Yes.  Yes, I spied on Theresa Epple from the upstairs window and one time she did in fact take off her top.  OK? There.  You have my confession.  Alright?”  Charles crossed his legs and arms and looked around the room, his right foot fidgeting.

Michaels didn’t respond.  He sat quietly for a few seconds, scanning the page from the binder.  He turned the page and removed a photo from a sheet protector.

“Is this the picture you took of Mrs., Epple while you were spying on her from your upstairs bathroom window when she was sunbathing topless?  I believe this was on your phone. ”

Charles uncrossed his legs leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “Oh for crying out loud, yea, yea it is.  OK? I took that picture.  It was wrong of me to do it.  I confess.  I’m sorry. Alright?”

“There is no need to get upset Mr. Blauman.  As I mentioned earlier, this is quite routine.”

Charles shouted, “Routine? Routine?  How is this routine?  This is private stuff that only I know and it didn’t hurt anyone.”

“First you imply that I got underage girls drunk at parties in college to have sex with them.  Then you accuse me of stealing from my employer, masturbating at work and now spying on my neighbor.  Yea, I took a picture of my neighbor’s half naked wife.  OK! I admit it.  But no one knew and it didn’t hurt anyone.  Jesus, what the hell is this anyway?”

 

Charles leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms and legs. He let out another huff and looked away from Mr. Michaels.

“Mr. Blauman, I see you are getting quite upset.  There really is no need for that.  We are almost done here.  It is however, important that we get a complete understanding of the person we are interviewing and although some of the questions might make you a bit uncomfortable, they are necessary and I assure you, quite routine.  I only have a few more.” Michaels said.

“Fine. Go on, it’s just … really, this seems so unnecessary.  I am a good person. I don’t steal; I didn’t cheat on my wife or force women to have sex for God’s sake.  I’m a good dad, a good husband …”

Michaels interrupted him, “ Yes, about that.”

“About what?” Charles asked.

 

“Earlier you had mentioned that you have always been faithful to your wife.  No affairs or anything like that.” Michaels said.

“ That’s true.  I love my wife. I have never cheated on her.”

Michaels tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to question Charles on that point.  Charles recognized the look. “ What?  That’s true.  I have never cheated on my wife.”

“Well Mr. Blauman,” Michaels said in a very matter of fact way, “ Is it not true that while you were masturbating at work at the expense of your employer, you were looking at the secret picture of Mrs. Epple, your neighbors wife, imagining that you were having sex with her?”

Charles Blauman stood up and exploded!  “What! Really? This is insane!  What the hell is this?  You pick out some stupid s**t like this and try to tell me I cheated on my wife because I jacked off to a picture of my neighbor once?”

“Three times Mr. Blauman.” Michaels corrected.

“Fine! 3 times! And you know what?  I’ve jacked off thinking about a lot of women. Ok?”

“5612.” Michaels stated.

Charles Blauman’s voice became abnormally high, “WHAT! You know that?  Really, in that binder of yours you have that number?”

“ We do.”

“Well if you know that number, why do you bother asking me?  Why put me through this?  You already know the answer!” Charles shouted.

“YOU needed to know the answer Mr. Blauman.” Michaels said dryly.

“I needed to know how many times I have jacked off?  Why the hell would I need to know that?”

Michaels began to talk in a calm, almost consoling voice.  “The number of times you have masturbated in your life is unimportant.  What is important is that you realize there are consequences to your actions, whether those actions take place in the physical world such as when you had sex with those girls in college or in your mind like when you had sex with Theresa Epple.”

I didn’t have sex with Theresa Epple!” Charles shouted.

“You did.” Mr. Michaels said.

“I did NOT!” Charles voice almost squeaked when he said the word NOT.

“You did in your mind Mr. Blauman.”

“Oh for God’s sakes. That’s not the same thing. It was in my MIND.” Charles pointed to his head with both index fingers.  “It’s does hurt anyone.  It’s in my imagination!”

“Is your wife pretty?” Michaels asked.

“What? Yes, I think she is pretty. What does that have to do with…”

“Is Mrs. Epple prettier?”

“Look, My wife is 55 years old.  Theresa is what did you say, 37?  I love my wife.” he added. “ I have never cheated on her and I wouldn’t.”

“Do you think imagining yourself having sex with your younger, prettier neighbor, adds or detracts from the sex life you have with your wife?” Michaels asked.

“I don’t think it matters one way or the other.  This is stupid.” Charles said defiantly.  “Can we move on?”

“I see.” said Michaels as he made couple of notes in the binder and flipped the page.

Michaels let out a loud, almost sad sounding sigh as read over the next page in the binder.

“Emily Tucker.” Michaels said.

“Who?”

“Emily Tucker.”  Michaels said again. “You don’t recognize the name?”

Charles shook his head no.

“She was the freshman girl you met at the party your sophomore year.  She was 17.  She was drunk, very drunk.  So were you, although you were not a drunk as her.  I believe the drinks you were serving are called “Harry Buffalo” cocktails. Several different kids of alcohol mixed with fruit punch.  The fruit punch makes it hard to taste the alcohol.  It’s easy to drink too much if you are young and don’t have a lot of experience with such things.”

Charles crossed his arms and just stared at Michaels.

“Emily Tucker was not a drinker and she weighed…” Michaels looked down at the binder ran his finger down a page. “… 115 pounds.  At that weight and inexperience with alcohol it would take two Harry Buffalo cocktails consumed within one hour for her to become legally inebriated.  Prior to you having sex with her she had consumed five.  Certainly her judgement was impaired.”

“She never had the chance to decide whether or not she wanted to have sex with you did she?   The two of you were dancing and - what was the line you used?”

“The line I used?” Charles asked.

“Come on up stairs for a minute, I want to show you something.”  Michaels said.  “It was that simple.  Not clever at all.  But she was very naïve and clearly intoxicated. She really thought you wanted to show her something.”

“I know Mr. Blauman, you really don’t remember much of this, just bits and pieces.  It was so long ago and of course you were intoxicated as well.  And in reality, there is not much to remember.  The actual event took less that 5 minutes.  Miss Tucker remembers almost nothing of the night.  However, she vividly remembers waking up the next morning, her clothes on the floor and you passed out beside her. That’s a memory she would keep the rest of her life Mr. Blauman, along with the memory of crying for the rest of that day.”

Charles attitude went from defensive and annoyed to thoughtful.  He sat with his head down trying to remember.  Just as Michaels had said, he didn’t remember much.  He remembered dancing with the pretty girl, the cups of alcohol everywhere at the party and the beat of the music.  Oddly, he remembered the creaking sound the door to the bedroom made as he opened it to see if the room was unoccupied and he remembered putting his hand on her lower back, gently pushing her into the room.

As he sat listening to Michaels he tried to remember more.  It was so long ago.  It was consensual he told himself.  She wanted to go up there with me.  She didn't say no or stop or in any way indicate she didn’t want to be there.  I would have stopped if she had.  I know I would have, he told himself.

But vaguely little pieces came back, strange disjointed memories from 35 years in the past.  “I have a boyfriend.” He remembered her saying.   She held the plastic cup of Harry Buffalo with both hands in front of her, almost defensively as he tried to kiss her. Why didn’t she put it down?  When he took the cup away from her and put it on the nightstand, did she try to leave?  He remembered her turning away but his arm was around her waist.  Then they were on the bed.  Did she sit down onto the bed?  He couldn’t remember.

Charles remembered someone walked in while they were on the bed.   Another couple.  She tried to say something to them but Charles kissed her so she couldn’t talk.  Is that what I did? Charles thought.  Did I kiss her to stop her from asking for help or did I just kiss her?  I don’t know.  I really don’t know.

Michaels continued as Charles tried to piece together any details he could.

“Miss Tucker had had one sexual experience prior to meeting you.” He said,  “It was with her boyfriend Anthony shortly before they both left for college that fall.  It was his first time as well and they had talked about it prior, deciding if the time was right.  They decided it was.”

“It was awkward and they were both self conscious and a little afraid, but they loved each other, that kind of young love where it’s all new and exciting and their hearts would flutter every time they saw each other.”  Their first time would be with each other and it would be special.”

Charles felt a profound sadness beginning to fill him.  He still thought he had done nothing wrong, but as Michaels told the story, he could feel for Emily Tucker, almost as if it was a different person that had done this to her.  Not Charles Blauman, not him.  He looked up at Michaels and Michaels stared back.  There wasn’t any anger or sadness or judgment in Michaels’ eyes.  His look conveyed a sense of, there is more.

And Michaels spoke. “They were both looking forward to seeing each other again over the holiday break, two weeks after your party.  Emily spent most of those two weeks cloaked in sadness and filled with guilt.  Her heart ached and there was the constant feeling that and any time the tears would begin to flow again.”

“She did poorly on her final exams that first semester of her freshman year.” Michaels continued. “Any time she tried to study, all she could think about was what she should do.  Should she tell Anthony?  Would this end it for them?  Would he know what happened if she didn’t tell him just by the way she acted?   She loved him.  It would be her fault if they broke up she thought.  Why did she do that with you?  She thought she was so stupid for letting that happen and she was very sad.”

Charles sat quietly in the chair not knowing what to say.  In 35 years he had hardly ever thought about that time with the pretty freshman girl from college.  He never knew her name and never saw her after that night.  He did remember the next days his buddies, teasing him, maybe more congratulating him on hooking up the previous night.  Thinking about that made him feel worse.   He had no idea how badly he had hurt her, and yet he was being congratulated for it.

“I … I don’t know what to say.  I didn’t realize that… I …” He shook his head.  Charles’ heart felt heavy and there was a pain behind his eyes.  “I wish I could apologize to her.”

“What happened to her Mr. Michaels?” Charles said.

“She told Anthony.  She felt she had to because she loved him and couldn’t lie to him.  She tried to convince him this was a mistake and it would never happen again.  The guilt she felt was almost overwhelming.”

“And?” Charles asked. “What happened?”

“They didn’t break up after she told him. It was hard for both of them but they wanted to try and make it work. But Anthony never trusted her again.  And after a short time they did break up.  He couldn’t stand the thought of her going to any parties or doing anything social.  He would always wonder if she was cheating on him again.  And he would question her, who was there? Who did you talk to? How late were you out?“

“She knew he didn’t trust her and as hard as she tried to convince him she was faithful, she never could.”

Charles Blauman’s eyes began to tear up.  He had always thought of himself as a kind, caring person who was faithful and trustworthy.  This had shaken him.  Inside, he was truly sorry but he also realized that being sorry wouldn’t change anything.  What he had done, the pain that he had caused that poor freshman girl could not be taken away.

 

Michaels had said, all actions, whether in the real world or in your mind have consequences. Charles thought of all the good things he had done in his life, all the friends he had made, the people he had cared about and helped when they were in need.  Did that mean nothing?  Of course it had to.  But still, he had hurt this girl so long ago and never realized it.

He looked up and Mr. Michaels, “ I’m sorry.’  I am so, so sorry.”