The Exciting Days of Charles Baxter 4

Day 4 - How?

     I didn’t get the job. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t understand…any of it.

     At 7:45 a.m., I awoke from my slumber on my mattress (sans box spring).

     At 7:55 a.m., I exited the shower.

By 8:10 a.m., I was dressed and left the building for the train.

At exactly 8:35 a.m., I hopped on the gold line ready to transfer to the red line.

Exactly thirty minutes later I was off the final train and two blocks from the Loufek building.

At 9:20 a.m., I was inside the coffee shop besides the building. I had known of the shop from my research the night before. With no intent of drinking coffee, I simply wanted to obtain the scent of grounds and such. That smell says I work long hours. That says I won’t stop. That says I can do the job.

At 9:25 a.m., I deeply yearned for a blueberry muffin, but the fear of it destroying the white of my teeth. I kept my distance. I ordered a plain bagel- no cheese.

At 9:35 a.m., I’m on the 35^th floor of the Loufek building, in the lobby of Trinity Publishing.

At 9:36 a.m., I check in with the receptionist, Tammy. I take a seat. Take a breath. And wait. I wait for that call. Where I enter the offices. And a John Hamm type shakes my hand. We exchange anecdotes about the college days. Both being the top runner with the goal to be top earners. He gives the nod. He shows me to my temporary cubicle before my office is ready. We shake hands. I wait for the call.

At 9:36 am, I pick my suit for crumbs.

At 10:00 a.m., on-the-dot I get the go ahead from Tammy to enter. I proceed on, I am met by a Kevin Spacey type. I follow him to a conference room. I sit. I hand him my resume. And it happens. I have this feeling come over me. The feeling that I will not get this job. That it has already been given to another. And this gentleman is giving me the run around. And my fears were correct.

At 10:15 a.m., I stand up, we shake hands, and I exit the office. On my way out, Tammy informs me that the elevator is being serviced for the next hour.

At 10:38 a.m., I exit the building.

I cannot see what happened. Where it went wrong. I mapped out every second, every choice, and every word. And I bombed.

My telling of anecdotes about college did nothing. Referencing knowledge of the great epics from Paradise Lost to the Divina Commedia and my forty-five-page paper on the works of Dickens. I brought up trips amercing myself in the culture of foreign countries. My humanitarian works. And how I restructured my college’s campus magazine, online blog forum, and newspaper.

I brought up my three month plan to help the company. How I would never have decided to partner with Diamond Papers, a decision that sent them over five million into the red for the annual budget. How I never would have continued publishing deals with that lazy boy Terrence Frost, or that hack Howard Rollins. I made it very clear that my employment would be a grand benefit to the company. But I didn’t get the job on the spot.

I do not understand. 

How did I not get it on the spot?