So, if anyone is following:
Chapter 1. I've Found a Decent Job at Last
Chapter 2. Part I: Painting Henry Ford's House
Part II: Good Brain
Chapter 3. Everything Will be Fine
(These are the bones, and I'll be adding filler and transitional material as I go.)
Everything Will be Fine
When I finally returned home that evening, my wife was in the middle of making dinner. She didn’t hear me come in because she had the radio playing somewhat loudly in the next room.
The sound of my shutting the back door startled her, but she turned, and smiled, and we kissed, and I loosened my embrace as she turned back to the stove to stir a large pot of chicken soup. The exhaust fan in the range hood over the stove was on full blast as well, which added to the noise.
We lived in a small two bedroom house. It was more like a cottage than a house in terms of its square footage of about 1100 feet. But it was a cozy place, and there was just the two of us. We had no children.
"Oh, boy.” I said. What a day”. (I said that just about every evening when I returned home from work.)
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Ahhh, you know.” I said. It’s tough. A tough job. " and I shook my head.
“Don’t quit yet.” she said. You can’t quit you know.”
“I know.” I said. I didn’t say I was going to quit. But it’s hard, and I’m tired. Look at my hands." I held them up, and showed her my pink fingertips, and many band-aids. "I’m entitled to complain a little.” I added, and started kneading my fingers and knuckles. "Can you massage my hands with some ben gay later like you do?" I asked. "They really ache tonight."
A faint glimmer of concern showed in her face, but it faded as she said: “Don’t worry. It will all be a memory soon. What day did that recruiter from Allstate say she was supposed to call you back?”
"She said next week. I replied. Maybe Monday or Tuesday. I guess she has to talk to her supervisor or something."
"Well if she doesn’t call you, don’t wait too long. Get on the phone and call.”
“Don’t worry. Don’t get nervous." I said. "She said she was going to call. Our interview went fine yesterday. Why wouldn’t she call me?”
"I don’t know, my wife said. It’s just that we’ve been in this situation before, and you think that the job is in the bag, and then something strange happens and the people disappear. It’s like someone out there is plotting against us.”
"Don't be silly." I said, "No one's plotting against us. But like I said before, it might be because of the Law degree.” It seems to make people afraid of me, or makes me overqualified or something. Or maybe they think I’m going to run out on them as soon as something better comes along.”
“That’s stupid.” she said. Everybody knows that there’s too many lawyers running around and that they're all out of work anyway. They've got to be aware of the situation and more sympathetic.
“You say that,” I replied. “But the people hiring don’t seem to know it. "
“Oh! Who cares anyway.” She said. "It's confusing. One day you tell me a Law degree will help you, and the next day you say it won't. I’m just tired of waiting. It’s getting ridiculous by now. Too much time is going by and all I want you to do is get a damn job. And even if you get this one, we'll still have those student loans hanging over our heads. All of my family is asking about it. My sister said today…..”
“I don’t care what your sister says. " I interrrupted. She doesn’t know anything about what I went through. When she was over here last Christmas she didn’t even know that a person had to go to a Law School to become a Lawyer. She thought it was a Major you could take in College…."
But my wife cut me off this time. “Forget about my sister. Let’s just have dinner. I’m tired of going through this. It’s like a broken record. You get a call from some recruiter, and then they ditch you. Over and over.”
“Well it’s not because of my credit.” I said. I never even get to the point where they ask for my Social Security number. And it can’t be because of the Student Loans either. I never tell them about the loans. And again the only way they can find out about the loans is with the Social Security number.”
“Oh, let’s just drop it.” She said. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can you take Star around the block? She has to go out.”
Star was our English Springer Spaniel. A gentle female with a sweet disposition. Star's brown, stubby tail was wagging, and she was eyeing the pantry door, and yipping a little for me to open it and give her a couple of "cookies" or biscuits.
I put the leash on Star and looked at my wife. “Baby, what’s the matter?” I asked. I thought we were so happy last night. I’m telling you, everything will be fine.”
She was quiet, and I added: "And besides, I have a job right now. I've always had a job. I've always worked."
"I don't mean painting." she said. "I mean a real job."
She looked down.
“What’s the matter?” I asked again. This one is going to come through. It’ll work out. You’ll see.”
“I know.” She said. But when you say how much you hate painting with those guys you make me nervous. If you quit we won’t have enough money coming in, and we'll lose this house.”
“That’s not gonna happen.” I said. “You’ll see. The recruiter said she is going to call back. Sometimes it takes a lot of attempts to land a job.That’s all. That’s all it is. And this time we’re going to win.”
She seemed a little convinced by this and smiled. She put her arms around me.
“Don’t take too long, because the bread’s almost ready.”
“I won’t.” I said, and we hugged again.
I looked at Star, who was back in front of the pantry door, and I said: “Come on Girl, let’s go for a walk." Star wagged her tail more rapidly.
"But first you get a cookie."
