The Interview (standard:other, 1759 words)
Author: Alpha43	Added: Apr 09 2005	Views/Reads: 3439/2368	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A lad is on his way to an Interview, and has an opportunity to alter his life by accepting a career change, but he refuses to be disrespectful and uncaring by leaving a lady stranded with car trouble.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Corporation has 3000 miles on this pile of crap and it has been in for 
repairs seven times. Today I’m sweet talking her down the pike and she 
sputters and she smokes and finally she quits; there she lays like 
Kelsey’s dead dog!” 

Smiling, Jerry finds the latch for the hood and as he expected, he is
faced with a maze of computerized this and computerized that.  He does 
check some of the basics; the alternator belt is on, the hoses are all 
connected and he sees no leaks. The battery cables are connected and it 
does not appear that any wires are hanging lose. The oil is full on the 
stick and appears clean. Then he notices that the big V-8 is fuel 
injected, so chances are the car is not flooded.  The engine block 
itself is clean and free of oil or grime.  Nothing appears wrong, but 
who can tell with this modern electronic gear. 

A low battery should not make the car sputter unless some of the
computerized electronics are starved, so he decides to ask the lady to 
turn on her headlights. If the lights don’t come on or they are dim, he 
could hook up his booster cables and maybe recharge the battery. 

“Holy Jesus Christ son, it’s 8:15 in the Bloody morning, can’t you see?”


Jerry chuckles and adds, “Just for a second madam, please.” 

The lights barely glow and he thinks it would be all right to pull his
car up beside the ladies for a brief time. This is a side street and 
there has been very little traffic. He hops in the Escort and noses in 
next the big cars’ battery side. He hooks up the booster cables and he 
notices how his car bogged down when the cables were placed on the big 
cars battery.  After several minutes he asks the lady to try and start 
her car. 

“You are going to need a boxcar load of Shamrocks to get that turnip to
start, it wouldn’t even click a minute ago.”  But her car does roll 
over and Jerry could see she is surprised.  It almost starts, but not 
quite.  It was now 8:38 AM and Jerry knows he should be at the 
interview. 

“You must have kissed the Blarney Stone today, I thought you had it
ready to Jig.” Said the elated lady. 

“I don’t want to leave you stranded, but I really need to move along. 
Could I call someone for you or contact the lease agent?  If they 
brought a fresh battery, the car would get itself back to the shop 
where they could fix the charging problem.” 

“I too have to be somewhere and it sure as hell isn’t at the damn lease
agency, the son’s a bitches, but that’s not your fault; could you give 
it another minute and after that maybe I could ride with you to the 
next garage?” 

Jerry gave up a weak smile and said, “Sure”. 

It dawned on Jerry that he could be checking the map and verifying the
arranged parking so when he got free, he could go directly to the 
interview. 

As luck would have it, he was only two blocks away from the parking, but
it looked like a bit of a walk to the building. 

Jerry looked up and saw the lady getting ready to start the car. “If
this works, I owe you the coldest beer in Dublin!” she said with big 
smile on her face.  As soon as she hit the ignition, the car started 
and actually ran smooth.  “Thanks be to God and you, my lad!” 

As Jerry quickly disconnected the cables, he reminded the lady that she
had a charging system problem and it needed prompt attention.  Jerry 
threw the cables in the back seat and waved, and he heard the older 
lady yell “God bless you son, may you drink with the saints!” 

In less than two minutes he had the Escort parked and was making his way
across the parking area.  The trouble is, it may be the biggest parking 
lot he had even seen.  But there was no mistaking the Chrysler Building 
and eventually he was on an elevator to the 28th floor.  The directory 
indicated Mr. Miller’s office was on the east wing and for the first 
time in a while Jerry looked at his wristwatch; 9:06 AM. 

He was a little disheveled and he tried to calm himself and place a
reassuring smile on his face as he approached Mr. Miller’s 
receptionist. 

“Good Morning, I am Jerry Weber and I am late for an appointment with
Mr. Miller.  I ran into a little trouble in route and I wonder if I 
still might be able to speak with Mr. Miller?” 

The receptionist said nothing and held her gaze on Jerry as she buzzed
Mr. Miller. “Your 9 o’clock is here.”  She listened for a while and 
then placed the telephone back in its cradle.  “When you failed to 
show, Mr. Miller rescheduled his meeting with our International Vice 
President, I’m afraid Mr. Miller will not be able to help you. 

Jerry considered pleading his case, begging, anything for another
chance, but he finally said, “Thank you”, and prepared to leave.  At 
that moment he heard a vaguely familiar voice behind him. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in a poolhall, what a morning, that God Darned
car. Holy Shit! I busted a bloody fingernail trying to get that hood 
open on that Son of a Bitch’n Edsel or what ever it was.” 

“Sounds like it was not your lucky day.” Said Miss Riley. “Right this
way Ms. O’Shanessey.” 

“Oh, but it was! I ran into Saint Christopher’s cousin driving a bloody
Escort, and he must have kissed the Blarney Stone, God bless him, he 
got me going; but I didn’t even get the lad’s name. 

“Miss Riley, contact that rental agent, I’m still going to shove those
keys where the sun don’t shine.  Now, better late than never, where’s 
this Personnel Manager, your Mr. Miller?” 


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