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HEDDER HUNTS
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by Craig Turnwall
I had this interview for a job today. I happen to miss this district manager’s message yesterday afternoon while I saucing it up with my buddies at the bar so I wake up extra early this morning to give him a call and to try and show him that I’m the early riser, wake up and get ‘em type. I crawl out of bed at 8:30, mouth full of cotton and coughing something fierce, having been wicked fucking drunk when I got home, capping it off with writing a couple of delirious emails to some friends and having some stumble fumble rough sex before passing out with my pants and shoes on. I clear my throat, dial the phone, and listen patiently, quietly repeating my name over and over again, trying to get the morning out of my voice and I hear him pick up, “This is Dan.” “Hi Dan, this is Pete….Pete Nashaw, I missed your call yesterday afternoon when I was in the city and I was just giving you a call to see if you had some time to maybe meet with me.” I could tell this really caught him off guard. He wasn’t ready to be asked to meet, he was anticipating on doing the inquiring, but in my haste and slow temperament I had jumped the gun and thrown those formalities aside. There was a pause. “Yeah, sure, that’d work…….what time is good for you?” “I tell you what Dan, I’m pretty free today…..I’ll let you tell me when it’d work best.” There was another pause. This one made me nervous. I could not tell if I had frightened him or if he was simply doing a mental chain of events for his day, trying to decided when he could squeeze me in. “10:30 be all right?” It was 9:00 now, that would be give me an hour to shower and what not, without too much haste. “10:30 be fine.” He took a deep breath as he cleared his throat, poised and ready to continue. “Do you know where Stoughton is?” “I do……it’s south of me, by Canton….right?” “Yep. Route 138 off of 93, there’s a stand alone Papa Gino’s, with a Wendy’s and a Jiffy Lube right next door. You can’t miss it. I see you there at 10:30.” “All right Dan, see you then…..bye.”
I had not planned on meeting him so soon. I was not a morning person. I enjoyed getting up, having a cup of coffee, laying around, maybe watching some tv. Essentially, taking it easy. It usually took me a few hours to wake up without a hang over and most of the morning if I had one. I felt like ass and what was worse, I had committed myself to looking and feeling presentable in less than two hours. It was definitely going to be close.
This was the second interview for a store manager position at this chain pizza joint called Papa Zapa’s. I hated food service, but I had spent the last year and a half running this mall little ice cream store that had done fairly well so when I became desperate for a job, I pulled out all the stops and went back to the industry where anyone can become employed. I did not want to do this, but I didn’t have a choice. I needed the cash bad and exhausted all my other resources. I had trapped myself, something I swore I was never going to do.
I shaved, hopped in the shower, got dressed, put on my best shoes and realized I still had twenty-five minutes to spare. I grabbed my coat and walked around my house to the corner where I could get a soda from the machine so I wouldn’t have to stop anywhere on my way.
The morning was cold for April, overcast with the inevitable smell of rain and muck in the air. I hurried along, got my soda, and walked back to the house quickly, staring down at the sidewalk, trying to count the lines and cracks as they passed under my feet.
I got back inside, sat down, and drank half my soda before I had even realized that it was time to go. I got in my truck, started it up and turned onto the road with traffic filling in around me like rabid dogs on a racetrack.
I did not live too far from the interstate, keeping in mind that distance is relative to road capacity and traffic quantity, but things were moving good.
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Craig Turnwall
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