On the Streets of New York

I walked up to a large building that was bright white with lots of windows. As I skipped through the grand front doors, a small old lady with a clipboard shot me a smile as she peeped over her tall desk. “I am Betty Smith, but you can call me Betty. What are you here for today?” she asked in a friendly voice.

“I am here for a job interview with John Potterman,” I said smiling back at her.

“Alrighty. You can follow me, miss,” she replied nicely. She was walking and chitchatting about stuff I didn’t pay attention to, but I just nodded and agreed with her. I think it was something about the news.

She finally brought me to a large office with a black leather chair. In it sat a tall man with a bald head that was too small for his body. “Good morning Miss Harrison, I am John Potterman,” he said in a low and bland voice. I had never been referred to as Miss Harrison before, but I liked the sound of it. I sat down and sank into the office chair that made feel small and unimportant.

“So,” he said, rearranging the papers on his desk, “What made you choose to be part of my business?” I shrugged truthfully, not knowing the reason. Then, seeing that he was still waiting for an answer, I replied, “Well I heard that this was a great business and it paid well.” He smiled, still looking at his papers. “Well I must say that I agree with you, but let me inform you that we only pay well if you work well,” I nodded to show that I understood.

“Tell me Jamie, what is your past experience with insurance?” he said. I thought for a moment, not wanting to admit that I had been fired from three jobs on account of my short temper. “Well?” he said, waiting for me to answer. I sank low into my chair, knowing that I had to tell him about my past jobs. “Uh, I-I was an intern at Progressive. I also worked at Kinko, printing and correlating papers. The last job I worked at was Otis Magee’s, and I was a sales representative.”

“You have worked at a lot of places, haven’t you?” he said. I didn’t answer. “Why have you worked at so many jobs, Miss Harrison?” I was not prepared to tell him the reason, and instead of getting nervous, I was getting angry. “Why do you want to know?” I blurted.

“Excuse me, Miss Harrison, did you say why do you want to know?” he hissed. “Is there something more you would like to tell me? If not you may leave.”

“I am truly sorry, Mr. Potterman. I didn’t mean to snap.” I was scolding myself inside my head, “Jamie Sue Harrison! Why, why, why did you snap at him?! You need this job, and you need to keep your apartment!” I straightened my dress and thought for a moment. I remembered what the doctors had said when I was 12. They told me that I had a condition in which I could not control temper. They said it was because of the trauma when I was younger. My dad was drinking every night and when he came home, he whipped me and yelled at me until I cried so hard that I could hardly breathe. I fought back my tears that were welling up in my eyes.

“Miss Harrison, you really would be a great worker,” he said, looking at my resume, and all of the comments that my old boss had written. “But I am unsure about your temper. Being an insurance agent means you have to cooperate with all customers, no matter their attitude,” he said. I took a breath, trying to politely interrupt, but he kept talking. “Some people can be kind, and others could be argumentative. Jamie, you really would be the perfect worker, but I can’t take chances with valuable customers.”

“Mr. Potterman, I am fully aware of that. I just really need this job, although I may not be suitable for this occupation. Please consider me,” I said in a low, unconfident voice while trying to keep my temper in check. “Here is the rest of my resume,” I handed him some papers that explained my previous jobs.

“Thank you, Jamie,” he stood up. “You have great potential, and what needs to be done now is some creative thinking from my part,” I stood up, knowing it was time for me to leave. “Now don’t think this is a complete ‘Goodbye!’ I will be trying to find a place for you.” He leaned close to me and shook my sweaty hand. I opened the door that read “Mr. John Potterman, CEO.” I walked sadly down the bright red hall. When I got to the marble lobby, I turned around and smiled at Betty.

“Have a nice day, dear,” she said sweetly to me. I walked over to her even though her perfume was giving me a headache.

“You too, Betty.” I said, acting like the interview went perfectly.

“See you, too,” I knew that I wasn’t going to get the job. I opened the beautiful red tinted doors and went home.

“How was did it go today, Jamie?” asked the doorman that worked at my apartment building.

“It went fine, I guess,” I replied in a sad tone. I didn’t even stay in the lobby long enough to hear what he had said back to me. I was in the elevator when I felt the first tear build up inside my eye. I rushed into my place before anyone else could see me cry. I didn’t cry often, and when I did, I cried because I was ashamed of myself. I collapsed onto my bed while I was crying. I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I remembered the first time my dad got drunk. He came home and I asked him to play with me. He yelled at me and pushed against the wall and stomped upstairs. I cried for hours that night thinking I had done something wrong. My mom had died three years before and I was left with my drunk father to look after me. I was eventually sent to my aunt’s house. She treated me O.K. and when we found out that I had a short temper condition, I did my best not to blame my father for it. “He did not know what he was doing.” I told myself each night. I remembered how it felt to feel unloved and useless. I was not going to feel that way again. I stopped crying and stood up. I straightened my dress that was wet with drops of tears. I continued my day, trying to stay happy, but you would be amazed at how difficult it is to maintain a positive attitude after getting fired from your third job.

“Awww,” I yawned as I stretched. “Good morning world. Today is going to be a good day,” I said to myself. I got out of my lonely bed and put on my work uniform, then started going to Espresso Joe’s, a little, yet busy coffee shop.

“Awww,” I yawned as I stretched. “Good morning world. Today is going to be a good day,” I said to myself. I got out of my lonely bed and put on my work uniform, then started going to Espresso Joe’s, a little, yet busy coffee shop.

During my lunch break, I got a call from an unknown number. I answered the phone because I was not enjoying my tuna salad sandwich. “Alright Miss Harrison.” Mr. Potterman said on the other line. “I have thought over my proposition and I have made a decision.” I bit my lip, waiting for him to continue. “As I said before, I cannot take chances with my customers, so you have to work somewhere that you won’t cause any trouble.”

“I understand.” I replied; my voice trembling. I wanted to put the phone down and never leave my house again, but I knew that I had to listen what else he had to say.

“My secretary recently moved to Kansas and I have been looking for a new one.” My heart raced as I listened with anticipation. “I have decided to hire you as my new secretary.” He said in a cheerful voice. I jumped into the air and pumped my fist.

“Yes!” I screamed as I landed with a thud on my kitchen floor. “Oh Mr. Potterman thank you so much. I will work extra hard and do all of my paperwork and do my best to control my temper. Oh thank you!” I said excitedly in one breath.

I woke up the next day, and I put on black dress pants and a white button up shirt and I carried a leather briefcase to work. I walked down the still soggy streets of New York, trying to look like a mature adult that was ready to conquer the world ahead. When I got the State Farm building, the same old lady greeted me with a warm smile. Again, she led me down the hallway and into Mr. Potterman’s office. When I got there, he was waiting for me; his hands folded on his polished wooden desk.

“Welcome Jamie,” he said. “Your office is two doors down the hall and I would like you to fill out these forms,” he said as he handed me a pile of papers with words in tiny print. He motioned for me to leave. “Mr. Pottermen?” I asked.

“Yes Jamie?”

“Thanks again.” I said gratefully. He finally cracked a smile.

“You’re welcome,” he replied. I left the office; my heart fluttering as I walked down the corridor. I reached my office. The desk was not nearly as smooth as Mr. Potterman’s and my chair was wooden and short with a little plaid cushion on it. The window in the back of the room was mostly covered by an overgrown tree on the front lawn. The floor was covered with an ugly green rug that smelled of dust and mold. The walls were covered in faded posters and ugly paintings. I was going to ask Mr. Potterman if I could change the decor. I set the papers down on the desk as I smiled at the little room as I looked at around. I sat down and started filling out the forms with my address and e-mail and phone number.

Suddenly, I heard a shrill voice behind me. It was a chickadee. He was sitting in a nest in the tree outside the window. I smiled at him. I walked over to the window and opened it. I fed him a bit of my sandwich that I had saved to eat later. He ate it out of my hand, chirped his thanks to me, and flew away. My eyes trailed after him as he grew smaller and smaller until he was only a small speck on the horizon. I stood up with my hands on my hips and looked out over the world with satisfaction. I looked out over the buildings and parks and houses in New York. I looked at all of the happy faces on the streets and all of the smile’s on the sidewalks. But of all of the people everywhere in New York that day, I knew without a doubt that no one was happier than me.