Getting a Job is a Job

Reads: 182  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 07, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 07, 2016



What a day it was, so let me tell you about it. It started with the first call. Mother, of course. I tried not answering but by the 15th ring and not being able to stifle the sound with my pillow, I forced myself to pick up the receiver to hear “Good morning, Bigshot, I hope you’re going to a big law firm to find a job today.”

It’s like a record being played over and over. What do you think this sweet woman wants, for me to be happy, or to tell her neighbors that her son, the lawyer, has a wonderful job with a wonderful law firm and is destined for a wonderful career.

In the morning while brushing my teeth and seeing the writing on the wall, I decided on the compromise of getting a job, any job that would stop the boat from rocking. I asked myself that most difficult NIS 1,000,000 question: “What do I want to do for the rest of my life?” Not a clue, no idea. I know what I don’t want to do, but what do I really want, I don’t know.

So I decided to pick up the daily paper and check out the classifieds over some cappuccino on Sheinkin; and, while turning the 3rd page of the classified I saw in big bold letters: “Creative Intelligent Person for Advertising Agency”. I figured, sounds like fun, even though it’s a nine to five.

I dressed up in some clean clothes and bused down to the agency in a high rise building and was welcomed by a well put together receptionist with an advertisement smile that could sink ships.

I sat, waited and read most of the woman’s magazines that were a real bore before the secretary ushered me into an office. It was much larger than my apartment with wall-to-wall carpeting yet void of any original art. Only prints were hanging. Behind a big mahogany desk was one slick character who only a mother could love. He wore a horrible wig, fake Rolex watch, a blue faded suit, Hermes picture tie, and white shoes, mind you, with a gold buckle. He thought he was the cat’s meow. Said “coffee” without even a hello, and the secretary joined in with “cream and sugar” like they had a carnival act going. The way she looked at Dapper Dan, while he was smiling at her, I knew that old Dapper Dan was slippin’ Miss Body Beautiful more than just a paycheck.

I caught the scene and thought it would be a great place to work and spend some overtime with Miss Body Beautiful. But that was before Dapper Dan began asking me questions. He liked the idea that I was a lawyer but wanted to know what it had to do with advertising and asked me about my experience in advertising; and, before I had a chance to finish my coffee with milk and sugar, I knew that Dapper Dan wanted someone 30 years old, post army, with 6 years of college, and 10 years of experience in advertising. Not an easy bill to fill so I left the air-conditioned plush offices for the hot streets totally depressed on my journey to an inferiority complex not knowing what to do to please both Mother and myself.

So, while miserable, I came home, stripped my clothes and jumped in the tub, and decided to only please myself. I figured that I had already pleased my mother by going through law school, and decided not to worry about it anymore. Tomorrow would be another day. I’ll begin worrying again when the phone will ring at the crack of dawn and my mother’s familiar voice will again begin to ruin my whole day.


© Copyright 2018 Lenny Lowengrub. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Non-Fiction Short Stories