i’m out the door, through the lobby and out the 33^rd street exit ...gonna be a hot one...the only suit i own is this lightweight brownish acrylic 3-button...would love to be wearing light khaki with maybe a vest but they’re so expensive. i mean i’m pleased to be on my own, but who knew it was going to cost this much?!

i’ve been in new york city for two weeks straight now; back to pennsylvania every once in a while to see mom and dad (it’s only a two hour train trip) and though i’ve had a few offers from the folks that i’ve met while working with TEMPORARY MANPOWER they’ve been for filing or clerical jobs and i can’t even remember what the product was that the folks handled! i had a good interview with a camera shop down in the wall street area and i most probably will be called back next week...but gads, i’m gonna need something today just to be able to afford to be here next week...

but, i gotta admit, perhaps it’s the sense of security from being able to type 45 words per minute, but somewhere in the back of my mind there’s this whispering awareness that even if i have to go back to allan’s and try to get my old job, it’s only a matter of time...i pick up a new york times newspaper, buy a hot cup of new york city’s blackest and retreat into the corner booth of the coffee shop to scan the want ads.

hmmmmmmmm...lessee...camera, camera, camera...uh, sales, sales, shop...nah, same old names...let’s check under photographic...photo, photo, uh...photo engraving...photo chemical...photographic...wait, what was that...ah...cormac chemical 5^th avenue and 14^th street...

"i’m here to see somebody about the job offered in the paper...", i seem to be the only one in the waiting area. i look at my watch. well, it could be lunch time for most people... the receptionist reaches into one of the drawers in her desk and pulls out a form.

"excuse me...". the typing stops.

"yeah hon?" she turns from her desk and glances over at me. she’s chewing gum. involuntarily my jaw muscles twitch. i can tell that part of me thinks i should be chewing something.

"uh...where it says residence...does that mean residence while i’m currently in new york or a more permanent residence where i’m from in pennsylvania?"

"uh...", she looks down at the back of her left hand. she turns it over for a better look at her nails. i try to stop my jaw from moving in time with hers. "why doncha see if you can fit both of em in there...", she retrieves a nailfile from next to the typewriter and gives me an arched eyebrow, "ok, sweetie?".

"yeah, thanks..." i look back to the form and, as listening to the several loud cracks from her gum above the resumed typing, i am able to escape from the almost overwhelming desire to chew.

i don’t know the address for the martinique but remember that i’ve got a note or two written to myself on their stationary in my attache case. no problem. my folks address in pennsylvania. no problem. previous experience, no problem. i break into a smile when it asks me to list my duties for each one of the jobs...i mean, working in birmingham and then for allan’s, from advertising to sweeping the store...what could there be that i haven’t done?!

it’s a single page application form and i finish it within a couple of minutes and hand it back.

"you wait right there, darlin" she says and i return to the couch.

a buzzer goes off and the door near the receptionists window opens. a man who identifies himself as mister dohrmann shakes hands with me and sits down on the couch.

"i think there’s been some mistake", he says pointing to my form which he’s holding at knee level.

"oh?"

"you don’t seem to have any of the qualifications we’re looking for."

it’s stated so flatly, so coldly...i feel the color begin to rise in my face...and here i thought i was mister hot-shot...gads...

"i wonder..." he continues, "do you have the exact ad you were responding to?"

"well, sure", i reach open up the times to the section under

"i’m afraid we really need someone particularly with photocopy sales experience. but, you know...it’s odd...", he looks up at me briefly. "would you mind just waiting a moment or two longer?"

"no...no, fine", i answer.

in less than a minute he’s back through the door with a smile on his face. i stand to meet him.

"the company has just created a new branch that specializes in photographic chemicals and though we weren’t going to interview for at least another two weeks, the president needs an assistant - someone comfortable with photographic terms and with some minimal clerical skills...not exactly a salesman...but a beginning...would you be interested in speaking with him?"