Meeting Jack Kemble

  By Sky Corgan

  Text copyright 2013 by Sky Corgan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  I needed a job, and it didn't matter where. Going home everyday was like walking into a never-ending nagfest thanks to my portion of the rent being overdue. Of course, I couldn't blame my roommate for being mad. We had gone through this time and time again. I'd get a job, screw something up, and be back out looking for another one within a few weeks. More often than not, I'd barely have scrounged up enough money for my portion of the rent.

  “I don't understand why you can't just stick with one thing,” Mandy complained. She'd been my roommate for the past two years, but I was beginning to fear that arrangement was coming to a close. I could see the weariness on her pale face, the same look I'd seen on my previous roommate's face before she gave me the boot in lieu of a more stable friend. It hurt to think the same thing might happen again, but I really didn't know what to do about it. “If jobs were supposed to be fun, they wouldn't call it a job. They'd call it happy eight hours of the day,” Mandy continued.

  “I know,” I sighed, resting my head between my arms on the table, so I wouldn't have to look at the disappointment on her face anymore.

  “I don't know how much longer my Dad is going to help flip for your part of the rent. He's getting really agitated with this whole thing.”

  “I just need a little more time.”

  “Where all did you go today?”

  Now the interrogations began. I knew what she was getting at. Mandy thought I really wasn't looking for a job, that while she went to school and work, I moped around the house or went out with friends. She'd caught me lying before. It was an isolated incident where I had gotten fed up with the search and decided to go have a beer with our friend Eric instead. Eric had paid, so I couldn't see what the big deal was. Besides, I had needed a break. Job hunting is exhausting.

  I groaned, feeling my anxiety levels rising. To keep the peace, I needed to keep my cool. If Mandy kicked me out, I'd be screwed. I wasn't on good terms with my parents, and none of our other friends were dumb enough to room with me. None of them, except for Eric.

  It was a thought, but I definitely didn't want to go there. Eric had a crush on me from the moment we met in college. He pursued me relentlessly for about a year, but he eventually gave up when he realized it wasn't going to happen. Occasionally, Eric would drop a hint or two, but I'd quickly dash his dreams by turning it into a joke. Living in close quarters with him wasn't a comfortable thought.

  “I went to a few restaurants and gas stations,” I finally responded.

  “How many is a few?”

  My jaw clenched involuntarily. “Two restaurants and a gas station. Would you like to know the addresses and the times I went as well? Perhaps you'd like the phone numbers so you can call and find out if I was actually there?”

  “Jen, stop.” She rolled her eyes, quickly blowing off my bad attitude. “When you go to one gas station, it's not gas stations plural. Three places aren't enough. I hate to tell you this, but you have until the end of the month to get a job, and if you don't stick with the next one, I don't think we can do this anymore.”

  My heart sank. Damn. I knew this was coming. What am I going to do now?

  “Listen,” Mandy's voice softened as she watched depression flood my face. “I don't want to lose you as a roommate. You're a really cool girl; you just need . . . Maybe you're not applying for the right kind of jobs. Maybe you should try something out of the public eye.”

  “I'm not qualified for anything better than restaurants, gas stations, or retail,” I grumbled, now wishing I had stayed in college. It was too late to go back though. My parents had cut off my funding long ago, and I couldn't afford to send myself. Besides, so many years had passed that I'd feel old compared to everyone else there. It made me cringe to think thirty was just around the corner. Where had the time gone? Wasn't life supposed to be getting better by your thirties? Not for me, apparently. I had managed to screw that up too.

  “There are other jobs that don't require a degree. Better jobs,” Mandy gave encouragement. I looked up into her small blue eyes, made even beadier behind coke-bottle glasses. She was not a looker, but what she hadn't been blessed with in attractiveness she made up for with intelligence. While I had dropped out of college after one semester, Mandy was only one semester away from graduating Summa Cum Laude with an MBA in Business from New York University.

  For all the nagging that she did about me getting a job, I couldn't understand why she hadn't gotten a better one. Mandy had worked at the bowling alley since we were teenagers, and she showed no signs of giving it up until her college education was complete. I suppose that was all well and good if you had wealthy parents to leech off in your times of need, but I couldn't help but think life could be better for both of us if Mandy put the degree she already had to good use. That was just me being selfish though.

  “Well, if you find one, let me know,” I said.

  “Actually, that's kind of what I was thinking of doing,” she replied hesitantly, and I could tell she was afraid I wouldn't like where she was going with this. I arched an eyebrow quizzically. “I could get online and see if I could find something for you.”

  “You don't think I've been looking online?” I huffed.

  “I just . . . think you've probably passed up a few opportunities that might have been good for you. I mean, this restaurant thing obviously isn't working out. How many restaurant jobs have you had this past year? Three?”

  “Five,” I corrected Mandy, cringing at my own answer. It sounded a lot worse when I put it in perspective. Five restaurant jobs, two gas-station jobs, and one job at a car wash, which was the most miserable of the eight, though it made the most money. Having a nice body and a wet T-shirt helped me get tips, but it was also horribly degrading.

  “Just, let me see if I can find something I think you'll be better suited for.”

  “How do you know what kind of job I'll want?” I asked incredulously.

  “I'm your closest friend, right?”

  “Yes,” I replied hesitantly.

  “I know you better than you know yourself. Trust me.”

  “Fine.” I gave in with a sigh. If this got her off my back for a while, then it would be worth it. Besides, I didn't have to accept anything she picked out for me.

  “Good. It's settled then.” Mandy's face brightened in triumph.

  By the following day, my phone was ringing off the hook with people wanting to interview me. Whatever Mandy had done, it had worked, and while I was glad, I was also a bit apprehensive. It felt strange having to act excited about jobs that I knew nothing about.

  Keeping up with my part, I went out to meet every prospective employer who called. The jobs Mandy had applied me for varied, as if she had literally gone down a list and put me in for anything she thought might take me. I did countless interviews for custodial work, mail room positions, retail stocking, and even a traveling inventory position. No one seemed very interested in hiring me though once they began going over my resume of jobs past.

  After a week of no luck, Mandy gave me a pep talk about how to interview. The moral of the story was lie lie lie. Tell the employer what they wanted to hear, not the truth. Play up your strengths. Avoid talking about your weaknesses, and when you're forced to, try to twist them into a positive light.

  Despite all my effort, the end of the month was quickly approaching, and I was still jobless. Tension was rising between Mandy and I since she grilled me every night about where I had gone and what I had said during my interviews. It was getting to the point I was just about ready to walk out on my own.

  “What do you have lined up for tomorrow?” she asked with a hint of agitation in her voice.

  “I've got an interview to be a bather at Poppy's Pet Grooming at nine, and then in the afternoon I have an interview to be an office assistant at Syngex Incorporated.”

  “You probably won't get the Syngex job,” Mandy commented dryly.

  “Then why did you apply me for it?” I gritted my teeth.

  “Half of the job postings didn't have the company name listed. I mainly just applied you based on job description.”

  “Well then, I guess I won't bother going to that one.”

  “Go anyway.”

  “Why? If it's a waste of time, then what's the point?”

  She thought for a moment. “It might not be a waste of your time. They probably won't put you anywhere near Jack Kemble. I was just over thinking things when I said that.”

  “Who's Jack Kemble and why does it matter if I'm near him or not?” I arched an eyebrow.

  She shook her head. “No wonder you haven't gotten a job yet. Haven't you been researching these companies before you've gone out to them?”

  “No.”

  “Jennifer!” Mandy raised her voice, a clear sign of disappointment. When I didn't respond, she continued, “Jack Kemble owns Syngex Incorporated. The guy is a celebrity around here. I'm surprised you've never heard of him.”

  “I could not care less about businessmen.”

  “He's not just any businessman. He's wealthy beyond words and ridiculously attractive. He was dating that one girl from your favorite movie.”

  “Interesting,” I replied, not really caring. “Yeah, if

this guy is as big a deal as you're making him out to be, then I doubt they'd put me anywhere near him.”

  “You're probably right. The reason I said I didn't think you'd get it though is because he has a certain taste for blondes.” Mandy glanced at my long dark-brown hair.

  “Well, I want to work for him, not fuck him.”

  “From what I've heard, you don't do one without the other. But again, that's only if you work close to him. You'll probably never even see him.”

  “Good. He sounds like a jack ass.”

  “Please don't take that attitude to the interview.” She gave me a pleading look.

  “I won't. I promise,” I used my mocking voice, though we both knew I was serious. “Well, I'm not dying my hair blonde just for a job. If that Jack Kemble guy only hires bimbos, then I'd rather not work in his office anyway. Ditsy bitches drive me nuts.”

  “Positive mind. Don't make it an issue before you even walk through the door. That's half of your problem. You tend to make things worse than they are.”

  “I'm making educated guesses,” I teased.

  “Well, don't.” She wasn't in the teasing mood.

  The following day brought with it a whole new set of miseries. After spending fifteen minutes in training for the pet bather job, I walked out, despite it being the first place that actually gave me a chance. Who knew that squeezing dog assholes was part of the job? Bleck. That was definitely not for me.

  By the time I got home to change for Syngex, I was mentally chastising myself for not sticking with the dog bather job. If I wasn't employed within the next few days, I'd be out on the streets. What was wrong with me?

  I tried to wash my depression away in the shower, but it didn't work too well. After weeks of spending every day going from one company to the next and facing rejection, I was just about done. This was it, I told myself. If Syngex wouldn't take me, then I was going to start planning my move.

  Despite my burdened mind, I gathered myself together as best I could to head to Syngex. The traffic of downtown New York City did little to quell my nerves, and by the time I got to the Human Resources Department, I was already sure I had blown the interview before even stepping inside. I was a frazzled mess of anxiety, and grumpy to boot. This would definitely not go well.

  Not surprisingly, I was interviewed by a man. He was nowhere near a movie star though. Older, and with a balding head, he watched my every movement with a deadpan expression. It made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. The man asked me all the standard questions. What did I know about the company? Nothing, since I hadn't bothered to research it. Why did I want to be an office assistant? Because I need a job, dumb ass. At that point, who cared what it was. Of course, I didn't say this. I lied, as Mandy had taught me. “Being an office assistant sounds like fun,” I said. “It would be exciting to work with Jack Kemble's company,” I lied. “Filing and phone calls are what I do best,” I told him. It looked like he wasn't buying any of it, and I eventually dropped the fake enthusiasm. We both knew where this was going.

  After the horribly awkward interview was over, I went outside to find that my car had a flat tire. Exasperated, I screamed and kicked at it, causing people on the street to turn and stare. Screw them. Screw finding a job. Screw it all.

  When I had calmed down a bit, I grabbed my cellphone to call Eric. Changing tires was a man's job. Besides, I wasn't about to get my interview outfit dirty, not that I planned on using it again for a while. But to add to the misfortune of my day, his phone went straight to voice mail. He must have been at work.

  “So much for my knight in shining armor,” I grumbled to myself as I punched in Mandy's number. She didn't answer either. What was this? Don't answer your phone day.

  All I could do was wait and call and wait some more, hoping someone would eventually pick up and come to my rescue. An hour later, I was fed up with waiting. The parking meter had run out long ago, and if I didn't want to incur a fine, then I was just going to have to suck it up and try to change the tire myself.

  Sighing, I popped the trunk of my silver Nissan Versa and began digging out the spare tire. Who knew a tire could be so heavy . . . and dirty? I groaned as the thing brushed against my red pencil skirt, smudging it before bouncing onto the sidewalk and rolling on its side. Looking down at the stain made me want to have another hissy fit, but I tried to keep calm.

  Swallowing my pride, I pulled out the car jack and sat on the curb to find where to put it. Once I slid it under my car and began jacking the car up, I noticed I was denting my frame, which only put me in more of a rage. Shouldn't the damn thing have come with instructions or something? Why did everything have to be so difficult?

  Defeated, I rested my head in my arms to sob. It was only a matter of time before a traffic warden came by. I couldn't afford to pay a ticket. Heck, I had barely been able to feed the meter.

  “Are you alright, miss?” a voice startled me, and I quickly wiped my eyes before looking up to see a man wearing dark sunglasses standing over me.

  Oh, thank God. Maybe this guy can help, I thought. “I got a flat tire.”

  “I can see that,” he said, turning his attention to the car. “I could get someone to change it for you, but it's going to cost you a coffee.”

  My heart sank. If I had enough change for a coffee, I would have fed it into the meter. “I'm sorry. I can't afford to buy you one.” Could I look anymore pathetic?

  “I'll buy. You just have to come with me.” The man smiled a set of perfect white teeth.

  “But I don't have any way to repay you.” I pulled myself off the curb, dusting off my skirt.

  “Don't worry about it.” He took out his cell phone and dialed a number. The person on the other end answered almost instantly. “Robert, there's a young lady down here that needs her tire changed. Could you come change it, or send down someone who can?”

  Within less than a minute, a large muscular man in a black suit arrived to change my tire. While he worked, I tried not to stare too much at my hero. He was surprisingly attractive, with dark disheveled hair, pale skin, and what I assumed to be a decent body. I couldn't see much behind the suit he wore, though it was well tailored to fit him. From what I was seeing though, he was a lucky find. How many women got rescued by someone so attractive?

  “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” the man in the black suit asked when he had finished changing my tire.

  “No, Robert. That will be all. Thank you,” Mister Attractive said, and I watched as Robert walked back into the Syngex building.

  “You work in there?” I pointed to the building.

  “Yes,” he replied, extending his hand to me. “Apologies for my rudeness. My name is Jim. What's yours?”

  I shook his hand gingerly. “I'm Jennifer, but my friends just call me Jen.”

  “Well, Jen, if I may call you that, there's a great little coffee shop down the street a ways. I hope that will be alright with you.”

  “Fine.” I nodded, flanking Jim's side as we walked toward the coffee shop. “Thank you for rescuing me. It's amazing how many people just passed me by.”

  “I saw you from my office. You looked like you needed help, so I came down.”

  “Well, I'm glad you did. Who knows how long I would have been out there if you hadn't?"

  “What brings you downtown?”

  “Job hunting,” my voice conveyed distaste.

  “Is that so? Syngex has a few positions open. What kind of work are you looking for?”

  “I was just at Syngex. I applied for the office assistant position, but I don't think the interview went very well.”

  “Why's that?” His interest seemed piqued.

  “The HR guy didn't seem interested in me. It was like he was staring through me the entire time, not really listening to what I had to say, just going through the motions.”

  “Hm.”

  As we rounded the door to the coffee shop, my nose filled with the enchanting aroma of fresh brewed coffee. It was a bit late in the day for coffee, but who was I to deny this kind man's offer. This was far better than the cheap instant stuff I normally drank anyway.

  “Are you sure this is alright?” I asked timidly.

  “Why wouldn't it be? I offered.”