121. Talking to Oscar
July 29, 2008
My lease was signed. I had finally gotten my few sticks of furniture where I wanted them. I had spent a pleasant first night’s sleep in my new bedroom. Now I sat at my kitchen table in a nightgown, looking out my new window and drinking morning tea. Idly, I flipped through my new hometown’s job listings.
One listing in particular intrigued me. “Easy work for a university professor, excellent benefits. Punctuality is of the utmost importance.” The address was a ten-minute bus ride from my apartment. I sent in my resume.
That afternoon, as I walked in my front door with a paper grocery bag full of new cleaning supplies, I saw I had an email from the professor.
“Your application seems promising,” it said. “Can you come in for an interview tomorrow at 10:30?”
The next morning, I wore a suit, and I showed up early. The professor’s office was on the first floor of one of the older university buildings. From the books on his shelves, he appeared to be a philosophy professor, although there were a number of biology journals, as well. His office window faced a gorgeous courtyard full of climbing vines.
“Wonderful. You’re early,” he said. “Let me tell you about the position.”
As he described the easy, repetitive administrative tasks that were part of the position, I marveled at his put-together appearance, which seemed somehow unacademic. The professor was clean-shaven and neatly dressed, with impeccably stylish steel-framed glasses. He had a slight build and looked quite young, although individual lines of white grew here and there among his thick, black hair.
“Of course, you will receive ample break time and very good health benefits. Any time you feel like taking a walk or getting some air, within reason, you should feel free to wander the grounds.”
“That all sounds very pleasant,” I said.
“I think you are the most suited applicant for this position. I’m especially impressed by your zoo experience and your career-counseling background.”
“Thank you,” I said, a bit puzzled. “Why my work at the zoo?”
He smiled as if he hadn’t heard me. “Can you start on Monday?”
Excited to be offered a job on my first try, I hastily accepted. “I’d love to.”
But I was still curious: why would a philosophy professor care that I had worked in a zoo? Read the rest of this entry »
94. A Girl with Two Problems
July 2, 2008
I was just getting some ice cubes. When I opened the freezer, I expected to see the usual frozen peas, hamburger, and gallon of vanilla ice cream. I expected to feel cold air on my face, and perhaps see a tendril or two of misty vapor. I definitely didn’t expect to see a sunny, peaceful village. I didn’t expect tiny people sitting in cafés and bicycling down cobblestone roads. I didn’t expect the freezer’s walls and ceiling to be gone, replaced with faraway, hazy, hilly horizons and quaint, tree-lined boulevards. And I was not the least bit prepared to see a tiny, colorful street busker juggle miniscule red balls while a one-inch-high child held a balloon and clapped in glee. Why would I expect to see street performance and gleaming storefronts where I usually saw my big bag of frozen potstickers?
I didn’t expect those things, but they’re what was there. Read the rest of this entry »
