Like Two Ships

The spring winds rush down the streets of New York City, blowing up dirt and sand everywhere. I hold my head down to keep the dust out of my eyes while trying not to walk into other people doing the same. I reach my favorite breakfast spot and pull hard against the door. I struggle inside as the owner laughs, “Windy enough for ya, Mr. McGee?”  I dust my shoulders and the front of my jacket as I sit at the counter. The rotating stool screeches in protest.

The owner Benny removes a dirty plate and wipes the counter clean. “What will it be, Mr. McGee?”

I smile at him. “I’ll have a cup of coffee, and a grilled English muffin, thanks.”                           “Sure thing,” he says. He grabs a napkin and spoon and places a small bowl of creamers.  He sets down a diner-style coffee cup, the real heavy kind, and pours the coffee. I watch him walk down to the grill, cut a muffin in half, slather it with butter and place it face down on the grill. It sizzles with eggs and bacon, filling the diner with the smell of breakfast cooking. In no time at all, he returns. “ Say, is there something on your mind, Mr. McGee? Cause that’s like the sixth spoonful of sugar you put in there.”

“Huh? What? I hadn’t noticed,” I mumble. Well, Benny, I guess there is.  See, I’m leaving a job I’ve worked for fifteen years, and I’m going to apply for a new one.”

“Ya, don’t say, but why are you so nervous?”

“Well, it’s the way they do things these days. First, I look for a job on the computer until I find one that sounds good.  Send in my resume.  Wait for what feels like forever and figure they’re not going to answer.  Finally, I receive an e-mail asking for a phone interview. I’ve had two phone interviews so far, and they’ve asked me to come for a face-to-face. Tell me, Benny, whatever happened to walking in and talking to the personal manager and getting the job? At fifty-three, I’m getting too old for this crap.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about it, Mr. McGee. I’ve worked here since I was a kid. Took it over when my old man died.” 

Someone yells, “Hey, Benny! Where are my eggs?”

“Ya wanted them hard-boiled, right? Well, they still got three more minutes.” He turns back to me, “Sheesh!”

I take a sip of my coffee and make a face; too sweet!   I hear the little bell on the door tinkling like mad and turn to look. I see this young girl dressed in a business suit hanging onto the door with one hand while trying to hold down her shirt with the other. I hop off of my stool and race to hold the door open for her. She slips past me. “Wow! What’s with the wind? Thanks for your help.” She tries to fix her hair as she looks for a place to sit, but every booth is taken.

I smile, “If you don’t mind the counter, there’s a stool next to me.”

“No, that will be fine,” she says while slipping a brown leather portfolio off her arm and placing it in front of the stool. Quickly, Benny appears, places a napkin with a spoon, and asks what she would like.

“Oh, what he’s having looks good.”

“You got it!” Benny then produces a coffee cup and fills it. He pushes the sugar container to her, “I hope there’s enough left after Mr. Sweettooth here has had at it.” She lifts her eyebrows as I glance away, “Guilty as charged.” 

She looks to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties. Her hair is cut in a stylish bob and still a little messed up from the wind. It looks cute anyways, and so does she. I nod to the portfolio, “On your way to work, no doubt?”

“No, I’m on my way to a job interview.” 

I smile and chuckle, “ What a coincidence, so am I! I was just telling Benny that I’m a little nervous because this is the first interview I’ve been to in fifteen years.”

As we begin to talk, all the little noises of the diner, the ringing of the cash register, the sizzling grill, and the murmur of conversations all fade away.

“My goodness, that is quite the leap.” She then offers her hand, “I’m Megan, by the way.” Shaking her hand, I introduce myself, “John.”

Benny stops by briefly, “Get you anything else, Mr. McGee?” 

“Yes, thank you. How about more coffee and another muffin.”

“I’ll have another muffin, too, please.” Megan pipes in.

 “So, are you leaving a job, or is this something new?” I query.

“OH, yeah, I’m leaving where I work. I need a change. Where I work now is so old fashion that it drives me crazy.” She thanks Benny when he returns with a fresh pot of coffee.

“What line of work are you in, if I may ask.”

“Advertising,” she says while sipping her coffee.

Again my eyes light up, “I can’t believe this! So am I!”

Megan studies the smiling face beside her, “Sure, he’s fifteen years older than I am, and gray hair is frosting his hairline, but he has a warm and friendly face. I like him.” she thinks.

The bell rings as some construction men file in, allowing the wind to blow in with them. Unfortunately, it is strong enough to blow over the portfolio, and some of her work topples out. Scurrying to help her pick up the papers, I can’t help but notice her work. Handing them back to her, I comment, “This is good, very good. Have you always wanted to be in advertising?”                     Megan turns back to her coffee and muffin. “No. I originally wanted to do fashion design, but that field is just too competitive. So I landed a job in advertising and found out I like it. So tell me, John, why are you leaving a job you’ve had for fifteen years?”

“I’m afraid it is the opposite of you. A dot com outfit has taken over the place where I work. They’re young and do things so differently than I do that it’s hard for me to adjust.”

Megan’s eyes start to dance in wonder, “What did you say the outfit’s name was?”

“Ads World Wide,” I reply when it dawns on me. “Don’t tell me that’s who your interview is with?” Megan covers her mouth with one hand while taking my wrist. Then, she giggles, “Yes! And I think you are probably taking my job at Johnson and Barly on 55^th street, correct?”

I signal Benny for the check. “This is so unbelievable. We’re like two ships…Megan finishes the phrase, “passing in the night.”  When Benny arrives, he asks,   “Everything okay?’

I give him my credit card and tell him I’d like to pay for the young lady’s as well. As we both stand, Megan says, “Oh, John, you don’t have to do that.”

“No, I want to, and I also wish you the best of luck with your new job. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks. I pretty sure you’ll like Johnson and Barly too.”

I hold open the door, and she turns left while I go right. She turns back to me and calls my name. Megan walks up to me, stands on tiptoes, gives me a pick on the cheek, and hurries away. Time stops for a second as I feel the warm spot on my cheek. I smile and cover it with my hand so it won’t blow away.