Of all the days . . .

“Are you kidding me?!” George asked himself. Was the sidewalk really closed for repairs? He had just walked home on it last night and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that had led him to believe it would be closed off this morning. That was all he needed right now. He shook his head and wanted to cry.

   Today was supposed to be a big day for him. After countless applications to the job of his dreams with the most prestigious company in the city, he’d finally gotten the call. The interview would be Friday morning at 9 AM in the main conference room on the 21st floor.

   He’d gotten his suit dry-cleaned for the occasion, a matching tie and pocket square all picked out, his shirt starched and white as fresh powder snow. He’d even taken the time to buff a new coat of polish on his shoes. He was set. Or so he thought.

   It wasn’t his alarm clock that woke him up that morning, it was his stomach rumbling. Jumping out of bed he barely made it to the toilet when his bowels let loose with the fury of a Category Five hurricane. It was after the second time he flushed when he came to the stark realization that the sushi he’d grabbed for dinner last night from the convenient store around the corner was probably not the best idea. Coming home late from work, wanting to get a good night’s sleep, he just wanted something quick and easy. It looked good and smelled just fine when he gobbled it down. Epic fail, he thought.

   Finally composing himself after the depleting wakeup call in the bathroom, he meandered out to the kitchen to see if he had any Gatorade or electrolyte water in the fridge. He espied the microwave clock in his peripheral vision and rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing.

   “That can’t be right,” he said aloud. “It can’t be 7:30, my alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

   The young man walked with a purpose to his bedroom to look at his cell phone. He tapped the screen to get it to wake up. Nothing. Blank screen. Tapping with increased vigor he desperately wanted it to tell him he was not already running late. Running to his living room he turned on the TV to see what the local news had. Sure enough, there in the banner on the bottom of the screen he confirmed his fears; it was 7:32 AM.

   Doing some mental gymnastics in his head he calculated he had just enough time to get there right on time instead of the planned fifteen minutes early arrival.

   In two bounds he re-entered the bathroom, turning the shower on to get it warm while he ripped open his medicine cabinet to get out his shaving supplies, toothbrush, and all the other necessary toiletries.

   “OW!” George yelled as he gouged a large chunk of skin off his chin with his dullish razor. That’s what I get for rushing. Finishing up at a slightly slower pace he turned to brushing his teeth. At least I can’t hurt myself here. He hoped the bleeding would stop before he left the house as he stuffed a small wad of toilet paper on the wound.

   Stripping down to nothing, ready to hop in the shower, the frantic young man heard that same familiar gurgle rumble up from his stomach.

   “You cannot be serious? How is there anything left in me?” Pondering this aloud he sat there, naked, fretting that this was really going to cut into his travel time. After his second flush, for the second time this morning, he got up and launched himself into the shower.

   “Oh . . . my . . . God!” he screamed. For whatever unknown reason, the shower had not warmed up. It was as frigid as an early winter morning. Gritting his teeth he managed to scrub the important parts, rinsing them off in the chilly downpour of the showerhead. The one advantage of the icy deluge was that it helped the bleeding in his chin to stop. He had barely registered that small victory when he was bombarded with another setback.

   The suit he had so proudly prepped for his big day was covered in cat hair. During the night, his pet feline had managed to pull the suit down off the hanger, rip off the dry-cleaning plastic and then, from the looks of it, had rolled lovingly all over the garment for the better part of the night. Sensing his owner’s displeasure, the cat had smartly removed itself from plain sight, waiting to re-appear at a later time.

   Cursing his furry roommate, George put his suit on, doing the best he could to de-hair it as he went. He went through three rolls of his lint brush on the first attempt and decided he needed to carry it with him, doing the best he could to finish the job while riding the subway.

   Lint brush in one hand, briefcase in the other, the frantic jobseeker burst out the front door of his apartment building running fifteen minutes behind his intended timeline. He would still be there right on time. Or so he thought.

   His train showed up at the station early. A first time for everything, he thought, delighted he might get back some of those missing minutes. Unfortunately, this would not be the case.

   A vagrant had decided to have an argument with the door to one of the cars on the train. Stumbling aboard, the door had closed on him, the disturbed man pushing back hard on the already retreating door. He then proceeded to argue with the inanimate object as it kept trying to close, supposedly assaulting the man as he stood in the doorway of the subway car. Seeing the ruckus, the transit officer monitoring the station went over to confront the deranged man, eventually coaxing him back onto the platform, but not before ten precious minutes were lost to George, who was in true peril of developing whiplash from checking his watch and looking up at the scene.

   The short fifteen-minute train ride was uneventful which allowed the flustered young man to get the last of the cat fur off his garment. A check of the gouge on his chin also revealed the lack of active bleeding. All right, things are finally swinging my way.

   Doing his best to not be pushy, but determined to try and make up more time, George weaved his way through the crowd as they exited the train, slipping between passengers like an eel slithering through the waves. He emerged from the underground tunnel and had come to the point where he was now. The sidewalk leading to his destination was closed off. Barricaded as workers with jackhammers were busy tearing up sections for replacement.

   Frustration mounted as he waited for the traffic signals to let him cross to the other side of the street, where he walked briskly down the length of the block. Once again, the annoyance of waiting for the traffic signal, which seemed to take an eternity to finally change, raised his blood pressure more than a few points. Feeling the sweat roll off his brow, he was hoping that would stop before he hit the 21st floor.

   Cresting the doors to the lobby of his objective building, he saw the last of a small crowd of people pouring into an elevator.

   “Hold that, please!” he shouted as he sprinted the last few feet into the car before the doors closed. Yes! I made it.

   He had bent over as best he could in the crowded car to catch his breath, and the elation he had felt by making it into the car left him like a deflating balloon as he stood straight up and seeing the buttons on the wall. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, almost every floor had been pushed. All the way up to and even past the 21st floor. A glance at his watch sunk his heart even further. He felt hope slip away as he realized he was going to be at least a half hour late for his appointment.

   By the time the dispirited young man exited the elevator car he had all but resigned to the fact he was going to be shot down before he even had a chance. In his head he was already devising a strategy to find another position, hopefully with a not as prestigious, but still well-known company, where, at a minimum, he could still have his dream job.

   George took thirty seconds to compose and gather himself, primping one last time before entering the glass doors to the office. At this point he thought another thirty seconds wasn’t going to matter.

   Walking tall, the young prospect strutted the best he could up to the receptionist, who smiled pleasantly at him as he stopped, centered on her desk.

   “Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked cheerily.

   “Good morning, ma’am. My name is George Fallon, and I had a 9 AM interview for the position of lead graphic designer. I realize I am a half hour late, but if the interviewers are still amenable, I’d like to salvage what little time I may have left.”

   Gazing intently at her monitor the young lady clicked and moved her mouse, her silence wringing the last vestiges of hope from the young man’s body.

   “You said your name, was George? George Fallon?”

   “Yes, ma’am.”

   “Did you not get the message?” she asked, looking slightly perplexed.

   “What message?” he asked, thinking, how could this day possibly get any worse.

   “There was a last-minute scheduling conflict and they had to cancel today. It says here a voicemail was left on the cell number you had listed on your resumé at 7 AM this morning. If you’d still like to interview, they have you on the schedule for the same time, next Friday,” she finished.

   His phone. His phone was dead this morning. Along with ransacking his suit, his feline companion had also managed to unplug the USB charging cord from the power block in the wall. That’s why his phone hadn’t charged last night.

   Covering up his astonishment as best he could, he managed to sputter out a response.

   “Yes, ma’am. Yes. I’d still love the opportunity to interview. I will be back here next week for a 9 AM appointment. Thank you. Thank you so much.” he said while he started backing up and exiting the foyer.

   Once around the corner and out of sight of the receptionist, George leaned up against the wall, utterly exhausted from the stress of the past two hours. Reflecting back upon the morning’s events, he started laughing. All that for nothing. At least the dream was still alive.

   He was making his way to the elevator, a renewed outlook on the day lifting his spirits up, when he felt that familiar spasming, coupled with the telltale rumbling in his stomach again. Looking frantically around the hallway for a sign to a bathroom he couldn’t help but think, at least that had held off until now!