LAST MINUTE

HEADS-UP : TENSION

The morning gleam flared through the window blinds' cracks. The flare shadow painted the office desk with lines. A faint breeze made the glint reflect to the monumental white ceiling. I sat on the opposite side facing him, calm and composed. I was terribly nervous in my cheap suit. Nobody would have guessed anyway. Most of my colleagues at my former workplace had kept telling me through our time working together; that I have gifted hands, that picks up the best things everywhere. I picked the best deals, I made the best sales. I had picked the ten dollar suit and it fitted with glamour throughout the break of that fateful day.

His moustache vellicated as he read through my resume. All his attention on each word. His office smelled mahogany. With every breathe I felt like time travel into the old natural wood forest. Maybe it was the books. Behind him was a spacious slide window, letting in the breeze. And the air would seive through the library shelves, dusting away follicles.

The entire office was neat. Impossibly clean and the out side leaked in the missing component of life in the room. Birds chirping and the branches rattling in the dance of the planet earth's revolution.

"I can not see your records in college."

He grunted in remorse. I saw him share a concerned glance, swallowed in the soft texture of his leather office seat. It looked to comfortable for an office chair. I saw his leather belt hanging out, and I knew just them, he was not a greedy one. No stomach protruding, a bushy moustache and a pair of convex lenses hardly sticking to the top of his nose, and sliding down at snail speed. Only slower. And he occasionally fixed it with his hand, holding the pen. So that he could get a good sight of the anxious me. I have seen many men trying to be formal, but I could tell from a mile away. "This guy is a Professional. With a capital P."

I never went to college. Even heaven knew I did not know what students went to do there. And I heard that even some of those 'student' were not really students. Maybe they were ghosts? Like when a company sends people home when the feds come in. And one of the employees is a rat. And the feds want the 'ghost workers'. So, ghost students might be an issue to.

"I am an experienced man."

He adjusted his position on the seat, and put everything down on the table. The pen and my resume. Both on the desk, and then his bare elbows inclined on them. The shirt with folded sleeves. I thought he was a busy man, but why fold the shirt in a spotless clean office. It was not going to dirtify anything.

He fixed the lenses, returned his hands on the desk and gave me an expectant glimpse. Right then I knew, it was my chance. He was about five feets away, between us a short table desk separating us physically. But mind, I saw we were on the same boat. At least for that moment.

"I have never been to college. I would have liked to go but. I did not." I answered in a low professional voice, and a gush of wind blew the blinds, making a cracking sound against each other.

He waited for the environment to cool down to his standards of calmness, then continued, laying back on the seat as the tips of his fingers rubbed against each other over his groin, on his glimmering belt buckle. "Why did you not?"

"Honestly, I couldn't, even though I wanted to. My father, wanted me to. But he said that, I will be on my own. He had no money and no connection. My mother did want to help. She was sick."

I hesitated.

" So, you for-went your education because of lack of fees?" He inquired, and his face had more shadow. I had always pictured him that way. He was the only person I wanted to work for. And to work with. I will answer anything he asks, I had told myself before leaving for the long-await interview.

"All I know is, I have always been the best at analyzing situations and coming up with solutions in the areas of data science. I have always been good with numbers. I earn eight times more than the next two people I know went to college when I didn't."

" You think college is a waste of time?” At this moment, I was not sure where he was driving at. I cautiously thought of an answer.

"It depends on who is asking. And since it is you asking me, my answer is 'no!'." I felt like a criminal on a death row. Having to wish for anything in life. But for the last time. Only this criminal dies, but I stood on a thin line that divided between going back to my life of tastelessness or joining the most prestigious financial firm in the whole continent.

"Why?" This time his voice was lower, more unwilling than willing for an answer.

"I wouldn't have wasted mine. And I have read so many of your writings, you didn't--"

"Ask me the same question." He muttered, cut me off my speech.

" What?-" " Ask me! Is college a waste of time?!" He demanded.

" Do you think-"

" NO! IS COLLEGE A WASTE OF MY DARN TIME!"

He added a new word. Curse word. I went with it. My destiny had already been determined.

"Is College a waste of your damn time!!!"

" YES!!! It was!" Then he bursted in a loud laugh.

I sat there, imspecting around. I thought of meeting with cameras and light like it was a punk. It was happening. There was no prank going on. I finally set my eyes on the man through the laughter. He settled down and caught his breath. Wiped off a tear, adjusted his spectacles. He sat up and cleared his throat.

He took my resume, put it in the low drawer and stood up. My eyes stuck with him, like a cat waiting for milk and the owner just walks around, not pouring the milk for this particular cat. It felt tiresomely endless.

He reached for the door knob and opened his massive wooden door. Line with handmade asian craft sculpturings. And he looked at me, the outside ready to receive me.

I stood up, and walked towards him holding the door open from the inside. It felt like a waiter escorting me out of a restaurant.

He was smiling. I reduced the pace as I went closer. I stopped in front of him.

"Why?"

"I will look for you." He answered without a thought.

" No! Why did you say it is a waste of time?"

He came back to his senses. Distantly resentful.

"It doesn't matter. You got what matters."