The Interview

I was the lone passenger left aboard when my bus pulled into the Redding bus station. It was after midnight when its droning Diesel engine finally shut down after eight monotonous hours. I grabbed my parka and my backpack and lurched up the aisle toward the open door. The driver said, “Goodnight. Thanks for riding Greyhound”, as I stepped off and drew a long breath of the fumes that pass for fresh air at bus stations.

Inside, the depot was a ghost town. The ticket windows and the refreshment counter had closed. The lobby area was vacant and was only dimly illuminated by security lighting. I got a paper cupful of stay-awake coffee from a vending machine and then went to the passenger waiting area to sit until my connection to Sacramento arrived.

Taking a seat on one of the long wooden benches I set my backpack next to me as an elbow rest and thought about my do-or-die job interview now only nine hours away.     

The interviewers will decide if I comprehend the job requirements, but they will also judge my personality. The job requires the hard-to-define quality of sociability and self-confidence for interacting with strangers in a positive and welcoming way. My degree in Forestry from Oregon State University should put their minds at ease about the technical part but this job requires the instincts and disposition to converse amiably as an educator, as a tour guide, and sometimes an enforcer of laws and regulations.

I needed sleep, but I had to stay awake in the silent, vacant passenger waiting area to be sure I’d be on board my 4:45 AM connection to Sacramento. It’s never wise to sleep in a bus depot. You might as well wear a sign that says Come steal my luggage. With the interview just hours away I couldn’t risk any bad timing, bad men, bad luck, or bad dreams.  

I took my beat-up study manual out of my backpack for last-minute cramming and was about to read when a willowy woman appeared from nowhere. She looked around the large, empty waiting area, and then spotting the only other person in the large space she strode to my bench and took the seat next to mine.

She wore a plain, loose-fitting dress and shawl. Jangly bracelets dangled from her thin wrists. Her hair was parted in the middle, pulled back in a bun, and held in place by black netting. She smiled and said, “My name is Pesha. You must be exhausted after such a long bus ride, and quite worried and anxious about your job interview in Sacramento.”

I was stunned!

She explained. “I knew about your journey by reading the claim tag on your backpack. “Departure-Corvallis/Destination-Sacramento.”

“How could you have known about the interview? I haven’t told anyone.”

She hesitated then spoke, “I observed your dog-eared reading material and put it together with the Sacramento destination. No college-age person reads the California State Fish and Wildlife Manual just to pass the time.

“The interview will not go well, by the way. Your dream job will not be offered to you.”

I was stunned. “How could you say that?”

“Your slumped shoulders and your irresolute frown tell me you lack confidence and self-belief. You avoid risk because you always imagine the worst. You worry about losing control or making wrong decisions. It’s written in your expression and in your demeanor. You need the caffeine because you’re afraid to sleep – dreading bad dreams, anxious about missing your connection to Sacramento, or something even worse.

“I can tell from its condition that studying the manual is an endless exercise, not because you lack comprehension but because you lack self-assurance.

"The reason you haven’t told anyone about this job opportunity is that you have a constant apprehension of disapproval. You worry about not being loved. This trait has robbed you of your individuality and power to control your destiny many times and will continue to plague you in the future.

"The interviewers will feel your uneasiness and social awkwardness even if they don’t see the real problem as easily as I have.”

 I was staggered! “How could you be so rude? You don’t know me!”

She answered as if stating the obvious, “I’m a fortuneteller.”

I thought, what an idiot, but I said “Oh, so you think that gives you the right to just walk up and be insulting and discouraging to strangers? Is that it?”

“Only if I know I can give them what they need.”

Aha. That’s when I figured Pesha was just some fast-talking, petty, swindler.

She leaned toward me knitting her luxuriant eyebrows and looking deeply into my eyes. “Permit me to merge my mind with your mind. Allow me to make a few minor adjustments. I’ll give you what you need to make a good impression at the interview and in all your dealings with people in the future.”

I didn’t trust her for a minute. I knew she was out to take my money. I said, “Now we’re coming to the part where you tell me how much it costs, right?”

“My fee for giving my patrons what they need is ten dollars.”

Her sheer audacity! But I figured what the hell; her time was worth something just for keeping me awake. I took two fives from my wallet and handed them to her, saying, “Okay. Work your magic.”

She took the bills and began rolling them together into a small ball in the palms of her hands.

She said, “Close your eyes.”

I heard her bracelets rattling as I followed her instructions. When she told me I could open them I said, “So, which lotto am I about to win?”

Pesha smiled amiably while gathering up her handbag, and saying good night with wiggly fingers. I watched her edge her way to the aisle, and disappear through a side door to the street. 

My coffee had gone cold, and I was alone again in the chilly, cavernous waiting area - now out ten bucks with still more than four hours before my connection - plenty of time for some solid shut-eye.

I figured if I missed the 4:45 connection I could always catch the 6:20, and still be on time - no problemo.

I threw my boots up on the long wooden bench put my head on the soft part of my backpack and experienced this breathtaking awareness and belief in myself; certain that I would be on time and absolutely guaranteed to make a good impression and ace my job interview.

I wasn’t worried about that or any other damned thing as I floated off into a welcoming dream that featured me as a California State Park Ranger.