how's DC?"
"I'm on assignment. My first one, of course I can't go into detail, but I'm so excited. The weather is miserable. I hate the snow. Miss those wonderful days at the beach."
"Me too, sweetie. I promise we'll catch up when you get some vacation time."
"Don't count on it for awhile. Probie’s get the dregs. Maybe, by August."
"Of course, and we'll have a killer heat wave. That's okay, I'll just be glad to see you' even if hell freezes over, and it might today."
"I have to cut this short. The boss is headed my way."
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. "Be safe sweetie and remember mommy loves you." This had been my standard salutation since that day Doug took a belt to my child. I sent her off to school with those words every day even when she went off to college.
I checked the peephole and could see the back of someone's head. The bleached blonde hair revealed dark roots and I took a good guess that my neighbor, who I nicknamed Dumber Drummer stood at my door. Her nickname came from her feeble attempt to play the drums. A hobby she took up some time ago. Her playing never seemed to improve but her playing didn't interrupt my sleep pattern. I figured it was a way to work out her frustrations and excused the pitiful playing.
"Hi. I'm Dinah Cantrell. I don't think we've ever introduced ourselves." My tongue grew holes in it as I refrained from saying what first came to mind. I invited her inside.
"Carol Laughton. Pleased to finally meet your acquaintance. What's it been, two years since we've been neighbors?" Okay, Carol, enough with the sarcasm.
"Something like that. It seems we are always missing each other. Ernie tells me you work the graveyard shift."
"Correct. But other than that, I try to live like the rest of the world." There I go again. Stop it. Play nice.
"Care for some coffee and Danish, while my furnace finishes warming my humble abode?"
"Yes, thank you. Ernie also said you might be able to help me with something. I need to find a job and I don't know anything about computers. Every place I went to apply I was told to apply online."
"Have you tried using the computer at the library?" This time I wasn't being sarcastic.
"Yes, but if you don't know a thing about computers, the employees aren't much help. Ernie says you volunteered to help me with my problem. "My tongue now is growing into a Florida sinkhole. However, I didn't say a word, a testament to my endurance.
"Sure, come on over while I fire up the mainframe. Let's see what we can do. Is there a specific place you want to apply to?"
"The pet store on Hwy 42 has an opening. I stopped in but they wouldn't take my application. They told me to go online. I did go to the craft store on Hancock Street. They took my application. It sounds promising. I asked to speak to the manager so I could introduce myself. The woman said that was not how they do it. The manager did not see applicants personally, until screened at corporate. I insisted and when the manager came out he said the same thing. It was against their rules for him to meet me in advance. I told him to forget the rules this once, I liked to introduce myself and let the manager know who I am. The only problem is, my right hand still has nerve damage from the accident and I can't shake hands so I had to draw my hand back when he tried to shake hands with me."
The computer was ready, but I just mentally shook my head. I visualized what she just told me. She had actually told a manager to forget his rules as if they didn't mean a thing to her. This woman had to have just crawled out from under a rock. I pulled up a kitchen chair next to mine at the computer, asked her to take the seat and logged in. I was determined to give this my best shot, only because Ernie asked me to.
I looked at the clock, 9:30 in the morning and this woman was dressed as if she was going to the bar. She wore tight jeans, a top that showed her cleavage and accentuated her breast implants. Her attempts to use perfume to cover her last cigarette gasped me as I tried to escape by moving my chair several inches to the right, without success.
"Okay. First, do you want me to show you how to use the basics of the computer so you can do this yourself?" My thoughts were giving me away but I couldn't help it.
"I don't like computers and they don't like me. At the library, the woman showed me how to get in and I broke it."
"You really can't break them. However, if you aren't comfortable learning how to do this yourself, I will work with you as long as you want." Did I really say that?
I found the website for the company she mentioned. "You're going to need an email address. Do you have one?"
"Never needed one. Why do I need one and how do I get one?"
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Ernie was going to owe me big time, and I was going to collect.
I set her up with an email through my IP address. At this point, I just wanted to get on with the next step. We went through the preliminary questions without a hitch. Next section consisted of the integrity questions. I found out more about Dinah than I cared to. She became a hair stylist at an early age; divorced, had no use for men and raised two children on her own. I’m not sure what her fascination is with her Harley, but it's a fine machine and I can appreciate that. She doesn’t like animals. I'm not sure why she's applying at a pet store. She doesn't particularly like kids or people, can't use her right hand and doesn't want to work more than five miles from home because she doesn't like traveling after dark. The woman is 55 years old, has no skills and doesn't want to learn the computer. I had to prompt her through the rest of the questions or we would still be sitting there. When we were done, I told her that I would help her again if she needed it. I began to develop compassion for the woman. She is three months behind on her rent. She said she applied for disability assistance without much success.
"So what do I do now?" She appeared for a brief moment to acquire a spark of encouragement and hope.
"We wait. The process could take a couple days. If they feel you match what they are looking for, you will get a call for an interview. If you have any other place you want my help with, you can always get me about this time as long as my vehicle is there. I don't go to bed until noon or after."
"Does my drum playing bother you?"
"Surprisingly, no. I'm usually up by then. You always seem to play about the same time each day."
"Good, it is not my intention to make enemies. Inspite of my phobias, I really am a nice person."
Talk about feeling small. I took another hard look at the woman and saw something I hadn't seen before. She smiled at me with a twinkle in her eyes. I think I could be the first person in a long time to bring a spark of hope to her miserable situation.
After Dinah left, the things that we discussed went through my brain. I mentally reevaluated my life. I had flashbacks about my past, including bringing up my one child without a husband. My life suddenly had new meaning.
I have to say that I'm not much for cooking. I don't think most people who live alone are. I found left over pizza in the refrigerator, fixed a scotch on the rocks and sat down at the computer to work on my novel. It's a romance mystery. I’ve been working on it for over a year. I have no idea where it's going and really don't care. It's more about relieving the stress and finding another world for a short time. My job has done this to me. However, I have used some of that experience to my advantage in subplots in the book.
I earned my bachelors degree in English Lit the hard way, by going to school part-time. It didn't help me get a better job, but by golly, I could write a proper sentence. I got to a point in the book where I wasn't sure where I wanted to go so I stopped and let drowsiness take over. I fixed another scotch, noticed how toasty the room became and readied my shower. Dinah was never very far from my thoughts.
The next morning Dinah knocked at my door at 9:00, shortly after my car and my weary body arrived home. I didn't feel like company, but a promise is a promise. I put on my best happy face and opened the door.
"I hate to be a pest, but do you think we could try one more place?"
&nb
sp; "Sure, come on in, I'll put on the coffee. How are things going for you this morning?" She again was dressed to look attractive but not ready to go job hunting.
"I have an appointment to check on my disability status later today. However, I'd rather get a job. I'm used to working. I loved what I was doing."
"Well let’s give it another try today. What do you have for me?" I started the computer and got her chair.
"The flower shop on Bayshore needs help. I couldn’t believe as small as they are they wouldn't take my application. He said they have a company that screens all their applicants for them. Sounds like a perfect job for me. It's close to home also."
"Let's get started. This might just be the one." A person needs hope. I didn't have the heart to remind her that one of the questions on the application says: Have you applied for disability within the last six months? And she replied 'no'. After finishing with the application, she informed me that she didn't think she had a chance of getting the job. When I asked her why, her only response was 'it didn't feel right'.
"Dinah, if you continue to think negative, only negative things will come your way. Believe me, I know. My life isn't perfect but I always think things will get better."
"I wish I could, but for every step forward, I make two back."
Her negativity got to me. If she didn't want to listen, I was out of suggestions.
"Okay, Dinah, let me know how this
Where Rubber Meets The Road Page 2
