In a sea of suits in the Valley, I found myself mingling and drinking tiny bottles of water as the sun set over the mountains the other day. I was speaking with a man who came, if I'm not mistaken, from Santa Monica, which is a respectable distance.
"That's some drive," I said.
"It's Ok," he replied, "I drive a Prius."
"Oh, so you actually made money on your drive out here." That was a joke. It was, at least, meant to be a joke. Regardless, the person that I was speaking with shot me a glance that seemed to indicate that I was using a tone that shouldn't be taken when speaking to a Prius owner. I was too worn out to really care. I had been sick all week, and, after this one, final, last event, I would be able to crawl into bed and just read, or listen to the radio, or experiment with the healing powers of the human mind. I could take the suit off and put the tiny water bottle down.
The week had been a busy one. It started on Friday when the Brewers won the division. That's what got me to bump my run out of my schedule on Saturday morning. And then, on Sunday, I went to a German Fest held by one of the families at church. I had spoken with many of these people before, but somehow it had escaped me that, unlike the Lutherans back home, many of whom are German, many of my current fellow parishioners are German-German. So I was welcomed to butcher the only foreign language that I had ever put any dismal effort into studying while listening to stories about the old country, eating hand-crafted bratwurst, and drinking homemade beer. It all amounted to a pretty exceptional time.
By the time I woke up on Monday, I had a bit of a scratch in my throat. I realize that my paragraph placement may look like I'm insinuating that this could have been caused by something at the German Fest, and that is not at all true. As a matter of fact, immediately after I began to feel ill, I went through a mental montage of things that could have done me in: eating food off the floor, drinking out of the hose, not washing fruit, smoking cigars after the Brewers took the division, etc. After a brief pause reflecting on what may have gotten me sick, I came to realize that with my lifestyle it's a miracle that I'm not dead yet.
But, it was Monday, and there was work to be done, or found, or whatever. I had five interviews lined up for this week. In my line of work, at least in my most recent line of work, it's relatively easy to tell when there are and when there aren't opportunities that will be fitting for me. So, when I say I have five interviews, two or three of them may be worth pursuing.
And so my week began. Progressively running a week-long gauntlet around Los Angeles while slightly sick is kind of a trip. The difference in temperature from the valley to the city can make a guy think that he's got the chills on top of everything else going on. By day, I would drive an hour in this direction, and then half an hour in the other direction, and then, by night (or, sometimes, late afternoon) I would crawl into bed and read, intently listening for the smallest violin in the world and hoping it would play just for me.
During this onslaught of activity, I also had the opportunity (and I can't stress enough how great this was) to see the California Angels play in their ballpark. The day before, the Angels still had a shot at the Wild Card before fate decided otherwise. I came within twenty-four hours of seeing a baseball game that actually mattered! It turned out to be a great time, and the first time that I had ever seen a ballgame that wasn't in Miller or County. The feel was subdued, with a lot of prospects being called up from farm teams. One by one, they consistently maintained their highly-sought-after .000 averages. But it was still baseball, and I still loved it.
I've found it odd that, as this week may indicate, my social life doesn't necessarily coincide with times that I would find it particularly convenient to have one. As I dragged myself from interview to interview, open house to open house, and from this and that to the other thing, I met some interesting people. I got to have a discussion with an East German Refugee, and listen to Europeans express concerns that the US is becoming too much like Europe. I also had a terrific conversation with a manager at one of my interviews who had immigrated from Lebanon. He had been working in Dubai, which had been an astoundingly easy place to make money over the last few years. Still, he had seen fit to move his family to America where he once again found prosperity. It was Mideast meets Midwest.
"So, why did you move here?" I asked.
"I think we're going to have another civil war in Lebanon," he responded matter-of-factly. "I don't want my children to go through what I went through the last time we had one. I don't want them to have to see pieces of fingers on the ground when they walk through the streets. I want them to have better."
Not expecting that, I started laughing. "Well, God bless you, man." That was really all that I could thing to say. His attitude left an impression on me.
I'm beginning to feel a little better. My throat hasn't been as scratchy for the last couple days. I may even feel up to meeting my running buddy tomorrow after church, or I may just watch the Pack or the Brewers' postseason action. I've got another job interview on Monday, which would be the fourth with this employer. And, yes, I am still listening for the smallest violin in the world. It seems, however, like my chances of hearing it are becoming slimmer by the minute.
