His Dream Job - A Short Story from Tales of Boston

His Dream Job

He climbed into the cab and slammed the door with a loud bang. It started raining outside. The cab driver turned his head and found a well-groomed, suited young man who punched the seat with a weak fist; then, covered his head with his hands and sank his face between his knees, muffling a scream.

"What's the matter, kid?" the cab driver asked. "Did your girlfriend leave you or what?"

The young man slowly lifted his head. The first drops of drizzle speckled his somewhat wrinkled gray suit. He appeared rather pitiful.

"What do you care, old man?" he snapped.

The cab driver, seasoned by a million roads, turned around and started the meter.

"I could throw you out of my cab right now. But you look like you're in a rough spot, so let's behave like civilized beings. I'll take you wherever you want, and good riddance," he said. He adjusted his cap with one hand while using the other to tweak the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of the passenger's face.

"To Sant Pau Hospital, please," the young man replied, sounding calmer.

"Don't worry, we'll be there in less than fifteen minutes," the driver clicked his tongue. "If this damn rain lets up. As soon as a few drops fall, the city falls into chaos."

The young man observed the cab. It wasn't very conventional: spacious, with plush seats, and the radio strangely turned off. He guessed the cab driver was well into his sixties, judging by the wrinkles that chiseled his cheeks and the outline of his bulging eyes. The classic-cut cap, worn in appearance, seemed to cover a pronounced baldness. He noticed a barely perceptible underlying odor, a stale flatulent smell ingrained in the vehicle. He tried to look outside, but the rain had become so dense that the traffic lights and other cars created a dazzling crimson curtain that prevented him from seeing anything. A few blocks down the road, the cab came to a halt, like the rest of the traffic.

"This is going to take a while. As I told you earlier: when it drizzles, everything goes to hell," the cab driver remarked.

"Look, I'd better get out here and take the subway or whatever. How much do I owe you?"

The cab driver snorted and paused the meter. The windshield wipers were running at full speed.

"If you get out now, you'll ruin your suit, kid. Besides, I've stopped the meter until we get moving again, so relax, man."

"What a shitty day, you can't even imagine," the young man replied, reclining in his seat.

"Not to ruin your day, but it can always get worse."

"What would you know! Sitting here in this fancy car every day. I bet you're about to retire and live the good life." The young man was on the verge of tears. "What would you know."

"Well, kid... I'm old, and I know many things. I'm convinced I can help you. Why don't you tell me what's eating at you?" The cab driver turned his body halfway and stretched out his right hand, introducing himself. "My friends call me Sam, nice to meet you."

The young man was surprised by the cab driver's cordiality. His attitude made him nervous. He glanced sideways, staring into nothingness. The rain was still drumming hard on the car, in sync with the wind gusts that seemed to have picked up. He desired to be outside as much as he desired to have a tooth pulled at the dentist.

"I'm Hugo," he said, giving a weak, unconvincing handshake. The cab driver noticed the lack of strength. "I'm going through a rough patch. My mother is in the hospital, and I'm unemployed. And a couple of weeks ago, my benefits ran out."

"Being jobless sucks because you have more time to think."

"I thought I'd have a bit of luck today, but no such thing. I just came out of an interview for an office gig that suited me like a glove. And I completely screwed up," the young man angrily punched the seat again. "I'm such an idiot."