A month after graduation, I am once again frustrated with the job market in Mississippi. I would like to stay in Mississippi, but the way things were looking I might have to do like so many of my college friends and settle for a job outside of the state. I contacted my girlfriend Annett who was now living in Baltimore, Maryland. I told her that I might have to relocate to Baltimore to find a job. Annett was elated. She offered me the extra bedroom in her apartment and said that Alarah and I could stay with her until I got on my feet. As I contemplated moving to Baltimore with my daughter, the telephone rang. It was Ivan Berk. I had just started dating him about a week ago. Ivan owned a thriving business in downtown Andrew. Although, he was a bit too flamboyant and bold for my taste, he had many acquaintances and business connections. But most importantly, he knew I was trying to find a job.
"Hello Ivan, what's up love?"
"Torah, are you still in bed?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Well if you are going to be in bed all day, I guess you wouldn't be interested in meeting your new boss." Ivan said excitedly.
"W...ho...Who!"
Ivan laughed.
"I have a friend who works for The Federal Bureau of National Statistics, who just so happens to be the Director of Data Processing. I just called him and I'm going to take him to lunch.
I bit my bottom lip and look at the clock, it was 11:15 a.m. "What time are you going to lunch?"
"I am taking him to lunch at 12:00 noon sharp, and I'm not going to be late. If you want the job—"
"Yes! Yes. I do."
"Then meet me downtown in front of the Federal Building in thirty minutes. And, Torah, wear your purple suit. Phillip would like that."
I jump out of the bed, running toward the bathroom. I took a quick shower, grabbed the purple suit from my closet that Ivan told me to wear. The suit looks professional and nice on me.
I jump in my car and drive speedily toward downtown Andrew while attempting to comb my hair and put on my make-up. I want this job, and need to make a positive impression on Ivan's friend. At five minutes to twelve, I pull up in front of the Federal Building. Ivan is waiting.
"Not bad," he said, "You know how to hustle. I like that."
We enter the Federal building and go to the tenth floor. Ivan gives the secretary his name and tells her that Mr. Phillip Sanders is expecting him. The receptionist picks up the telephone and phones Mr. Sanders, informing him that Ivan Berks was here to see him. A few seconds later, a young, very handsome black man emerges from one of the inner offices. He is tall, six feet two, with curly dark brown hair. His mustache is neatly trimmed and accentuates his radiant smile. Conservatively dressed, he sports dark navy suit pants, a crisp white shirt, and a designer silk tie. He strolls into the room like a fashion model.
"A GQ man," I thought.
From the confidence in his stride and the air of authority hovering over him, I instinctively knew that he was Phillip Sanders.
"Ivan it's good to see you," Mr. Sanders said as he and Ivan shook hands.
Ivan never told me that his friend was black.
"I'm sorry. Phillip, I'd like you to meet Torah James."
"Mrs. James, it's nice to meet you."
"Oh no! I'm not married. It's Ms. James," I quickly corrected.
Ivan smiled as his eyes shifted from me to his friend.
"Sorry, my mistake," he said silkily. "Let me try again. Ms. James, it's a pleasure to meet you." Smiling incandescently, he firmly shook my hand.
"Well, are you ready for lunch?" Ivan asked. Breaking the silence that suddenly engulfs us.
"Ivan, something has come up. I am sorry, but I won't be able to have lunch with you and . . . Ms. James. But, we can talk in my office."
Disappointed, I follow Ivan and Mr. Sanders towards the office from which he had earlier emerged. Mr. Sanders' office is spacious and exquisitely decorated in rich oak. The drapes from the four large picture windows are tied back and knotted into a bow. Located in the middle of the room is a rectangular executive conference table, the sun's rays bounced off the glossy oak making it gleam. To the far right of the conference table is an office desk, and behind the desk is a computer that's housed in an oak credenza. Children's drawings are pasted all over the computer cabinet and family portraits litter the shelves.
We seat ourselves at the conference table. Placing my hands under the table, I attempt to shake off the nervousness that now envelops me.
"Phillip, you know I'm not one to beat around the bush so I'll come straight to the point. Ms. James is desperate for a job."
"No, he didn't just say that," My mind yells, as Ivan continues.
" I told her that I had a buddy who was the director of the largest data processing department in Andrew, Mississippi and that you might be able to use her skills in your shop,"
I am embarrassed. Ivan shabby blurts out everything. I could have crawled under that conference table.
Mr. Sander's maintains his composure. He did not appear agitated by his friend's candor. On the contrary, he seems amused. Turning in his chair to face me he asks, "Where did you meet this man?"
Smiling, I replied, "At a gas station a few days ago."
Mr. Sanders laughs and shakes his head.
Seizing the opportunity, I quickly retrieve the documents from my burgundy portfolio and pass the information to him. Mr. Sanders slowly reviews my resume and college transcript, and glances over the two letters of recommendations. I need this job and begin to sell myself, highlighting my major accomplishments and skills. Mr. Sanders raises an eyebrow. He is interested. I smile on the inside; I have a chance.
"Ms. James, your resume is impressive. Ivan is right. I can use your skills in my department. But the only position I have available at this time is a Systems Analyst II slot. Would you be interested in that?"
"Yes Sir! I'll take it. When can I start?"
Ivan and Mr. Sanders both laugh.
Smiling, Mr. Sanders asked, "Are you on the Federal Register."
"No sir," I groan.
"Before I can hire you, your name must appear on the registry."
"I know sir. I just can't seem to get on the registry no matter what I do."
Mr. Sanders scratches his head then looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"With two masters. . .?"
"I know sir," I interrupt, "I don't understand it myself."
"Well Ms. James, there is more than one way to skin a cat. I can't help you right now, I have a meeting that I must attend in less than ten minutes."
My shoulders and body tense while I nervously bit my bottom lip.
"Can you come back in two days? I can help you fill out the application then," Mr. Sanders said.
"Yes!" I said. Letting out a sigh of relief.
I can hardly believe it. He's going to help me fill out the job application and get on the Federal Register. Two days later, Mr. Sanders keeps his word. He helps me to fill out the job application and get on the Federal Register.
