Post by ocwnewsline on Jun 9, 2016 11:46:59 GMT -5
It had been about a week. Those margaritas caught up with me, I suppose. The blue ones, they were more than I bargained for. Stick with green, lime green, I can handle my shit while downing those.
Regardless, I returned to the beach, ready to continue the search. My phone had been inundated with calls from Hombre, Booker, and Thad, wondering where they stood. I left them hanging with anticipation. I doubted they had anything promising on the books.
I wasn’t feeling too hot. The hangover was pretty fierce and my stomach seemed content on performing intestinal gymnastics on a consistent basis.
I alternated between water and the green margarita, determined to get through five interviews before passing out. The weather was nice, the mood was right, so I was ready.
A figure stumbled into the sand while approaching my tent. Its long black hair struggled against the wind. It staggered back to its feet and continued stumbling as though the ground were shaking.
“What is that drunk person doing approaching my tent?” I wondered, angrily. I snared a walky talky, hoping to have security remove this person from my sight.
“Yea, I’ve got a drunk guy approaching me. They are falling all over the sand.”
“Does he have long black hair and mid 90s shades?”
I looked closely. The hair I was sure of. The shades, as I discovered, were there and out of style. “Yes.”
“That person isn’t drunk, sir, that’s the Eastern European.”
“Great.” I dropped the device into the sand next to my chair and leaned back. I didn’t even open the note pad. This interview was going to be a waste of time.
“Ahlo,” he said in full on broken English.
I tossed a halfhearted wave his way. He produced a strange, almost fake laugh. “I want to be wrestling promoter!” he threw his hands in the air.
You had to admire his enthusiasm, I guess. “Well, that’s why you’re here.”
“It is!”
It was like talking to a child. How had this man accumulated such success as a salesperson? Or, had he fudged his resume? And, if so…how the hell did it make it through my corporate’s quality control?
I hid a belch as my stomach continued to plague me.
“You okay?” he asked, noticing my queasy demeanor.
“I’m fine, why don’t you just tell me your vision.”
“Vision is well. These glasses are great out here on the beach!” he proclaimed. He seemed to have no earthly idea what I had asked him.
I was all set to end the interview. He reached into his pocket and revealed a tiny, white pill. “You take this, it make you feel a million times better!”
“Uh, no, that’s okay.”
“No, I’m not joking, seriously, for real, it is amazing!” He placed it on the table. I leaned forward, looking at it. It looked harmless. Then again, I guess every pill looks harmless enough, until the effects kick in.
“Drink too much? No problem! You be feeling good as new in no time with this medicine!”
I reached for it. “Hold on,” he stopped me. “Five dollars, pill is not cheap.”
“I’m not paying five dollars for one pill. I’d rather purge.”
“Purging no good for body, make stomach all messed up. Take pill, feel better, yea?”
“Not for five dollars.”
He mulled over the declination. “But pill is expensive! It is great pill! I promise, take it, you see!”
“Five dollars for a pill is ridiculous.”
He sighed, “Fine, four dollars and fifty cents. I’m serious, pill very expensive.”
I was intrigued. The guy didn’t seem too sharp. His belligerent behavior led me to believe it was an expensive piece of medicine. “Three dollars and fifty cents,” I countered.
“Three dollars and fifty cent?! I lose money on that!” he threw his hands around.
“Four dollars?” I came up, I have no idea why.
“You know what?” He put his hands on his hips, “Because you are good man with nice beach and wonderful job offer. I give to you for only four dollars.”
All I had was a five. I placed it on the table. The Eastern European looked at it sideways, “I don’t have change.”
“Neither do I.”
He remained quiet. My stomach churned. I didn’t feel like arguing, “Just keep it.”
His hand snared the five. I downed the pill with some water. “See? You feel better now. You make great deal, are a great businessman!”
He turned to leave. I leaned forward in surprise. The interview hadn’t even begun. “Bye bye!” he yelled, waving with his back to me.
What the hell had I just endured? That was the strangest interview I’d ever experienced.
Regardless, I returned to the beach, ready to continue the search. My phone had been inundated with calls from Hombre, Booker, and Thad, wondering where they stood. I left them hanging with anticipation. I doubted they had anything promising on the books.
I wasn’t feeling too hot. The hangover was pretty fierce and my stomach seemed content on performing intestinal gymnastics on a consistent basis.
I alternated between water and the green margarita, determined to get through five interviews before passing out. The weather was nice, the mood was right, so I was ready.
A figure stumbled into the sand while approaching my tent. Its long black hair struggled against the wind. It staggered back to its feet and continued stumbling as though the ground were shaking.
“What is that drunk person doing approaching my tent?” I wondered, angrily. I snared a walky talky, hoping to have security remove this person from my sight.
“Yea, I’ve got a drunk guy approaching me. They are falling all over the sand.”
“Does he have long black hair and mid 90s shades?”
I looked closely. The hair I was sure of. The shades, as I discovered, were there and out of style. “Yes.”
“That person isn’t drunk, sir, that’s the Eastern European.”
“Great.” I dropped the device into the sand next to my chair and leaned back. I didn’t even open the note pad. This interview was going to be a waste of time.
“Ahlo,” he said in full on broken English.
I tossed a halfhearted wave his way. He produced a strange, almost fake laugh. “I want to be wrestling promoter!” he threw his hands in the air.
You had to admire his enthusiasm, I guess. “Well, that’s why you’re here.”
“It is!”
It was like talking to a child. How had this man accumulated such success as a salesperson? Or, had he fudged his resume? And, if so…how the hell did it make it through my corporate’s quality control?
I hid a belch as my stomach continued to plague me.
“You okay?” he asked, noticing my queasy demeanor.
“I’m fine, why don’t you just tell me your vision.”
“Vision is well. These glasses are great out here on the beach!” he proclaimed. He seemed to have no earthly idea what I had asked him.
I was all set to end the interview. He reached into his pocket and revealed a tiny, white pill. “You take this, it make you feel a million times better!”
“Uh, no, that’s okay.”
“No, I’m not joking, seriously, for real, it is amazing!” He placed it on the table. I leaned forward, looking at it. It looked harmless. Then again, I guess every pill looks harmless enough, until the effects kick in.
“Drink too much? No problem! You be feeling good as new in no time with this medicine!”
I reached for it. “Hold on,” he stopped me. “Five dollars, pill is not cheap.”
“I’m not paying five dollars for one pill. I’d rather purge.”
“Purging no good for body, make stomach all messed up. Take pill, feel better, yea?”
“Not for five dollars.”
He mulled over the declination. “But pill is expensive! It is great pill! I promise, take it, you see!”
“Five dollars for a pill is ridiculous.”
He sighed, “Fine, four dollars and fifty cents. I’m serious, pill very expensive.”
I was intrigued. The guy didn’t seem too sharp. His belligerent behavior led me to believe it was an expensive piece of medicine. “Three dollars and fifty cents,” I countered.
“Three dollars and fifty cent?! I lose money on that!” he threw his hands around.
“Four dollars?” I came up, I have no idea why.
“You know what?” He put his hands on his hips, “Because you are good man with nice beach and wonderful job offer. I give to you for only four dollars.”
All I had was a five. I placed it on the table. The Eastern European looked at it sideways, “I don’t have change.”
“Neither do I.”
He remained quiet. My stomach churned. I didn’t feel like arguing, “Just keep it.”
His hand snared the five. I downed the pill with some water. “See? You feel better now. You make great deal, are a great businessman!”
He turned to leave. I leaned forward in surprise. The interview hadn’t even begun. “Bye bye!” he yelled, waving with his back to me.
What the hell had I just endured? That was the strangest interview I’d ever experienced.