The Pursuit of Other Interests: A Novel (21 page)

“Oh, this.” Ned tugged on the ends of the coat. “It’s nothing. I just thought it was time for a change. Jason always dresses stylishly. He’s always on me about my clothes. He gets his suits from London, supposedly.”

“Well, you look good.”

“Thank you. I had a very good salesperson. She picked everything out. Matched things up. You think the pink is all right? You don’t think it feminine?”

“It’s fine.”

“Good. I wanted to look nice today for our networking meeting. We’re going to hear about some good news, I think.”

“What good news?”

“We’re getting close on some searches. Bradley is actually making some progress on a job.”

“You mean a boob job? He’s had everything else.”

“Ha! I don’t believe he’s doing that, no. But he is getting close on a real job. As is someone else.”

“Who?”

Ned tilted his chin up. “Karen.” He said her name softly. “She’s getting very close. I shouldn’t be speaking out of school, but I believe today she’ll be announcing that she’s leaving us. She accepted a position in Atlanta.”

“With Coke?”

“You knew about that?”

“She mentioned something.”

“Well, we’re bringing a cake in. Do you think carrot cake is appropriate?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I. But I think she does, and she deserves a real send-off. She’s a very special person. I’ve asked Tina, the receptionist, to bring it in during the networking meeting. So act surprised.”

“I’ll scream.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Ned turned pensive, almost wistful. “I’ve gotten to know her fairly well, you know,” he said.

“Who? Karen?”

“Yes. Did you know she writes short stories?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yes. She’s been published. In literary journals, small publications. She showed me one once. It was very good, though I didn’t entirely understand it. It was about a neighborhood being overrun with rabbits. I think the rabbits were a metaphor for something. I’m not sure what. I’ve never been good with metaphors. I’m a very literal person.” He was quiet, then said, “I’ll miss her, I think.”

Charlie considered the office without Karen. It was already a stark and lifeless place. Without her, it would be even more so. He fought back yet another sinking feeling and opened his briefcase.

“It’s very difficult sometimes,” Ned said. “This job. You get close to people and then they leave.”

“That’s pretty much true in any job.”

“It’s different here, in this business,” Ned said. “We have different relationships. We get involved with people in different ways. I’m dealing with people at probably the lowest points in their lives. I work side by side with them, see them every day for months, and sometimes longer, and then one day they’re just gone. They go away. They say that they’ll stay in touch, but they never do. They don’t have time for me anymore. They don’t want to remember where they were, that they spent time here. They have a job.”

“I bet she stays in touch.”

“No one does. And I suspect she won’t be any different.” His voice trailed off and he glanced at his watch. “Anyway, we should go now, we’re running late.” With that, he buttoned his blazer and walked out.

The networking meetings were held in the windowless conference room, back by the cubicles where all the Category C’s sat. The size of the group varied; this particular morning it was only a handful: Bradley, Karen, Walter, and three bored-looking young men from the recently imploded sales promotion firm. Another middle-aged woman began the meeting with them, but abruptly left when her cell started playing “London Bridge Is Falling Down.”

Once everyone was seated, Ned said, “Good morning. And how are we all doing today?”

Everyone was quiet and fiddled with their phones and BlackBerrys. Bradley finally broke the silence.

“Are you going to a funeral?” he asked Ned.

“No.” Ned shifted uncomfortably on his feet and brushed something off his lapel. “I just threw a jacket on, that’s all. It was hanging there in my closet and I put it on.”

“You look nice,” Karen said.

Ned beamed. “Thank you, Karen. Thank you.” He glanced down at a note pad. “Anyway, let’s get started.” He held up a copy of
The Wall Street Journal.
“You’ve probably all seen this. It just came out. Close to fifty thousand jobs created last month. Things are finally opening up a bit! It’s been a long time since we’ve had any good news on the economic front.”

“I don’t believe that. Things are bad as ever. Did you see the market yesterday? Let me see that paper,” Bradley said. The orange in his face had dulled considerably, but his hair was still late-autumn squirrel.

“Actually, it’s not in here,” Ned said. He folded the paper in half and put it behind his back. “This is yesterday’s paper. I forgot today’s paper on the bus. I just brought this in for effect.”

“I saw the story,” one of the sales promotion guys said from off in the corner. He had long, stringy hair and was wearing a black turtleneck. “I think you got it wrong. It said fifty thousand more jobs lost.”

“Oh,” Ned said. “Well, I read it quickly.” He put the paper down on the table. “But I do know things are opening up a bit here in Chicago. I sense a shifting of momentum right here in the office.” He winked in the direction of Bradley and Karen, who were sitting next to each other. Bradley nodded back, but Karen glanced away. “Anything anyone would like to share this morning? Any progress or…or news they would like to share?”

No one said anything.

Ned looked expectantly at Karen but, when he failed to get a response, turned to Bradley. “Bradley? How about you?”

“Things are proceeding nicely,” he said with a smile. “I have a second interview lined up.”

Everyone murmured their congratulations and tried not to look shocked.

Ned actually clapped. “Excellent! Anything you can share?”

“Nope,” Bradley said. He was still smiling, his cheeks puffy and proud. “Nothing right now. I’ve had one interview and I’m scheduled for another one. Don’t want to jinx it. Not this one.”

“Have a good feeling about this one, do you?” Ned asked.

“No comment.”

“Corporate side?”

“No comment.”

“Chicago?”

“No comment.”

“Well, that’s an exciting update, it really is,” Ned said, meaning it. He folded his arms and smiled. “Anything anyone else would like to share?” He once again glanced Karen’s way, but she kept her eyes on her BlackBerry. “How about you, Charlie?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, really.”

“Nothing at all?”

“No. Well, maybe something. I talked with the recruiter. That’s about it.”

“That sounds promising,” Ned said. “Very promising.” He turned once again to Karen. “Anyone else? Any news anyone has to share? Any
good
news?”

Karen continued to avoid Ned’s eyes.

Ned paused and dipped both hands into his blazer’s side pockets. Finally, unable to contain himself, he asked, “Anything you’d like to share with us, Karen? Anything at all?”

“No,” she said.

Ned looked surprised. “Really? Nothing?”

“Oh, yeah. Coke took a pass on me, I guess.” She didn’t look up when she said this.

Ned’s jaw dropped. “But I don’t understand. I thought you had an offer.”

“I never got it. They said they were putting one together, but they changed their minds. Must have, at least.”

Ned teetered and reached for the edge of the table. “That’s just…just terrible. Did they give a reason?”

“Budget. They can’t hire anyone right now. They just called. They were nice about it, I guess. They could have just sent an e-mail, like everyone else.”

“Big mistake on their part,” Charlie blurted this out, feigning outrage. He tried hard to ignore his sense of relief. He didn’t want Karen to leave. At least not before he did.

Karen looked up from her BlackBerry. “Can I ask a question?” she asked.

No one responded. Ned was still in shock. Finally, Charlie said, “Sure.”

“Is there something wrong with me? Am I doing something wrong? Is there some big flaw I have that I’m missing? Am I saying the wrong thing, or dressing the wrong way?”

“No,” Charlie said.

“Then
what is it
?” she said, her voice rising. “This is the fourth time I’ve gotten to the final stages, four times I’ve been cut. I’m doing something wrong. I must be. I want to know what it is so I can fix it. I’m tired of this. I don’t deserve this. I was a hard worker. I
am
a hard worker.” She covered her face with her hands. “I just want a job. That’s all I want. Just a job! I just want to work. I don’t want anyone to give me anything….” Her voice trailed off.

“Karen, everything will be all right,” Ned said. “You have to believe in yourself. Besides, you still have a home here.” He smiled. “Isn’t that right, fellows?” He looked hopefully around the room. “Isn’t that right?”

“This isn’t a joke, Ned!” Karen said. “I don’t want to stay here. I’m not a loser. I don’t want to end up like…like…Bradley walking around with an orange face!”

With that, the entire room fell into a deep, embarrassed silence. Charlie glanced furtively at Bradley and saw him smile, a thin, heart-rending smile.

“I’m sorry, Bradley,” Karen said. She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. Still smiling, he rose from his chair and left the room.

After he was gone, Karen put her head on the table, covered her face with her arms, and cried. “God,” she said, her voice muffled. “I think I’m losing it.”

“You’re under a lot of stress,” Ned said. “You didn’t mean that.”

She lifted her head and started to wipe away tears with her fingers. “Oh, God,” she said.

“How old are you?” Walter suddenly asked. He had been quiet and detached throughout the meeting, but was now staring at Karen.

“What?”

“How old are you? What, are you about twenty-nine, thirty, maybe?”

Karen sniffled. “I’m thirty-two. What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re thirty-two. And you don’t have anyone to support, no kids, right?”

“I’m not married,” Karen said. “You know that.”

“And you think you’re losing it?” He smiled his smirk smile. “Try being fifty-five, try being fifty-five like me or sixty like Bradley and being out of work. Then you can be dramatic. Then you can”—he made quote marks in the air with his fingers—“lose it.”

Karen stared at him in disbelief, her tear-streaked face turning redder.

“Walter, please,” Ned said.

“I may never work again,” Walter said. He spoke quietly, his smirk fully intact. “Never. Never. Do you know that? So spare me all the dramatics.”

Karen slowly stood, sniffling. She pointed at Walter. “I’ve always been nice to you, always,” she said in a sad little-girl voice. “Always been nice.” She put her hand over her mouth and quickly walked out.

Charlie watched her leave, then turned on Walter. He tried to remain calm. “You were out of line.”

Walter was unfazed. “Just because she has big tits, everyone cuts her slack.”

This got Charlie going. “You know something,” he began, “we’re all sick of your act. Sick of it. You walk around here feeling sorry for yourself, rude to everyone. I’ve got news for you, pal, you’re not the only one who has it tough. I do too, we all do. We all have it tough. Everyone here has it tough.”

Walter’s eyebrows arched in apparent amusement. “You don’t know what tough is,” he said. “You don’t know anything. You’re some crazy creative guy who thinks his shit doesn’t smell, who thinks he’s too cute, too smart, too…too clever, for words. I’ve seen hundreds of guys like you. Hundreds. Empty suits who spend all their time taking credit and giving blame. No one can work for you. Everyone in the business knows that. You and your stupid shticky commercials with hamsters and kittens and capes. You’re old news.”

Charlie’s neck burned, but he remained silent.

Walter leaned over the table and hitched his shoulder. “You don’t even remember me, do you? I’ve been waiting for you to remember me, but you haven’t and you probably never will.”

“What are you talking about?”

Walter looked at Charlie with amazement. “I don’t believe you,” he said. He hitched his shoulder one last time, then snapped up his cell phone from the table and left.

A few minutes after the meeting, Ned walked into Charlie’s office holding an enormous slice of carrot cake on a paper plate.

“We have a lot of this,” he said.

“I don’t like carrot cake.”

“Oh, that’s right.” He held it awkwardly while searching for a place to put it. Finally, he shoved the plate onto the desk and sat down. “Well, that was a soap opera. Karen went home and I can’t find either Bradley or Walter.”

“Walter is an asshole.”

“He’s under an enormous amount of stress.”

“We’re all under stress here.”

“He has more than most, I think.”

Charlie wasn’t having any of this. “You know something? You’re too nice to people. You let people push you around. Tamales. Walter. You have to stand up to these people.”

Ned crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. “There’s nothing wrong with being sympathetic.”

“Sympathetic? He’s not worthy of anyone’s sympathy. He’s a loser. I know a million guys like him, bitter short-sleeved middle managers who can’t cut it. They blame everyone but themselves.” He waved his hand in disgust. He was still worked up.

“Walter is feeling extremely frustrated right now,” Ned said. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

“Oh, he doesn’t, does he? You’re kidding me, right? Like I want to be here? I got news for you, Mr. Sympathy. Despite all your hospitality, despite all the great coffee and all the love and encouragement, none of us wants to be here. Especially me. I’m dealing with it, and he should too.”

“You haven’t been out of work as long as he has.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“And your wife doesn’t have cervical cancer.”

“What?”

“And your insurance hasn’t run out. And you haven’t drained your 401(k) and can’t take out another mortgage on your house because you did that four months ago. They may foreclose.”

Charlie fell quiet.