I Have Demons

by Adam Christopher

  David forced a smile and thanked Dr. Vera for considering him for the job.

  “Good! Head Nurse Shum, why don’t you open with the first question…”

  The man in scrubs leaned even further back in his chair, tilted his head and examined David with an air of incredulity.

  “So, what’s a BA good for anyway?”

  David couldn’t conceal his dismay and surprise.

  “What’s a BA good for? I mean, I like to think that it teaches you to analyze difficult, complex texts, to read between the lines, to communicate effectively both in writing and verbally. To appreciate nuance. And to have an inquisitive mind.” In the pause, David was initially pleased with his answer, but then seemed glum, as he realized just by looking at them that he must have said something wrong.

  Dr. Vera cleared her throat and interlaced her fingers.

  “How’s your French, David? We do get the odd French patient and we like to share the good news with them in their mother tongue.”

  David felt nervous but took a deep breath. He knew exactly what he had to do.

  “Oui, je parle français aussi. À l'école, je prenais des cours de français pendant cinq ans. Comme un adolescent, je lisais Voltaire et Diderot pendant le week-end. Juste pour le fun!” David closed with a big smile, which faded rapidly.

  “We’ve got a real keener,” Head Nurse Shum noted bitterly. “Can you do Mandarin now?”

  “Emmet!” Dr. Vera looked disapprovingly at her assistant, who seemed nonetheless satisfied with himself. “Well, as I said before, we are very protective of what we have built. Now tell me, David — can you send us a copy of your credit history?”

  “Oh, you need my personal credit history? Yeah, I guess I could get you a copy...”

  “Excellent. And how about four professional references? We’ll need them by tomorrow, please.”

  David felt all hope drain away.

  “Four? I'm really eager to grow with your company, but I just graduated from university, so I only have a little experience. But I’m looking forward to learning from you and I’m great when given training and direction.” David smiled, but was not sure if he had convinced them. Shum scowled, but he thought Dr. Vera looked sympathetic.

  “Good personal hygiene and appearance are very important in instilling confidence, David. Our patients expect it of us. We can provide you with the right clothing and we have instructions for you to take to your barber, should we decide to offer you this job. But tell me, David, how are your teeth?”

  “Uh, I think they’re fine…”

  “Yes, well, we’ll have to get Head Nurse Shum to give them a quick inspection.”

  Before David could protest, Shum rolled his stool directly in front of David, grabbed and pulled down his jaw with one hand and lifted his upper lips with the other — a veritable invasion.

  Shum turned to Dr. Vera and shook his head disapprovingly.

  “David, I believe what Head Nurse Shum means is that if we were to hire you, we would have to get your teeth bleached. It is so important to be able to smile confidently when discussing treatment options and payment plans with our patients.”

  David had not yet gotten over the shock of Shum’s surprise inspection when Dr. Vera continued.

  “I do have one very important question for you, David. It’s a scenario, and I’d like to see how you would respond. Let’s say a new patient is struggling with a bad case of toenail fungus, recently diagnosed and confirmed by Head Nurse Shum. We send her to the receptionist’s desk with two treatment plan options. Option A is a basic, generic solution that includes a commitment to five treatments only. Option B is a commitment to a full-year plan, with two treatments per month, a box of self-help DVDs, an inspirational calendar and a special mug as a gift. Which would you encourage our patient to purchase?”

  David’s self-confidence returned to him and he sat up straight in his chair.

  “I would make sure to get a feel for what our patient can afford and if I sensed that she had the disposable income for Option B, I would try to share with her the benefits of this plan. You see, I believe firmly in fair play. I know that you need to make a profit, and I think it’s possible to do that without exploiting anyone. I’m a strong believer in that. Unwavering, actually!”

  ***

  Franco sat in silent disbelief. Then: “You didn’t say that. You didn’t fuckin’ say that! Holy shit, David!”

  “What? It wasn’t that bad, was it?” David felt thoroughly confused. He was convinced that he had given a thoughtful response. And he felt much better at the end of the interview, when he noticed that Shum finally smiled pleasantly as he sent him on his way.

  “No, not bad at all from a village idiot who hasn’t managed to wash off the manure from his boots!” Franco tossed his phone in front of him on the desk. David felt genuinely hurt.

  “That’s not called for. Look, I didn’t come here to get abused…”

  “Oh, so now you’re a sissy too? Jesus, it’s like you climbed out of some cave … which reminds me, the address you gave me doesn’t add up. Your postal code’s wrong. I need you to give me the correct one, and ASAP!”

  David sulked quietly for a moment.

  “Look, I’m just tired. I need to go home.”

  Franco raised his eyebrows and fell back in his chair.

  “Really? Tired? You’re telling me that you’re tired? I’m in this office sixteen hours a day, including on fucking Sundays. I sleep with my phone on my chest so that if there’s a deal at three in the morning, I’ll feel the vibration and I’ll be ready to jump on it!”

  “I guess that’s just not me,” said David, in resignation.

  “No shit, it’s not you. You prefer jerking off with Shakespeare, taking your sweet old time with things and being all Mary Poppins in interviews!”

  David looked deeply resentful as he glared at Franco.

  “Look, fine … I get it. Your first interview wasn’t stellar. Maybe we’ll try again tomorrow, but we won’t reach for the stars just yet, okay?” David refused to respond. He looked like an insulted child.

  “Did you hear me?”

  ***

  David sat on the bench at the abandoned bus stop, lost in thought. He felt compelled to call home, even though chatting with his mother was taxing at the best of times. And it was definitely not the best of times. Ever since his father lost the business two years ago and suffered a nervous breakdown, his mother was left to pick up the pieces. At first, she took it in stride and almost relished the challenge. While Dad stared listlessly at his tools in the basement and came up only when he was called to eat dinner or to sleep, his mother methodically sold off what she could to make ends meet. First went the spare television. Then the main one too. She packed up her mother-in-law’s china and shipped it to the auction house. David came home one day and found the oil painting in the living room was gone — only the nail and a discoloured rectangular space on the wall marked where it had once been.

  Every time he arrived home from university, the house looked emptier and Dad retreated further into the basement. Eventually, his mother succumbed to perpetual bitterness and to the liquor cabinet that beckoned in the corner of the dining room — she never sold that off. David worked part-time hours at the hardware store one town over to help out, but there was no bus to take him home at night. He got accustomed to walking the eight kilometres along the old highway. It was awful in the winter, but other than that, at least it gave him an opportunity to think and clear his head.

  He dialled home on his cellphone, but rather than ringing, an automated message greeted him.

  “We're sorry, outgoing calls are not possible at this time. Please remain on the line as we connect you to our Accounts Receivable department. Please have your account information ready.”

  “Not again…” David rubbed his eyes and tossed his phone into his backpack. He searched for something to eat and found half a chocolate bar. He devoured it, and it seemed as though nothing had ev
er tasted so good.

  He was less queasy and that bench was now tempting him relentlessly to lie down. It was an abandoned bus stop after all. Based on the tattered sign, the bus route had been suspended for a while now. The chance of anyone walking by and seeing him was slim. But he wasn’t sure he could ever get himself to do it — sleeping in public, on a bench, was a psychological threshold he couldn’t seem to allow himself to cross. His vulnerability was on full display for the world to see. It was the ultimate defeat. And once he gave up that last shred of dignity, could he ever really get it back?

  ***

  The phone kept ringing in Franco’s office, but Franco just glared at it and refused to answer. David was getting annoyed.

  “You can pick that up, you know. I can wait.”

  “Never you mind, Shakespeare. My secretary will deal with it.”

  “Oh, will I meet her today?”

  Franco glanced at David suspiciously.

  “We'll see. Hopefully she’ll be in on time today. She’s such a mess, that woman. But I feel for her. I’m giving her a second chance and all. Kinda like I gave you a second chance too, David.”

  “Well, maybe she’s the one who tried to call you. Maybe she’s stuck in traffic … or something like that.”

  “Okay, Shakespeare. Let’s get your life in order first. How does that sound?” Franco sneered. “I have a new opportunity lined up for you today. I think it will be good for you. You won’t be getting onto your private jet just yet, but let me tell you from experience, sometimes you gotta start off at the bottom. If you’re bright, you’ll make it to the top in no time. Trust me, that’s how it works around here.”

  “I’ll give it a shot. What do you have in mind?”

  The phone rang again. Franco looked at it with deepening irritation.

  “Go ahead, really. Do you want me to leave while you take that?”

  Franco thought about it briefly. “I’ll just be a moment. Go wait outside in the corridor.”

  David leaned against the grey wall in a deserted, sterile-looking hallway. He heard snippets faintly through the door, especially when Franco raised his voice.

  “As I’ve already told you, I sent it in two days ago … yes, it was through bank transfer … RBC, like usual. What do you mean, what was the reason? I was busy. Are you gonna hang me for it? … Yes, yes, yes. I’ll need until the end of the month though.”

  David felt weak and faint as he stood against the wall. He probably looked unwell too. He slid down against the wall until he hit the floor. It felt good to sit, but as soon as he hit the carpet, Franco swung open the door and motioned for him to come back in.

  David sat quietly in the chair, pale and listless.

  “Franco...”

  “What?” Franco stared intensely at his computer screen.

  “Would you mind if I took one?” David spoke sheepishly as he pointed to a basket of what appeared to be Halloween chocolates.

  Franco looked perplexed.

  “Go ahead. I don’t care.”

  “Thanks. It’s just that I haven’t had breakfast. I’m feeling a bit light-headed…” David unwrapped a ball of chocolate-covered peanut butter.

  “Well, I tough it out without breakfast most mornings. An espresso is all I need, Shakespeare.”

  “I wasn’t able to eat supper last night either…”

  Franco peered through the top of his tinted glasses.

  “What, you were that upset? Or you’re on a diet or something?”

  “Sort of.” David looked down, visibly embarrassed, as he unwrapped a second chocolate.

  Franco squinted at him in silence and then grabbed an apple from the window ledge behind him and tossed it into David’s lap.

  “Here. An apple a day. You know the rest.”

  “Oh! Thanks, Franco. You sure?”

  “Listen, let’s get back to business. I’ve got an opportunity for you. Keep an open mind. You’re starting small, but I’ll build you up. Just be flexible and don’t fuck up this time!”

  ***

  “So how ya doin’ Dave?” Bob had congeniality down to an art. The interview was set in front of a doughnut shop. By the time David arrived, a tall man in his forties, dressed in a T-shirt, a baseball cap, shorts and flip-flops stood there with two coffees. Bob used his newly leased car as his office. It proved both economical and practical, since he was always on the go. He would happily use a meeting room down at the radio station, but times were tough and the station manager started charging freelancers if they wanted to book space for personal use. David felt awkward but made sure to congratulate Bob on his new vehicle. He then reassured him that he would do the same: “Why waste good money on meeting spaces?” He pushed some dog toys away with his shoes.

  “Oh, the missus loves it too! Maybe next time I’ll let you take it for a spin, bud. It’s a beast!”

  David smiled and said how much he would look forward to that. This wasn’t the time to disclose that he didn’t have a licence.

  “Okay, now buddy, I’m not sure how much Franco told you about my project, but here’s the deal. It looks like I perfected the cure for male pattern baldness.” Bob took off his baseball cap to reveal an almost entirely bald head, except for what looked like patchy orange peach fuzz on the top. “Six months ago, I was smooth as a hard-boiled egg. But look at me now, eh?”

  “Oh, yes, I see something growing…”

  “Do you ever!” Bob put his cap back on. “Now look it, you’re a good kid, but you do seem a little overqualified for this kinda sales work, eh.”

  “I’m overqualified?” David couldn’t hide his alarm. “So should I have left that degree off of my resumé?”

  Bob waved his hand dismissively.

  “No, no. Not at all. It’s just that I’m not sure you’d be all that happy in this line of work, bud. You’re a real smart kid, you know. But I got no problem having you give it a shot. Here, just smell this.” Bob handed David a large bottle of his homemade, revolutionary lotion. David popped open the cap and the whiff of garlic mixed with what smelled like mothballs hit him hard.

  “Oh, wow. Ah, I think that I can totally get excited about your hair growth lotion.” He tried to marshal more enthusiasm. “You know, I can just imagine what a difference this lotion would have made in my father’s life. He really struggled with his receding hairline. He would have just loved this! Come to think of it, my mother would have loved it too!” David smiled awkwardly.

  “I’m loving your enthusiasm, Dave. But don’t worry — I won’t have you doing sales right away. How about we get your feet wet with a little data entry first. You can help with the invoices, the mailing and the customer relations. I’ll get the missus to set you up with a nice little work station in my basement.”

  David couldn’t believe it. He was genuinely thrilled and could barely contain himself in Bob’s stuffy car. He wanted to jump out and start running through the parking lot.

  “Absolutely! I’ve always had a real passion for data entry. I’m a fantastic organizer. Back when I was living at home, I always kept my room in order, even as a child. I used to take out all the Lego from the box, divide it by colour and then line it up according to size! Dad thought I was crazy and Mom thought I had the type of OCD that you could outgrow. Oh sir, you should have seen me. I used to do that with my mom’s knives too, organizing them according to size and different types of edges. Whenever I could, I’d be sure to polish them too! I guess you can say I am still sort of OCD, eh?” David laughed with a mix of eagerness and excitement.

  ***

  Franco massaged his temple.

  “I kind of thought I did well this time...”

  “Yeah ... if I had sent you out to audition for a role in American Psycho, you would have done just great, Shakespeare.”

  David noticed the stack of unopened mail on Franco’s desk. One envelope read “Important Invoice Enclosed.”

  “Well, I guess if you ever needed a secretary to open your mail, you’d think o
f me?” David spoke sheepishly, but Franco didn’t seem amused.

  “Franco, I don’t know how to say this, but I’m getting pretty desperate for something. Anything.”

  Franco looked glum. He had no response.

  “Just based on your radio announcement, I really thought that you could help me. You seem to be so well connected and you’re confident.” David’s voice trailed off until it sounded like he was mostly speaking to himself. “Maybe too confident…”

  Defensiveness awoke Franco from whatever mental rut he had been in.

  “Of course I’m gonna help! Look, Davey. The summer’s a bad time to find employment in any city. But you came to me for a reason! You woke up that morning to my voice and something that I said struck you, deep down inside that simple, honest farm-boy heart of yours.” Franco paused and smiled. “You know what? I’ve got it! Yes, I’ve got it!” He slammed his desk. David looked interested.

  “I know this really lovely older — no, sorry — mature woman who needs some help around the house. I sometimes send guys like you, down on their luck, over to her. At least you’ll make a few bucks while we set you up with something permanent. Dame Wanda…” Franco coughed and looked away. “She’s a real treasure, just a lovely woman!”

  “Okay…” David paused with uncertainty in his voice. “What will I have to do?”

  Franco let out a brief cough again. “Oh, just some basic tasks: mowing her lawn, pulling out her weeds, maybe doing some groceries for her. It’s not rocket science, believe me,” he laughed. “But it will put some change into your pockets. And from the looks of it, you could use a bit of cash...”

  ***

  Dame Wanda seemed well pleased as David stood uncertainly on her porch.

  “Oh, this is splendid, just splendid.” She beamed as she looked up and down at David and clutched her pearl necklace absent-mindedly. “I say, that old kipper got it right at last!”

  The portly woman’s abdomen seemed ready to flee her body through her tight orange-and-pink polyester gown.

  David smiled awkwardly. He felt like the shy schoolboy adults find excessively cute and feel compelled to pinch on the cheek or pat on the head.