by Roman Koidl
I kept working at the radio station but my fears came true. No one listened to the station. Well, that’s not exactly right. My mom listened. At least I had one listener. And as my aunt and uncle from Ireland were over they listened as well. That made three. The pressure was on. No, not really. But as I came home every day my mom always gave me some critique on my presentation style. She was my only fan and critic, and the only one who even knew I was on air. Due to the lack of listenership it only seemed a matter of time until the station would have to close down and I would be unemployed again.
Chapter 7
Life is a bitch
It was a Monday morning as Tom from the station called me.
“Patrick, you don’t need to come in today,” he told me.
“Why, what happened?” I asked, rather unsurprised.
“It’s over. We are bankrupt. No one wants to advertise with us and the last investor just pulled his money out. That’s it. It’s over,” his voice was filled with anger and desperation.
“Can’t you just stop for a while to find a new investor and then get back on air?” I tried to present a solution.
“Believe me, if it would be so easy I would have done it already. We have debts. To pay them I have to sell the equipment and even get a mortgage on my house. It’s my grandmother’s house. She must be turning in her grave as she’s hearing this,” he replied, not trying to hide his sadness.
Life is a bitch. You try to do your best and live your dream but you get knocked down.
“I understand. I’m very sorry about this. Truly sorry. Things will be better again,” I said trying to build his confidence.
It was the first time in my life that I lost a job. A weird feeling. I still had my studies and I was young. I will find something better. After I hung up the phone, I took the train to downtown. I needed some distraction to think about the next step. I was walking along the main shopping mile. My feet were shuffling along the street. I saw how my white laces were tossing from left to right with every move I made. Suddenly, two pink sport shoes stopped right in front of my black sneakers. I stopped and lifted my head gently. My eyes were scanning along a pair of blue jeans that led to a bellybutton piercing. It was reflecting against the warm sun. My eyes wandered higher to a tight white tank top. Long brown curls were covering the shoulders. The lips were full and red. The nose as cute as Cleopatra’s and the eyes as brown as a hazelnut.
“Patrick?” the voice reminded me of a better time.
“You?” I replied in shock.
“I didn’t know you were back again. I would have called you,” the voice tried to make me feel guilty.
“I thought it was over and I was trying to move on Loretta,” I explained to her.
“I understand. But it’s nice to see you again,” she replied.
“It’s nice to see you again as well. You look as beautiful as always,” I told her.
“Thank you. You too. Do you have some time for a coffee?” she asked insecurely.
“Sure,” I replied, not thinking I was making the smartest move at the moment.
We walked across the street to a café at the corner. It was a typical French café found in every city. We sat outside opposite each other. It was a weird feeling. I hadn’t seen her in nearly a year, and now she was sitting here like we never parted. She looked cute. Her sunglasses held her hair from falling into her face.
“Are you happy to be back?” she asked.
“Yes. I do miss Africa but it’s good to be back home,” I replied looking intensively into her eyes.
“Stop looking at me. Your green-blue eyes are so beautiful,” she admitted as she started to blush.
“I’m not doing anything. When I die you may have my eyes floating up and down in a glass of formalin,” I joked, making her smile.
“You didn’t lose your humour,” she said.
She breathed heavily out of her lungs. “I want to be honest to you. I missed you,” she confessed to my surprise.
“Wait, you left me twice. Not once, twice!” I reminded her.
“I know. I was scared. I just got out of a long relationship
and you were too nice to be true. I was stupid,” she reached for my hand that was resting next to my cup of espresso.
“You still wear the after shave I gave you for your birthday,” she noticed pressing my hand. “I will never forget your smell,” she smiled as her nose tweaked.
“Are you seeing anyone?” she continued looking at me with her big, deer-like eyes.
I heard that question before.
I was inclined to lie to her and say yes, only for the purpose of protecting myself. But I still felt a lot for her. Maybe because I hadn’t been with anyone else since, or maybe because she truly put a spell on me. No matter what it was, she looked beautiful.
“No, I’m not,” I said, reaching for the sugar.
“Oh OK. Me neither,” she responded, not able to supress her happiness.
She leaned over the table slapping the back of my hand slightly.
“Stop biting your nails. You always do that when you’re nervous,” she smiled still knowing me extremely well.
“Look Loretta. What you did to me was not fair,” I bursted out. “You played with me like a toy and dropped me when it seemed convenient for you,” I accused her.
Her eyes drifted away. She knew I was right and she felt ashamed. She had a very strong personality. She didn’t like to be wrong. Never.
“I would be lying if I said that there hasn’t been a minute that I didn’t think of you. Every night I imagined that you would be next to me. I remember flying to South Africa waking up during the flight being upset that you were not sitting next to me,” I opened my heart to her.
“I am sorry,” she said filling her voice with love. “I am truly sorry for all of this. You deserve better. I am a crazy person,” she started fishing for pity.
“No you are not. You are just being a girl,” I countered, “and kinda crazy, too!” I smiled at her.
“What have you been up to since you came back,” she asked trying to shift the attention to another topic.
“I enrolled in law school and I worked as a DJ at a local radio station,” I told her trying to impress her with what she had lost with me.
“Wow, so you seem very focused on your future,” she realized.
“To be honest Loretta, I want to thank you.”
“Thank me for what?” she raised her eyebrows.
“That you left me,” I explained.
“What do you mean?” she tried to overplay her confusion.
“When you left me, I felt lonely and lost. My life seemed worthless. I had to start focusing on myself again, to try and follow my dreams and do what I wanted to do in life. I didn’t need to explain anything to anyone. If I wanted to stand up and move to China, I could. That feeling brought me back on track,” I explained to her gesticulating with my hands.
“I am happy for you. No seriously, I am,” she calmed herself down. Her hands went through her hair pulling it outwards.
“God, this is so hard,” she admitted.
“It’s only hard if you realize you made mistakes and your about to lose it all,” I lectured.
She looked at me. Her lips slightly apart. She didn’t dare to say another word. She knew again I was right.
The longer I was sitting there with her the more attracted I felt to her again. I started to neglect the anger that I built since she dropped me.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Sure, I could eat,” she replied happily.
We spent the rest of the day together. It was nice. We were talking, joking, and flirting. It was exciting. Like we just met and we were trying to impress each other. It was thrilling, but scary. She made me weak again. If she would have said “Jump!” I would have asked “How high?” After spending several hours with one another, I found myself in a déjà-vu moment. We were walking down the street towards her apartment.
Loretta
was looking up to the stars.
“Do you believe we are alone,” she laughed and added looking at me “It was a beautiful day. Thank you.”
Our feet seemed glued to the ground. We didn’t move, only looked at each other. Seconds passed. We smiled. Our breathing became heavy. Our fingertips touched. I could feel her tension rising. Mine also. She stood up on her toes. Her tilted head came closer to mine. I could feel her breath bouncing off my lips. My hand brushed her hair from her cheek. Fireworks exploded between the two of us as our lips touched. A magical moment that I had craved since I last saw her. Her taste didn’t change. They say people that match like each other’s flavor. It was true.
“I feel I love you Patrick,” she said kissing me again.
Piiiiiiep. Piiiiiiep. Piiiiiiep.
“Mhhh. Ahhh. What time is it?” I asked, still half asleep.
“Shoot. It’s 8.30. I’m late for work,” Loretta replied stressed, as she was jumping out of bed.
“God, I have to hurry,” she motivated herself searching for her underwear.
“Feel like at home. You know my place well enough,” she said as she was closing her jeans.
“No, wait. I’ll leave with you. Still have to work on my term paper. Just give me a sec,” I explained pulling the bedsheets away.
She was in a hurry and nearly forgot her keys as we left her place. “I’ll call you later,” she said as she was heading for the arriving train.
I was on a high again. But with the fear that this high could end at any time.
Chapter 8
I’m too clever for you
2 0 0 8
The rain started to bounce off the window.
"Patrick, please give us a yes or a no," the man urged me to make a decision.
I felt cornered. Everything was starting to go well with Loretta again, but the fear of losing her as I did after I left for Africa was still present. I didn't want to risk that. On the other hand, Loretta did come back to me after all. But would she do it a second time?
My head was turning around the room. Left. Right. Up. Down. Focusing on the man. Then on the woman. I was nibbling on my lip. They must have seen that I was nervous about what I was about to say.
"Thank you for the offer and the trust in my abilities, but I must reject your offer," I answered calmly looking at the man and then at the woman.
I wasn’t ready to risk it all again.
"A pity," the man answered.
The woman puffed air out of her mouth. She didn't look too pleased.
"Why did you apply in the first place then?" she asked surprised.
"At the beginning, I believed working as a flight attendant for a Japanese airline would be different and exciting but, since my initial application, my personal situation has changed. I wouldn't be able to be away for two whole years," I explained.
"We understand," the man took over.
"We wish you all the best for your future Patrick," he said rising from his chair reaching his hand out to me.
Several months passed. I solely concentrated on my studies and on Loretta. It was surreal. I was trying to be good at law school but I knew that I would never become a lawyer. I became tired of only sitting in libraries all day. Even though this freedom was nice and I knew that I should enjoy this phase of my life, I wanted to start working and earn money again, at least on a freelance basis, and not be trapped for two years in Japan. I wasn’t sure if I should try for a radio station. The fear of the debacle at Radio Express was still too fresh and drove me to apply for the flight attendant job in the first place.
I was walking along campus, coming across a blackboard that was pinned full of job offers. Weird that I have never noticed this in the past. Any job you could possibly imagine was advertised here. The only requirement was to be enrolled in school.
I started to flip through the postings:
Looking for a talented multilingual speaker for great opportunity with an international call centre – No that’s not what I’m looking for.
Do you have a car and want to deliver Pizza? Call us – I like to eat Pizza, not deliver it. But if I can deliver it to desperate housewives I’m up for it. But I’m not sure if Dad will give me his Mercedes to deliver Pizza.
We are seeking business school students for project based job at a local consultancy agency – Shoot, I should have listened to John that Law is a stupid idea.
Love dogs? Become a dog walker. Spend time at the fresh air with the creatures you love most – Sounds like the title of a crappy book. If I ever write one I might call it the Eternal Intern. That’s how I feel right now.
Are you creative? – Yes! Are you international? – Yes, I am!
Are you looking for a new challenge and are tired of your life the way it is now? – Definitely! Start at the mail processing centre as a mail sorter and deal with international letters. Be creative in how you organize your workflow. - They know how to create interest.
If you’re into music you should work for us. Looking for a part time board operator. – I like music and I have experience working the board. Sounds like a chance.
Beeeep, Beeeep.
Beeeep, Beeeep.
“Kowalski records. How may I help you?” a friendly female voice answered the phone.
“Hi, I am calling regarding the board operator position.”
“Sure, just hold for one minute please,” she replied.
Pop music was piercing through the phone. I liked their waiting loop.
“Hello, this is Jeff speaking,” the voice interrupted the music.
“Hello, my name is Patrick Wright. I am calling regarding the board operator position,” I introduced myself.
“Great. The job is still open. What is your experience?” he asked straightforwardly, not losing any time.
“I worked as a DJ for several radio stations,” I replied as fast as he asked.
“That sounds good. Why don’t you come in later today and we can talk in person?” he asked, “Let’s say at around four. Would that work for you?” he continued.
“Four? That’s two hours from now. Yeah, that should work,” I replied.
“Great. Bring your resume and I’ll be expecting you at four at the studio on Howard St. 532. See you then,” he told me.
“Great, thanks!”
I rushed home to print my resume and put on some decent clothes. I could have hardly gone in flip flops and shorts to the interview. As I was leaving the campus to get my train I paused for a second. Am I so desperate that I am running for an interview not knowing how much the pay is and the hours? - Yes I am.
I arrived five minutes earlier than arranged. It was a random warehouse near the harbour. A woman was sitting at the front desk. There were framed golden and silver records hanging on the walls. This must be a successful producer.
“Hi, my name is Patrick Wright. I have an appointment with Mr. Kowalski,” I introduced myself to the lady behind the white marble table.
“Oh, yes I remember. We talked briefly on the phone earlier on. Follow me please.” She stood up and walked me down a long hallway.
I was surprised that she didn’t have me wait or call Kowalski to inform him I was there.
She stopped at an open door at the end of the hallway, stood at the entrance, and asked me to take a seat.
“The Boss will be with you in a minute,” she said closing the door behind her.
The Boss? Huh, maybe Bruce Springsteen will walk through the door. The walls were full of more framed records and CD’s. Even pictures of famous international artists were smiling beside a short red headed guy. That must be the Boss. It seems he knew them all. Madonna, AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Britney Spears, David Hasselhoff. David Hasselhoff?
“Do you like my collection?,” a voice from behind asked me, giving me a fright.
“Oh hi, yes. Very impressive,” I responded turning away from the wall towards a short red-headed man.
“I’m Jeff, take a seat please,” he introduced himself, pointing with h
is hand at the leather couch.
“Did you find us easily?” he asked taking a seat behind his massive marble desk.
“Yes, I was born and raised in the city, so I know my way around,” I explained, trying to sit professionally on the couch.
“Don’t worry, everybody slides around on that bloody couch. I will never trust Italian designer leather again. Too slippery,” he remarked as he noticed me holding on to the arm rest.
“I have my resume if you’d like to look at it,” I offered putting my hand into my bag.
“No please. I want to get to know the person, not the paper,” he explained shaking his hands in front his chest.
Why have me print the resume then?
“Oh, OK,” I answered surprised.
“You mentioned you worked for the radio as a DJ,” he started the interview.
I told him all about my time in Africa and Radio Express.
“I like what I hear. Let me tell you about us. We are looking for someone who can come in in the evenings for three hours and record the music of new artists that are sent to us from our business partners in the system. It is not rocket science but you have the chance to make great contacts within the business,” he explained, “I do not pay but as I said you have the chance to get your name out there and maybe even discover your own talents and produce them eventually,” he continued smiling at me, knowing that his offer was a slap in my face.
“No money?” I asked, hoping that I misunderstood him.
“Yes, I am sorry,” he said politely.
Looking at the marble desks and all the golden records he has I do not believe that he is not able to pay.
“I understand and I’m OK with it. When can I start?” I answered with a smile.
Maybe I won’t get money from you but I will get something out of this. I’m too clever for you.
My first day at Kowalski Records was just one day after the interview.
I started my shift at seven p.m. On my first day a board operator was going to show me everything and get me acquainted with the board and the tasks.