It was Doug's turn to call Godot, whom, especially when nobody was waiting for him, wasn't really called Godot anyway. It was already half past one and for reasons known only to himself, Doug was not in the mood to call. He'd had an interview earlier in the day for an account manager position at a large software consultancy. It was okay, the usual HR chit chat and intro. The office was very modern, airy, impersonal. Sterile like the starship Enterprise, and quiet. Not many people went -they didn't need to anymore- but interviews were better in person, the HR girl, Yolanda, had told him.
She had short, sleek dark hair, cut into a bob, and enormous breasts encased in a white button-up shirt. The buttons struggled heroically to keep from bursting each time she sat back into her chair. They had to be G cups and she had to know what she was doing, Doug thought. It was, indeed, a test that Yolanda enjoyed doling out to candidates, to see who had the self control to maintain eye-contact instead of allowing their eyes to wander. She found it useful for identifying and discarding the creeps, and she was also proud that, in this manner, she could do something to alleviate the plight of women in an always patriarchal corporate culture.
Doug's intuition proved correct and he passed her test. He didn't see why he wouldn't get a second interview with the hiring manager. The job wasn't very different than what he did before and, during the course of the conversation with Yolanda, he'd managed to coax out some intel about his potential new team: they were all new to the company and lacked a set structure and processes, "for now", which meant that there was room for growth but also plenty of headaches along the way.
On his way back home, a crow, or a raven - he could never tell the difference - dropped from the sky onto the roadway in the adjacent lane. He'd just made a right turn was driving slow enough to brake for the confused looking bird as it picked itself up and, with a wing hanging too low for its body, hobbled across the road onto the sidewalk. Doug had had the impression that its shiny black eye was fixed on his when it passed in front of his car, while he himself looked back in astonishment. He drove on and lost sight of it in the rearview, but he'd been thinking of the bird ever since. He thought he should have stopped and tried to take it to a vet or at least to check it didn't get back on the road. Though it was exactly that which fascinated him. The bird fell from God only knew how high and had the presence of mind to get up and quickly make its way off the road and onto the sidewalk. Even the manner it passed the front of the car and looked over, as if to make sure Doug acknowledged that it was there and that he would let it cross. He felt ridiculous about it. How could he explain it to Godot? "You had to be there." That kind of thing, which is nothing short of an acknowledgement that one's personal experience is greatly diminished, if not inconsequential, in the eyes of those who didn't live it. Only Doug and the crow knew what happened. The other cars in the vicinity were at some distance and might have missed the whole thing. But Doug knew. He just didn't know what to make of it, though it made him think of Charlie, too.
She had short, sleek dark hair, cut into a bob, and enormous breasts encased in a white button-up shirt. The buttons struggled heroically to keep from bursting each time she sat back into her chair. They had to be G cups and she had to know what she was doing, Doug thought. It was, indeed, a test that Yolanda enjoyed doling out to candidates, to see who had the self control to maintain eye-contact instead of allowing their eyes to wander. She found it useful for identifying and discarding the creeps, and she was also proud that, in this manner, she could do something to alleviate the plight of women in an always patriarchal corporate culture.
Doug's intuition proved correct and he passed her test. He didn't see why he wouldn't get a second interview with the hiring manager. The job wasn't very different than what he did before and, during the course of the conversation with Yolanda, he'd managed to coax out some intel about his potential new team: they were all new to the company and lacked a set structure and processes, "for now", which meant that there was room for growth but also plenty of headaches along the way.
On his way back home, a crow, or a raven - he could never tell the difference - dropped from the sky onto the roadway in the adjacent lane. He'd just made a right turn was driving slow enough to brake for the confused looking bird as it picked itself up and, with a wing hanging too low for its body, hobbled across the road onto the sidewalk. Doug had had the impression that its shiny black eye was fixed on his when it passed in front of his car, while he himself looked back in astonishment. He drove on and lost sight of it in the rearview, but he'd been thinking of the bird ever since. He thought he should have stopped and tried to take it to a vet or at least to check it didn't get back on the road. Though it was exactly that which fascinated him. The bird fell from God only knew how high and had the presence of mind to get up and quickly make its way off the road and onto the sidewalk. Even the manner it passed the front of the car and looked over, as if to make sure Doug acknowledged that it was there and that he would let it cross. He felt ridiculous about it. How could he explain it to Godot? "You had to be there." That kind of thing, which is nothing short of an acknowledgement that one's personal experience is greatly diminished, if not inconsequential, in the eyes of those who didn't live it. Only Doug and the crow knew what happened. The other cars in the vicinity were at some distance and might have missed the whole thing. But Doug knew. He just didn't know what to make of it, though it made him think of Charlie, too.
