Page 3 of Old-Fashioned
I scrolled down to the first of the replies, clicked open, and read.
‘Thank you for your interest in our company, unfortunately, at this time, you are overqualified for the position you have applied for. Please feel free to check back with us periodically to see if something else is available.’ Well, at least they were courteous compared to the other replies I’ve gotten.
Time to read the next email, I would have held my breath for a second interview offer, but then I would have died of asphyxiation.
‘Thank you for your interest, but we will not be hiring you. Please do not reapply for another position in our company.’
Well then.
Next one.
Now this one was my absolute personal favorite. “Maybe if you changed your last name, we would hire you. Or perhaps, go back to the day you were pulled out of your mother's womb, rewind back nine months, and change the semen that helped create you. Then we just might hire you. No, not even then. Have a very nice day.”
Thanks, dear old sperm donor. Had you not been a sick and twisted son of a bitch you wouldn’t be facing twenty-five to life for child pornography, sex trafficking, and a slew of other charges I didn’t care about.
Shaking my head, I refused to let the tears fall, a child should never pay for the actions his or her parents committed.
It wasn’t his or her fault.
Just as I stepped out of the library my phone rang in my back pocket.
Pulling it out, seeing a number I didn’t recognize, I debated on answering it, but since I was desperately looking for another job where my ass wasn’t grabbed, and my tits weren’t reached for, I answered it.
“Hello?” I asked timidly.
“Yes, is this Ms. Vergano?” Protecting yourself one oh one in the protection manual. Which was never meant admitting who you are. But alas, I was desperate.
Taking in a deep breath, I answered, “This is. May I ask who this is?”
A kind voice came over the line, “Yes, my name is Mr. Anderson, I am calling on behalf of Mrs. Goldstein.”
I shook my head at that name, and then sighed, definitely not a call back for a better job, “I believe you have the wrong number. I don’t know a Mrs. Goldstein.”
I heard him smile through the phone, “Ah, yes, she told me that you would know her as Miss Maggie.”
I nodded at that, and felt my heart in my throat, “Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay.”
I heard the sympathy in his voice, “I’m sorry to inform you that Mrs. Goldstein has passed away.”
I felt the air around me shift, and if I didn’t have a wall at my back, I would’ve fallen flat on my behind. “What happened? I just took her to her cancer treatment last week.”
“Ms. Vergano, this is a conversation we need to have in person. When can you come in?”
I felt tears starting to form, which was why I choked out, “That depends. Just who exactly are you?”
He chuckled, “As I said, my name is Mr. Anderson. But I am Gregory Anderson, and I am the owner of Anderson Law.”
I took in a deep breath and asked, “Where is your office located?”
Once I had the location and knew where it was, I answered him, “I’m about twenty minutes away.”
“That will be fine. Please be careful. When you arrive just give them your name and they will send you right on up.”
After we hung up, I knew I should have told him I would be there in thirty minutes. Because I stood there for ten minutes, trying to get myself under control.
I couldn't believe she was gone.
The only person in my life that has ever given a damn about me.