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| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Family >> ID #1435583 |   |
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This item was written for the "15 for 15 Contest --- Starts June 6"
 contest where participants are given a photograph and can write about it for 15 minutes onlyToday's picture showed a homeless man bundled up, sitting in a box, and drinking from a styrofoam cup. To see the picture, visit the contest forum linked above. Look for "Past Image Prompts" beneath the current prompt photo, and click on "June 5" - Box. In this story, written as dialogue only, a successful financial journalist interviews a potential author he would like to write his memoir. “That picture there? Oh, that’s a picture of me at one of the lowest points in my life; I guess that’s obvious. Sometimes I don’t remember how I even got to that point; other times I can’t remember anything but living on the streets. A few years before this, I was a middle-aged, mid-level income, white collar, office worker with a wife, three kids, a house in the suburbs, two cars in reasonably good shape, a dog, a cat, three fish, a guinea pig, and a pension.” “So what happened?” “ENRON happened— when the company shut down and the pension funds were drained, countless lives were drained, too. I walked for miles searching for another job; there were holes in my shoes to prove it. Those shoes are long since gone…just like my family and everything else I had. My wife couldn’t take the stress. She divorced me and took the house and cars before we lost them completely. She took the kids, and the pets, too. I’m sure it was better for all of them that way. I certainly couldn’t do anything for them.” “How did you survive?” “I walked a lot. I bummed rides all the way from Texas to Chicago, Illinois, thinking I could make a new life here where no one knew me, but I found myself just as jobless and just as broke. I learned a lot on the streets, though. For instance, cardboard boxes make good insulation, and they help block the wind. That’s why I’m sitting in the box here. See that trench coat over my legs?” “Yes.” “I wore that coat to work every day, but on the streets it was nothing more than a reminder of where I’d come from. It was depressing to look at it every day and remember the life I’d had before. I thought of getting rid of it, but I hung on to it for warmth. One day, I wore the trench coat instead of my heavy winter jacket. As I walked down the street, a piece of paper blew into my hands. It was the help wanted section from the Chicago Tribune. Only one ad was circled: ‘Columnist position: stocks and/or financial background and writing skills required.’ I looked at the rest of the ads, but this one stuck out in my mind.” “Why’s that?” “I had experience with the stock market. I’d gone to college for accounting, market analysis, and financial planning courses. English courses were required and I fancied myself a pretty good writer. I decided I’d give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen? They’d say now and I’d be on the streets? Ha, ha. I was already homeless and on the streets so I had nothing to lose.” “You just went in off the streets and applied?” “No. I went to the library first. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of going to the library before. Anyone can go in and spend all day browsing the stacks and reading inside where it’s nice and warm. Have you been to the library in downtown Chicago? It’s really something to experience! Sorry. I’m getting off track here. “I went to the library and read all of the latest financial journals and poured over the stock reports. I also asked to use the public-access computers. Online, I registered an email account and built a resume, which I sent to myself. Back outside, I stopped a priest and asked if he could direct me to a shelter where I could get a hot cup of coffee, a shower, and a shave. I found the place and cleaned myself up before I called the number in the ad and arranged my interview.” “What happened when you got there?” “I filled out all of the paperwork the secretary gave me and waited my turn, just like the other applicants. I told the secretary I had forgotten my resume but could access it online. She kindly allowed me to print it at her workstation after the last applicant had gone in for his interview.” “You got the job?” “Yes. My interview went well. I was asked to submit a sample of my writing, so I wrote a brief column based on some of the most recent data I’d read at the library and I was hired on the spot.” “You’ve been here ever since?” “That’s right. I’ve been here ever since. It’s hard to imagine going from a cardboard box to a corner office with a great view of the city. I lived in my office the first few months, using my pay checks to build a wardrobe of suitable work clothes. I had the trench coat cleaned; while I was on the streets it reminded me of all I'd lost. Today I keep it hanging on the coat rack over there in the corner to remind me where I came from.” “Is that why you have this picture on your wall?” “Yes. Whenever I look at that picture I remember my struggles. It reminds me not to treat others in that position heartlessly because you never know where they’ve come from or what circumstances brought them to that level. "That’s actually why I asked you here today. I would like for you to author my memoir. I’m prepared to pay you handsomely for your work, but I would like for the majority of the proceeds to go toward programs aimed at helping the homeless learn new skills and obtain jobs.” “That’s very noble of you. It sounds like an interesting proposal.” “Excellent. I’m so glad you are interested. Is your schedule open for a lunch meeting today?” 15 miuntes ...
© Copyright 2008 justme (UN: debwrites at Writing.Com).
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