So much has happened it’s hard to decide where to begin. So much is going on. And the funny thing is, well, that’s the sad part. The sad part is, well, that’s the funny thing. The river is calm today and with the weather being what it is, there are quite a few people out and about.

Different languages fill the air for a moment only to be replaced by a metal garbage can hitting a dumpster. A baby cries as a car in need of a muffler rumbles by, oh so slowly. A helicopter makes it way up to a heliport. Children’s feet scuff the pavement.

There are so many currents in the river making it dangerous to swim. Plus it’s also a little on the cold side. Then there is the river traffic. On nice days when it’s warmer than it is now, there are usually dozens of small craft on the murky waters.

A knife, a fork / a bottle, and a cork / that’s the way we say New York / Right on

It’s good to be out of the apartment and it’s certainly good to see you again. You look incredible. A definite improvement over the last time we saw each other. But that’s all water under the bridge, and that water is this river.

A puff of black smoke appears over the city. The dingy gray aura of air is thinner today. All that cold clean air from the north I suppose. I’m trying to remember why I came here, to be here at this moment. What compelled me to be here?

I can hear a conversation behind me, but it’s in another language, one that I don’t understand. The light for today is fading in the west, cooling everything and more as evening approaches.

The supermarket was packed with the usual Saturday animals. All young, buying cases of Corona in anticipation of a raucous evening. An employee shopping on her day off had the cashier very exasperated to the point where the cashier was saying ‘What are you? Stupid?’ Then she’d look at me as if to agree with her.

I showed indifference. I was in no rush and found the cashier’s meltdown amusing. She was rude to me a few weeks before. She probably needs a vacation or a new vocation.

And I continue on my search for a new venue for employment. On Thursday, I had an interview with a staffing agency which meant, meet Mrs. A, who will introduce me to Mrs. B and then Mrs. C.

They all agreed that I looked Polished. Of course having a copy of Nowy Dziennik under my arm probably helped. And Mrs. A liked my speaking voice, which was a first. I thought she was going to offer me voice over work, but it was more to hear what I sounded like over the phone.

I try to remain upbeat in my outlook. The old me that thought I was the perfect person and most likely the only one that saw the ad is fading fast and reality sets in. These staffing agencies post an ad and cast a net, catching fish like me, flipping and flopping.

I ought to know. I used to work at an agency. Send in a resume for one job and they’ll supposedly sign you up and look out for jobs. And with the economy being shit, there’s a lot of competition. I have the luxury of having a job while I search. I’ve been on the other side, having no job and fired up with desperation.

Sometimes I get a bit cheeky. When explaining what was happening at work to Mrs A. I mentioned that the company was partnered with the National Bank of Wishful Thinking and they were taking over. I told here that the writing was on the wall and it was in French. She laughed.

One time about a dozen years ago, I tried to get a job on Hudson Street in Hoboken. It was in a brownstone next to St. Peter and Paul School. It was a small company in one of the apartment/offices. I was buzzed in and sat next to my interviewer. She was on a personal call and I sat there looking straight ahead. Sitting next to her desk I couldn’t help but hear her call.

“I can’t believe I forgot Dad’s birthday. I mean, I never forget. What am I going to do?” and so on. After a few minutes of that she got off the phone, and started interviewing me. The usual questions, what did you do here, what did you do there. She then asked my, “Why should we hire you?” Not skipping a beat, I said I’d make sure she’d never forget her father’s birthday again.

I didn’t get the job. She must’ve really hated her father.