Mr. Murphy's Interview Day: Part 1 of 2. (Thursday Writing Essentials)

It was Thursday already as Mr. Murphy stood looking at the coffee pot in his kitchen. He had turned it on, but zip was the perking sound. He jiggled the switch and waiting for something to happen, some sign of percolating life. 'Of all days,' he thought as he stomped around in little circles, but at that time he was quite sane. The stove didn't work. Some dolt using a backhoe had broken the gas line in somebody's back yard yesterday. Mr. Murphy clearly remembered the explosion and the indigestion he had.

‘Well, I guess I'll just have a glass of juice,' Mr. Murphy said aloud, maybe to a character in the Norman Rockwell calendar that again had fallen off the wall and now was on the floor at his feet. He picked up the calendar and for a few precious seconds looked at the tranquility in the painted scene. Of course there was only a carton of orange juice that looked rather bad with some odd colored liquid seemingly alive and oozing on the pouring spout. He slammed the door shut and went to take a shower. 'C'mon give me some damn hot water,' he said impatiently. Just cold water flowed. The gas line had been cut.

Mr. Murphy had an interview for the job he always wanted, a Postman. He had always liked the uniform and deep in his heart he had always wanted to tear gas a dog trying to bite his leg and ruin a perfectly good pair of pants. He had missed his last interview because a blizzard made it impossible to drive. The interviewee had called him asking why he was late and also asking a favor of him to buy a lottery ticket on his way. When Mr. Murphy said he could not come, there was a pregnant women sliding on the sidewalk outside in front of his house. 'Should I run and save her,' he thought. He was a bit fearful she might file a maternity suit against him, if he touched her, and felt relief to see her husband come and keep her upright on her ice skates. 

Mr. Murphy had not heard a word being said to him on the phone. The next thing he heard was 'Next Thursday at 9 a.m. Bring a latte and no excuses this time.' And then the man continued, ‘Do you have what is takes to be a Postman and make a difference blizzard or sunshine?' Mr. Murphy quickly stood, saluted and said, ‘Yes Sir.'  Mr. Murphy, in sort of a frenzy, shouted, 'Go Postal.' There was a pregnant pause and then Mr. Murphy heard, ‘That's the spirit, by jove. Good bye.'

After a very cold shower and shave, Mr. Murphy dressed, then was on his way to his dream job. He almost forgot to get the latte and pulled into a shop. He thought it strange everyone had their hands up, but just reasoned it was some crazy teenage fad. He walked to the counter and after a few attempts, got the attention of the waitress. He wondered why she was giving the guy so much change at the cash register and thought, 'Wow, this place must get a lot of business.' The man in front of the register gruffly said, 'Why don't you leave the lady alone.' Mr. Murphy said, 'I just wanted a latte,' and then started talking about the interview and his dream of becoming a Postman.' The man looked intently at Mr. Murphy and then said to the waitress, 'Hey Sis, get this man a latte. He has an interesting story.'