So You Call Yourself a Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

I’d been on too many job interviews with too many racist corporate motherfuckers the past three months not to know that look. So, unless I could pull a rabbit out of my hat and convince him that I was one of those good, helpful niggers like James, my chance of finally getting a job were slim to none.
    â€œWell, Mr. Harrison, I must admit you have a very impressive resume. A bachelor’s in computer science from Virginia State University, three years IT with Sherman, and before that, ten years with Henry Schein. James was right when he said you were a very smart man.”
    â€œThanks.” I sat up in my seat. I was feeling a little more comfortable. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad after all, I thought, until he shot me an annoyed, cross-eyed look that seemed to say, When I need your opinion, I’ll ask for it .
    â€œMr. Harrison, there is something I don’t understand, though.” He looked down at my resume and frowned. I hated this part; this was where he asked me why I hadn’t been working the past three months, then I decided whether to tell the truth or to lie. “Why are you applying for a job as a UPS driver? You don’t have any experience as a truck driver. You’ve never even worked in the delivery field.” He sat back in his chair, staring at me with his beady eyes. I felt like I was shrinking before him, and the more I tried to sit up, the smaller I became. I wasn’t expecting this question because James made it seem like the job was in the bag.
    â€œI understand that I don’t have any experience, but I do have the proper license and I’m very motivated. I’m extremely motivated.”
    â€œI’m sure you are, but if you were me, would you hire a guy with a computer background to drive a truck?”
    Damn, the redneck had me on that one. He had used reverse psychology and it had worked. I tried to remain confident, but at that point I knew the end was near.
    â€œAll I can tell you, Mr. Weinstein, is that I wanna work for UPS, and I’m sure I can be a damn good driver.” I felt like a slave begging the massa to take me out of the field and put me in the house.
    â€œI believe you could be a good driver, but for how long? How long would you be happy driving a truck, Mr. Harrison? Six months, a year tops.” He shook his head. “No, Mr. Harrison, you’re not a truck driver.”
    â€œMr. Weinstein, please, you don’t understand. I really need this job.”
    He glanced at my resume one last time, then slid it into a folder, sighing as if he was sorry. But that redneck motherfucker wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t sorry at all. He’d achieved his goal. He didn’t want me to have this job in the first place. Unfortunately, my stupid ass listened to James and my desperation to find a job, instead of my intuition and my wife, who, although supportive in the end, wanted me to keep my ass in Seattle. I was tempted to cuss this redneck’s fat ass out before I left, but I wasn’t sure how that would affect James. So instead, I stood up and said, “Thank you for your time,” as if he’d done me a favor.
    â€œSit down, Mr. Harrison,” he ordered, and the only thing that went through my mind was, No he didn’t! At that point, I’m sure he could see the contempt on my face, so he rephrased his demand. “Mr. Harrison, would you please sit down?”
    I took a deep breath and did like he asked. Why, I don’t know. Slave mentality, I guess.
    â€œMr. Harrison, I basically promised James I’d give you a job as a driver, but after looking at your resume, I just can’t do it.”
    That motherfucker had the nerve to smile. I pushed myself out of my chair. He’d already made it clear he wasn’t going to hire me. I wasn’t about to let him ridicule me further. “I think you made that pretty clear the first time.”
    â€œMr. Harrison, I have one last thing to