Free The Pursuit of Other Interests: A Novel by Jim Kokoris Page A

was on his desk and scanned its contents. “They have many documented issues. The lack of business, that issue about everyone being fat, that obscene book club, that strange commercial with that rodent.”
    “Hey, for your information, that hamster tested great in the focus groups, okay? You know the Geico Gecko, that little green thing? We were trying to do the same thing. People love little creatures like that. Paula Abdul was the problem, okay? I don’t know how the hell she ended up in the thing. It wasn’t the talking hamster. The talking hamster was fine, believe me. He looked great with that little cowboy hat on and those boots.”
    “I’m just reporting what they have documented.”
    “Yeah, well, listen, I don’t care what they say, I’m going to sue for a better package. What they gave me was ridiculous. Ridiculous.”
    “Also, there is that photo of you sleeping. At your desk,” Ned said.
    “Listen, he had no right to take that picture! No right at all! That’s an invasion of my privacy, my civil liberties.”
    “But you were sleeping on the job. Literally.”
    “So what? I basically blacked out. Collapsed. I worked constantly.”
    “Well,” Ned sighed.
    Ned and Charlie were facing each other in an airless office at Rogers & Newman, a blank room, lifeless with the exception of a crooked potted tree in the corner, a wall calendar, and a clichéd inspirational poster showing a wizened old man ( WHEN GOING GETS TOUGH, THE TOUGH GET GOING ) running up a wooded hill at twilight. It was Friday, two days after Charlie had bottomed out at the Four Seasons. Outside, in the functioning real world, people were working, checking e-mail, attending meetings, heading to airports, making lunch plans. Charlie, however, was cloistered inside an interrogation room, the stench of failure everywhere.
    While Ned attempted to once again review all the resources Rogers & Newman offered, Charlie looked at his watch. It was close to eleven o’clock and, other than attending a special birthday bash for Augie, the panda bear at the Brookfield Zoo (he had spent a good part of the day before watching the staff hang decorations in preparation for it), his schedule was fairly clear for the next thirty to forty years. Still, he wanted this meeting to be brief. He was ashamed to be in a transition office, ashamed to be sitting with a patronizing Hush Puppy–wearing man, talking about his career and his life.
    He was also annoyed that Ned Meyers was working with him. Earlier, out in the hall, he had briefly met a couple of sharp transition consultants, Frank and Tom, two outgoing young men nattily dressed in appropriate business-casual Brooks Brothers attire. Whoever determined the assignments had made a mistake, Charlie thought. Either Frank or Tom, with their firm handshakes and excellent eye contact, should have been assigned to him.
    He studied Ned again and, when he noticed a spot on his tie, said, “I have another appointment, so we’re going to have to make this quick. I just stopped in because I wanted to know my rights.”
    “Rights?” Ned smiled. His long, skinny hands were folded on top of the now-closed manila folder, the indictment against Charlie.
    “I mean, what I can do here,” he said. “Your resources.”
    Ned cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve been trying to do just that. You have access to all of our office equipment: fax, phone, computer, e-mail. We can provide cell phones if you have to go out of town. We’re open from seven-thirty A.M. to seven P.M. , six days a week. Everything we do here is designed to get you out there again.”
    “Out where?”
    “Out there in the workforce, of course. With a job.” Ned smiled again. “We also have a daily networking meeting grouped by industry where we all get together and share information and progress reports. You, of course, will be part of the marketing group including advertising, public relations, sales promotion people. We currently have a super group