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

of people in that group. They call themselves the refugees. They’re a super group.”
    Charlie again glanced at his watch and said nothing.
    Ned’s smile grew. His cheerfulness was insincere, manufactured, and worst of all patronizing, Charlie thought. Charlie wanted to tell him how much money he used to make, tell him how many people he used to manage, and wipe that smile off his face.
    “Would you like to meet them now?” Ned asked. “The refugees? Some of them are here. I know Bradley is in. Bradley Smith. He’s a nice man. Very big in the marketing community. Very well connected.”
    Charlie ignored the invitation to meet Very Well Connected (though he had never heard of him) Bradley Smith. “Where do I work? Where’s my office?” he asked.
    Ned sat up rather officiously in his chair. “We assign you an office every morning when you come in.”
    “Well, is it a private office?”
    “Yes. If you get in early enough, I mean.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, you have to get in early enough sometimes to obtain a private office.”
    “What do you mean? What happens if I don’t come in early? Do I stand up all day?”
    “Ha! Very funny. No, no. You get a cubicle in the back, that’s all.”
    “A what? A cubicle?” He reacted as if Ned had just told him he was to spend his day in the men’s room of a Greyhound station. It had been more than twenty years since Charlie had sat in a cubicle. He didn’t even like walking past them.
    “Yes. We have cubes in the back,” Ned said.
    “Well, that’s unacceptable.”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “Unacceptable. I’m not sitting in a cubicle.”
    “Then you should make sure to get in early.”
    Charlie was about to respond, but decided to drop it. He was usually at work by five A.M. , so it was a moot point. He glanced at his watch. “What else do we have to go over? What else?”
    Ned straightened some papers. “Well, other than first-come, first-served on the offices, we don’t have many ground rules, but we do have a few. We ask that you attend the networking meetings. We also ask that you are self-sufficient with office equipment.”
    “What do you mean? Self-sufficient? What does that mean?”
    “We won’t help you with photocopying, collating, e-mailing, formatting things on your computer. This is intentional.”
    “Why? What do you mean, intentional?”
    “We want you to be self-sufficient. We feel it’s important for our clients to learn to take care of themselves in office settings. Most of our executives are accustomed to having assistants, secretaries, and others do all the work for them. Part of our transitional training involves learning to help yourself. We will not enable you. We had one client here not too long ago, a chief marketing officer of a huge corporation, who didn’t even know how to use the mouse on his computer. He put it on the floor and stepped on it. He thought it was some kind of pump.”
    “I know how to use a computer,” Charlie said. “Well, at least a BlackBerry.”
    “We don’t issue BlackBerrys here. Just a regular computer.”
    “Is it a laptop?”
    “No. It’s a standard Mac. A little dated, I’m afraid, but still very usable. You can do Excel and Photoshop, PowerPoint, desktop publishing, and Mail Merge on it. Programs you might need.”
    “Oh, good,” Charlie said. He had no clue how to use any of those programs. That had been Georgia’s domain.
    “Well,” Ned said. “We should get started today. We have some basic paperwork we need to go over.”
    Charlie grimaced. The office had absolutely no ventilation and was getting altogether too warm. “I really have to be going.”
    Ned looked hurt. “But you just got here.”
    “I know, but I have an appointment.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, then, I guess I’ll just give you these.” Ned shuffled through some papers and handed Charlie a bulky brown envelope. “There’s some background information in here as well as our