The Joke’s On Me

I can't believe it! I nailed the interview. The guy had no more questions for me after only 15 minutes. I made him laugh. I made him agree with me. My resumé, he said, was "sterling." And there was only one other candidate in the waiting room with me when I was called in. Slim pickings. How hard was it to beat out only one other guy? And look at him! He looked like a homeless guy. Smelled of alcohol. Tertiary smoke exposure stinking up the whole room. Shiny clothes that could stand up by themselves.

When I left my interview, exchanging with the other guy, I didn't leave. I re-sat. I wanted to see how long it'd take before the guy was thrown out on his ass. I wanted to hear the yelling that was certainly forthcoming.

Ten minutes went by. Twenty. An hour. I heard the man--the deciding man--laughing uproariously. Could this be happening? Was this guy his son or another relative?

I heard chairs shuffling and then the door opened. The "man," the deciding man, had one hand on the doorknob of the door he was opening and the other in a firm handshake with they guy.

"Then, Monday?" the man, the goddamn deciding man, asked, to confirm.

"I'm looking forward to it," the disheveled, stinky, dirty miscreant said through what few teeth he still had in his head.

The man, the fucking deciding man, returned to his office, closing the door behind him. Mr. Homeless walked over to me and held out both his palms, an announcement of expectations realized. Like, what'd you expect?

"Congratulations," I offered tersely and got the hell out of there.

At the bus stop, I melted into the bench, sorting out my loser life. Would I ever get a decent job. I gave up the one I had because I knew I could do better. Could I? Ever?

That's when he--the same guy--plopped down on the bench with me.

"Sorry for your loss," he offered.

"Who died?" I asked sarcastically.

"You, a little bit, don't you think?"

"Great. I have a philosopher here. Harvard?"

"No. Y'know, school of hard knocks."

"I know that school," I scoffed. "I plan to pledge a fraternity there."

"Need something to lighten the mood?" he asked.

"Not unless you're declining that job. I'd be happy to take your place as next in line."

"No chance. But here's a little joke..."

Murder was still illegal, so I just said, "I'm listening."

He pulled out a cracked mirror from his soiled coat's pocket and held in front of my face.

"That's me," I said, waving away his mirror.

"That's the joke. You're the joke. But it's a joke you'll never get." He paused, then said, "You can start laughing any time."

So, I did. Why? Why did I laugh? It was funny, that's why. Very funny. I was a big joke. I just had never gotten to the punchline yet.

"Thanks for the giggle," I said, but I had tears in my eyes.

"Know what? I'm gonna by you a drink. You could use one." He rose and offered his hand to help me up.

"Sure can," I said. "Why not," I said in resignation.

We both stood up and began to walk across the street toward the bar on the corner there.

A homeless guy and an imposter walk into a bar...