The Eternal Intern (Contemporary Romantic Comedy) (10 page)

Chapter 6

My foot in the door

I
started to get used to being home again. I was sending out several applications to radio stations, magazines, and TV stations. Additionally, I enrolled in law school. I never had a strong passion for law but I truly believed that it was a smart idea. As the semester started I got excited about living the life of a student. I was only 20 and still had so much time to accomplish my goals. But if law was one of them, I wasn’t sure.

Eventually, I got an invitation to interview for a local radio station in my city. Radio Express. They were fairly new and were looking for DJ's. The day of the interview arrived and I was very nervous about it. After Africa this was for me the next step in my career. I took the train to the interview. For one and a half hours I was sitting in that train reading my short resume over and over again. I was imagining questions they could ask me and tried to come up with the perfect answer. I wanted to impress them big time. My older brother always said to me, if you make an impression make it a lasting one. One that they won't forget that soon. That is what I wanted to give them at the interview. I saw this interview as my foot in the door.

Finally, I arrived at this small village in the middle of nowhere. Besides the train station there was a tiny bakery and some houses. I went along the long road that led through the village. I stopped in front of an old baroque church and crossed myself. I never did this in the past before. But I really wanted the radio DJ gig. And being a son of an Irish mother it's hard to pass a church without having any sort of spiritual feelings.

I kept on walking down the road for the next few minutes as I finally arrived at my destination. Williams St. No. 5.
The address of Radio Express
. It didn't really look like a typical building a radio station would occupy. It was a regular residential house. Two stories high with a dark wooden balcony. Just as I grabbed the knob of the gate to get to the main door a man in his forties arrived on his bicycle. He was about my height. I would say 5 foot 9. His hair was blown by the wind in every possible direction. He stepped off the bike, passed me and leaned his bicycle against the house wall next to the main door. He had a heavy brown leather bag hanging down the rear of the bike. He looked like a typical school teacher. He rang the doorbell and waited. I was confused. I stood there for a while to see what would happen.

An older lady opened the door and let him in. After he went inside I waited another 2 minutes and then as well approached the main door and rang the same doorbell. Standing there and waiting I was thinking about the man.
Is he an employee or maybe a resident of the house?

The door opened and in front of me was again the very same man.

“Hi, I am Patrick. I am here for the interview,” I introduced myself.

“Hi Patrick, we were expecting you. I’m Steven. Please, come on in
,” the man replied with a smile.

He stepped aside and lifted his arm into the hallway as a gesture to invite me in.

“Go straight ahead and at the end take a right,” he guided me.

I was in a regular house
! I walked along the short corridor passing a bedroom and a kitchen. The wall was full of children’s pictures. The shades were blocking the sunlight. I didn't feel that comfortable with the situation.
This should be a radio station?
At the end of the corridor there was a room on the right. A regular living room. A little wooden table in the middle surrounded by two dark grey couches facing each other. A man was sitting on the couch. He didn't notice that I stepped inside. He was glaring at the wall straight in front of him. Suddenly Steven stood behind me saying “Tom, this is Patrick”.

Tom turned his head little by little in our direction stood up and walked extremely slow towards me. He moved exactly like a mixture of the hunchback of Notre Dame and Gollum from the movie “Lord of the Rings”. Very creepy.

“Hello Patrick. I'm Tom,” he introduced himself.

As he was walking towards me, I noticed that he was feeling the objects that were standing around us. It seemed that he was touching the couch and the table so he wouldn’t accidently bump into them. As he stood in front of me I offered him my hand. He looked down at it, lifted his hand to shake mine but somehow missed my hand. He pushed his hand to the right, to the left, below mine or above it but he always missed. I took the initiative and grabbed his hand as it was again missing mine.
This man was absolutely blind
. His glasses reminded me of magnifying glasses. So, I should not have been surprised. The three of us sat down and Tom introduced himself as the owner of the station and Steven as his right hand. We started to talk. I wasn't able to concentrate on the conversation. The fact that the room was packed with radio equipment made me suspicious. Each wall was full of amplifiers, microphones, CD players, Cassette Players, and a bunch of other things with a lot of cables coming from them. I felt very uncomfortable.
How did I end up here?
Either this was a pirate radio station and I was getting into something illegal or they are two perverts that want to kidnap and rape me. The wildest things were crossing my mind. Facing the couch was a big window showing the main road. I carefully watched Tom and Steven as they were asking me all kinds of questions.
If something goes wrong here
, I thought,
I'll try to jump through the window
. Even though the window was closed, I believed, I could do it like the movie stars. Jump right through it, roll along the floor, stand up, and run without a scratch on me. I seriously considered this option.

“Tom, what is all this radio equipment doing here?
,” I asked suspiciously.

“Oh that! Don't worry. We are moving next week into a new office building. And in the meantime I am storing the stuff here in my living room. It must look weird to you
,” he recognized my doubts.

“No, not at all
,” I replied.

They gave me a lasting impression instead. And for sure not the best.      

“Well Patrick, we would like to give you a chance to host our news show. It would be a daily gig,” he told me.

I was stoked. On the one side it was a great opportunity for me. I just got back from Africa and now I am being offered my own news show. On the other hand this radio station doesn’t seem too professional.

“Wow, great. Thanks. I’d love to host the show for you,” I replied enthusiastically trying to hide my reservations.

Let’s give it a try
.

A
s the weeks passed, and I was trying to combine working and studying, I was happy to not be with a girl. I honestly didn’t have time for it. At the end of the first semester I had to hand in a term paper about the history of the civil rights movement.
Good God, I didn’t even know where to start
. I did study hard at the university, but it still wasn’t easy for me to get everything into my head. I had a clear view of my future, I wanted to work in broadcasting and I wasn’t always sure if law would bring me there. But that was the problem that a lot of my friends had as well. They studied something with the hopes of getting a good job afterwards, but most of them didn’t even know what they wanted to do exactly. Others knew but the competition was so fierce that it was hard to break into the work force. I was only at the beginning of my studies and my work life seemed to be flowing. So why worry? Soon I would find out that I should have been worrying.

As I was wandering through the library to collect all the books I’d need for the term paper
, my eyes crossed the sight of a young blond girl. She was doing the same as me. It was a brief moment, but I had a feeling I knew her.

“Hey, don’t I know you?
” she asked as she was standing beside me reaching for a book.

“I’m not sure, but I am asking myself the same question
,” I replied smiling.

“No, Patrick?
” her face light up.

“Sarah?
” I recognised her now.

“You study law here?
” she asked in disbelief.

“Yes, first semester. You?” I countered.

“Third,” she whispered.

“Why don’t we grab a coffee? The people are looking angry at us
,” she said.

“Sure, just let me bring these books to my table
,” I replied.

“
Two Latte Macchiatos, please,” I told the barista as we were standing in line at the little coffee shop next to the library.

“How long has it been?
” she asked me.

“Uhm, gosh? It was elementary school. At least 15 years
,” I answered.

She smiled.
“You still look as handsome as ever. You’ve hardly changed,” she complimented me.

I blushed slightly.
I didn´t get compliments like that too often.

“Thanks. You look great as well
,” I replied politely.

“So, what have you been up to since?
” I asked.

“Well, where do I start? I was in prison for three years and then I started to study law to know my rights
,” she said bluntly.

My mouth stood open
, “Oh, may I ask why you were in prison?“

“I chopped my ex’s penis off as he was sleeping
,” she replied reaching for her coffee that the barista was placing on the counter.

I felt so uncomfortable. I didn’t know how to handle the situation.

“You’re pale. Everything alright Pat?” she tapped my shoulder.

“Yes sure
,” I replied automatically looking around the room. She broke out into laughter.

“You really thought I was in prison for disfiguring my ex?
” her smile was reaching from the one side of her face to the other.

“Well, I’m not sure
,” I answered diplomatically.

“Patrick, I was teasing you. You
should have seen your face!” she laughed. “Let’s sit over there at the window,” she pointed at an empty table. 

“God, I feel so dumb right now
,” I said as I pulled a chair from the table next to hers, “You haven´t lost your sense of humour,” I told her, feeling a relief going through my spin.

“I remember you setting a bundle of newspaper on fire and placing it in front of
Mrs. Smith’s house door,” I told her, starting to laugh about it.

She smiled “Yes. I had dog shit wrapped inside
,” she remembered.

We both bursted out laughing.

“Yeah, and then you knocked at her door and hid around the corner,” I continued the story.

“And then…
,” her giggles interrupted me.

“
…she came out and stepped on the burning paper with her house shoes on,” she finished the story breaking out into laughter again.

“Jesus, that was so mean,
but funny,” she said.

She took a deep breath to collect herself.

“So, Patrick, tell me, how are you doing?”

“I just returned from South Africa. I worked at a radio station down there
,” starting to show off.

“South Africa? Nice. I was in
Kenya and loved it,” she counter-impressed me.

“Wow,
when?” I asked.

“A few years ago
.”

She glanced at her watch.

“I better get back to work. Let’s exchange numbers so we can keep in touch,” she suggested taking the last sip out of her glass.

“That would be great
,” I replied getting my mobile out.

“Where are you sitting?
” she asked as she was ringing my phone so I could have her number.

“On the second floor
on the side where the printers are. You?”

“Downstairs in the middle
,” she responded.

“Hey, I’m here nearly every day because of this stupid term paper
for criminal law,” she said.

“Me too
,” I responded happily.

“Great
, so let’s do lunch or have some coffee breaks in the future together,” she suggested.

“Nice. Would love that
,” I responded as we both started to make our way back into the library.

Back in the library I was thinking about Sarah and what just happen
.

A
s the weeks passed Sarah and I meet occasionally for breaks at the library. It was good to have someone at the university that you could have fun with. Everybody there seemed so bloody serious. She was different. Happy and making fun about everyone and everything. She was a joy to be around.

I kept working at the radio station but my fears came true. No one listened to the station. Well, that’s not exactly right.
My mom listened. At least I had one listener. And as my aunt and uncle from Ireland were over they listened as well. That made three. The pressure was on. No, not really. But as I came home every day my mom always gave me some critique on my presentation style. She was my only fan and critic, and the only one who even knew I was on air. Due to the lack of listenership it only seemed a matter of time until the station would have to close down and I would be unemployed again.