Throwing Snowballs at the Moon

Eventually -- and regretfully -- Ingrid's presence had a serious side to it as well. Unfortunately after being with us about three or four months she, chose to complain to me -- not very subtly by the way, but in private -- that on some particular days she was being left to look after the children for far longer than was stipulated in her contract. Which, incidentally, were for not for many more hours each day than Gloria was supposed to be working. Although Ingrid always appeared happy to help with the children most evenings

Considering her obvious affection for the children one might have thought her complaint odd, if it wasn't for the fact that Ingrid also hinted -- equally not subtly again -- that on such particular days, Gloria had got into and out of, a strange vehicle on her way to and from work.

It was pretty obvious that Ingrid's complaint was nothing more than a way for her to bring to my attention to something, she thought I should be aware of.

At first the car didn't bother me, because Gloria had informed me previously that she on some days was going to car share with another part-time employee and long time friend of hers. As I said, Gloria had returned to work for the same company who'd employed her before she became pregnant with Pamela and she'd kept in touch with her all friends who were still working there in the meantime.

But then, Ingrid kinda hinted that the car-sharing friend of Gloria's appeared to have access to two very different vehicles, and besides that fact, -- usually on the days when Gloria was rather late in coming home from her job -- her car sharing friend had magically changed sex.

Ingrid was very sweet really. She explained to me later -- in far more words and after going around the houses several times in the process -- that her mother had been running around on her father when she was a little girl. Consequently Ingrid had felt obligated to inform me that she suspected, Gloria was doing likewise.

On the relevant days -- with Ingrid giving me the nod -- I took a few afternoons off-work and quickly verified that my Gloria was having an illicit affair with one of the management wallahs' at her office.

Shortly after assuring myself of that fact, things took an unexpected turn when I challenged my wife over her affair. Gloria wasn't in the least bit taken aback when I told her that I was aware of what had been going on.

Actually she might have been surprised, but Glory just didn't seem to care. She simply repeated once again, that I was a tight-arsed skinflint, and added that I was a boring one to boot. Or words to that effect, if not somewhat more crudely explicit!

Then Gloria informed me that she would be moving in with her much more generous (and I assumed less tight-arsed and boring) boyfriend, as soon as she could arrange it. What's more, she said that she'd be taking the children and Ingrid with her.

Gloria and the children did move in with the bastard the following day, although I think Gloria was somewhat surprised to discover that Ingrid would not accompany them.

No, Ingrid didn't stay with me; the au pair agency relocated her to another host family that very same day. Although she did come to see me very often, but she always brought a suitable chaperon along with her. Mainly one Agda something-or-the-other (unpronounceable anyway), another Swedish ex-pat, au pair, and apparently Ingrid's number one female friend in the UK. But you'll hear more of the two girls later.

Now, I wouldn't like anyone to get the idea that I simply stood-there gobsmacked and took it all, during that confrontation with Gloria.

Quite the opposite really, I gave back -- verbally -- just as much as Gloria dished out to me. More really, because I after all, I had all the ubiquitous "cheating whore" repartee, to fall back on. The only ammunition Gloria seemed to have was that -- in her opinion -- I didn't earn enough of the readies to keep her in the extravagant lifestyle she'd have preferred.

Somewhat surprisingly, Gloria did not choose to demean my performance in the bedroom department. That took me by surprise actually; I'd been reliably informed that that is the usual "weapon of first choice" in a cheating wife's arsenal. And I'm assured, the favoured ego buster.

As a mater of fact, much later, Gloria told... No, I'll come back to that later; if I find the opportunity.

Of course things might-well have become violent, I was pretty well pissed-off with Gloria and after all is said and done, everyman has his breaking point. If it had not been for the fact that the seventeen-year-old Ingrid had specifically warned me to keep-my-cool and not to allow things spiral out of control... well, who knows what I might have done!

Apparently -- in a remarkably similar situation -- Ingrid's own father had not managed to keep his emotions under control. In consequence, the man had gained himself a criminal record for assault, and/or as an abusive husband... or whatever they charge husbands who've been pushed beyond the bounds of reasonable behaviour within Sweden. Apparently doing so had completely buggered his chances in the later child custody battle.

Ingrid informed me that if her father had only kept his cool that day, then probably she would not have had to live with her mother and the fanskap!

Well, I think she referred to the guy as a fanskap or fanskarp. I have no idea what a fanskap is, -- or even if I've spelt the word correctly here -- but I have to assume that it is a derogatory Swedish term of some kind or the other. Whatever, Ingrid habitually used it (with a venomous tone to her voice) whenever she referred to her stepfather. And, I might add, latterly Gloria's boyfriend. Yes, at first I did assume that it was actually Ingrid's Stepfather's name, but I know better now.

The divorce proved to be a messy affair, to say the least! And, it was somewhat protracted as well. Mainly because I had no intention of giving-up my children to live with the arsehole -- who'd been banging my wife behind my back for god knows how long -- without a fight.

Gloria also didn't want to loose custody -- or control -- of the children, and at one point Gloria even tried to convince the court that the girl's weren't mine anyway. But she'd forgotten that the court wouldn't quietly accept her word for that fact, and the judge ordered the relevant DNA tests.

Kinda got me wondering though, for just how long had Gloria been letting the bugger bang her? Those kind sort of thoughts don't do much for the old self-esteem, I can assure you!

Whatever, it's quite possible that in the long term Gloria shot herself in the foot by making that claim; Judge's do not like people trying to take the pi.... er, blatantly lying to them.

The battle for custody was still on-going the day I went to that interview, and were proving to be extremely expensive. Thereby hung my need for a greater salary to pay for all those double-talking legal Wallies.

In the UK the general consensus of opinion seems to be, that the mother is the best candidate when it comes to raising children. That's of course, assuming that she's not a drunk or a drug addict. And/or the father doesn't have a lot more money in the bank to grease the right palms.

Anyway, I know it's been a long way around, but that's why I was at that interview that day, with my then present boss's blessing by the way. It was Bill Gillard who had suggested to me that I go for the position, which had a much higher salary scale than he would ever be able to offer me.

----------TWT----------

There were five of us who had been short-listed by "Goldberg and Son's" for the two jobs on offer; Accounts Department Manager and his/her assistant. According to Bill Gillard the two previous occupants of those posts had... Well, to be brief, they'd financed their affair -- and subsequent disappearance together -- out of the company coffers. But that was off-the-record information and Bill had sworn me to secrecy.

Along with the other three blokes, and one female we'd been asked to present ourselves at Goldberg's offices at ten AM that day. Then all five of us were left together, twiddling our thumbs like dummies in a sort-of waiting room come reception area. Being watched-over by one Jill Sampson (I learnt later, a very efficient -- and rather tasty looking -- secretary from the personnel department) until almost eleven o'clock, when the three members of interview panel decided to put-in an appearance.

They consisted of the accounts director and the personnel manager -- who referred to himself as Head of Human Resources -- and Jack Goldberg himself. The other two didn't bother me, but Jack Goldberg I very much suspected would reject me on sight, as a suitable candidate for either position. Or at least as soon as he'd worked-out who I was, he would!

Sure enough they strolled into the room with barely a glance in our direction, -- well Jill was sitting behind the desk on other the side of the room and she's the kind of woman who has that effect on most men. Mind, I have to add that the female job candidate was nothing to be sneezed-at either. But I think the secretary only just beat her on points.

Anyway, then -- as the other two were saying good morning to the delectable Miss Sampson -- Jack Goldberg did a quick double-take in my direction. I nodded and tried to smile politely as I wished him, "Good morning, Sir!" He kind-of grunted "Good morning," in reply, then -- after giving me what I can only describe as a quizzical second look -- all three of them entered the conference room where the interviews were going to be held, closing the door behind them.

It seemed an age before the human resources manager came out to have a short -- whispered -- conversation with the secretary. I noted that both of them glanced in my direction a couple of times as they spoke. It was at this point that I figured that I really was wasting a very warm sunny afternoon.

A little later, a buzzer sounded somewhere on Jill's desk and she asked the first candidate to enter the interview room.

The bugger was in there for about half-an-hour; I really couldn't understand what they could be talking about for so long. After all, this was the third and final interview; we'd gone through all the bullshit during the previous two. As I understood things, this meeting was really about which two candidates Goldberg approved of and I took it as read that they would not include me.

One of the other blokes, who looked somewhat nervous, tried to make conversation with the rest of us. Only I, and the female candidate responded -- I think maybe she only spoke out of politeness -- the other bloke just smirked at him. Personally I didn't give a monkey's by that time; honestly I was only still sitting there to keep Bill Gillard happy. The old codger was like a second father to me, and he would have become upset if I had not gone through the motions.

The second bloke -- the nervous bugger -- wasn't in the interview room anywhere near as long as the first. After about ten minutes or so, he came with a depressed expression on his face. Then the third candidate was sent in. He'd had a... well, I can only explain it a condescending expression on his face when he glanced at the female candidate and myself, before he went in. You know, like he already knew he had the job, and this interview was just a formality.

That bugger was in there for a good forty minutes, and when he came out his expression was one of the "Cat who'd got the cheese!" (I never have worked out how that phrase came about.) Anyway he looked like a man who knew he had the job and that was the end of it.

Then the secretary asked Vernia Pool to go in. She smiled sweetly at me before disappearing through the large oak door.

I'll admit that, for an instant, I was sorry that I wouldn't be getting the job. Somehow I figured that that randy looking Human Resources Manager weren't going to let Vernia Pool get away in a hurry. Yeah well, I'd seen the way the bugger had looked at her at the previous interviews. And being a bit of a wolf myself at one time... Well, let's just say that I could read the bugger's mind.

Vernia bounced out again after only twenty minutes. The smile on her face, telling me that, subject to references (maybe), she'd definitely be joining the staff of Goldberg's in the very near future.

Oddly, she smiled at me again and said, "See you soon!" before she left the office. I kind-of figured Vernia thought that I'd be out around town looking for her or something. I was no longer wearing my wedding ring and I'd noted that she wore no rings herself, if you understand where I'm coming from. I kinda had if figured, that I probably would be keeping my eyes open for Vernia.

"Graham! Try to keep your mind on the reason you're here!" A little voice said in the back of my mind, as Vernia disappeared out into the corridor.

"Oh come on, you know this is a complete waste of time. I might as well get something out of the day." My conscious mind replied.

"And you think you'll be able to chat her up once they've turned you down for the job?" The voice replied.

"Mr Spark will you go in now, please?" Having interrupted my mental musing, the enchanting Jill Sampson was smiling at me.

Somewhat surprisingly the Human Resources bloke was sat in the middle, with the Company's Accounts Director on his right and Goldberg sat on his left; Goldberg's seat was pushed some way back from the table. The HR bloke did all of the talking, whilst Goldberg stared at me as if I'd dropped in from outer space.

The questions were predicable to say the least, and most I had already, answered once, either in writing on my application or at previous interviews. But all the time I answered them again, I could feel Jack Goldberg's eyes boring into me. Eventually he deigned to speak.

"Mr Spark, I find your face extremely familiar, but I can't quite place where from; have we met before somewhere?"

"Here we go!" I thought. I figured I knew how the next few minutes were going to go.

"Yes Mr Goldberg. We've met on numerous occasions in the past, some years ago Canella and I kept company, for a while."

"Funny I don't recall the name..." Goldberg began to say as he lent back in his chair and screwed up his eyes, I assume so that he might see me better. Then he suddenly sat bolt upright again.

"Oh course, you're Sparkie. The Hells Angel!"

The statement angered me.

"Mr Goldberg, I was never a Hells Angel!" I replied, "I wore a leather jacket and I rode a motorcycle, but that was the only my mode of transport I could afford at the time. I was never member of any motorcycle gangs."

Alright, maybe not the absolute truth, but near enough under the circumstances.

"Humph!" Goldberg replied, settling back into his chair.

Okay yes. At this point, maybe I did overreact a little. But I had always been expecting that once he had it figured out who I was, Jack Goldberg would scupper any chance I had of getting either job. I kinda decided that the opportune moment had arrived, to tell them were they could put their vacancies, and bring the farce of an interview to an end.

Actually, I surprised myself -- Maybe some of the things that Bill Gillard and the ubiquitous Mrs Williams had been preaching to me over the years, had finally sunk in -- I remained polite.

"Gentleman," I said, rising to me feet, "I do believe that some people's minds were made up many years ago. I really do not believe any good purpose would be served by either party, in continuing this interview. Thank you for seeing me. Good day!"

I tell you, I was out of that bloody conference room door, through Jill's office and off down the corridor, before any of them had time to react, or even realise that I was gone.

----------TWT----------

Unexpectedly, outside the building, I ran into Vernia Pool. Who, apparently, had been hanging around waiting for me.

"Well, brilliant isn't it!" She said as I almost knocked her off her feet, in my hurry to get as far as possible from Goldberg and Son's offices, as quickly, as I could.

"What is?" I demanded.

"You and me..." Vernia replied smiling and subtly latching onto my arm.

But then her expression changed as she studied mine. "Oh bugger Graham. What happened? They told me that..." her voice faded away.

"They told you what Vernia?"

"Well, they told me that I was going to be your assistant."

"My assistant?"

"Yes! They said that you, Graham Sparks, that's you isn't it?"

I suppose I must have nodded.

"Well you were the most experienced candidate and would be offered the job as department manager, and then they asked me if I'd could foresee any problems working for you."

"That was never going to happen Vernia, old man Goldberg and I have history. There's no way in hell that the old fart is going to employ me."

"Oh god, what kind of history? And if you were so convinced, why did you even bother to apply for the position in the first place?"

"Interview experience for the most part. I've never had to face the procedure before. And my present boss kinda pushed me into it."

"And, the history?"

"Yeah well, if you must know, I was shagging his daughter for a while."

"Hmm... yeah. I can see that might prove a significant stain on your character as far as her father's concerned. Especially if you go around telling everyone! I assume Mr Goldberg didn't approve of you bedding his daughter?"

"I'm buggered if he knows that I was. Yeah sorry, I was a little... er..."

"Forthright?"

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have put it like that. Canella and I were together for a good year or so. And I can assure you that I'm not a complete arse; you are the first person I've ever told, in so many words that we... You know. I'm just a little... I don't know, emotional at the moment, I suppose. I figure the Goldberg must surely have worked-out that I took Canella's virginity by now."

"Canella."

"Yeah, everyone calls her Ella or Ellie, except for the Goldberg's; and those brownnoses in there, I suppose."

"Bugger, I hope that don't mean I'm going to be stuck working for that pretentious prick."

"Who?"

"The bigheaded sod, who went in before me. You know the wanker who gave us the, you're all wasting you're time, look."

"Perhaps they'll offer you the manager's job."

"I'm not experienced enough, they all-but told me that out-right; before they asked me whether I'd got to know you and how well we got on. I told them we'd work together fine."

"But we've hardly spoken."

"We've said hello to each other at every interview."

"Barely."

"That's enough for me to know you aren't an... Anyway, you never tried to come over all high and mighty like that bloody creep did. Look Graham, you look like you could do with a drink; there's a pub over the road. Besides, I haven't eaten today yet, I was too excited."

"Well, I can't say I'm looking forward to going back to the office and telling my boss that I messed-up. Let's go?"

Vernia and I settled in the pub over the road with a couple of pints and she started to devour their complete remaining stock of sandwiches. Christ, for her petite size the woman could have eaten for the country.

"Sorry, my mother says I must have worms; I eat like a horse, but never put-on much weight." She grinned.

I just smiled back at her, and then pushed my untouched plate sandwiches over to her side of the table. I really wasn't in the mood for eating. I suppose in the back of my mind I had really wanted that job. Well, I'd needed the extra salary it would bring-in, at least. But at the same time I'd been well aware that I'd been throwing snowballs at the moon.

Funny how humans do that isn't it? Go after the unobtainable all to time. I suppose that if we didn't, and actually succeed sometimes, then we'd still be swinging about in the trees. Mind you, we probably wouldn't have all the problems in our lives that we have in this day and age.