I stole a glance in the mirror opposite and I didn’t look anywhere close to a job applicant. My mustache was muggy and unkempt and my long hair gave me the image of a rascal mad man, who had been in the dirt for Gog-knows-when.
The sleeves, pants and shoes I thought were going to augment for my dirty looks disappointed me. I just discovered that my sleeves had torn at the armpit and shoulders and the pants had torn under the zipper and the shoes were not only oversize but sole was yawning at me.
They were all I could call cloths.
When I stepped out and ran into father outside, he rolled his eyes at me that I felt a churning in my stomach. He was going to blow hot at me.
I comported, pressed my hands in front, hoping he wasn’t going to notice the rags I wore.
But I shouldn’t have asked him for this, “Father can I get two cents from you so that I can shave and look good for the interview?”
The peril on his face could set a city ablaze. He trudged towards me and I pulled away. “May your tongue cling to your jaw for asking me for money. Does it look like I have one penny on me, you idiot. You can’t afford two cents to shave yet you think you can afford half a million dollars for your mother’s hospital bills. You are the worst nightmare that has ever happened to us. You should have died in jail. Why did they release you, uh?”
I squeezed my face before breaking down in vibrating tears. “Why are you telling me all this father? Am I worse than an infidel now? Why do you have to remind me how horrible my life is?”
“Do I need to remind you, you are worse than an infidel? Now you are out of jail to add more pains to my sorrow. You should have rot in jail. I knew you were full of ruins and shame from the very first day I picked you from the street and adopted you as my son.” He stared at me with disdain.
Each time father reminded me of being an adopted child I felt like jumping over a bridge to end my life. It was evident to me that I was a no body, even the people I thought were my parents weren’t actually my parents.
But I wondered who I was. What was my true identity? Father had told me severally in clamoring tone to find my true identity.
He had picked me up from the dirty, horrible streets of Rio Hondo where I was wandering away. But why would he tell me all of that now? I just came out from prison. If there was anything I needed now it was love and not constant bashing.
Perhaps, leaving his home to find my true identity would give him some ounce of joy.
But who was I? How did I get to wander in the dirty streets where he adopted me? It was evident I was feckless and worse than ruin. I was either a bastard or a no body, so father wouldn’t need to pester me about finding my true identity.
The answers were actually staring at me when I stared myself from head to toes. And if there was more to my ragged, horrible poverty -stricken life, I would have to prove it.
Father was still yelling at me when I walked out on him. The much I heard before going out of earshot was; “You can’t make life horrible for me. You are a man now so please go and find your true identity and let me be. You stole fifteen billion dollars yet you can’t afford two cents to shave! The mire we are in now has revealed you bring failure and poverty upon the people in your life. You are supposed to be a loner. I hate you!” father sobbed as his voice died away while I disappeared out of sight.
I wept bitterly while on the way. At a time when I couldn’t weep anymore, I fought back my tears and pressed my lips tightly to perk up.
To my very best I strut and started hitchhiking yet no car or bus stopped for me. Worse of it was that commuters kept at their distance as everyone thought I was mad.
My looks were horrible enough to scare people away. My long hair was almost covering my entire heavily mustache face. Now I was almost giving up appearing before a CEO asking for a job.
Almost walking to the heart of town, I saw a job opening in front of a towering building which had the inscription; A CLEANER URGENTLY NEEDED AT DOLBY ICT COMPANY.
I paused to contemplate quickly about it. I dared to pack my hair to a ponytail and smoothed those scraggly beards with my hands before advancing into the complex. Since I couldn’t afford a decent hair cut, I shouldn’t look like masquerade before my interviewer.
“Good morning, ma,” I greeted as courtesy demanded, and bowed my head respectfully.
But the pretty lady flinched and almost took to her heels. I raised my gaze and dared to step forward to my fearful beholder.
“Oh my God! Please go away! Security!” she called, pulling farther away, “Security! How did they allow a mad man into this office!” she wailed at the tops of her voice.
I glared around to see if a mad man accompanied me into the office. But hell no! I was actually the one she was referring to as mad.
“Hello, please give me your attention. I am here for the job opening. I am a good cleaner, please I am not mad.”
The lady scowled irritatingly at me, “Can you listen to yourself? Can you just take a look at yourself? Can’t you see you are mad? Please go away!”
In a jiffy some hostile looking heavily-built men pulled up and bundled me outside.
“Please I am not mad! Please!” I kept shouting…