By this time he has moved to the other side of his desk. His face tenses as he eases his hand over his hair.

‘Only that I don’t know anyone at United, FCB or at Leo Burnett.’

I look back at him with bewilderment, remembering all those names he had dropped during our first interview.

‘We have a whole bunch of reference material in our library. I encourage you to spend four or five days and pour through the material.’

I am still looking at him with bewilderment, now mixed with a bit of confusion. What he is asking me to do I could do sitting at the Evanston Public Library.

His secretary interrupts us with a couple of hard copies of the resume. He holds those in one hand while retrieving another bunch of paper from his desk drawer. He lamely puts those on the desk.

‘Here are some sample cover letters that you should look at.’ I briefly flip through the bunch.

‘You know Bob, cover letters are not a problem. First we need to agree to the list of ten people to whom we should send the resume, and I can easily make up individual cover letter for each one of them. You know, I can do them without much of a problem.’

‘Then do it!’ He slaps down my resume and the diskette on his desk.

‘Fine. But I don’t see a reason for an outburst.’

‘Take that and get out of here.’

‘Come on Bob, let’s just agree that this isn’t working out, let’s just shake hands and forget about it.’ I extend my hand in a conciliatory gesture.

‘I said get out of here!’ He has raised his voice and now the contorted expressions of his face show flames of anger bordering on violence.

‘Fine, this is your office and you can throw me out or anybody else for that matter. Let’s just  shake hands and I will be out of here.’ And once again I extend my hand towards him. By now he has moved to the edge of the desk, diagonally opposite to where I am standing. Perhaps to acquire enough distance from my extended hand. He pulls his hands closer to his chest.

‘No! Get out of here, right now and never come back. I never want to see you again.  All the years that I have been in this business, I have never been as frustrated as you frustrate me.’

‘Just give me your hand once Bob and I will leave.’ The more I try to calm him, the angrier he gets. Now there are definite traces of violence on his face and if I had any sense, I should have gotten the hell out of there in a hurry.

‘Okay, fine.’ I say and pick up my files. His huge two hundred and fifty plus pounds body looms over me. He is breathing heavily and saying to me, as if in a chant – out, out, this very minute, pushing me out of there with his shadow. He follows me to the door, and it occurs to me that my leather jacket is in his closet. He charges back to the office, retrieves the jacket and throws it at me. By now, I should have been scared for my life. But as if possessed by a devil, I catch my jacket, looking straight into his eyes.

‘Give me your hand once, and you will never have to see me again.’

‘Get out!’ He roars.

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