Can't Always Judge the Book by Its Cover

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Can't Always Judge the Book by Its Cover

by

B.D. Adams  

2014

           Mark Jacobson wasn’t sure, but he believed he was being followed! Crowded the train was, but with no recognized faces, just a feeling, nothing more. Why ... why would anyone follow him? His lead would be nothing of interest ... really! It was 9:00AM in Manhattan. The train was an El (elevated), so the morning sun beat through the windows. He scrutinized the faces that he could without staring. He stood to hold a pole so not to wrinkle his suit.

            He was a young man just graduated from Cornel University. He was of average height, brown eyes and brown hair with casual curls without appearing too curly. No beard or mustache, the clean look. Unfortunately, his suit wore him, but he felt he looked good in it, no matter.

            What was that? Who was that? The glimpse of a face caused Mark a brief surprise, a face he’d seen before, perhaps! Even though he had a nervous sweat, it was a cool, Spring morning that gave the definite air that flowers would burst forward, if they hadn’t already. He rode this train only sporadically.

            He was so proud of his only stylish wool suit; a thin grey-pin stripe, complete with the vest and satin lining. Since the suit was more than a jacket and pants, the vest kept him warm. Besides, he didn’t have an overcoat that he could wear with this fine suit.        

This was the stop he needed, before the train tunneled, so with his dark leather brief case firmly grasped, he exited the train car to get to the street from the Station. He looked around as calmly as possible to “see” anyone and he had to calm down, didn’t want the need to wipe a sweaty face. He hadn’t included a handkerchief or a tissue in a pocket. Once on the sidewalk, he decided to park his narrow butt onto a chair at an outside café, perhaps get a soda to sip to better calm down. However, the café seemed to be closed, so he stood again, to continue on.

            His current employment was with a bookstore in Queens, near where he lived. As many young employable men he’d known, he was on his mission to interview for a “white collar” position; decent salary/wages for his education. Others of his friends were already working in posh positions. He was the hold-out for the “best he could find!” One of the girls called him persnickety. That wasn’t him, but it was important for him to find work that wouldn’t bore him to death or keep him a pauper!

However, Mark still had the feeling like he was being followed. What an eerie feeling! 

The sidewalk was crowded, also. He stopped, after a moment or so, to look into a fabric shop’s window. Then, he saw a man pass-by behind him in the reflection, a man about his height! The man slowed and briefly looked into the window, but then left nonchalantly. Mark remembered seeing the man on the train. He wore a dark blue, well-worn parka-styled coat over his blue-jeans, possibly an L.L. Bean picked up in a second-hand store on Canal St. and a sock-like cap. But, this man continued away from him. A wave of calm soothed Mark. He could now continue to his destination without that silly fear.

            
            Mark began to relish the warmer, morning temps. It seemed many people had entered their places of work, so the sidewalks were less crowded. Because there were small groups of older folks who walked their dogs, he did need to sidestep a small dog here, a bigger dog there, so not to clash with the owners. Also, not all the owners were good about cleaning up after their charges.

            He located the address he sought. The polished brass numbers on the building was ringed by white enamel. Very unique. He perused more outside; wanted to look at every scrap of what the other businesses were around this building. How many could be in advertising, how many not. He discerned a few advertising agencies, but not what he would call “big time.” That was Mark’s degree from college! He was an illustrator, a commercial artist, by hand or with a computer. The first interview with this business was at an address on Park Avenue, a couple blocks away from where he was now. Mark decided that was the human resource office for the agency. His portfolio had been kept by the man who had called and interviewed him. The advertising agency he was to interview with this morning was one of the most prestigious in New York, on Lexington Avenue! He tingled with excitement!

            God, Mark thought wildly! He was headed back to the building and saw that man with the dark blue parka! The man had a coffee from Starbuck’s in hand and had gone inside the building. Mark’s building!

Since, the man was dressed so casually, Mark thought he might be an office person. The man actually picked-up a crumbled piece of paper and stuffed it into the waste-basket at the elevators. Perhaps in maintenance. Mark just went inside and watched the man, as he waited for an elevator. Since he waited for an elevator, he must not have been following Mark, he was where he needed to be!

Quite surprisingly, the man looked casually to Mark and gave a warm smile. My God ... does he know me, Mark squeamishly wondered. He almost wanted to bolt away! But then, the man got in one of the elevators.

This is nonsense, Mark mentally scolded himself! He was just so nervous about the interview. That’s all it was. This man was not dressed as the owner of a prestigious advertising agency!

He knew the floor he needed, so he got on the next elevator and went up to the eighth floor.

As the elevator doors opened, Mark saw there were two women at the receptionist’s desk. The younger woman, seated at the desk, was dressed very informally, almost like the man of whom he was leery! The other woman was dressed a bit nicer. He deduced she preferred the Ralph Lauren style; tight denim slacks, long sleeved country blouse with a European styled scarf at her neck and black patent-leather flats. Her long, dark red hair was pulled back into a pony-tail, which accentuated her blue eyes. He pondered if he was applying at Facebook. How curious. The Head-hunter, the employment rep, insisted he should dress very business-like, very professional. Hence, his best suit.

“Mark Jacobson?” the more nicely dressed woman inquired. She stood by the desk and looked to him.

He nodded with his smile.

She smiled easily to him, but not overly so. “Nancy Miller,” she presented herself and firmly shook his hand. “Please, come with me.” Her tall frame glided ahead of him. She slowed a bit to have him walk beside her.

“I can see you weren’t expecting our informal way,” she commented.

“A little. I like it, though,” he observed honestly.

However, the attire might be informal, but the offices he saw were very formal, very state-of-the-art, with everything a designer or artist could want or need! He almost felt at home.

They went through the wide French doors that were opened to a corner office that was tastefully modern! However, Mark was a little surprised that there was not a lot of color; no paintings on the walls and no photographs, table top or wall-prints, none at all! The room was mostly grey tones from light to dark – like a blank canvas. There were no personal plaques or awards. Curious.

Nancy indicated for Mark to have a seat on the sofa, while she went to sit behind the large, Plexiglas table that was the desk in this modern office. She activated the computer terminal, made a few clicks.

Once she finished on the computer, she informed, “You’re welcomed to get something to drink from the bar. There are sodas, water and some yogurt in the little fridge, if you’d like some.” She smiled to him.

“Thanks, but I’m good. A little nervous ... the yogurt would make my tongue thick.” That was a stupid thing to say, Mark decided. He set his briefcase on the floor beside him. Then, he saw his portfolio as it leaned against the matching chair by the sofa.

“D.R. is on a video conference call to Japan. He shouldn’t be long ... it’s almost Saki time over there,” she grinned and gave him a wink. She gathered a few folders off the desk and left Mark. Now, he was alone with his thoughts in the plain, but impressive office.

He had researched that the CEO was D.R. Russman. Could the R be for his last name or his middle name? And, why should that matter?

There had been no photos of D.R. Russman on any of the websites. He recognized Nancy, though. She had been photographed often! A very lovely woman! Why weren’t there any photos of the owner, especially in his office?

            After a few moments, the door across the room from Mark opened slightly. Mark heard some unhappy tones, but then it was closed, slightly ajar. This was very unusual. There were a few more of these tones, and then there was silence. The door opened more again, but nobody came through that door.

The suspense was becoming thick!

Presently, a man finally entered. He carried a dark blue parka jacket and tossed it onto the chaise near that door. The sock cap was laid there, also. The man did not look to Mark.

            Mark was astonished, to say the least! This was the man he had seen on the train, on the street and as he waited at the elevators!! Dumbfounded, he was!

            This man had dark blonde hair in a pony-tail to his shoulders. The shirt he wore was a blue- plaid flannel. So different from what he had expected! The men Mark saw in the other offices/ work areas had shorter hair cuts, casual sweaters/shirts and trousers. Regular attire.

            The man went to the bar and took a bottle of water out of the fridge. He opened the bottle and drank several gulps, like he was parched. He made a loud sigh!

            “I promise that I am not ignoring you,” D.R. announced. “Have you ever had any dealings with the Japanese?” D.R. was exasperated.

            “No, sir. Can’t say that I have. Is that bad for me?” Mark felt at a loss. He wasn’t sure how his voice came across. Mark was glad this man recognized that he was in the office.

            D.R. took another couple gulps, and then turned to look to Mark and said, “No, not at all.”

            They just stared at each other! With their recognition, they scrutinized each other, sized- up each other. Mark determined that the man was D.R. Russman. D.R. determined this over- dressed, young man was his interviewee, Mark Jacobson.

            Both men came to realize that they experienced Karma! Both grinned to each other. D.R. sat in the armchair at the end of the sofa, with what was left of his water, and commented, “You worried me when you left the train and went in my direction.” He sat back in the chair because he was calmer now and wanted to know about this young man.

            “I must confess ... you gave me the same concern,” Mark admitted. “This day and age, you never know. Right?”

            “Right. Cautious without being careless.” D.R. laced his fingers behind his head, and continued, “I’ve read your résumé, studied your portfolio and had you investigated. I only interview when everything checks out. I think you’ll agree with the salary, plus the increment bonuses.” He looked Mark in his eyes and said, “Mark, take off that coat and vest and tie. I believe you will fit in here. What do you think?”

            Mark took off those pieces of clothing and laid them nicely on the sofa. He rolled up his sleeves and inquired, “What’s first, Boss?”

It is always best to never judge a book by its cover ... or the first three chapters!

B.D. Adams 2014