My name is Allan. I'm a middle-age, Caucasian, divorced guy, not a very lucky in life if you ask me. I live downtown in a small condo, and work as a consultant for an oil company.
Friday afternoon was pretty busy at the office, and my boss asked me to have some presentation ready for the CEO meeting we have every Monday morning. Damn! So much for my weekend's plans I thought.
I decided to leave early anyway, so I grabbed the documents I was supposed to work on to finish them at home. After a very relaxing shower, I grabbed a beer, fixed a sandwich, and turned on the computer to work on my presentation. The computer didn't work. Bad signβ¦
What to do? It was too late for me to go back to the office (the building was closed by that time), so I decided to call my friend Richard, who works for a very well known legal firm at the human resources department. He said there was no problem if I went there to use his office and his computer that Friday, as well as the rest of the weekend. I felt relieved.
I drove immediately over there and met him at his office. He was glad to receive me and he gave me the keys of the office.
"Are you sure there is no problem if I work here this weekend?" I asked.
"Not at all." said Richard. "In fact, the whole building is going to be empty. I'll just clean up my desk and leave you alone, so you can finish that presentation"
"What's this big pile of folders you have in there, if you don't mind?"
"Oh, that's just a bunch of resumes I have for processing. They were all rejected. I receive about 200 every week!"
"So, what do you do with them?" I asked.
"Just drop them in the garbage can. If somebody calls, I tell them: You are obviously qualified for this job. Unfortunately, there are no openings at this time. We'll keep your resume on file"
"You rascal!" I said. "Well, I'll see you Monday. I owe you one, pal"
I went back to my documents and I realized that they needed only minor corrections, so I finished early that day. It was only 8:30 p.m. when I was ready to go back home, but my curiosity made me search through the pile of discarded resumes. On the top of one of them I found a picture of a very nice looking black girl. Her name was Trisha Adams, 18 years old, law student, requesting a job as an intern. I always had this crave for black women, specially young ones. I decided this was too good to let it go; so I grabbed the phone and called her home. A masculine voice answered:
"Hello."
"Hello. Can I speak to Trisha Adams, please?"
"Who is calling?"
"This is Richard Walters, from The Law Firm. I'm calling to set-up an interview with Trisha"
She took the phone and was very excited:
"So I was accepted???" she yelled.
"Your resume looks very good, but it all depends on the interview. I have an opening for tomorrow at 9:00 a.m."