Back Home Again in Central Illinois

"Where are you, Zach?"  My mom handed me the portable phone.  I was still in bed.

"Hello?  Who is this?" I answered.

"It's Timothy with Vector.  And, you're supposed to be here with your 'A-List' of contacts."

"Sorry...Timothy, I'm not coming in today or back ever.  You see, I'm not really cut out for this sales thing, so I'm out.  Good-bye."  I clicked the phone off, put it down on the night stand, & rolled back under the covers. 

"So, was it a Pyramid Scheme, like I thought," my mom asked.

"Yeah, they wanted me to make a list of all of my relatives who need new knives & then go to their house & make a whole presentation pitch," I said.

"Well, there's other jobs out there,"  she said & set the Journal Star classifieds on the night stand.  "You can't just sleep all day.  Follow up on some of these."

It was June 2003, & I'd been home from Lincoln for almost a month & still couldn't find a job.  Brimfield was a country town of around nine-hundred people & without a drivers license or my own car it was hard to find work without either.  A couple prospects went all the way to an interview but that was the deal breaker for both.

"What the hell's goin' on man?  You still living at home?"  It was DP.  He lived about an hour away in Bloomington.  "Why don't you move in with me & Elia?  We got a spare room for ya & it's a party here every night.  Only $350 a month."

I stared down at my oatmeal at the kitchen table.  I was still in my pajamas.  "No way, man.  I wish I could, but I'm flat broke.  I can't get a job anywhere.  I even tried to sell knives door to door, but I quit after a day."

"What?  You a door-to-door knife salesman?" DP laughed for a good thirty seconds.  "Wow, that does suck.  Well, if you change your mind let me know.  I gotta go.  It's my turn to play beer pong.  See ya, later man."