Narrative for Fritz

He walked into the room slowly. It was uncommon territory, a slight knot forming in his stomach. Tugging at the stuffy tie his wife had draped around his neck, Fritz put on his most convincing professional mask, and approached the man quietly. It was his first formal job interview, and it was nerve-racking.

Most of his life had been filled with much less complicated matters. He was the son of simple grocery store owner, and his contemporaries never let him forget it. All his attempts to become more than what his father had been came crashing down around him when his schooling ended. There was no money for University, and Fritz had no true skills to showcase. His childhood in school had been difficult. Between the teasing and bullying, he had barely secured an average education.

“Why do you feel you would be a good fit for our company, Mr. Michaels?” the stolid man behind the desk inquired. It was a simple enough question, but Fritz had no real answer. Why would a poorly educated son of a grocer fit in with a media mogul? He sat, in pensive thought, trying to appear as calm as possible. Slowly, he formulated his answer. But the words stumbled out of his narrow lips like water drops from a faucet barely left on.

“You… are a, umm, business of… the people, sir. I, well, I guess… I feel like, you know, umm, I can easily relate.” The interviewer leans back in the chair and scratches his chin. Fritz already knows that he has made several mistakes. It wasn’t good enough for a true businessman. All along, Fritz knew there was little chance of escaping his situation. It was inevitable and saddening all the same.

“We’ll perhaps give you a call, Mr. Michaels. Good day.” Fritz nods and backs out almost apologetically. He was enough of a realist to know what it meant. There was no chance, and his life would continue in its mundane fashion. It wasn’t fair, in his mind, what he had been dealt. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t he just put on a tie and become the man everyone, his wife, his family, wanted him to be? Was he to blame? Holding in his feelings, Fritz move out into the waiting room where other men are dressed in similar, but well-kept raiment.

But as he left, Fritz realized something. All the men lined up, they were all the same. The pale glares and shaking hands were always present. He didn’t really want to be one of those drones. It was good enough, for now, just to be himself. Even if it wasn’t what society deemed as perfection.