Stranger on a Train

A discouraged job seeker and a rush-hour lead.

- Stu Reininger

WHAP! THE GUY NEXT TO me whacked me in the head with his newspaper. The train car was packed. I had been swallowed up in the Mother of All Rush Hours aboard a commuter train. The previous train out of New York had broken down and its passengers swarmed into this one. I got swept into a corner, jammed beside a tall, heavyset man who was reading The New York Times.

I was shorter than the guy, so the top of my head was in direct range of his newspaper. Whap! Each time he turned a page, I got hit. As if my day hadn’t been bad enough already. I’d come into the city for a job interview that ended up being an utter disaster.

My top priority was being a good father—I was a single dad bringing up a teenage daughter, Karin. After that, all I wanted was to be a boat captain and to write for magazines and newspapers. Between sailing and writing, I would bring in enough money to support us and send Karin to college. That was my dream, anyway.

The first career goal had worked out—sort of. I was a licensed yacht captain and kept busy delivering boats and teaching sailing, but it didn’t bring in much money. The writing gigs weren’t exactly going as planned either.

Sporadic assignments covering town meetings for local newspapers and selling a few articles to sailing magazines hardly paid the bills. I had snagged a couple of interviews for reporter positions but none had panned out.

This last one was the worst. It was for a small daily just north of the city. We weren’t 10 minutes into the interview before the editor told me that I wasn’t cut out for the job. Thanks, pal. You could’ve told me that before I trekked up here.

Right after I left the newspaper office, I called Karin. “I think we need to go with plan B,” I said.