The rain came in a rapid collective. Large, gusty drops pelted against his window. He reached over to his lamp next to his bed. He fumbled with the chain. Finally his fingers grasped it and he pulled it on, then off, then on again. The electricity had been shut off. He had no hot water for a shower so he splashed his face with cold water from the kitchen sink. He put on his wrinkled shirt from yesterday and his stiff wrangler jeans. He combed his hair back and stepped into his cowboy boots. By the time he had arrived to the hotel he was soaked to the bone. He stood at the front desk for a few minutes when a young man in a navy blue blazer asked him if he needed anything. John explained that he needed a job. The young desk clerk told him that they were not hiring. John explained that he had seen an ad in the paper for a maintenance person. John told him that he would take any position that they had. The front desk clerk told him to wait and he would check to see if the positions had been filled. While John stood there waiting he looked at his large calloused hands. His nails had dirt under them. He held his hand out and his hand was trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a solid meal. The desk clerk returned and repeated that they were not hiring. John started to feel impatient. John asked the desk clerk if he could speak to the manager. The desk clerk muttered something under his breath and snappishly turned and walked into the back office and shut the door. Within a few minutes the desk clerk returned and told John that the manger was busy and to check back in a few months. John spoke with a break in his words. He was half Blackfeet Indian. He spent most of his life on the reservation in Cutbank, Montana. He never had a difficult time finding work on the reservation. He could always find work herding cattle, cleaning stalls, bailing hay. The previous morning John had read in The Daily Interlake that eighty five hundred people were unemployed in the valley and one hundred twenty five jobs available. The probability of finding a job was slim to none.
John told the front desk clerk that he could not wait three months for a job. He explained that he needed a job right now. The clerk told John that he could not help him out. John started to walk away when something hit him. It was impatience. He turned around and approached the desk clerk again. He asked the desk clerk his name. The desk clerk gave John his name. It was Daniel. Daniel didn’t look old enough to drink legally. He had the complexion of a halibut. Pale with a tinge of blue in the creases. His face was full, round and clean. Every movement Daniel made was with irritation and utter exhaustion. John looked at Daniel with a cold stare. This stare that John smacked Daniel with was not without fire. Daniel became increasingly uncomfortable. Daniel refused to get locked into John’s stare. He avoided his stare by staring at the palm of his hand picking at a piece of dead skin. John explained to him that he was not going to leave until he was given a job. John’s hands were clenched. His forehead had beads of perspiration dotting the creases. Daniel was obviously nervous. He picked up the phone and called the manager. He explained to the manger that there was a gentleman at the front desk interested in the maintenance position that was available. John unclenched his hands and straightened out his collar. Daniel asked John to have a seat and the manger will be out to see him.
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