Broken net

It seemed to Arnold, no one understood. He had to get to Mayville, and it had to happen next Monday. And yet Mr. Murrow stalled in making a decision. Would he keep his job? Would he get the job in Erie?

“Excuse me, Margaret,” Arnold said on the telephone, calling his secretary. “I wondered … I wondered if Mr. Murrow had come into the office yet this morning?”

“No, Arnold,” she said. Arnold heard a flat alto in her voice – the voice of someone who didn’t know how important this was to his life. “Arnold, he’s at a leadership retreat all week and won’t be issuing a decision for at least a week. Probably not until the end of next week.”

A rush of heavy air filled Arnold’s stomach and his eyeballs stung. Arnold thought for a moment, how best to reply.

“Arnold,” Margaret said. “Are you still there? You’d best be getting back to work.”

“Margaret, if you could tell Mr. Murrow that, with all due respect, I do need to know as soon as possible, I’d appreciate it.”

Margaret huffed on the other end of the line. “If I’m going to disturb him on his retreat, I need to know why. Why is this so urgent that you can’t wait a week? I mean, it’s not as if the job won’t be there in another month or two. Just hold your horses.”

“All right,” Arnold said. “I guess that’s best.”

He hung up. He’d have to figure out another way to get to Mayville. Back to the drawing board. He went outside and played tennis with the pro, but all he could do was hit balls into the net. It didn’t help.