“Jack, this is where we first met.” Kate Winslet reminded Leonardo Di Caprio soon after their ship had crashed into an iceberg, up on the large projector screen. Jatin watched with rapt attention, even though he had seen Titanic twice before. An empty classroom with a projector at the university campus was a great place for an evening movie.
His friend, Swati, glanced across. “I can’t believe you like these cheesy love stories.”
He didn’t respond. His eyes stayed riveted on the screen, as the protagonists struggled through waves of water on board their ship.
Swati nudged him. “You’re a bit of a girl, you know that Jatin?”
“Yeah whatever,” He said. “And you’re a bit of a boy. Now, watch the movie.”
“C’mon, you know what happens. It’s Titanic. The ship sinks.” She rebuked.
He nodded, hoping she would shut up.
“What time is your flight?” She showed no inclination to stay quiet.
“Ha? It’s at eleven thirty or something.”
“It’s already nine. Shouldn’t you be leaving?”
“Yeah, after the movie.”
Swati shook her head. “You and your stupid movie. You have a big interview with Mckinsey, and you’re sitting and drooling over Kate Winslet. Have you at least packed?”
“Yeah, I’m done packing. I borrowed your suitcase, remember? I left it at your place before coming here.”
“Right,” She said. “I’m hungry, I’m going to eat. You watch your movie. My roommate will be home, so you can take the bag when you leave.”
He nodded, still looking at the screen.
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, good luck with the interview.”
Jatin saw the rest of the movie in peace. When it was over, he yawned, stretched himself and turned off the projector. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten.
“Fuck.” He muttered. He dashed out of the building, and jogged along the icy road. They were into their fourth semester of graduate studies at the University of Pittsburg. By then, Jatin knew most of the campus roads well. Within few minutes, he was at Swati’s house.
He didn’t waste time making polite conversation with the roommate, Rachna, who had an annoying, high-pitched voice. He rang the doorbell, said he was there for Swati’s bag, grabbed the black suitcase on the living room floor and fled.
Half an hour later, he stood in the security check line at the airport, boarding pass in hand. Fifty minutes left for his flight. He put on his iPod.
“I have become…comfortably numb” He hummed the lyrics. Soon, he reached the front of the line. He frowned, having to interrupt his favorite song to put the iPod along with his suitcase through the scanner.
“Where you flying to?” A voice asked.
Jatin stared at the scanner belt, awaiting his iPod, eager to resume his song.
“Excuse me.” A voice called. He looked up.
“Yes, you. Please step aside.” The man in front of him wore a crimson uniform. He stood six-feet tall, the same height as Jatin. However unlike Jatin’s lean frame, his mid-section revealed a bulging beer-belly. The majority of his face was covered with a thick beard. Jatin followed him to a small table on which he saw his suitcase.
“Where you going?” The man asked.
“Chicago.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jatin.”
“Justin?”
“No, it’s Jatin.”
The officer glared at him, stroking his beard. “This is a random security check. Please lift your arms up.”
Jatin obeyed. The officer groped his body from top to bottom. His hands felt rough as though they had been used for years of manual labor.
Satisfied, the officer stepped back. “Have you packed this bag yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Are you carrying any items from anyone else?”
“No.”
“Okay, what’s in this bag?”
Jatin put a hand on his chin. “Umm…A laptop…”
“Which brand?”
“Dell.” Jatin paused. “Also, some clothes…”
“What clothes? Be specific about everything.”
“A black suit for my interview, a couple of t-shirts, jeans, socks and underwear.”
Jatin looked at the officer, who stared back at him, without blinking. “Then, I have some chocolate cookies, and a Computer Networks book. That’s about it.”
The officer continued to gaze at him. “Nothing else?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“No perfumes or make-up?”
Jatin raised his eyebrows. “Make-up? No.”
The officer folded his arms. “Almost everything you identified is wrong.”
“Ha? What?”
“This bag is filled with women’s clothes. There are some tops, jeans, bras. There are perfumes, lipsticks and other make-up stuff. There is a book, but it’s a Stephen King novel. There is a laptop, but it’s a Toshiba.”
Jatin felt as though his ship had crashed into an iceberg. Waves flooded all around him. He places his hand on the table to keep balanced.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Justin?” The officer opened the suitcase and displayed the items.
Jatin stared at the clothes, the lipsticks, the variety of perfumes. A fruity scent emanated from the suitcase. Only a girl’s bag could have such an aroma.
“I…umm….this is…” He searched for words.
“What kind of scam are you pulling?” The officer asked.
“No scam, sir. Really.” Jatin said. “I don’t know where all this stuff came from.” He looked at the contents again, and rubbed his eyes. The silver Toshiba laptop came into focus.
“Aha,” He snapped his fingers. “Swati’s roommate.”
“What the hell are you jabbering about?” The officer demanded.
“I think I accidentally picked up someone else’s bag.” Jatin explained. “I had borrowed this bag from a friend, but I think her roommate has a similar black suitcase.”
“Do you expect me to believe this bullshit?” The officer had a half-smile.
“It’s true. I can call her up right now.” Jatin said. “You can talk to her, if you like.”
After more debate, the officer consulted his peers, and decided that the girl whose bag Jatin claimed it was, should come to the airport and identify those belongings as hers. Only then would they let him go.
He called Swati first, and took her roommate’s number.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered after seven rings.
“Is that Rachna? This is Jatin, Swati’s friend. I had come by earlier to take a suitcase. Actually, I think I took your suitcase by mistake.” He became aware that he was talking at the speed of light.
“Ha? Are you drunk or something?”
“No, I’m not drunk, I’m serious. I need you to come to the airport to identify your stuff.”
“Airport? Look, I don’t time for this. I have an early morning class. I’m going back to sleep.” There was a click and the line went dead.
“Fuck.” Jatin cursed. He hit redial on his phone.
This time, there were nine rings. “What?”
“Listen, Rachna, its Jatin again. I really need your help. Please listen.”
He heard nothing in response, so he went on. “If you check your living room, you will see that Swati’s suitcase will still be there and yours will be missing.”
“Hold on.” Rachna went away for a minute. “You’re right. I had packed for my weekend trip. Where did you run away with my suitcase?”
“To the airport. I thought it was Swati’s.”
“What an idiot. My bag is Delsey, and hers is American Tourister.” Her voice rose to a shriek. Jatin had to move the phone away from his ear.
“Umm…they were both black…I’m sorry.”
“I can’t believe this…”
“Listen, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I have been detained at security. Please can you reach the airport to identify your bag and your things?”
She let out a long breath. “Fine.”
“Thanks, please hurry. Also, can you bring along Swati’s suitcase?”
The line went dead.
“Fuck.” Jatin said again. Damn that Rachna. He hoped she would bring the bag. What kind of person packed her suitcase by Wednesday for a weekend trip? He shook his head. He checked his watch and found that there was half an hour to go for his flight’s departure. He paced up and down.
Twenty long minutes later, Rachna arrived at the security line. Jatin breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her carrying a black American Tourister bag. Her eyes widened when she saw her clothes spread on the table. She scowled at him.
“Can you show me some ID?” The officer demanded. She obliged.
“Now, look at all this and identify if it’s yours.”
She looked through the contents. “It’s all mine.”
Several more questions followed. After what seemed like an eternity, the officer relented. “Next time, bring your own damn bag.” He waved Jatin off.
Rachna collected her bag, and rushed off.
“Hey Rachna,” Jatin called after her. “Thanks for coming here. And sorry again.”
“I’ll be late for my morning class now.” She shouted, without looking back.
Jatin scrambled to his gate. Five minutes past flight time. He looked around. The area was deserted. There were no passengers. He went to the lady at the counter.
“What happened to the flight to Chicago?”
“Oh yes, the flight to Chicago.” The lady smiled. “It’s gone. We had an early departure.”
“Early departure? What kind of airline is this?” He clenched his fist. Why couldn’t he get a delayed flight, like in a normal airline?
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. I guess I missed it. Can you get me on another flight?”
She tapped some keys in front of a computer screen. “The next flight is at four. But it goes via New York, with a two hour layover. It will reach Chicago by nine tomorrow morning.”
“Nothing that reaches before that?” His interview was scheduled at nine thirty.
“No, that’s the best we can do.”
“Fine, I’ll take it then.”
He reached New York without further incident. The JFK airport teemed with people who rushed from one gate to another. He decided to take a nap. When he woke, he had no idea how long he had slept.
“Delayed again, damn it.” The man sitting in front of him said.
Jatin looked up at the digital display above the gate. His flight to Chicago had been delayed by five hours. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He stood up. “What’s going on? Why is it delayed?”
The man seated there smiled. “Look outside the window.”
Jatin swiveled around. He was greeted by a sea of white snow. It covered the planes, the ground below and everything else in sight. Soft white snowflakes poured down nonstop at oblique angles. He let out a low whistle.
“It’s a blizzard. No planes can take off.” The man said.
“Fuck.” Jatin said, for the umpteenth time in the last twelve hours. He called his contact at Mckinsey, and explained the situation. Ten minutes later, she called him back and said that the people who were scheduled to interview him weren’t available later. She suggested that he could do a phone interview. Reluctantly, he agreed and so it was setup for an hour later.
He selected a seat, as isolated as he could find, and put his bag down. He stood up and walked around in circle. A phone interview, he could have done from the comfort of his room. But now his job prospects at the country’s top consulting firm would be decided at the crowded JFK terminal.
An hour later, he planted himself down in the chair. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He picked up the phone and called Mckinsey.
“Hello, I’m calling about my phone interview.”
“Yes, Justin, you’re early. We were about to call you. I’ll patch you through to your interviewer.”
Did she call him Justin? The security officer at Pittsburg had called him that. He dismissed the thought. How little had he slept? While he waited, he took a bottle of water and splashed some on his face.
“Hello, how are you doing?” A voice came on the line.
“I’m doing good, thanks.” His voice felt hoarse.
“You have a very impressive resume.”
“Yes…yes, thanks.” Jatin wondered which lines on his resume could have been classified as impressive.
“I see you have lots of experience in database design.”
“Okay.” He conceded. Did one class project count as ‘lots of experience’?
“So, you designed a scalable, distributed database. What kind of caching mechanisms did you use to ensure optimal performance?”
Jatin took a gulp of water. He scratched his head. He could only recall building a simple three-table database in his project. He had just googled some examples and modified them.
“Hello, are you there?” The voice asked.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“So, tell me what techniques did you use?”
“Umm…I just used SQL.” Jatin slapped his forehead. Stop saying obvious things.
“SQL? Yes, but I asked about the caching mechanism.”
“Err…umm…I can’t remember.”
“Okay, let’s move on. So, for the image processing software that you built, what algorithm did you use for face detection?”
Jatin removed his handkerchief and mopped his brow. He had dropped in on a Computer Graphics class and submitted one assignment, but nothing noteworthy. Could he have put this on his resume?
“Umm…face detection, yes….umm…I used the Kramer-Gellar algorithm.” The career counselor at his university had advised to always appear confident during interviews even when you have no idea what the answer is.
“Kramer-Gellar? I’m not familiar with that one.”
Jatin wasn’t familiar with it either, considering that he had just put together two names from his favorite television shows. “Umm…yes, it’s a new algorithm by two scientists in Norway.”
On the other side of the call, he heard a pencil scribble away on paper.
“Okay, so for the Network Intrusion Detection System that you architected, how did you guard against buffer overflow attacks?”
Jatin swallowed. He couldn’t remember having taken a Network Security class. “Can you repeat the question?”
“Yes, I asked about the Intrusion Detection. Can you talk about more that?”
“Fuck.” Jatin whispered under his breath. This interview had become a massacre.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, I’m sorry I am unable to hear clearly. There’s a lot of disturbance.” Jatin played a heavy metal song on his iPod and held the speaker close to the phone.
The interviewer raised his voice. “I asked about the Intrusion Detecti..”
Jatin increased the volume. “I still can’t hear.”
“The software for Intrusion Detection...”
Jatin’s face was covered in perspiration. His right foot shook back and forth. Suddenly, he pressed the red button on his phone and ended the call.
“Fuck.” He shouted out loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He had prepared his resume two months back and couldn’t recall what kind of crap he had put on it.
His phone rang again. It was from Mckinsey.
With an unsteady hand, he answered the call. “He...Hello.”
“Hello, we are calling from Mckinsey with reference to a phone interview that was in progress. Can we resume the interview?”
“Alright...fine…go ahead.” Jatin said it as though someone had asked him for his left kidney.
The same interviewer came on the line. “Hello Justin, I’m sorry we got cut off. Now, what was I saying?”
Justin? Did he say Justin? This time he felt sure he had heard Justin.
“Excuse me, did you say Justin?”
“Yes.”
“Who is Justin?”
“What?” There was a pause at the other end. “Well, you are Justin, Justin Jones.”
“Really?”
“That’s what I have here. Justin Jones, PhD from Stanford, worked for three years at Oracle and four years at Microsoft.”
Jatin skipped up and clutched his hair. “What? I…umm…I never did all that..actually, my name is Jatin.”
“Jatin?” A sound of papers being ruffled. “Jatin you said? Well, who are you?”
“Ha? I’m a Master’s student at University of Pittsburg, applying for a junior consultant.”
“Hold on.” There was silence at the other end. Five minutes later, he came back on.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I was to interview a Justin Jones at the same time that you called up. The recruiter thought that you were Justin and patched you through.”
“Oh okay.” Jatin sat down and exhaled. “Actually, I had an interview scheduled today, but I’m stuck at New York airport.”
“Yes, I’m sorry about this. Your interview will be rescheduled next week.”
“Next week? But I’m already at New York, I have a flight to Chicago.”
“Yes, I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. Our company will pay for your flight back to Pittsburg of course. Also, to compensate, we will fly you down business class next week. The recruiter will call you with the details.”
“Okay.” Jatin said. It had been that kind of day.
“By the way, is there a Kramer-Gellar algorithm?”
“Umm…no, not really.” Jatin allowed himself a smile.
“Right.” And the line went dead.
The next day, Jatin was back at the University campus, narrating his experience to Swati, who couldn’t stop giggling. By the time he had finished the story, she rolled on the floor with laughter.
Swati looked at him. “You know what your new nick name will be, right?”
“Yeah.” Jatin stood and made his hands appear like a gun in a mock James Bond pose. “My name’s Jones, Justin Jones.”
