The Culmination of a Series of What Ifs

It’s intimidating how delicate life is. Every single choice we make yields a result. Every single decision we make, no matter how small the detail, serves a role in how life unfolds. Every single insignificant moment has consequences, but the bliss of ignorance spares us the devastating realization of what could’ve been.

There I stood, in the rain, at the bus stop, at the 13th Street exit to the U Street Metro station; it’s dark, chilly, a bit windy; but the only thing I could focus on was the car pulling up. Behind the steering wheel was Nduku Malombe, and right then I knew, once I stepped into the car, we would be embarking on a journey that almost never happened.

Meet Maureen
It was yet a another typical workday sitting at my desk when I came across the resume of yet another candidate. One of hundreds seeking employment. As a recruiter at a staffing agency, sifting through resumes becomes an art. We’re inundated with work histories, internships, skills & qualifications, objectives, cover letters, educational accolades and of course, as many references as requested. The economy was coming apart at the seams, the presidential elections were becoming more intense and war raged on in Afghanistan, Iraq and a small corner of Cuba.

Identifying candidates sometimes is less about who knows Microsoft Excel the best and more about which candidates are going to be the easiest to manage. Clients receive invoices of thousands of dollars weekly, so filling assignments with anyone isn’t an option. The primary focus of a staffing specialist is to identify that candidate who not only can fulfill the requirements of a job assignment beyond expectations, but that candidate with whom you can develop a special rapport, a level of trust and a sense of confidence that we’re in this together.

Maureen Ndoto’s resume caught my attention. Her secret? Well, it definitely wasn’t the resume, littered with URLs and designed to get a specific type of job within a specific type of field, one in which we didn’t specialize. Diversity is everything with temporary employees. The ability and willingness to complete any type of assignment for any client, ideally for any pay rate for any length of time.

Maureen’s resume didn’t say all that. Actually, her resume was the classic resume from a relatively recent college graduate in which my eyes would gloss over while my fingers clicked to go to the next resume. Of course that confession isn’t a reflection on Maureen. I didn’t know her. She was just another hopeful for what sometimes seems like a hopeless process. Another 16k of data taking up hard drive space amongst gigabytes of others.

It began with her last name, the N in Ndoto reminding me of the N in Njambi, a Kenyan I dated while living in Atlanta. Coincidentally, Maureen spent some time in Kennesaw, just outside of Atlanta, before moving the the Washington, DC, area. Coincidence?

During her interview she came across as someone who qualified for what we look for in candidates. A sweet, intelligent and willing candidate. Someone I felt confident would make an impression if sent out on an assignment, only she found a job on her own before we could use her services. In the gray area that follows after every two people meet, we became Facebook friends, had a conversation about who knows what and agreed to stay in touch, though that’s what people do because we’re wired to do what seems to be the polite thing to say and do. We didn’t speak again for almost a year.

I would go on to interview hundreds of other candidates, and she would continue down the path of her life. She didn’t exist as anything more than a name that conjured up a past memory and a potential candidate that never happened.

Meet Chad
In classic Chadian form, my former college roommate calls at the last minute and says he’s coming to town and needed a place to crash. Life hasn’t been so kind for me, most of it a result of a decision I made in the name of being supportive. And part of me wanted to encourage Chad to stay at his cousin’s place, and we simply hang out a night or two when he got here. It was during a moment when I desperately needed time and space. My mind saturated with an overwhelming amount of thoughts, some good but most stressful, it was important to me that I didn’t tranfer my negative energy to Chad. But more importantly Chad would never allow tough times to turn me away, so mi casa es Chad’s casa for as long as he wanted.

Chad finally reaches Washington, DC, hours after anticipated because of a massive traffic jam on I-95; one that almost made him change his mind about coming to town if I wasn’t relying on him coming to our homeboy Eric Mack’s place to give me a ride home. He originally planned on leaving a couple of days later, but Eric lined up some people for Chad to conduct interviews with for a video project he’s working on. Otherwise Chad would’ve had no reason to stick around until the weekend.

Chad and I got in his first night around 3 am. Each night we were up late, challenging my body’s endurance to make it to work in the morning on time. Lack of sleep was chipping away at my stamina which lowered my tolerance hence increased my temper. Just the cherry on top of everything else going on in life.

That Wednesday I had tickets to attend an panel discussion about the relationship between Afghanistan and Pakistan at the National Cathedral. Senator John Kerry and Husain Haqqani, Pakistan ambassador to the U.S., were on the panel. I paid my money and was looking forward to it for weeks. Then Chad called me at work that morning saying he was going to happy hour around the time I would be heading out to the panel discussion.

As bad as I wanted to go, Chad is my homeboy, so I decided to do happy hour instead. I show up at Alero expecting just Chad, Eric and our friend Megan Stevinson. Also there was Colin Campbell, a Facebook friend of mine who I’d never met. And Chad’s cousin Mark Jackson. Later on my friend Adrienne Stephens shows up as well as fellow college friend Duane Nash. And the evening served as a momentary reprieve from the issues clouding my head. We had a ball. After we left Alero most of us went to Marx in Mt. Pleasant and the night rushed past midnight, sapping more of my much-needed rest for the week.

During our outing Duane Nash mentioned he was having a bar crawl to celebrate his birthday that Friday. Chad wasn’t planning on being here that long, and I really needed to get caught up on my sleep. As Friday approached it came down to two insignificant occurrences that set up a very crucial decision that I would be unknowlingly presented the next day.

I’ve made it an obligation to attend special events such as birthday celebrations, especially after missing my homeboy Wayne Brockington’s wedding just recently because of a myriad of bad luck. My guilt caused me to be adamant to not let down another one of my homeboys, so I pressed Chad to stay another night so we can bar crawl with Duane Nash. I still would’ve made an appearance, but probably just to show my face. How long I would’ve stayed isn’t as important as the fact that Eric lined up another interview for Chad so it would be another night before he left to go back to his wife.

I would retire from Duane’s bar crawl around midnight while Chad stayed out with him for another several hours. Mixing my alcohols ended my night early, and I immediately found myself indulging in badly-needed sleep. Staying out past midnight almost all week wore me down. If I had stayed out as late as Chad, I know I would’ve been done for the weekend.

The Invite
Just past noon the next day, I received a surprise chat from Maureen Ndoto, someone I hadn’t communicated with in nearly a year. My first thought, instincts kicking in, was that she was looking for work. Waiting for any sign of asking about work, I made sure I was clear that there are no jobs available. When we first met the economy was breaking apart; now the economy was broken. I specifically noted we had no job openings, just in case. And she responded by asking what I was doing for the weekend.

Scratching my head, figuratively, I replied vaguely, considering I really didn’t want to do anything other than recuperate. I mentioned my homeboy was in town from New York and we were undecided. She mentioned she and her roommate wanted to go to the movies and that Chad and I were invited. If it wasn’t “Capitalism: A Love Story” by Michael Moore I’m not so sure I would’ve even considered it. Then she mentioned she and her roommate were going to a birthday party that night so perhaps going to the movies on Sunday. Being a die hard Redskins fan, this was virtually not an option. The game would’ve been over by 4:30 pm, but I wasn’t trying to be out late before another 5-day work week.

And she immediately replied, in all caps, let’s go that night. By then the thought of simply not going became an option, yet I said we’d go. And though I said we’ll be there, there was an all-out war in my head of whether or not to renege. Being a junior conspiracy theorist and not having been to the movies for a while, the urge was strong to go. But every time I was convinced I wanted to go, my body screamed back “NO!” It was really coming down to the fact that Chad didn’t look like he wanted to spend a Saturday night in the house, and if we didn’t go to the movies, there was no telling where we’d end up and what time we would’ve gotten in. If it wasn’t for me urging Chad to stay, I know would’ve said no.

Still, I was on the fence. Chad and I headed out for the night, first stopping by Wisdom to have a drink and to give me another moment to figure out if we were really going to go or not. After a couple of drinks, oh what the hell, why not? Though Maureen’s roommate was probably a tall, overweight, fugly, obnoxious African who was going to have this negative attitude towards Americans, men and short people, Chad and I headed towards Ballston Mall’s Regal Cinema anyway.

We sat out in the lobby area, talking about nothing, watching the minute hand pass by quickly, wondering where these Africans were. The closer we got to showtime, the closer I got to suggesting we get refunds and finding something else to get into. How did we even end up in Virginia anyway? Everyone knows I act as if I’m allergic to everything Virginia. And now I’m in Virginia waiting for a candidate from a year ago and her roommate? Insanity!

But just before the words, “Let’s jet…” escaped my lips, around the corner came Maureen Ndoto and her roommate — Nduku Malombe.

The What Ifs…

UPDATE: The original reason I wrote this for Nduku was to show how every single little decision made in life contributes to and can influence every single thing that happens in the future, no matter how small those decisions are. Then a friend asked me what happened after Nduku and I met at the movies. So, I posted another piece I wrote for Nduku.