THE small panel passed some papers among itself.
Marcuz glared at the documents and felt they were his credentials and résumé.
He recalled that he’d given his departmental head a copy before. And asked if he could refer him wherever there were job openings.
He recalled that the man had found him way too funny.
“What are you, young man?! Some comedian or what?
“Will you land a job without your certificate ready now?
“And why will I submit your credentials anywhere – what did you do for me?”
The man burst in a laugh.
Marcuz couldn’t say a word. He was a pious kid and didn’t like what the man was hinting at.
He couldn’t give any favours to court more favours. It was what he knew as bribery and corruption.
But all the lad was asking for was that the man would refer him wherever there was an opening.
Then speak well of him if he truly trusted him.
So, when this person thought him stupid, he didn’t know where to turn.
The older man stopped laughing, as it suddenly felt awkward laughing alone.
He was mocking his young student, after all.
Now he tried to excuse it.
“Well, I find you interesting— López, or what?”
“López sir... Marcuz López.”
He was suddenly curious. “Spanish?”
“Yes, sir. Dad’s from Colombia, so I speak Spanish.”
The man switched to Spanish. “Oh, you’re Colombiano! See why you’re free with me... your H.O.D. is from Colombia too!”
He really was excited this time.
Marcuz caught on pretty fast.
“Ha, I always thought you’re from Cuba! Or, at least, one of francophone West Indies!”
“Aw, look at you getting so free again!—
“So why will you think Cuba and not Spanish-speaking?”
“It’s your surname, sir... Bembe... I mean Dr. Bembe! It sounds Cuban, not Spanish.”
Bembe switched to English.
“Well, it’s Spanish, too, Marcuz. At least, here in Latin America.”
Then he asked him: “So it means you don’t base in Colombia?”
Marcuz replied. “No sir, my parents didn’t settle at that country.
“Mom is Jamaican, and she played sports in Colombia one time.”
Marcuz used the simple tenses for his parents on purpose.
“Dad fell for her in Colombia. So when she went back home, he went looking for her in Jamaica.
“Dad won her heart this way, so they came together and had me.
“That was how my family settled in Jamaica.”
Bembe was amazed. “What an interesting start you’ve got!
“Only don’t be some kind of desperado with jobs. You’ll land your dream job, that’s my prayer.”
“Thank you sir,” Marcuz had smiled and left.
But he only said thanks for his kind words. He stopped to have hopes that he’d refer him.
Now, Marcuz stared at the stacked credentials. As the seated panel leaved through his file and mused their thoughts.
Then he saw in each stack a copy of his degree certificate.
He hadn’t even handled it; and there it was already in his credentials.
He wondered at what sort of event this was.
He wondered if Dr. Bembe had collected his certificate on his behalf and submitted a copy.
Then, in a while, he found his answer.
That Cannon itself needed his credentials and his H.O.D. must have turned it in.
That revelation came when the dean of his faculty asked a question.
The woman made a little tap on her desk microphone, leaned forward into it...
Then in a clear bold voice, she asked: “What will you do if we retain you?”
“Par... pardon?”
Marcuz was stunned as this confirmed his guess.
He was being handed a job.
“You finished first rate in pure chemistry,” the woman went on, “with a cumulative point average of 5.0.
“You and one other boy in applied math had the top of the top rate this year!
“Do you know what that means?”
Marcuz was hit by a paralyzing bolt.
He just gasped. “No, ma’am... I don’t know!”
“It means Cannon University is retaining you as graduate assistant at our department of pure chemistry—
“Now what do you say to this?”
Marcuz jumped up, electrified from head to toes.
His eyes were glistening wet as he bowed, sat again, and flustered.
“I am sorr... I am grateful... oh, I will do my best! I will do my very best!!”
Just then the woman who questioned him broke protocol.
She walked out of her seat and climbed down the rising tiers.
She went to shake hands with Marcuz. “Congratulations,” she said and flashed a smile.
Her name was Professor Bucci—Alicia Bucci.
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