Wait For Me

Part 20- NOLA's Newest Radio Host

Whittifield quirked a brow and took a drag. "Oh, would ya like a tour? I'd happily give you one!"

Alastor shrugged. He kind of assumed that he would be given one after the interview process was over, but perhaps they just did things differently here. He had no prior experience to go off, so who was he to judge? "That sounds simply aces."

"Marvelous!" the other man bellowed, standing up from his chair with such gusto that it nearly fell onto the floor.

Alastor flinched at the abrupt movement.

"Shake a leg my good man, we don't have all day, and I have other business to attend to. You aren't the only one interested in the job you know."

Alastor simply nodded and stood from his seat, following Chester out of the office and back into the dimly lit hallway. The walls had some framed photographs of the construction of the building, its opening, what Alastor assumed was someone from Loyola shaking hands with Chester, and an employee or two. He didn't see the secretary out front on the wall. In fact, he didn't see a single person of color being displayed at all. He scowled.

Mr. Whittifield led him to several sound rooms and showed him the record room where old tapes were stored for future necessity or reference. There were only two other offices, one of which was used for a Loyola representative, and the other for the assistant manager. The last room he was shown was a breakroom the size of Alastor's small bedroom at home, and a single bathroom.

In summary, the interior of the building was quite drab, dark, and dingy, but Alastor had already thought of a few ways to spruce up the place - if he was hired. If there was one thing his mother taught him about the work place, it was that you always had to get yourself ahead, because no one would do it for you, and sometimes that meant taking extra shifts, or making your work environment better for you and your colleagues without being asked.

"My assistant manager ain't here," Chester was saying. "Nick is his name. Ol' Nicky recently had a baby. Well, not him." He laughed uproariously. "Wouldn't that be a hoot?"

Alastor gave him a thin-lipped smile, trying to remain polite but failing to see what was so funny. Was that supposed to be some sort of joke?

Chester cleared his throat when it became obvious that Alastor wasn't laughing. "Er, yes, well. I believe that concludes the tour. Shall we head back to my office?" He turned on his heel and headed back down the long hallway, Alastor close behind.

When they got back to the office, Whittifield sat in his chair, and Alastor sat across from him. The older man curled his fingers together on the desk. "I'm gonna be straight with you. Ya don't need any experience to be a Radio Host. Anyone could do it. But I'm curious." He picked up a random stack of papers from his desk and squinted at them, further neglecting to properly wear the glasses on his head.

Alastor furrowed his brows but waited patiently and silently.

"It says here that you used to play in a jazz band. Very nice." He looked back up to make eye contact with Alastor. "So, why'd you leave?"

"Well sir, I've played the saxophone for well over ten years, but after going on some tours with my band, I realized I wanted something different. I still play my saxophone frequently, but I don't want that to be my career."

"I see. And where exactly are you from?" Chester asked, lighting up another cigar and taking a large puff from it.

"About forty-five minutes from here. Out by the bayou."

Chester's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "The bayou?" He knew what kind of people lived out there. He gave Alastor a cursory glance. "Yes, well, unfortunately I'm afraid we don't have a position available for you."