The Rosewood Center in Owings Mills, Md. Formerly known as the Asylum and Training School for the Feeble Minded.
Ethan rushed his blue SUV down the I-795 corridor toward his new apartment in Owings Mills. The cardboard boxes full of books and furniture rattled as he careened past the all-too-comfortable Maryland drivers, those poor ambitionless spirits who satisfied themselves with poorly conceived speed limits. Always challenge the status quo, he affirmed to himself. He was reminded of a professor's favorite quote: Mankind thrives on creative destruction.
Although he looked forward to his new job as an academic dean, Ethan neither liked nor cared for the city of Owings Mills. "Just a sleepy suburb full of minorities and welfare babies," he would complain as he searched on the internet for a proper apartment. Most of his friends agreed; they were, after all, graduates of a prestigious and driven university, stewards of their future career aspirations to become brain surgeons and law partners. Yet Ethan did not flock with them to the usual cities where young professionals congregated. More than anybody, he longed for control, and he longed to stand out. He did not want to blend in with the scene in New York City or Chicago. Ethan wanted to become "the man," even if it meant coming to a dump like Owings Mills.
The apartment manager did not bother looking up as Ethan approached her desk, nor did she greet him. Ethan stood perplexed, unaccustomed to being ignored. In three weeks she'll know - no, they'll all know my name. Yet she continued to stare listlessly at her computer screen.
"Excuse me?" Ethan demanded. "I'm here for my apartment. I can't wait all day for you to daydream!" Ethan was not abrasive by nature, but he justified his behavior with a theory that combativeness was the only way to succeed in a competitive business environment. Although his aggressive approach landed him many enemies, he realized that even the worst adversaries respected his quick decisionmaking and inpenetrable facade. And respect was the most valuable commodity.
But the apartment manager barely seemed to notice. She continued to stare blankly into her computer screen. "Excuse me!" Ethan repeated. The manager looked at him apathetically. Without moving her lips, she quietly unclenched her fist to reveal a perfect set of Room 33 G keys. What a customer service disaster, Ethan thought to himself. He grabbed the keys and headed toward his room.
"Enjoy Owings Mills, Mr. Ethan."
Though he did not admit it, something about her voice made Ethan uneasy.
1 comment:
LOL.
Post a Comment