Essay Personal Narrative : My Dad 's House
There was no putting off what I had to do. With the contest clock ticking, the sooner I got it over with, the better. If I was going to pass my father’s final test and face my fears about asking for referrals, there was no time to check whether the water was warm and to my liking. I needed to plunge in headfirst. And to my thinking, there would be no better test of my resolve than to pay a visit to Bob Chess. My father would have expected nothing less.
It wasn’t a surprise visit. I called ahead and was lucky to find that Chess was free to see me toward the end of the day. His secretary penciled me in and I arrived at his office fifteen minutes ahead of time. She ushered me right in.
Appointment or not, my timing couldn’t have been worse. Chess was at his desk growling at someone on the phone. Mumbling a feeble apology for the interruption, I quickly started backing out of his office, but this only infuriated Chess even more. He waved one of his massive hands at me, indicating that I’d better sit down, or else. So I quickly recovered and did as I was told, trying my best to pretend that I was unaware of the conversation he was having, which was impossible since his half of it was delivered in a furious voice.
The last time that Bob Chess and I had spoken face to face, the subject had been his transportation problems. Since then, I’d helped him out by putting him together with Jerry…