The ticket
Enrique stood in the queue, as he had done countless times before,a faceless statistic, another average profile: 54 years old ,a skilled accountant made redundant 5 years ago- long term unemployed, benefits finalised. His dark hair was greying at the sides and the lines etched on his face were not only laughter lines as before but worries and frown lines had become more prominent. . His clothes were beginning to look well worn although clean.When you were unemployed your priorities changed and new clothes was not at the top of his list. He had had a good steady job until the company collapsed due to Spain’s economic crisis and now the only thing left to do was to queue up in the hope that the employment office could offer him something, anything. Oh he’d been to countless interviews but it was always the same: they wanted someone younger, meaning a person they could mould into the job and most importantly pay a lower salary as a trainee.What did it matter that HE could do the job infinitely better? – money ruled over all other aspects.
Standing in the serpentine queue he had started a little game, observing his fellow candidates and wondering what kind of jobs they had had in the past. The blonde woman in her late forties wore a fitted suit and her hair tied back in a neat bun. She used eye make up a little too heavily as if it had been applied in a poor light and in daylight it looked overdone giving her a garish appearance.Her black rimmed eyes darted around like a bird’s- intent on not missing the tiniest detail which she could gather up and use in her quest for the ultimate prize: a work contract. She had an air of bossiness about her and Enrique decided she must have been a supervisor or manager in her previous life. Because it was like having lived a completely different life then being reincarnated as a jobless middle aged male on the outer fringe of society due to reasons for which he took no blame but which affected him profoundly. His belief in himself and his capability had been shaken to the roots and his confidence was at the lowest level.
The queue slowly inched forward and he came level with the kiosk selling the ONCE tickets, for a a lottery for a charity for the blind. He felt in his pocket the coins he had brought for coffee- his only claim to breakfast. Suddenly he knew he had to spend the coins and buy a lottery ticket. He had to have some kind of hope otherwise this situation would be the end of him – he felt desperate. He made his way to the counter to ask for a coupon for that very day.There was a tall well dressed man in front of him asking for a number ending in 96. He paid and quickly moved on . Enrique paid and picked up his coupon only to realise that the tall man had left his purchase behind- there on the counter under Enrique’s coupon was the number 432696.
Enrique took both numbers with tembling fingers. The man had vanished. He’d think about what to do later….
ns 15.158.61.8da2
