The Interviews I Never Took: My 9/11 story, 25 years later

9/11, twenty-five years in the rearview

September 24, 2000, 11:45 AM

He was wearing civilian clothing as he approached my desk; only his facial expressions showed his military training and the iron will to do what he needed to do.

Steve was thirty-five years old, a US marine, and a decorated veteran of the Gulf War. After he retired from his military duties, he started teaching computer networking courses. He still reminds me of Jocko Willink, also a military vet: broad shoulders, six-foot tall, short, blond hair, an indomitable will, and a bright smile.

He was not smiling at all. He handed me a floppy disk.

“My daughter ran away from home three days ago. She is thirteen and with another girl. I think they are in New York. I read their emails. I need posters.” He said this in one breath, fast, and urgent.

“Let me see.” I reached for the floppy and inserted it into the desktop’s floppy drive. I immediately opened the Word document, inserted a table on a new page, created two columns, and twenty rows. Merged the cells, inserted a title, pictures, descriptions, and his phone number.

“The pictures were jumping around when I tried to align them.” Steve said matter-of-factly as he watched me work as fast as I could.

The poster was done in under sixty seconds.

“Print two hundred copies.” He loaded more paper into the laser printer.

The machine started humming and working as if it knew that this was an urgent mission.

We didn’t speak much; we didn’t have time. Steve jumped into his Jeep, raced to Manhattan, and started stapling the posters all over the city.

A few tense hours followed and at 4:30 that day, his phone rang. Someone had seen the two girls.

“Don’t approach them, just watch and follow them. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Steve jumped into his Jeep and raced to the city. He picked up the two girls, thankfully they were safe and unharmed. They were also grounded for a year. Steve’s daughter was even sat in his classroom that summer while he taught networking fundamentals.

She was required to follow him everywhere and remain under supervision for a year.

Later that day I was thinking that preparing for the Microsoft Office Word exam and earning a Microsoft Office User Specialist certificate may have saved two lives.

I had practiced table and alignment features for the exam dozens of times to pass it with high marks. Microsoft always had at least four to five questions on the practical test about tables. How to merge the cells, align the text, insert pictures, how to use it to mail merge, and how to hide the gridlines. It sounds a bit boring; however, practicing those features dozens of times proved to be useful in real life.

A basic skill practiced until you master it could also present opportunities for you.

That’s how this 9/11 personal story begins.

Friday, January 19, 2001

“Cash your paychecks today!” Sal, our director, was yelling at the exit as we left Computer Learning Center in Paramus, New Jersey.

“Cash your paycheck today, don’t wait!” He yelled again. You could see the tension and stress on his face and his gray hair made his expression even more serious.

The moment seemed surreal. We were not entirely sure what was happening with the company. The company that just a year earlier presented me with an achievement award and one thousand dollars in cash. I was the top performing instructor out of two thousand instructors that worked for the school nationwide. I was in the top 2%. What an honor, what an accomplishment. And now the feeling that something is happening with the company where I have trained two thousand students and created unforgettable memories, this company may be closing down.

Monday, January 22, 2001

Wearing a suit and a tie, I showed up to work at 7:30 on that Monday morning. We had a half an hour to get our books and papers out of the building. I didn’t even think of grabbing my award with my picture on it from the wall. Chris took it off the wall and handed it to me when we were gathering outside.

“I don’t know if I need this.” I said to Chris with disappointment and obvious hurt in my voice.

“Why? It just shows that you are an excellent instructor.” Said Chris and handed me the framed award.

I still have it; it is sitting on my bookshelf. Chris, if you are reading this, thank you so much for getting this for me.

I was out of a job and my son, Peter, was six months old. It was a do or die situation and I decided to do.

I cleaned my garage for a few days, just to get the frustration out. I was also designing my comeback. I’ll show the world what I can do.

I decided that I would find a job in the World Trade Center. Prestigious location, good money, and the reward I thought I deserved as an award-winning educator. Within two weeks I found two jobs at the World Trade Center, and I have arranged two interviews. One interview for a financial analyst position, working with Excel, was at 2:00 p.m. The other interview, on the same day, was at 4:00 p.m. It was a corporate training position. I also applied for local jobs and had a few interviews; however, I had my sights set on the World Trade Center jobs.

I showered, shaved, had a light breakfast and was grabbing my briefcase to leave for the interviews. My hand was on the door handle when the phone rang.

“Hello, this is Attila.” I introduced myself hurriedly.

“Hi Attila, this is Steve. Listen, we have a job opening right now. Your skills are perfect for it. It’s a software department lead instructor that can lead to a management role. Can you come in for an interview?” He said this quickly; he must have been on his break.

I looked at my watch. My mind was racing. Three interviews in one day maybe pushing it a bit.

“I can be there at 9.30. Thank you so much for thinking of me.” I said and I made a calculation that if the interview is over by 11 AM, I can still drive to New York and have my interviews.

“I’ll see you soon.” He said and we hung up. I didn’t even have time to tell my wife the details. I looked up Mahwah, the Cittone Institute and left.

The interview was quick and successful. I had the experience, the education, the credentials, and my award. The director handed me a twenty-page contract to sign for the next day. I said thank you to Steve and went to my car with my contract.

I was sitting in my car, and the sudden job offer seemed surreal. It was much closer than New York, I would not have to fight the traffic, and the place looked nice and felt like home.

Something deep in my gut and even deeper in my soul told me to take the job.

I drove home and called both companies to cancel my interviews.

I was teaching an Excel class, when Layne burst into the classroom. She was late and she was really nervous about something.

“Did you guys see?!! A plane flew into the World Trade Center. One of the towers!” she said and sat down close to one of the students that was already looking into the news on the internet.

“Look how strong that building is.” I said as I examined the live feed. “The building is standing with the plane wedged inside.” That was my only comment, and we all went to the big screen TV to watch the news.

Everyone was in disbelief. When the second plane hit, it felt like a gut punch. Everyone was gasping for air, comments were flying everywhere and then we watched the buildings collapse.

I called my wife and asked her to pick up my son from daycare and go home.

“Please go home, make sure to take the back roads. Don’t take the highway. I hope to see you tomorrow morning.” I had to think fast, I had to act fast. No one knew what to do.

When I arrived home, I was happy to see that my wife and my son were safe. We lived in Rockaway, New Jersey, a five-minute walk from White Meadow Lake. We put my son in a stroller and walked down to the lake. We didn’t talk much. I remember how blue the sky was and that there were no airplanes up there. Not one. This was the one time, when I didn’t even think about taking my fishing rod with me.

I was thinking the entire day that if Steve had called me two minutes later, I would have been on my way to the interviews. I had a good chance to land one of those jobs and then I would not be writing this blog post today.

A Microsoft Word table may have helped to save two lives, and the butterfly effect also saved mine.

A year after the towers were destroyed, my wife had a job offer in Canada. My brother lived in Canada, so we decided to sell our house and move to Ontario.

A few years later we bought a house in Barrie, on Sunnidale Drive. 434 Sunnidale Drive.

I never told my World Trade Center story to my kids while they were young. One day my daughter told me that for some strange reason, she always looks at the clock, when it shows 9.11. My youngest son also said the same thing. This happened before I told them the story. You can imagine their wide-eyed surprise when I shared what happened.

One day in 2007 I had a hunch to look at Google Maps and find our house.

Our house was the 9th house from the cornfield. The house number, 434, adds up to 11.

That is the story. That is my 9/11 story and every word I have written is true as it happened.

Attila Farkas