Ten years have gone by, yet the incident refuses to fade away from memory.I had left my job, an act most of my friends felt was impulsive. As a Profit Centre Head, I was doing well, but my relationship with the boss was strained. Not wanting to put up with the daily routine of blind arguments, I resigned. The notice period was drawing to an end; no other job offer was also at hand. Naturally, I was beginning to get desperate.Then, one morning, a 'situations vacant' advertisement in the newspaper caught my attention. The profile was a close match, and the location ideal. It was too good an opportunity to ignore. Hoping for some 'tips', I telephoned a long time acquaintance, a placement agent. He said, “I don't think you fit the bill. They prefer MBAs with an MNC background. Don't waste your time.” My wife, however disagreed, “Go by your instinct. You're not going to lose anything.”By Monday, my CV was ready. It had to be weighed and stamps affixed. The General Post Office seemed to be the best bet. So carrying the envelope, I boarded a suburban train. As usual it was packed, but en-route, I was lucky to get a window seat. As the cool breeze hit me, I slipped into nap. The train seemed to have reached its destination sooner than expected. I got down. The crowd of office-goers took me out of the foyer and on to the main road. All of a sudden I noticed that the envelope was not with me.I turned around and rushed back to the platform. The train was still there. A thorough search of the bogey in which I travelled turned out to be fruitless. I thought, maybe while getting down, the envelope had fallen on the tracks. I waited impatiently for the train to pull away. It was not there on the tracks either.The logical thing to do was to go home, make a new CV, and mail it the next day. But I was crestfallen. Losing the original seemed to be a bad omen. I gave up.Three weeks later, I got a letter. It referred to my application, and invited me for a meeting with the company's Managing Director. I was surprised. How did the letter, which went missing, reach its destination? There was only one explanation. Someone who travelled with me that day had found the envelope. He might have asked around, and eventually carried it with him. Realising the importance from the job reference code on the envelope, he must have bought the required stamps and mailed it.
I tried to recall the faces of my co-commuters on that day. Who could have been so kind and helpful as to go through that extra trouble for apparently no benefit or reward? Why did he not contact me in spite of seeing my address on the envelope? To this day, I have no answer.
My meeting went on as scheduled, and within a month, I landed the job. That lucky break evoked memories of the film 'The Sound of Music', where Maria tells Captain Von Trapp:
“... when the Lord closes a door,
somewhere he opens a window.”