What’s this? Who is it I shall be seeing today, a Moffitt? Is my interview today with a Moffitt? I knew a Moffitt once. It was a long time ago. Surely today’s Moffitt isn’t the same Moffitt I encountered all those years ago. If God has a sense of fairness this surely can’t be that Moffitt. The Moffitt I knew was a frightening sight. He had dark auburn hair and blue eyes. His skin was alabaster white and he had freckles in a line across the bridge of his nose. He reminded me of Howdy Doody, but without the grin.

The bazaar looking Moffitt was in no way handsome. His overbearing humility had that Andy Griffith, Mayberry kind of obnoxious homeliness. But I wasn’t taken in by his masquerade, nor should anyone else have been. The passivity Moffitt so coyly taunted his coworkers will was a ruse. Anyone, who looked past those black frame glasses and that "Thank you Mam," genteel veneer could see the true conniving nature that was Moffitt.

Every day, every time I saw Moffitt I had horrid thoughts of that incepted little man reproducing a heard of pocket protector computer programming nerds like himself. My Moffitt could have been mass-producing the next generation of Bill Gates. I remember thinking I could one day be working for Moffitt or one of his minions. The thought terrified me.

When I left that office for the last time Moffitt was the one who came to me to say goodbye. His congenial smile and polite questioning about my future grated on my nerves like people talking during a movie or bright headlights at night. I could see the merriment in Moffitt’s eyes. He wanted to move on up as I moved out. His greed, his dirty little greed was all he had on his mind. So there stood Moffitt in my doorway, glaring at me with a self-righteous grin.

No, that would not be the last time I saw Moffitt. The following week I bumped into Moffitt and a demure woman, I thought to be his wife, at a local shopping center. Moffitt rushed over and greeted me as if we had been good buddies in school or had grown up together. "How are you? How’s the new job?" he sputtered. Oh, I returned his greeting as cordially as I could, but I could feel him smirking when I said everything was fine. He said he had to hurry, but ask that I stay in touch, like we had some deep relationship that should be continued.

The plain looking mouse of a woman that accompanied Moffitt positioned herself on the other side of the walkway and never came over to share niceties. I was sure that Moffitt had instructed her to keep her distance. Looking at her, I was glad she chose not to come over. Even women with alabaster skin have complexions and color compared to her. Her chalky pail shin was only slightly more attractive than her lifeless brown hair. She was most likely a vegetarian or anemic.

So today I will meet another Moffitt. I’m sure this experience will be one to remember if past encounters are any indication. I wonder what he will be like. Surely he’s not a redhead or a geek like my Moffitt. It could be the same gent or maybe one of his relations. The name isn’t as common as Chin or Smith, so there is a chance. Now isn’t there?

"Please, excuse my rudeness sir. I didn’t see you enter. You must be Mr. Moffitt. Would you please come in and have a seat?"