I’m originally from a small town outside of Naples, Italy and I had just arrived in New York City last year. I was hoping to find work as a cook or chef since I had trained in some of the best kitchens back home. The day after I arrived, I received a mysterious letter stamped with a seal that looked like a cross on my apartment door. It summoned me to appear at a restaurant downtown called “Tony’s” at 7pm sharp.

That evening, I put on my best suit and headed to the address. The restaurant was in a dingy part of the city I didn’t recognize. I walked inside the dark interior and was greeted by a hostess who led me silently to a back room. There I found two men dressed in fine Italian suits sitting at a table covered in plates of pasta, pizza, antipasto, and glasses of wine. However, they didn’t offer me anything to eat or drink.

The men began to ask me strange questions in Italian. First, the older one in the pinstriped suit asked if I had any boating experience and could operate a motorboat at night. When I said no, the younger one in the track suit asked my views on wearing “concrete galoshes” and whether I knew how to swim in them. They also asked when my favorite holiday was and seemed very interested when I answered Valentine’s Day.

I was utterly confused by their line of questioning and asked them to explain what this meeting was about. The older man slammed his fist on the table and told me I clearly was not a good fit for the “Columbus Club.” Before I could respond, they ushered me out of the restaurant. I still have no idea what they wanted from me or what that mysterious club was. But I decided it was best not to pursue it any further.