From this point on, things go downhill for Bloom. He tries to talk to Crawford over the phone but is told (by MacHugh) to come back to the building. (Crawford gives MacHugh the message: tell Bloom to go to hell.) At the exact wrong moment, Bloom, returning, accosts Crawford just as he is leaving the newspaper building; Keyes will accept a renewal, but for only two months, not three. The reply of the irritated and thirsty-for-a-drink editor, that Keyes "can kiss [his] arse," leaves Bloom in a muddle. He simply does not know whether to take Crawford seriously or not. To Crawford, the exchange is a minor contretemps, but, for Bloom, the Keyes advertisement is his major commercial transaction of the day. In effect, Bloom's "return" is as ambiguous as that of Odysseus, who, after a reconciliation with Penelope, had to journey farther, carrying an oar on his shoulder, until he came to a land whose inhabitants had never beheld the sea. Odysseus's bearing an oar blends well with the Christocentric symbolism that surrounds Bloom.
Bloom's frustrated comings and goings here show even more clearly than the events in "Hades" (where the reactions of his fellow Dubliners towards him were muted because of the solemn occasion) his isolation from the people with whom he comes into daily contact. In "Aeolus," for the most part, Bloom is either ignored or treated shabbily. His "third hint" to Hynes about the money (three shillings) that he owes Bloom ("If you want to draw the cashier is just going to lunch") accomplishes nothing. Nannetti's responses to Bloom are curt and terse, even more than the noisy machinery of the printing press necessitates. When Bloom does try to become part of the group by asking what newspaper story is being quoted (Dan Dawson's speech), MacHugh says insultingly that it is a recently discovered fragment of Cicero's; Mr. Dedalus answers in a more kindly manner, perhaps remembering that it was he who diverted Bloom from reading Dan Dawson's speech on the way to Glasnevin. And Lenehan's "Pardon, monsieur," when he and Bloom collide is an exaggerated politeness meant to ridicule. Bloom, for his part, as he stands waiting for Nannetti to again acknowledge his presence, seems to realize that he does not have the ability to engage in the light banter, the mild blasphemies that knit Dublin men together; he recalls his rebuff by the pompous Menton (in "Hades") and wishes that he had been able to make a joke about the dinge (dent) in Menton's hat: "I ought to have said something about an old hat or something."
