Wednesday, October 29, 2003
MY BRILLIANT CAREER(S) 1C
A RUDE AWAKENING
I was talking to Jeannie. Her reserve had disappeared. Her tone was warm and seductive.
“We need someone to assist the cheerleaders today. Do you think you could analyze their routines for us? And maybe later you could stop by and tell me how it went. We could have a glass of wine and relax in my private office. Would you like that?”
I was trying to answer her, but my tongue couldn’t form the words. Far away I could hear a phone ringing.
“You’re sleeping right through your call. Quick, answer it before they get someone else.”
I shook myself awake and grabbed the phone. I was determined to sound both chipper and manly.
“Hello,” I said.
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Is anyone there?”
“Yes, I’m here,” I answered. “Who’s calling?"
“This is Mr. Babbingbam, from the Board of Education. Are you available to substitute today?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you sure you're all right, sir? You're very hard to understand. Do you have a cold or a sore throat?”
“No, no, I’m fine.”
“Well as long as you’re sure. We need a substitute for the shop teacher at the high school. Please be at the office at 7:15 for your schedule and instructions.”
Before I could respond the phone went dead.
OFF TO THE RACES
“The shop classes only meet in the morning. Most of the shop students go to their voc-ed jobs in the afternoon. So after lunch, please report back to hallway C in the main building. You’ll act as a hall monitor for the afternoon classes.”
“Main building?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I were beyond help. After taking a deep breath, she responded in the slow deliberate style that people affect when they want all within earshot to see how patient they can be when dealing with an imbecile.
“This is the main building. The shop students have their own building out back, at the end of the parking lot. It’s a prefab. Oh, and please report to Mr. Von Klausewitz, the shop department supervisor, before going to the classroom. His office is in the trailer next to the shop building.”
The parking lot went from asphalt to gravel, then petered out into weeds and loose rocks.
I followed a dirt path, strewn with broken glass, chains, and assorted detritus, to the front of the trailer. A bunch of old tires were piled up next to the door. There had to be a vicious, mangy, pariah dog, or maybe an angry pit bull, crouching somewhere close by.
I went in and found Von Klausewitz. His office was a dinged up desk in the middle of the trailer. I had to work my way through piles of machine tools, scrap metal, magazines, cardboard coffee cups, and fast food wrappers in order to approach.
Von Klausewitz was dressed in a grease stained green work suit. Sort of a combination mechanic/chain-gang escapee number. He looked as though he had once been a hard man. Now, though, he was fleshy and haggard, Karl Malden-nosed and beady eyed.
“You wanted to see me?” I said. I knew what was coming.
“Yeah. Before you do anything in there I gotta see your state insurance waiver.”
“I don’t have one.”
“The fuck. Why do they keep sending me all these fuckups? You, you can’t touch anything. Just take attendance and sit there. Got it?”
“Damn,” I said. “I was really hoping to get my hands on a grouter today. I mean a router.”
Von Clausewitz disappeared behind a copy of The Racing Form. I was dismissed.
After 1st period I went back to the trailer. Von Klausewitz was whispering into the phone while marking up the charts in The Form with his free hand. He looked disgusted to see me.
“What is it, wiseguy?”
“The students are pretty wild. There’s really nothing for them to do.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe I could take them to the library. Let them get something to read.”
He face reddened and he started to shake in fury. He leapt up and pointed his finger at me.
“The fuck you say! Those kids aren’t allowed into the main building without special passes. They pay me to keep them out here. You trying to get me in trouble?”
“Nope.”
“Just tell them to be quiet. If they get too out of line, tell them you’re going to go get Klaus. That’ll shut them up. They don’t want to see me coming in. Now, is that it? I’m pretty busy here.”
SUCCESS STORY
He was right. They didn’t want him to come in there. I marked time until lunch, then made my way to the cafeteria. I picked up some generic pre-made food and waited in a line that must have started while the freshmen were still in elementary school.
I finally got to the cashier. She didn't ring me up; she just stared at me. “Aren’t you?”
Then I recognized her. The mother of an old schoolmate of mine. “Yes, yes I am. How’s Ritchie?”
“Oh, he’s doing very well. He’s a doctor now; I’m sure you heard.”
No, I hadn’t heard. We’d lost touch over the years.
“Married, too. To a lovely girl. They have two wonderful children. A boy and a girl. Just beautiful they are. So sweet and so well spoken. And they love their Nana so much.”
I was beginning to realize why the line moved so slowly.
“Ritchie just bought a house, too. A big beautiful one up on the hill in that new community outside of town. I can’t for the life of me see why they would need such a big house, it’s practically a mansion.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am for him,” I said. “And how much for this?”
I decided to go home after lunch. Hallway C would be unmonitored, out of the reach of the law, at least for one afternoon.
HEY, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?
When I got home, I fell asleep on the couch but was soon awakened by a loud carrying-on. I rushed to the window and looked out upon a conga line of pregnant teens, singing some sort of bawdy song, laughing and pointing up at me. I felt a hand tapping on my shoulder and jumped back. It was Coach Shuckley. He was bouncing a basketball with the other hand and laughing hysterically.
“It’s your own fault,” he shouted above the racket. “I myself live in a sound-proof, vandal proof structure, personally designed for me by Albert Speer.”
“You’re insane,” I said. “Speer’s been dead for years and besides, he never did residential.”
“Speer, Jr. and The Speer Group, I mean. They helped me out, as a favor.”
I heard a horrible, screeching noise.
“That’s Klaus and a few of the boys, gone to work on your car. That way, when Donnie gets here, you’ll have to face the music. No running for your car and riding away. Get the picture?”
"No, it can't be," I tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out. Someone was shaking me again.
"It was FW. "Wake up, for God's sake. You're gibbering and drooling all over the couch. How long have you been sleeping there anyway?"
"This school thing, it's not working out," I said. “I feel like I'm coming down with a case of trichotillomania.”
"Don't tell me you bought pork from a high school cafeteria. What's wrong with you? What couldn't you just bring a sandwich and eat in the faculty lounge like a normal person?"
"Do you remember my friend Ritchie?" I asked. "He had real ruddy cheeks and a high forehead. Well anyway, I just heard he became a doctor. Maybe he can help me."
"You seem to know a lot of doctors," she said. "But I'd be surprised if any of them can help you."
A RUDE AWAKENING
I was talking to Jeannie. Her reserve had disappeared. Her tone was warm and seductive.
“We need someone to assist the cheerleaders today. Do you think you could analyze their routines for us? And maybe later you could stop by and tell me how it went. We could have a glass of wine and relax in my private office. Would you like that?”
I was trying to answer her, but my tongue couldn’t form the words. Far away I could hear a phone ringing.
“You’re sleeping right through your call. Quick, answer it before they get someone else.”
I shook myself awake and grabbed the phone. I was determined to sound both chipper and manly.
“Hello,” I said.
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice asked. “Is anyone there?”
“Yes, I’m here,” I answered. “Who’s calling?"
“This is Mr. Babbingbam, from the Board of Education. Are you available to substitute today?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Are you sure you're all right, sir? You're very hard to understand. Do you have a cold or a sore throat?”
“No, no, I’m fine.”
“Well as long as you’re sure. We need a substitute for the shop teacher at the high school. Please be at the office at 7:15 for your schedule and instructions.”
Before I could respond the phone went dead.
OFF TO THE RACES
“The shop classes only meet in the morning. Most of the shop students go to their voc-ed jobs in the afternoon. So after lunch, please report back to hallway C in the main building. You’ll act as a hall monitor for the afternoon classes.”
“Main building?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I were beyond help. After taking a deep breath, she responded in the slow deliberate style that people affect when they want all within earshot to see how patient they can be when dealing with an imbecile.
“This is the main building. The shop students have their own building out back, at the end of the parking lot. It’s a prefab. Oh, and please report to Mr. Von Klausewitz, the shop department supervisor, before going to the classroom. His office is in the trailer next to the shop building.”
The parking lot went from asphalt to gravel, then petered out into weeds and loose rocks.
I followed a dirt path, strewn with broken glass, chains, and assorted detritus, to the front of the trailer. A bunch of old tires were piled up next to the door. There had to be a vicious, mangy, pariah dog, or maybe an angry pit bull, crouching somewhere close by.
I went in and found Von Klausewitz. His office was a dinged up desk in the middle of the trailer. I had to work my way through piles of machine tools, scrap metal, magazines, cardboard coffee cups, and fast food wrappers in order to approach.
Von Klausewitz was dressed in a grease stained green work suit. Sort of a combination mechanic/chain-gang escapee number. He looked as though he had once been a hard man. Now, though, he was fleshy and haggard, Karl Malden-nosed and beady eyed.
“You wanted to see me?” I said. I knew what was coming.
“Yeah. Before you do anything in there I gotta see your state insurance waiver.”
“I don’t have one.”
“The fuck. Why do they keep sending me all these fuckups? You, you can’t touch anything. Just take attendance and sit there. Got it?”
“Damn,” I said. “I was really hoping to get my hands on a grouter today. I mean a router.”
Von Clausewitz disappeared behind a copy of The Racing Form. I was dismissed.
After 1st period I went back to the trailer. Von Klausewitz was whispering into the phone while marking up the charts in The Form with his free hand. He looked disgusted to see me.
“What is it, wiseguy?”
“The students are pretty wild. There’s really nothing for them to do.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe I could take them to the library. Let them get something to read.”
He face reddened and he started to shake in fury. He leapt up and pointed his finger at me.
“The fuck you say! Those kids aren’t allowed into the main building without special passes. They pay me to keep them out here. You trying to get me in trouble?”
“Nope.”
“Just tell them to be quiet. If they get too out of line, tell them you’re going to go get Klaus. That’ll shut them up. They don’t want to see me coming in. Now, is that it? I’m pretty busy here.”
SUCCESS STORY
He was right. They didn’t want him to come in there. I marked time until lunch, then made my way to the cafeteria. I picked up some generic pre-made food and waited in a line that must have started while the freshmen were still in elementary school.
I finally got to the cashier. She didn't ring me up; she just stared at me. “Aren’t you?”
Then I recognized her. The mother of an old schoolmate of mine. “Yes, yes I am. How’s Ritchie?”
“Oh, he’s doing very well. He’s a doctor now; I’m sure you heard.”
No, I hadn’t heard. We’d lost touch over the years.
“Married, too. To a lovely girl. They have two wonderful children. A boy and a girl. Just beautiful they are. So sweet and so well spoken. And they love their Nana so much.”
I was beginning to realize why the line moved so slowly.
“Ritchie just bought a house, too. A big beautiful one up on the hill in that new community outside of town. I can’t for the life of me see why they would need such a big house, it’s practically a mansion.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am for him,” I said. “And how much for this?”
I decided to go home after lunch. Hallway C would be unmonitored, out of the reach of the law, at least for one afternoon.
HEY, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR?
When I got home, I fell asleep on the couch but was soon awakened by a loud carrying-on. I rushed to the window and looked out upon a conga line of pregnant teens, singing some sort of bawdy song, laughing and pointing up at me. I felt a hand tapping on my shoulder and jumped back. It was Coach Shuckley. He was bouncing a basketball with the other hand and laughing hysterically.
“It’s your own fault,” he shouted above the racket. “I myself live in a sound-proof, vandal proof structure, personally designed for me by Albert Speer.”
“You’re insane,” I said. “Speer’s been dead for years and besides, he never did residential.”
“Speer, Jr. and The Speer Group, I mean. They helped me out, as a favor.”
I heard a horrible, screeching noise.
“That’s Klaus and a few of the boys, gone to work on your car. That way, when Donnie gets here, you’ll have to face the music. No running for your car and riding away. Get the picture?”
"No, it can't be," I tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out. Someone was shaking me again.
"It was FW. "Wake up, for God's sake. You're gibbering and drooling all over the couch. How long have you been sleeping there anyway?"
"This school thing, it's not working out," I said. “I feel like I'm coming down with a case of trichotillomania.”
"Don't tell me you bought pork from a high school cafeteria. What's wrong with you? What couldn't you just bring a sandwich and eat in the faculty lounge like a normal person?"
"Do you remember my friend Ritchie?" I asked. "He had real ruddy cheeks and a high forehead. Well anyway, I just heard he became a doctor. Maybe he can help me."
"You seem to know a lot of doctors," she said. "But I'd be surprised if any of them can help you."
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