ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152f)

ANOTHER YEAR... onward! (Part 152f)

If I could do it over I’d do it differently but... Jerry was standing behind his desk and I moved right in front of him. He was about 5’10“ and I was 6’1” (no longer!) so I was looking down on him. At 160 pounds I certainly wasn’t all that intimidating. The look on his face spoke volumes and he certainly looked frightened as I almost shouted at him “Who do you work for?” when he didn’t answer I upped the volume a bit... “Who’s paying you?“. With still no response I was livid. Hobie, with his desk now located under the stairs and on the opposite side of the lobby heard me and had reached the gate to the ‘platform’ when I unloaded on him...”You don’t make the decisions on what accounts to offer and not offer!“ When I realized Hobie was there I stopped. Of course he wanted to know what was going on. I was too upset to give a rational answer and deferred to Bret to try and explain. Within a minute both Hobie, Jerry and Bret were gone, headed for Hobie’s new office area.

It took a few moments to calm down. When Bret returned I asked him what he’d told Hobie. Smartly, I thought, he added his observation of Jerry giving wrong information to customers. I knew there would be a price to pay but in less than a week of employment Jerry had done nothing to make me feel comfortable with him. In a few months he’d be off on his own at the branch without anyone watching what he was doing or saying. I smelled trouble.

Jerry was back to his desk in less than ten minutes but it was noticeable that he wouldn’t look towards Bret or I as he took his seat. I sat there waiting for the phone to ring fully expecting Hobie to ream me out. It never rang and I never saw Hobie for the rest of the day. But I just had a feeling that the matter wasn’t over. It was on Friday night that the ‘shoe dropped’.

It was Bret’s night to work until 6pm and as I was putting my coat on in the coat room Hobie stuck his head in and asked me to walk with him to our cars. I remember that it was starting to snow. It was just ‘small talk’ until we got to the cars. Then he, calmly, stated that we were going to have to ”live with Jerry, warts and all.“ He went on to say his future with the bank was ”a given“ and that we needed to ”educate“ him and that we had over four months to do just that. However, he added that he understood my frustration but also that I had to find a way to ”tone it down“. Then he asked if I thought I could do it. I told him I could but as we said our ”good nights“ I wondered it was actually possible. I think I sat in the car for at least five minutes before putting the key in the ignition.

It was around this time that my father surprised me one day at work. He hadn’t been in to see me since right after my grandfather had died. I asked what brought him to town and he proceeded to hand me an envelope. I asked him what it was and he told me to open it. Believe me... this was not like my father, at all. I ripped it open and there was a hundred dollar bill right on top. I pulled it out only to find more bills behind it. Counting it all out it was over $170. I remember shaking my head and I know I had to have had a puzzled look on my face.

It’s a long story and I won’t bore you with the details. It had to do with a wrong assessment on a piece of property owned by members of my family for over 125 years. When the modern property tax system was put into effect whoever plugged in the lot dimensions used the wrong numbers. My grandfather, old and with poor eyesight, never checked the calculations but just went ahead and paid the assessments. When he died my father was to inherit the property but before he did he noticed the error. Going to the assessors office he protested the numbers and, after about a year, got a refund on the overage. My brother was living with my parents (again) at that time and he suggested that my father split the “windfall’ between the two of us... and, for some reason, he decided to do it.

Looking down at the money in my hand I knew exactly where it was going... to Cliffy and his racecar! I knew I could scrounge the additional $25 together so, even with my father still standing there I was planning on getting in touch with Cliffy to tell him to count me into the partnership for his father’s racecar. I'm not sure I even thanked him for the money. Later, I knew there was no way I was going to tell Elle about the money. However, I would tell her about the racecar and that I was going to be a pit crew member. It wasn't a perfect solution but it seemed reasonable to me.

The first adult education night was a disappointment for me. Only one of the women who’d signed up showed. Forty something and a little on the plump side, I focused on what the instructor, an assistant professional at the country club, was exposing us to. Of the small group there it was obvious to me that I had a lot of work to do before I ever went on a golf course. For some unknown reason that woman decided to befriend me during the break. New to the area she thought that by taking some courses she would get the opportunity to meet local people. I found out that she had a daughter who had just flunked out of college and was asking if I knew of any jobs available. I didn’t but suggested that if she ever was in the town where the bank was located for her to stop by. She thanked me and we went back to the lessons, such as they were.

Elle had a much better feel for her class. The instructor, a music teacher at another high school, came with three guitars so everybody got a chance to pluck some strings. Elle was hooked after her first chords were played. At home she informed me that if she was to continue beyond the third lesson she’d need a guitar. I remember laughing thinking about the golf pro pretty much saying the same thing. By then getting a charge card was looking better and better. Even though we had the trust fund I knew that if I dipped into it I probably would never pay it back. With a charge card I’d be forced to make the payments. Another reason was that with the euphoria of our upcoming ”free“ trip to Florida we’d overlooked the fact that we’d have to have money to do any sightseeing. The room and meals were taken care of but that was all. It looked very much like I’d become an American Express cardholder and very soon.

To be continued...