Chapter 22: What Do You Want To Do?

October 18, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

When Anala and I finished our meal, I went to the register to pay, and the waitress, Candace, walked over to ring me up.

“My sister had some interesting things to say about you,” Candace said quietly.

“That did not end well,” I replied, handing her the check. “And I’d prefer not to rehash it.”

“How are things going for you at Spurgeon?”

“I was promoted to supervisor in the mailroom and I’m taking the Series 3 license on Wednesday.”

“That’s $13.21,” she said, ringing up the check in the register.

I handed her $15.00 and accepted the change.

“That promotion was fast,” Candace observed. “You’ve only been there just over a year, right?”

“Right.”

“Will I see you again?”

“I expect so,” I replied. “We used to go to David’s, but that’s not possible after the fire.”

“Then I’ll see you again!”

I went back to the table, left the tip, and then Anala and I left the diner. We hugged, and she headed towards her apartment, which was only a few blocks away, and I got in my car to head home.

October 20, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“How was your exam?” Mr. Nelson asked when I arrived in the office just after 11:00am on Wednesday.

I’d sat for the Series 3 exam, which had 120 multiple-choice questions, in two parts, which I’d had a total of two-and-a-half hours to complete. I was extremely confident I’d scored at least 70% on each portion, though I would never know anything other than if I passed or failed.

“I feel pretty good,” I replied. “With 70% being a passing grade, I’m positive I’ll pass.”

“I’m sure you passed. What’s next?”

“The Series 7 exam, which I’ll take once I have my Series 3 license. Once that’s completed, then the Branch Manager’s exam, or Series 30. With those three licenses, and certification from Mr. Spurgeon, I can engage in transactions for anything except real estate and insurance products.”

“There was a meeting this morning about 29. Believe it or not, there is serious discussion about Matheson taking 29.”

“We’re cutting it awfully close if he’s going to change the design,” I said.

“Mr. Spurgeon asked the architect to draw up a second set of plans, so I think we’ll be OK. But you’re right — they can’t dilly dally on this beyond the end of the month, and that’s less than two weeks away.”

“I’m not convinced Matheson can get past the ego thing,” I said.

“I don’t know the details, but Mr. Spurgeon appears to have offered Matheson some kind of incentive.”

“It has to be more than what I suggested, because that is, in effect, pocket change for those two.”

“True, but Spurgeon didn’t make his money by being profligate! And it does make sense to only move five, rather than move more than twenty because of people bumping others so that the ‘low men’ end up on 29. I think that, ultimately, is why Mr. Spurgeon is pressing the issue. I also suspect we’ll only be here a few more years before Mr. Spurgeon decides to buy a building.”

“I didn’t realize that was the plan.”

“It’s been a long-term plan from when it was just Spurgeon and Matheson. We’re close to the size and revenue where it would be possible, but Mr. Spurgeon won’t act precipitously. Obviously, if the right building were to come onto the market, he might pull the trigger sooner, but otherwise, I’d estimate around ‘87 or ‘88. Of course, that’s not something you’ll have to worry about.”

“I promise not to be a jackass about it when it happens!”

Mr. Nelson laughed, “You’ll be one of the few! Also, I plan to take the week between Christmas and New Year’s as vacation. You don’t have any days off scheduled then.”

“Hopefully the build-out will be completed by then.”

Mr. Nelson laughed, “Know any other good jokes?”

“Sadly, I suspect you’re correct.”

“You’ll have authority to get it done, within the budget, plus some overage, though I don’t know what that amount is.”

“Wonderful. I suspect we’ll have the usual union thugs pay us a visit?”

“Six different unions, so I think we can count on it. I have half a mind to call that Theo asshole and just ask him what it will take to keep everyone happy.”

“Yeah, but can you trust him not to come back to ‘wet his beak’ again when he has us over a barrel?”

“No, but think about what happens if he does if we’ve already cut a deal? And he reports to someone, too.”

“I’m not sure I’d want to mess with his boss, or his boss’s boss!”

“Let me think about how to deal with it. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Then get to work!”

“Yes, Sir!”

October 21, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“How did your exam go?” Violet asked when we met for dinner before class on Thursday.

“I’m positive I passed,” I replied. “I’ll know in a few weeks.”

“I asked my friend if they had any Hawks games they’d miss, and they said only one, but someone else was using the tickets.”

“I think we can buy tickets,” I replied. “And in March, I’ll have access to Mr. Spurgeon’s box for a number of games each year.”

“Oh, that’s totally cool! We’ll be able to use it next season, then?”

“Yes. Once I know what days are available. For this season, pick a couple of games and let me know, and I’ll let you know which one works best.”

“I will! I decided on my costume for your Halloween party, but I’m concerned about getting home.”

“I can drive you,” I replied. “It’s actually Bianca’s and Shelly’s party, so it’s not like I’m the host and walking out. And I’m sure Huifen won’t mind.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” I replied. “Mind telling me your costume choice?”

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Violet replied. “You?”

“A warlock.”

“Cool! How long will the party last?”

“Until it’s over!” I chuckled. “It’s a Saturday night, so it could go until the wee hours of the morning.”

“I’m not sure how late I want to stay.”

“That’s OK,” I replied. “I’m glad you’ll be at the party and I’m happy to drive you home.”

We ate our meal, went to class, and then went to the computer lab to complete our weekly assignment. When we finished, I walked Violet home, then got into my car to drive back to Rogers Park. When I arrived home, there was a message from Marcia, so I returned her call.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I spoke to my friend at the FAA this afternoon and she asked about your inquiry. Well, not you specifically, but the questions I asked. You didn’t say anything the other night, so I wanted to check.”

I actually hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it because it wasn’t all that important to me, and I was concerned for my mom, given the differing stories I’d heard. That said, I was curious to know if the plane crash part of the story was true, and so long as I didn’t act on it, nothing bad could happen. At worst, I’d know my mom fibbed about the circumstances, but I could totally understand doing that if it was to obfuscate the facts for her own reasons.

“You know what?” I said, “Let’s at least find out if the plane crash part of the story is true.”

“I have a pen and paper here by the phone, so go ahead.”

“Mark Knopf, age twenty-six in 1962, and who was from Kansas City, Missouri.”

“OK. I’ll relay that to her, and we’ll see what she discovers. She’ll look at any crashes in 1962, because your mom tried to get in touch with him before you were born, right?”

“Yes, though I don’t know for sure when that was.”

“Then 1963, if she doesn’t find anything in ‘62, in case the information you have is inaccurate. She’ll look for his name first, but if it doesn’t show up, then someone of the right age from Missouri.”

“You think he might have given a fake name?”

“Anything is possible, right?”

“I suppose so. How long will it take?”

“I’d think sometime next week, because there won’t be that many files.”

“Thanks, Marcia. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Want to have a beer tomorrow night? As friends?”

“You mean go to the pub in Wisconsin?”

“It’s either that or my place.”

“Actually,” I replied, “there’s a bar in Bridgeport where I can get served, but I’d need to double-check with my friend, Stuart, to make sure it’s still cool.”

“It’s up to you,” Marcia said.

“Let’s plan on Bridgeport, but if for some reason that won’t work, then Wisconsin.”

“Sounds good! I’ll come by the Hancock Center around 5:15pm.”

“See you then.”

I hung up, then went to hang out with Bianca and Shelly.

October 22, 1982, Kenosha, Wisconsin and Chicago, Illinois

“Well, here we are on another date,” I teased after we were seated.

I hadn’t been able to get hold of Stuart, so rather than risk it, we’d decided to go to Kenosha.

“Do you ever stop?” Marcia asked, rolling her eyes.

“I enjoy teasing you, but I’ll stop if you tell me to.”

“Do you give everyone a hard time?” Marcia asked.

“Only women!” I chuckled. “I’m straight!”

“Now you’re making me wonder why I asked you for a beer!”

“Because you can’t do without my quick wit and boyish charm!” I chuckled.

“Somebody is full of themselves!”

“And somebody isn’t full of me!” I grinned,

“Oh for Pete’s sake!” Marcia groaned. “Is there ANYTHING that I can say that you can’t twist?”

“Doubtful.”

A waitress came and took our food and drink orders.

“Do you do this with everyone?”

“Mostly with my friend Bev back home,” I replied. “We were always pretty goofy around each other, which I think I mentioned. She gave as good as she got, though she became much more serious once she found out she was pregnant.”

“That does tend to clarify things, especially if you’re still in High School! Why do I have the very strong feeling that you’ll eventually marry her?”

“Because it’s a real possibility, but that would be years down the road. I’m not even twenty yet, and we discussed the different perspectives you and I have because of the age gap. Bev’s perspective is different because of Heather, though she absolutely wants to finish her degree and get her teaching license.”

“And she’s OK with you dating and fooling around?”

“Our relationship is complicated,” I replied. “And that goes back to the fact that we never talked about it, it just kind of happened, and I mean from the time we were toddlers. Neither of us really dated until she started seeing Bob after I moved and I started dating here. The first time we really talked about us is after she got pregnant and we only had a serious conversation after she had Heather.”

“If you get your promotion, you’d absolutely be able to afford to bring her here.”

“The challenge there is that she’d have to transfer from UC to a school here and wouldn’t qualify for in-state tuition. In addition, her mom cares for Heather during the day. Those aren’t insurmountable problems, but they certainly are challenges. And I can’t afford to care for them before my promotion. I need my license before that can happen.”

Which was true, but I couldn’t let on that the promotion had been confirmed contingent on the license, because if it got back to Spurgeon somehow, I’d be in real trouble. I’d told Bev and my mom, and that had to be the limit. That said, I could reveal that any promotion was contingent on the license, just not that it had been offered.

“That’s a few years away, right?”

“The license? Next month. Any promotion would be contingent on the license, not to mention I’d want to prove myself before I assumed responsibility for Bev and Heather. And that’s assuming it’s a good idea to do that at age twenty or twenty-one, and I am not convinced it is, nor is Bev, for that matter.”

The waitress brought our beers and let us know our food would be ready soon.

“You feel bringing her here would be a commitment?”

“What else could it be? I mean, if you were in her position, how would you see it? Forget what the guy said, but how would you feel?”

“As if it were a commitment, especially if we were sleeping together, which, I expect from everything you’ve said, you would.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t invite her here without understanding what it meant to her, and we’d have to talk it through to make sure we were on exactly the same page.”

“And then you’ll proceed to analyze the situation and propose a logical, practical solution.”

“That’s Bev’s style as well,” I replied. “Well, mostly. She is female, after all!”

“And what does that crack mean?”

“That she has ovaries, a uterus, and...”

“YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!” Marcia growled, interrupting me.

“ ... estrogen,” I said with a smile. “It tends to interfere with logical thinking.”

“Right, and testosterone doesn’t?”

“It interferes with good judgment, not logical thinking!” I countered.

“Just not for you?” Marcia asked, her tone implying she felt I thought that to be the case.

“I do not allow my dick to control me,” I replied. “In fact, you have, in effect, complained about that.”

“What?!”

“Remember the conversations we’ve had about how you expected me to behave and the inferences I could draw from your invitations? If your theory about testosterone was universally true, I’d have come into your townhouse with the expectation of getting laid. I didn’t. And it’s not about not being attracted to you, it’s about all the other stuff we discussed.”

“You’re not interested in a girl you’re attracted to?” Marcia asked.

“I’m interested, but choose not to act on that interest, which is my point!”

“In my experience, the only reason a guy turns down sex with a girl he’s attracted to is because he’s getting plenty of sex.”

“An interesting commentary on marriage,” I replied.

“Cheating is different,” Marcia replied.

“So there are cases when guys don’t think with their dicks?”

“You don’t think a married guy who has a chance to get laid and doesn’t think he’ll get caught won’t do it?”

“I won’t, which is all I can say. I can’t speak for any other guy. And that is a pretty cynical attitude. I mean, if you expect a guy to cheat, why marry him? That makes zero sense to me. Or are you going to say that your husband won’t cheat, which kind of defeats your argument and supports mine?”

“I don’t want to change subjects, but I have to ask, why not go for scholarships and go to college full-time? You certainly have the intelligence.”

“Among other things, I was a mediocre student,” I replied. “I’ll admit that was mostly because I was working two, and sometimes three, jobs from the time I was fifteen, but to be honest, I wasn’t ready to go to college. I think the way things have worked out is the best for me. I’ll eventually complete a degree program in night school, but it’s not really necessary for me to move up at Spurgeon. Licenses are far more important, and then I have to prove I can do the job and be successful.”

“But a degree would be helpful, no matter what.”

“I think that’s debatable, but at this point, I’m on the right path and have done the right things to get to the next rung on the ladder. And if, for some reason, I fail at this, I’ll find something else to do. With my experience so far, I could, quite easily, get a job supervising a mailroom or something similar, and work my way up.”

“And at some point, hit a ceiling because you lack a college degree.”

“Even if that were true, which I’m not sure is the case, I’d still have massively improved my situation from what it was growing up. I was working two or three manual labor jobs for minimum wage and now I’m making what amounts to a low-level white collar salary.”

“But you could do so much more!” Marcia protested.

Our conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing our food. We both ate some of our meal before I resumed the conversation.

“I enjoy what I’m doing, I have the opportunity to advance, and a realistic chance of being extremely successful. That said, I won’t consider myself a failure if I improve my situation dramatically, even if I don’t achieve all of my goals. There are many paths to success, and for me, success is living a comfortable life without worrying where the money for my next meal is coming from. You grew up middle class, right?”

“Yes.”

“I think your perspective is different. You already had all the things my mom, and I had to struggle for — food, shelter, clothing, and so on. I had one external advantage — my mom’s sister married a man who did what I intend to do, and he got me into Spurgeon at the lowest position in the firm. At that point, I chose to seize the bull by the horns, ask for the study material, and that set in motion a sequence of events that led to me taking the Series 3 licensing exam last Wednesday.”

“I still think a degree would be helpful.”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t,” I countered. “Just that it’s not necessary. Honestly, forget your preconceptions, but is a degree necessary for your job? Or is it used to weed out large numbers of candidates who might otherwise apply and require a lot of time and effort to manage?”

“It’s about being properly educated,” Marcia countered.

“May I say something that might well offend you?”

“Now you ask?” Marcia retorted.

“Your job is basically no different from a customer service rep, an expediter, or a clerk. What matters most for your job are interpersonal skills and a knowledge of government agencies, along with being organized. Those skills do not require a college degree, and I doubt you can point to a single thing you do that requires your Master’s degree. A degree is basically ‘table stakes’ because the establishment says you need one, even though they couldn’t point to a single thing you do that requires an undergraduate degree, let alone a post-graduate degree.”