Bits, Bytes and Life
Copyright© 2026 by Asa Strong
Chapter 5: New Beginnings
The dawn light slanting through my bedroom window found me awake and deep in reflection. I had felt physically drained yesterday when I had returned from my shopping trip. The shopping trip was a lot to absorb for a small-town guy like me.
After Rodger had left yesterday, I had sat down amid the bags and boxes, just trying to come to grips with the events of the day. A lot had happened, and putting it all into context was a problem.
When I had enlisted in the Navy, my thoughts at the time were that I would have access to training as a helicopter mechanic and eventually be assigned to a ship or shore station in that capacity. Now, a new set of circumstances had rearranged my life.
Computers! What the hell did I know about them? Nothing is what!
I sat there for a while, just stewing over the whole situation, but finally came to the conclusion that maybe it would be OK. I mean, computers were destined to impact our whole society. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that out. So, just maybe, the situation I found myself in was a blessing.
I sat there mulling over the many thoughts in my head. It also occurred to me that maybe I should get an outside opinion. My father was not an educated man, but I really respected him because of his common sense and the ethical way he lived his life. Why not give him a call?
Oh, how do I do that?
“Well, one way to find out is to ask,” I said to myself.
I looked at the phone on the table beside me and read the placard with the instructions for use next to it. They explained that if you dialed zero it would connect to the hotel operator. If you wanted an outside line then dial nine then the phone number, long distance calls had to be placed through the hotel operator.
I picked up the phone handset and dialed zero.
“Mayflower Hotel, can I help you,” said a feminine voice.
“Yes ma’am, my name is Jack Rossi and I am in room 903. Can you tell me how to pay for phone calls from this room? You see, the government pays for this room but I don’t know about paying for the phone.”
“Mr. Rossi, any local calls you make are not charged to the room. If you want to make a long distance calls then you will be billed for them at the end of the month.” The voice said.
“Oh, OK ... could you place a call to Colorado for me?”
“Certainly sir, what is the number?”
I gave her the number of my folks’ house in Yampa then a series of tones was heard.
“Hello”
“Hi mom, this is Jack.”
“Jack where are you?”
“Uhmm, I’m in Washington, DC, Mom.”
“What are you doing there,” She said.
“This is where I’m going to be working at for a while. Is dad there?”
“Yes, he is out in the work shed, let me get him.”
A few minutes later my dad’s voice came over the phone, “Hey Jack, what are you doing in Washington?”
“Well, dad, that is kind of why I called. I was asked to enter a special program while in bootcamp.”
I then described the events that had happened over the past week and also voiced my concerns about living in a big city and my misgivings with learning how to program computers.
Dad and I talked for about twenty minutes, with the end result of his pragmatism and common sense winning over my fears and concerns. To most people, my dad would appear to be an ignorant immigrant that spoke English with a heavy Italian accent. When you dealt with him, however, you quickly found out that there was a keen mind in that head of his. He didn’t miss much that went on around him.
The advice he gave me was summed up as, “You’ve already made the decision, you have a good head on your shoulders, pay attention and learn, and everything will come out fine.”
After we had finished our phone conversation, I felt much better. I know it sounds trite, but just being able to voice my concerns and fears to someone I trusted lifted my spirits. I didn’t know how much the phone call would cost, but it was worth it.
I pulled myself back to the present with a glance at the clock beside the bed.
“Damn, it’s 6:30 in the morning. I had better get my ass in gear.”
With that, I headed into the bathroom to take care of my morning shower and other necessary rituals.
I had hung up my clothes and unpacked my seabag the previous evening, so dug out the makings for the day from my closet.
I swear, trying to tie a necktie has to be one of the worst nightmares imaginable. The few times back home when it was necessary to wear one, my mother had always tied it for me. I struggled with the damn thing for five minutes before giving up. It would have to be good enough.
By the time I had finished dressing it was almost seven o’clock, so I hurried out of the hotel room, making sure I had my badge, room key, and elevator key.
One great thing about living in a hotel; I didn’t have to worry about making the bed.
As I was walking through the lobby, John called me over to the check-in desk. I could see that he was trying hard not to laugh.
He said, “Hey, you look like you and that tie have been fighting and you lost! Here let me give you a hand with it.”
John came out from the desk to stand behind me and reached around and unraveled the mess around my neck.
“Look, it is really not difficult to make a tie look decent.”
He then proceeded to show me how to correctly knot the tie.
“Thanks, John, I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he replied as he headed back to the desk.
I rushed through breakfast, worried about having time to walk to work and left the hotel at 7:30.
The walk to work was uneventful. I did take notice of the street signs so I would be able to find my way back to the hotel.
The hotel address over the entrance said “1127 Connecticut Avenue NW”. I walked south down to K Street and there was a park across the street on the other side of the road. When I crossed the street, I noticed that the street had changed from Connecticut Avenue to 17th Street NW.
It didn’t make much sense to me, but what did I know about cities? I was sure this is the way Rodger had driven the day before.
I continued on and came to I Street NW and knew that Rodger had turned right when he drove me to work the previous day; but he also had only gone a block or two, and then had to turn south and double back because of the one-way streets.
I decided to continue on 17th Street and turned right at the next block. That should be the street where the agency was located. This was H Street NW, and the agency building should be on the right about two blocks down.
I followed H Street and crossed 18th and immediately recognized the correct office building. The entrance to the courtyard was about halfway down the block, passed 18th Street.
The walk seemed to settle the food from my breakfast in my stomach, and when I reached the office building, I was feeling pretty good.
I turned into the entrance to the courtyard and walked over to the elevator. It seemed odd to me that an elevator would be located in an alcove outside of the office building. I guess it was designed that way so few people, besides those that worked in the agency, would use it.
The elevator was immediately available when I pressed the down button. As I entered, the discussion with Rodger popped into my head and I remembered to press the button “1” first.
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