Chapter 25: A Friday Afternoon Massacre

November 5, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“I’d say this looks good,” Anala said when I showed her the final draft of my résumé and the sample cover letter I’d written.

“OK. I identified three investment firms to add to the two law firms and the architectural firm you identified.”

“How did you do that?”

“I asked a woman at work who won’t say anything to anyone, and she gave me the names.”

“So you have six places to send your résumé, which is a good start. I know you think things have calmed down, but you absolutely should at least test the waters.”

“I did identify one problem — what if I get an interview?”

“Then you’ll have to take either the morning or afternoon off. Just ask for time off saying you have some personal business to attend to. Have you let anyone know you signed up for a class?”

“Personnel knows,” I replied, “because I went to check with them about reimbursement.”

“You might use that as an excuse.”

“I’m not going to lie. I will say I need some personal time, and even though I technically can’t take any days before my first year, I do have a ‘comp day’ that I can use that I was given for the long weekend, in addition to overtime pay. What do you think my chances are of actually getting an interview?”

“It’ll depend on the needs of the firms, so it’s difficult to say. But this is really more about learning how to do it, and being prepared. And that’s the key. Even if things work out OK at your current company, you now know how to go about looking for a job beyond seeing a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window.”

“I haven’t seen too many of those signs in Chicago.”

“I suspect they were common back home?”

“Pretty much everyone I know who had a job found one that way, or because they knew someone. But there were no big companies in Goshen, so I’m not sure how they handled things in Cincinnati.”

“You seem to have adjusted pretty well and pretty quickly to the big city.”

I shrugged, “I wanted to come here and was determined to succeed. My favorite part of American history was people who left everything they knew and went west to seek their fortune or change their circumstances.”

“Is that how you see yourself?”

“I suppose, though I came by Greyhound, not by horse! And I guess I did the reverse of what they did — coming from a rural area to the big city rather than the other way around. They often didn’t have a backup plan, either. I certainly didn’t when I came here. But then I took the chance to talk to a pretty girl and now, with her help, I have a backup plan.”

“So you’re not disappointed?”

I laughed, “I was, but I’d say it turned out very well for me even if I didn’t achieve my original goal.”

“I’m curious, would you trade the other thing for what you have?”

“Like that gameshow on TV? Trade one prize for the other and hope it’s a better one?”

“I suppose. I don’t watch much TV.”

“Me either, but I know about Let’s Make A Deal. No, I don’t want to change, even though I think you’re incredibly sexy. I think I need what you’re offering more than I need sex.”

Anala laughed and her eyes twinkled, “A wise man, who is not led around by his gonads!”

I laughed, “Don’t be TOO sure about that! You said you had a boyfriend, and that’s a line I won’t cross.”

“Based on?”

I shrugged, “Not some book written thousands of years ago, but keeping my word and not wanting to cause someone else not to keep theirs. I don’t need religion to tell me that something is wrong.”

“I wasn’t implying you did; I was simply asking how you decided right from wrong. We should have a philosophical discussion at some point.”

“I suppose.”

“I promise it won’t turn into a religious argument. Buddhism, for example, is basically secular in nature — in many ways, it’s far more philosophy than religion, and you can practice Buddhism without believing in God, at least as I suspect you define ‘god’.”

“I’ll think about it,” I replied.

We finished our coffee, then left the diner, hugged, and I headed home while Anala headed to her apartment.

November 6, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“Jonathan,” Lily said when we sat down in the booth at the diner in Bridgeport, “meet Shelly, Tim, Julie, and Mitch. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Jonathan.”

“Hi!” they all said.

“Hi!” I replied.

Shelly had brown hair and was very curvy, while Julie was a redhead with piercing green eyes who was built more like Lily — athletic with modest breasts, with the look of a cheerleader. Tim looked like a football player, and Mitch was more the nerdy type. My guesses played out — Tim was a defensive tackle, Mitch played the trumpet in the marching band, and Julie was a cheerleader. Shelly was the odd one out, so to speak, being on the debate team.

I had actually never been on an actual date during High School, so I wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was, so I just sat quietly and listened to the chatter, mostly between the girls, about school, what other friends were doing, and things that generally didn’t interest me. By the time we ordered, I was positive that I strongly preferred hanging out with Tom, Stuart, Maria, and Stuart’s ‘flavor of the day’ girlfriend.

“Did you play ball in High School, Jonathan?” Tim asked when he could get a word in edgewise.

“No. I started working at fifteen and didn’t have time for any extracurricular activities. No instruments, either.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Goshen High School. Goshen is about forty minutes east of downtown Cincinnati.”

“Where do you work?”

“Spurgeon Capital. I’m in the mailroom, which is basically an entry-level job from which I can work my way up. I take it you guys are going to college?”

“I have a football scholarship from UofI, if I can make the team,” Tim said.

“And I have a half-scholarship in music there as well,” Mitch added. “You didn’t want to go to college?”

I shook my head, “No. But a friend of mine suggested I take a class to improve my chances of getting promoted.”

“Are you going to do that?” Mitch asked.

“In January.”

“What is it you want to do?” Tim asked.

“The company I work for is an investment and brokerage firm. I want to be a money manager or a trader.”

“You don’t need to go to college for that?”

“No. Most of the traders don’t have degrees. They worked their way up through the company or another one like it. What are you guys studying?”

“English,” Tim replied. “I’ll end up teaching High School and coach football if I don’t make the NFL.”

“Are you good enough?”

He shrugged, “I guess we’ll see when I get to UofI.”

“And I’m going to study mechanical engineering,” Mitch added, “but have a music minor. I’ll be in the marching band.”

Our food arrived and we dug in, talking about the hopeless Chicago sports teams — Bears, Cubs, White Sox, and Black Hawks. Of course, the Reds weren’t all that much better, but the Bengals looked pretty good, and had a real shot at going to the Super Bowl. When we finished eating, we split the tab three ways, then took a CTA bus to the High School where we watched The Sound of Music. The musical was performed moderately well, but nothing like the movie, which I’d seen on TV a few times.

When the musical finished, we went for ice cream, then Lily and I took a bus back to the house where I walked her to the door, kissed her ‘good night’, and then went up to my apartment.

November 7, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“Do you realize that’s the first ‘High School’ date I’ve ever had?” I asked as Lily and I walked to the laundromat on Saturday morning.

“You and Bev never went out?”

I shook my head, “No time and less money. And besides, we were just friends.”

“So what did you think?”

I shrugged, “Your friends’ boyfriends seem like good guys, but, to be honest, I prefer Tom, Stuart, and Dustin. Maybe it’s just that the four of us are out of High School and working, so the world looks a bit different. I also got the impression the guys I met last night didn’t approve of me not going to college. I never got that impression from Tom, Stuart, or any of their friends or girlfriends.”

“I’m sorry,” Lily said.

I squeezed her hand, “It’s fine. You just asked a question and I answered honestly.”

Lily laughed softly, “Sometimes that’s not the best plan! If a girl asks if clothes make her butt look fat, you say ‘no’!”

“Is there some book I can buy at Waldenbooks that has a list of questions and the appropriate answers?”

Lily laughed again, “I’m low maintenance, but some girls aren’t. I’m guessing Bev was? And your friend Teresa?”

“I think you could say that, yes. They weren’t demanding and pretty much just went with the flow, like I did last night.”

“My friends, I mean the girls, really like you, which is a good thing.”

“Does their opinion matter?”

“At least somewhat, sure, like with what you say about your friend Anala. You value her advice and opinions, right?”

“Obviously.”

“So that’s how it is with my friends, too. Are you saying you don’t want to go out with the group again?”

“No, just my observations. I probably shouldn’t have answered so bluntly.”

“It’s OK. What about my friends?”

“You actually expect me to answer that honestly?” I asked with a smirk.

Lily laughed, “No, I suppose not. But they’re OK, right?”

“Sure. Like I said, I’m OK with going out with them again. Remember, this is an all new experience for me — dating, girlfriend, girlfriend’s friends, girlfriend’s parents.”

“You’re happy?”

“Very! Honestly, the only thing right now is how things go on Wednesday when I’m supposed to see Mr. Matheson.”

“Hopefully he’s not a jerk about it given the other guy lied.”

“Hopefully,” I said as we walked into the laundromat.

Our morning followed the usual pattern, though we had lunch with Lily’s parents. Tom and Stuart were hunting, which meant I didn’t have any specific plans, so Lily and I played ping-pong on a table they had in their basement. We went to dinner in Greek Town, at Mr. Greek Gyros. The meals there were huge, and inexpensive, and I really liked the gyros.

We both wanted to fool around, but there wasn’t any place private we could go, and with her parents home, we certainly couldn’t use my apartment, so instead, we kissed ‘good night’ and parted.

November 11, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

On Wednesday morning, after my rounds, I made my way up to Mr. Matheson’s office, suddenly very glad I’d mailed out my résumés on Monday, as I had no clue how he was going to react to me showing up, or if there might be fallout beyond just losing him as my mentor. I’d thought that wouldn’t be the case, but as the morning had worn on, I’d become more concerned, but the only thing to do was see what happened.

“I’m here to see Mr. Matheson,” I said to Marcy, Mr. Matheson’s gorgeous secretary.

“He’s in meetings all morning,” Marcy replied. “I’ll let him know you came to see him.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

I went back down to the mailroom, and Harry asked why I was back so quickly. I simply said Matheson wasn’t available and went back to work. By lunchtime, I hadn’t heard anything from Mr. Matheson or his secretary.

“I saw you come upstairs for your meeting, then leave right away,” Rachel said as we sat down with our bag lunches. “Wouldn’t he see you?”

“His secretary said he was in meetings all morning.”

She glanced around, obviously checking to see if anyone from Spurgeon was in earshot.

“I’m sure you know the stock market is down seriously this year, and some of the funds are showing serious losses, so Mr. Spurgeon called all the top guys in to discuss the situation.”

“How did I miss that memo?” I asked.

“It wasn’t a memo. He had his executive assistant arrange it by phone because it’s only eight guys. According to Marybeth, who has been here for about six years, this happened the last time there was a serious ‘bear’ market. There were layoffs and some traders and money managers were fired.”

Now I was even MORE happy that I’d sent out my résumés.

“That doesn’t sound good,” I replied.

“I guess it’s all about making the clients aware that Spurgeon is ‘doing something’.”

“I suppose that makes some sense. According to the Wall Street Journal, having the prime rate so high means a lot of money is in interest-bearing accounts because if you can lend out money at fifteen percent, you’ll easily beat stock market performance. And there are strategies in a ‘bear’ market, though I’m not up on them at this point. Do you know when layoffs will happen?”

Rachel shook her head, “No idea. And it’s obviously just a rumor at this point.”

“But one that fits the facts,” I replied. “How is your uncle doing?”

“He trades and manages fixed-income portfolios, so he’s in the black. I think he actually had a really good year, but I don’t know enough of the details to be sure.”

“That sounds like it’s good for you, though I’m not in a great position given the trouble with Monroe and the fact that Harry is Matheson’s guy.”

“What will you do?”

“Find a new job, obviously.”

“I’d miss you,” she said quietly.

Even though the lunches were somewhat uncomfortable since I’d started seeing Lily, I did like eating with Rachel.

“Well, honestly,” I observed, “it’s not up to us. We just have to wait and see what happens.”

“You seem awfully calm.”

I shrugged, “What can I do except do my job and wait to see what happens?”

“I suppose that’s true. Dad said to say ‘Hi’ and said he’d like to see you.”

“You know the problem with that,” I replied. “And I’d really rather not have that conversation right now.”

“Sorry,” Rachel said with more than a touch of sadness. “I just wish...”

“I know,” I replied.

We finished our lunches and then went back upstairs, Rachel taking the regular elevator and me taking the freight elevator. I did my afternoon rounds, checked in shipments of supplies and put them on the shelves in the supply room and made two special deliveries to the 32nd floor. On both of those runs, I noticed that there was a meeting in the large conference room next to Mr. Spurgeon’s office, and that Matheson wasn’t in his office. That made me feel a bit better about him blowing me off, but made me wonder if the rumor Rachel had heard was true.

Nothing changed by the end of the day, so I headed home via the L for my weekly dinner with Lily. When I arrived, I quickly showered and dressed, and as soon as Lily arrived we started cooking dinner.

“How did it go today?” she asked.

“It didn’t. The main Suits were in meetings all day. You know I mentioned the stock market has been going down, right? And that there were some really serious losses for my portfolio? Well, that’s true for the professionals, too. Rumor has it that there might be layoffs.”

“So it’s a really good thing you sent out those résumés, then.”

“I suppose it is, though I don’t see how they could reduce the mailroom staff. As it is, we’re busy all the time. And when you factor in sick days and vacations, there’s no way it could be done with just two people. Of course, that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t make the cuts anyway and tell whoever is left to just work harder or whatever.”

“You think they’ll keep the other guy over you, right?”

“I really don’t know, but he has a patron who brought him in; my uncle doesn’t work for Spurgeon. I’d like to think I’m the better employee, but I’m not sure that matters.”

“That would suck, really. Do you have enough savings?”

“Not as much as I would like, but as I said before, I could get a part-time job while I look for full-time work, and that would stretch what I have saved. I have a good track record of being a hard worker, so hopefully, even with the economy being down, I could find work. But let’s talk about something else! How was school?”

“It’s school,” she replied. “I’m really ready to be done with High School. Speaking of which, if we don’t have plans for Friday, Shelly and Julie want to go out as a group again, and see Time Bandits, which is supposed to be really good. I told them I’d have to check, given what we talked about on Saturday.”

“I’m OK with that,” I said. “It’s fine, really.”

“And Saturday?”

“I haven’t heard from Tom. We can call after dinner and find out if they’re around this weekend.”

“And what about Sunday? Are you going to your uncle’s house for dinner?”

“No. He’s not happy, but he understands. He suggested we have lunch once every few weeks to keep in touch. And I’ll need to see my aunt on occasion. The only downside, so to speak, is that Lisa wins.”

“You mean because she didn’t want you around?”

“She basically got her wish. I just hope my aunt can rein her in before anything really bad happens.”

“She’s like twelve, right?”

“Yes. She turned twelve right around the time I moved here. I just feel sorry for her friend Jeri.”

“Not sure there’s much you can do about that. Are you OK with having dinner with my parents on Sunday?”

“Sure.”

Dinner was good, the sex was better, and the shower afterwards was fun. The call to Tom had rung ten times with no answer, so I made a note to try him again on Thursday evening.

November 13, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

“The Boss wants to see you,” Nick said when I walked into the mailroom on Friday morning.

“OK,” I replied with more than a bit of dread in my heart, after rumors of layoffs spread like wildfire on Thursday.

I clocked in, put on my jacket and badge, then left the mailroom and walked across the hallway to Mr. Nelson’s office.