Chapter 14: Work, School, and Play

August 31, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

“Jonathan, Mrs. Peterson would like to see you,” Haley said when she called me mid-morning on Tuesday.

“Be right there,” I replied.

I hung up and walked to the Personnel office. Haley smiled and nodded to Mrs. Peterson’s office, so I went in and stood behind the guest chair facing her desk.

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes. Your temp will be here at noon. His name is Brandon Palmer. He knows the phone system, and has worked in a mailroom in the past.”

“That’s good news. Have you heard anything more about Mr. Nelson?”

“He’s going to undergo a procedure called ‘balloon angioplasty’ today.”

“I have no idea what that is,” I replied.

“Neither did I until about twenty minutes ago. It’s a relatively new procedure which was first performed in the US less than five years ago. They insert a wire into a blood vessel in your leg, snake it up to the heart, then pass a catheter and balloon over the wire. Once it’s in place, they expand the balloon to widen a spot that’s narrowed or clogged.”

“How bad is that?”

“It’s the likely cause of his chest pains, and if it works, he should be back to work in a few days. Next Tuesday would be my guess, based on what his wife is telling me.”

Which would be fine with me, as I’d get the pay differential and overtime, which, if I understood correctly, would net me an extra thousand bucks or so for the week, after taxes. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if Mr. Nelson needed two weeks to recover! At that point, though, the headaches that came with his job would begin to take their toll. I could do it, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do.

“That’s good. Thanks for arranging the temp.”

“You’re welcome. Have you run into any trouble?”

“No. Fortunately, Mr. Nelson lets the computer guys and maintenance guys manage their own work, minus the occasional change in priorities or if someone actually complained. Security has a policy and procedure manual they follow to the letter. The tough part of Mr. Nelson’s job is managing his budget and managing the, uhm, challenging personalities.”

Mrs. Peterson smiled and nodded, “A very politic way to say that.”

“The trading staff can call each other every name in the book; the support staff cannot do that.”

“At least not publicly,” Mrs. Peterson said with a knowing smile. “You’ll be one of them soon enough, according to Murray Matheson.”

“No, I won’t,” I replied. “I’ll work with them, but I can’t treat people the way they do. No disrespect, but some of the things that go on are simply unacceptable in my book.”

“Shut the door, please,” Mrs. Peterson instructed.

I did.

“This is private, between you and me,” she continued, “but you’re right. The question is, are you willing to take the risk to effect genuine change?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I had a pretty good idea what it was.

“The culture at Spurgeon is found right in its name — Spurgeon Capital. If you resist, even passively, you’re going to find yourself in conflict with Mr. Spurgeon. Remember, the vast majority of your compensation will come in the form of a discretionary bonus, and that is solely up to Mr. Spurgeon.”

“I get that, but I can’t betray my principles.”

“I understand. Allow me to tell you a story. About four years ago, there was a hotshot young trader who was the fair-haired boy, so to speak. He was idealistic and didn’t like the culture and not only refused to go along, but actively fought it. Noel Spurgeon eventually had enough and terminated him, then blackballed him with every firm in Chicago, New York, and London. He tried to work outside the industry, but every time he found a decent job, Noel Spurgeon used his money and influence to have the young man fired. Last I heard, he was flipping burgers in Rockford.”

“My worst-case scenario would be to move home and get one of my old jobs back full time. With more money in the bank than my mom has earned in her entire life.”

Actually, at this point, that wasn’t my worst-case scenario because I could marry Jeri Lundgren once she turned eighteen and become, as she put it, a power couple. But that would be a last-ditch defense.

“If you truly have nothing to lose, so to speak,” Mrs. Peterson said, “then you are free. But once you start making the kind of money Matheson is promising, and change your style of living, marry, and have kids, things begin to look different.”

“The key is not to fall into that trap.”

“It’s not as easy as you might think.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“Why discuss this with me?”

“Everyone likes you, and nobody wants to see you get hurt.”

“Then, perhaps, I can change things from within. What Mr. Spurgeon does privately is obviously his business, but if my team doesn’t engage in those kinds of shenanigans, perhaps others will see it, and change.”

“You’re just as idealistic as Tony Dawson was.”

“What did he trade?” I asked.

“Equities. Why?”

“Just curious,” I replied, not wanting to give away what I was thinking. “May I ask you a question?”

“Why do I put up with it?”

“Yes.”

“I make more here than I could anywhere else. Which, I think, will also be your justification for staying here, at least until you’re ready to leave and can do so on your terms.”

“Utilitarianism on both our parts.”

“I suppose so,” Mrs. Peterson admitted.

“I need to get back. Please let me know if anything changes with Mr. Nelson, and if you speak to him, let him know that I hope he’s back soon.”

“I’ll do that.”

I left her office and went to the mailroom to let the guys know that we’d have a temp at noon and that at the moment it appeared that Mr. Nelson would return on Tuesday. I returned to Mr. Nelson’s office and completed some of the endless paperwork he had to do. Just before noon, Haley called to let me know that Brandon Palmer had arrived. I got up and went to the Personnel office.

“Jonathan, this is Brandon Palmer. Brandon, Jonathan Kane, your supervisor.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brandon said.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied. “Thanks, Haley. Let’s go, Brandon!”

I walked Brandon to the mailroom and introduced him to Jack and Sandeep.

“You’ll sit here, at my desk,” I said. “I’m working in the boss’ office until he returns. Mrs. Peterson said you worked in a mailroom.”

“I did. It was run pretty much the same way the one here is run, according to her.”

“Your main job is to answer the phone. You’ll also need to call the copier company if a copier breaks down, and call for couriers if one is needed, as well as relay any special requests to me.”

“Sounds about like the last place. I can sort received mail or packages by floor if you give me a chart.”

“Excellent. There’s a chart in the top left drawer. If you need me, just press the intercom button marked ‘Nelson’.”

“Got it!”

“I’m curious, why are you temping?”

“It’s what I do during Summer, plus on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I don’t have class. This is actually the last week before school starts.”

“Where?”

“IIT. I’m majoring in Electrical Engineering.”

“OK. I’m going to eat my lunch, but I’ll be at my desk.”

“Got it!”

I went to the break room, got my lunch from the fridge, and took it to Mr. Nelson’s office to eat. At the end of the day, I left the office as quickly as I could so I could take the L to meet Violet for dinner at the diner before our first computer class.

“Hi!” Violet exclaimed when she saw me walk up to the diner. “Ready for class?”

“I’m ready for dinner!” I replied with a grin. “Then class.”

We went into the diner and were seated right away, and placed our orders immediately.

“How is work?” she asked.

“Fine. My boss is out with a medical problem, so I’m doing his job and part of mine.”

“He was sick once before, right?”

“Yes. He’s having a procedure which should resolve it, but I won’t know when he’ll be back until later in the week.”

“Does that interfere with our plans?”

“No. My hours are close to the same, though I’ll get to the office a bit earlier than normal.”

“We’re still on for this Saturday, right? But then you have your other class?”

“Yes. After this week, we’ll go to the computer lab after class. It’s open until midnight, so that should give us enough time.”

“How are Bev and Heather doing?”

“They’re both doing well. I spoke to Bev on Sunday. She starts at UC next week. I plan to see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“You get your car this week, right?”

“On Friday.”

“I’ve never been in a convertible! Can we go for a drive on Saturday after the computer lab?”

“Yes.”

“Cool! Cruise LSD?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

We ate our meals quickly, spilt the check, then headed to Circle for our class. The room wasn’t a lecture hall, but a standard classroom which had about thirty desks. After a brief discussion, we chose to sit in the second row. The classroom slowly filled up, with the last two students having no choice but to sit in the front row. The instructor, who wasn’t listed as a professor on the schedule, arrived about a minute before class was scheduled to begin.

“Good evening,” he said, moving to the lectern precisely at 7:00pm. “My name is Scott Bannerman. I’m a lecturer, not a professor, so, please, call me Scott. In my day job, I manage computer programmers for a company in the suburbs, which ports video games from arcade machines to video game consoles.

“This is Computer Science 101, the course for non-majors. If you’re in the wrong place, this is your chance to escape, or, perhaps, stick around and discover something new and interesting!” He paused and looked over the class, but nobody got up, so he continued. “I’m going to hand out a syllabus and our first packet. Tonight we’ll cover the components of computer systems, some general concepts, and the structure of computer programs. On Thursday, we’ll begin learning BASIC — Beginner’s All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code — as well as how to develop an algorithm.”

He handed stacks of syllabi and packets to each student sitting the front row which they passed back.

“Let’s discuss the components of a personal computer,” Scott began. “We have the CPU — the Central Processing Unit, which is the brains of the computer, if you will. RAM, or Random Access Memory, which is volatile temporary storage, that is, it goes away if you power off the computer. A storage subsystem, which on personal computers is either cassette tape or floppy disks, and is permanent. A Video Display Unit, also called a monitor. And an I/O subsystem, which handles the input, typically from a keyboard or joystick, and output, typically to a monitor or printer.”

The lecture was interesting, and I took copious notes. I’d had ideas about how computers could be used from Gudia and Bianca, as well as what I’d seen at work, but Scott’s lecture expanded those ideas and by the time the lecture had ended, I decided that computers truly were the future, and I’d begin spending more time researching companies that made them. Scott had mentioned several which I knew, including Apple, Tandy/RadioShack, Commodore, and Atari, as well as some I had never heard of, including Digital Equipment Corporation, Prime Computer, Sperry, UNIVAC, and Wang.

“What do you think?” Violet asked as we left class.

“That I’m going to find out as much as I can about computer companies and start investing in them, both hardware and software. I especially want to know more about Microsoft, because they aren’t a public corporation, but provide BASIC to so many other companies. If they ever go public, they’d be an interesting investment, though obviously I’d need to do research before I buy in.”

“Once you get your license?”

“I can actually start doing research before then, and so long as I’m only trading my own account, I don’t need a license.”

“Which is why you can’t manage my money yet.”

“Exactly. But I should pass the test in October, which means sometime in November I’ll have my license. I need to be fingerprinted and have a criminal background check before I sit for the exam.”

“Walk me home?”

“Yes, of course.”

September 3, 1982, Chicago, Illinois

Haley came to Mr. Nelson’s office after lunch on Friday.

“We heard from Mr. Nelson’s wife. He’s cleared to work half-days next week.”

“And who is going to make him leave at noon?” I asked.

Haley laughed, “You!”

“I thought Mrs. Peterson liked me!” I protested.

“I’m teasing, of course. His medical certificate for returning to work states half-days, so he has no choice.”

“Fine, but the question remains — who is going to make him leave?”

“Mrs. Peterson will. And if that doesn’t work, I’m sure Mrs. Nelson will drag him out of here by his ear.”

“That should be interesting to watch,” I chuckled. “Complete with his cigar dangling from his mouth. Unlit, of course.”

“I have your paycheck, and it includes the differential for doing Mr. Nelson’s job.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll also get half-days of differential next week.”

“Excellent.”

“You could spend some of that taking me to dinner!” Haley said with an inviting smile.

She was absolutely gorgeous and had a fantastic figure, though on the athletic side not the voluptuous side, but she also had one fatal flaw — she worked for Spurgeon. Huifen and I were going out with Kristy and Jack after work, which made impossible to accept the offer in any case.

“Under other circumstances, I’d love to,” I said. “But I have a firm rule against getting involved with anyone at Spurgeon.”

“Because of what happened with Rachel Kealty?”

“That’s a large part of it,” I replied. “I took that as a warning sign and, to be honest, I’m not having trouble meeting people outside work.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if I didn’t work here?”

“But you do, so it’s kind of a moot point.”

“I understand, but I hope you’ll reconsider!”

“If I do, you’ll be the first to know!”

She smiled and left the office. I watched her leave, then opened the envelope with my paycheck and smiled at the number. I’d use a portion of the extra to rebuild my reserves, but most of it would go right into my investment account. Because I hadn’t taken one at lunch, I took a quick break to walk to the bank and deposit the check.

Just before the end of the day, I invited Sandeep to Mr. Nelson’s office.

“How was your first week?” I asked.

“Good. The job is pretty straightforward — stock supplies, fill out requisitions for anything that’s running low, receive supply orders, respond to problems with the copiers, deliver the mail on this floor, and coordinate with the couriers.”

“Did you see the memo about the new trading team starting a week from Monday?”

“I did.”

“Someone from Personnel will let us know who is sitting where on Tuesday and you’ll need to coordinate with the computer guys and maintenance to ensure the offices and desks are properly set up and stocked.”

“Should be simple enough.”

“True, so long as they aren’t moving anyone. If they are, we might have to work after hours or on Saturday. We’ll know on Tuesday. There will be a new copier and fax machine, either way.”

“I’ll take the OT if it’s available.”

“Good. Any questions?”

“No. I was surprised to find out I get a paycheck today.”

“It’s an oddity, at least in my experience,” I replied. “I was always paid a week later back home, but I’m not complaining! Don’t forget to bring your timecard here after you clock out today.”

“Will do!”

He left, and I completed the usual Friday paperwork, which included a summary of all the courier activity that I prepared by hand because Mr. Nelson didn’t rate a computer on his desk. A pair of Apple II computers would streamline our paperwork and save a few hours a week, both for Mr. Nelson and for me. I wondered if they could be justified, though as I thought about it, one computer shared between us would be sufficient, as we could coordinate when we used it. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Nelson about it on Tuesday.

At the end of the day, I signed everyone’s timecard, then turned them in by dropping them in the ‘Payroll’ tray in Personnel before heading upstairs to see Mr. Matheson.

“The car is in the parking garage,” Mr. Matheson said with a grin. “The porter from the dealer is waiting for you and will answer any questions. There’s a parking sticker in the windshield so you won’t have to pay for parking in the building.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“How did your week as the boss go?”

“No problems. Mr. Nelson will be back on Tuesday, though only half days.”

“Enjoy your car and don’t forget where it came from. Also, make sure you give the porter a healthy tip.”

I was, without question, now part of Matheson’s team, even if I was still working in the mailroom, and that meant he expected complete loyalty. That wasn’t a problem, though there were lines I wouldn’t cross. Fortunately, Noel Spurgeon was a stickler for following regulations, which meant I could stay out of trouble with the government.

Office politics were a whole other thing, as was the way female support staff were treated. If there was going to be conflict, I was positive that’s where it would be, especially following my conversation with Mrs. Peterson. The solution there was to follow my policy of not getting involved with any women at work.

“I won’t forget! What would be a healthy tip?”

“Fifty. And I know you have the extra cash given the differential pay you get when Nelson is out. Consider it your total cost of the car, if it bugs you.”

It seemed excessive in a vacuum, but given the car cost him around ten grand, all included, tipping the porter $50 wasn’t excessive in context. I also had to consider Matheson’s perspective, where $50 was mere pocket change, and the fact that someone might report back to him if I didn’t tip properly. Fortunately, I had enough cash in my wallet to cover that, as well as whatever Jack and the girls wanted to do.