Bill
02-18-2009, 02:17 PM
Always a classic...
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Las Vegas before.”
“Oh, Mirage Springs isn’t in Las Vegas,” the recruiter in a shimmering business suit informed him with a lean across the job fair table. “Though it’s certainly nearby. Are you graduating this semester?”
“Yes, oh yes. Well, not officially until September at least, though I’m walking across the stage next week, and just a few classes I have to take through June, ‘cause I had to transfer Freshman year and I had to leave the last place, Adams College, all of a sudden--”
“Mirage Springs is eager to hire new teachers from the class of ninety-seven,” name-tagged Nancy replied, ignoring the explanatory soliloquy and stuffing a glossy folder in the prospect’s hands. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Bacon. Henry Bacon.” Henry shook a lotion-smooth hand.
“Oh yes, Bacon. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Pause. “You have?”
“Oh yes.” Nancy smiled and handed him a second, different, folder as she pulled the first out of his hands. “We asked your school about exceptional seniors, and your name was near the top of the list.”
“My name?” Henry stared down at the glossy image of a fresh new high school set against the backdrop of a desert mountain range.
“Definitely. We’re interested in having only the most-qualified candidates teach in our school system. Construction of Mirage Springs High has just been completed, and we’re opening it in the fall. We’d be willing to cover your relocation expenses and certification tuition and pay you a stipend until you obtain your certificate.”
Henry opened the folder to a sheet of paper addressed to himself which listed all of the incentives. “This is pretty unusual recruiting for a schoolteacher--”
“Mirage Springs is growing by leaps and bounds, and we’ll need all the qualified teachers we can get,” Nancy concluded with unfazed perkiness. Then, to a classmate of Henry’s behind his back, “Hi! Are you interested in becoming a teacher?”
----------------------------------------
“No offense, but it sounds pretty strange that a school system would go all out to get you to move down there.” Henry’s dormmate tossed the folder back onto one of the two mattresses that had been stripped bare that morning.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. But she says they need all the teachers they can get.” Henry picked up the folder once more and, once more, opened it to stare at his printed name.
Harry Roman reached down for one of the two suitcases that were the last of his possessions in the room. “What the hell: head down there and milk it for what it’s worth. Any of your interviews even call you back?” Henry shook his head. “Then just do it.”
----------------------------------------
Henry stepped off the flight from La Guardia at three thirty-three in the afternoon and immediately began looking for the chauffeur he was told would meet him at the gate. Local families were reunited with their loved ones arriving home, business people shuffled off with their carry-ons rolling behind them, and Henry was eventually left alone in the waiting area with a solitary sitter. The heavy-set man’s features were hidden by the two-page spread of a copy of the New York Times, which carried the headline “Launching of Shuttle is Scheduled for Tuesday.”
Henry made his way to a pay phone and called the number he was told he could call any time.
“Mirage Springs Schools. This is Nancy.”
“Nancy, it’s Henry Bac--”
“Henry! It’s so good to hear from you! I take it you’re at the airport."
“Yeah, at the gate--”
“Yes, well, I’m so terribly sorry. I wish we could have told you before you got on the plane.”
“What’s that?”
“The position has been filled. I’m so sorry.”
“But it’s a new school--”
“I’m sorry, Henry, but all of the positions have been filled. It’s funny how one day you really need new hires, then the next they’ve all been hired. Again, I’m terribly sorry--”
“How do I get home?” Henry’s forehead was touching the cold metal of the phonebox.
“Home? Oh yes, New York. Well Henry, sorry again, but return airfare wasn’t part of the agreement.”
“What--”
“Sorry, Henry. I have someone here in my office right now. Gotta go!”
Henry slammed the phone back in its cradle, then just stood and stared. The cell phone of the adjacent waiting area’s lone occupant rang, and Henry looked aside to watch him fold his newspaper while keeping it held in front of his face. There was a gruff “yeah” followed by an “I know,” and then Henry was shouldering his rucksack once more and heading for the baggage-claim area.
----------------------------------------
“Seventeen, sir.”
“Hit me.”
“I suggest you hold, sir.”
“I’m playing for airfare. Hit me.”
The dealer sucked in his breath and turned over a queen of spades. Then, with a very subtle shake of his head, he pulled the cards and the chips away from the player who had already pushed himself off his stool.
Henry shuffled down a casino corridor, his rucksack hanging off one shoulder and his one suitcase rolling along behind. He had walked less than twenty yards when a heavy-set man in a gray suit and red tie approached him from the side. “Say, I’m sorry to see you lose like that.”
Henry looked at the stranger with a dazed look. “What?”
The stranger jabbed his thumb in the direction of the now-empty table. “Blackjack. I overheard you were playing for airfare.”
“Yeah.” Henry lost his daze. “What’s that got to do with you?”
The suit took a step back. “Not trying to be nosy. I just thought you’d like some help.”
Henry looked straight forward and started moving again. “Whatever it is you’ve got in mind, I’m sure I’m not interested.”
“Contempt prior to investigation.” The suit fell into step beside the graduate. “But you might be interested. Larry Cohn.”
Henry didn’t shake the outstretched hand. “Bacon. Henry Bacon.”
“It’s nothing nefarious. Just an Internet start-up.”
Henry didn’t slow as they neared the casino’s bay of revolving front doors. “So you’re recruiting for a dot-com at one on a Tuesday morning, in a Las Vegas casino.”
Cohn stepped in front of the door Henry was about to step through. “Let me buy you dinner, kid: I know you haven’t eaten in a while. Then you can tell me to get lost.”
----------------------------------------
Click here for the rest of the story:
http://wrhammons.com/hammons-stud-1.htm
“I don’t think I’ve ever been to Las Vegas before.”
“Oh, Mirage Springs isn’t in Las Vegas,” the recruiter in a shimmering business suit informed him with a lean across the job fair table. “Though it’s certainly nearby. Are you graduating this semester?”
“Yes, oh yes. Well, not officially until September at least, though I’m walking across the stage next week, and just a few classes I have to take through June, ‘cause I had to transfer Freshman year and I had to leave the last place, Adams College, all of a sudden--”
“Mirage Springs is eager to hire new teachers from the class of ninety-seven,” name-tagged Nancy replied, ignoring the explanatory soliloquy and stuffing a glossy folder in the prospect’s hands. “What’s your name, by the way?”
“Bacon. Henry Bacon.” Henry shook a lotion-smooth hand.
“Oh yes, Bacon. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Pause. “You have?”
“Oh yes.” Nancy smiled and handed him a second, different, folder as she pulled the first out of his hands. “We asked your school about exceptional seniors, and your name was near the top of the list.”
“My name?” Henry stared down at the glossy image of a fresh new high school set against the backdrop of a desert mountain range.
“Definitely. We’re interested in having only the most-qualified candidates teach in our school system. Construction of Mirage Springs High has just been completed, and we’re opening it in the fall. We’d be willing to cover your relocation expenses and certification tuition and pay you a stipend until you obtain your certificate.”
Henry opened the folder to a sheet of paper addressed to himself which listed all of the incentives. “This is pretty unusual recruiting for a schoolteacher--”
“Mirage Springs is growing by leaps and bounds, and we’ll need all the qualified teachers we can get,” Nancy concluded with unfazed perkiness. Then, to a classmate of Henry’s behind his back, “Hi! Are you interested in becoming a teacher?”
----------------------------------------
“No offense, but it sounds pretty strange that a school system would go all out to get you to move down there.” Henry’s dormmate tossed the folder back onto one of the two mattresses that had been stripped bare that morning.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. But she says they need all the teachers they can get.” Henry picked up the folder once more and, once more, opened it to stare at his printed name.
Harry Roman reached down for one of the two suitcases that were the last of his possessions in the room. “What the hell: head down there and milk it for what it’s worth. Any of your interviews even call you back?” Henry shook his head. “Then just do it.”
----------------------------------------
Henry stepped off the flight from La Guardia at three thirty-three in the afternoon and immediately began looking for the chauffeur he was told would meet him at the gate. Local families were reunited with their loved ones arriving home, business people shuffled off with their carry-ons rolling behind them, and Henry was eventually left alone in the waiting area with a solitary sitter. The heavy-set man’s features were hidden by the two-page spread of a copy of the New York Times, which carried the headline “Launching of Shuttle is Scheduled for Tuesday.”
Henry made his way to a pay phone and called the number he was told he could call any time.
“Mirage Springs Schools. This is Nancy.”
“Nancy, it’s Henry Bac--”
“Henry! It’s so good to hear from you! I take it you’re at the airport."
“Yeah, at the gate--”
“Yes, well, I’m so terribly sorry. I wish we could have told you before you got on the plane.”
“What’s that?”
“The position has been filled. I’m so sorry.”
“But it’s a new school--”
“I’m sorry, Henry, but all of the positions have been filled. It’s funny how one day you really need new hires, then the next they’ve all been hired. Again, I’m terribly sorry--”
“How do I get home?” Henry’s forehead was touching the cold metal of the phonebox.
“Home? Oh yes, New York. Well Henry, sorry again, but return airfare wasn’t part of the agreement.”
“What--”
“Sorry, Henry. I have someone here in my office right now. Gotta go!”
Henry slammed the phone back in its cradle, then just stood and stared. The cell phone of the adjacent waiting area’s lone occupant rang, and Henry looked aside to watch him fold his newspaper while keeping it held in front of his face. There was a gruff “yeah” followed by an “I know,” and then Henry was shouldering his rucksack once more and heading for the baggage-claim area.
----------------------------------------
“Seventeen, sir.”
“Hit me.”
“I suggest you hold, sir.”
“I’m playing for airfare. Hit me.”
The dealer sucked in his breath and turned over a queen of spades. Then, with a very subtle shake of his head, he pulled the cards and the chips away from the player who had already pushed himself off his stool.
Henry shuffled down a casino corridor, his rucksack hanging off one shoulder and his one suitcase rolling along behind. He had walked less than twenty yards when a heavy-set man in a gray suit and red tie approached him from the side. “Say, I’m sorry to see you lose like that.”
Henry looked at the stranger with a dazed look. “What?”
The stranger jabbed his thumb in the direction of the now-empty table. “Blackjack. I overheard you were playing for airfare.”
“Yeah.” Henry lost his daze. “What’s that got to do with you?”
The suit took a step back. “Not trying to be nosy. I just thought you’d like some help.”
Henry looked straight forward and started moving again. “Whatever it is you’ve got in mind, I’m sure I’m not interested.”
“Contempt prior to investigation.” The suit fell into step beside the graduate. “But you might be interested. Larry Cohn.”
Henry didn’t shake the outstretched hand. “Bacon. Henry Bacon.”
“It’s nothing nefarious. Just an Internet start-up.”
Henry didn’t slow as they neared the casino’s bay of revolving front doors. “So you’re recruiting for a dot-com at one on a Tuesday morning, in a Las Vegas casino.”
Cohn stepped in front of the door Henry was about to step through. “Let me buy you dinner, kid: I know you haven’t eaten in a while. Then you can tell me to get lost.”
----------------------------------------
Click here for the rest of the story:
http://wrhammons.com/hammons-stud-1.htm