As Luck Would Have It (16 page)

The next Saturday, I asked Mr. Casslemond if he could pick me up so that I could visit
that afternoon.  It was Mr. Casslemond’s wife’s
70
th
birthday and I had bought her a silver bracelet I’d
been eyeballing for weeks
in the window at Goldman’s Jewelers.  She hugged me and cried when she opened the box, saying how it was beautiful and telling me I was just like another one of the grandchildren to her. 
Her
three children came for di
nner that evening along with all five of her real
grandchildren.  She walked around showing off the bracelet to everyone while I
sat on the rug blushing.

Mr. Casslemond’s wife serve
d
roast beef that tasted almost as good as my mother’s that I missed so much.  Before we ate, everyone at the table, all fourteen of us, held hands while Charles said grace, reminding me somehow of the Seder dinners with the Kleins where everyone held hands a
nd sang the traditional Hebrew songs, as well as some totally modern ones that they picked up somewhere.  For some reason
,
one called
There's No Seder
like
our Seder
,
sung to the tune of
There's no Business like Show business
,
came to mind just then.

There’s no Seder like our Seder,

We tell a tale that is swell:

Moses took the people out into the heat

They baked the
matzo

While on their feet

That just can’t be beat?

Let’s go on with the show!

I was sitting between my mother and father that time, so I was holding both of their hands while they laughed and sang with the rest of the company.  For just a brief moment I thought I was there again with them, but tonight it was Christian and his brother Carter on either side of me
,
at the Casslemond’s house
,
not the Kleins, and we weren’t singing this time, just sitting with our heads slightly bowed listening to Charles, always
one
with a sense of humor, say
ing
grace.

Our Heavenly Father, we thank you for

This food, and humbly request that

You perform a miracle and remove

The calories from the dessert!

While we were waiting for the platters and bowls to be passed
our way,
Christian pulled out his wallet and handed me something the size of a
credit
card.  We both
broke out
in big
smiles when I realized what it was; Christian ha
d
passed
his road test and scored his driver’s license that very afternoon.

I didn’t know what upheaval might be waiting at home for me as a result of my open defiance.  I’d like to tell you that I didn’t care at this point, but that would be somewhat disingenuous; this was their house after all and they were responsible for me.  I had left home earlier and didn’t bother to tell them where I was going, not that I felt the need given their unreasonable proclamations from a few days earlier, let alone my concern that if I had left a note regarding my plans for the evening, they might have shown up at the Casslemond’s and spoiled the party in a very literal sense.  Still, I felt conflicted by my rebelliousness because I had never done anything like that before.  It would never have occurred to me to disobey my parents in such a deliberate manner, but now I could see that such behavior on my part might easily be repeated, that I might just continue to resist Doreen’s authority and demands.  Surprisingly, when I came home though, she gave me an angry glare, but did not say much or ask where I had been.

I had asserted my independence and gotten away wit
h
it, the guil
t
dissolving quickly once I rationalized it away by telling my
self that I was my own man now, not some child that needed to be told what to do or where I could go.  Now that Christian had his license, and hopefully the yellow Camaro before long as well, I would be pretty much free to do as I pleased.  I could not imagine my aunt backing off from her tyrannical views or her unnerving opinions; to me she was incorrigible and incapable of changing.  And she was wrong to say anything bad about the Casslemonds; she didn’t know a thing about them or want to find out either. 
If placing blame
was now paramount for Doreen,
then the
truth
that I knew absolutely
would have been wasted on her; that Mr. Casslemond and his wife would have given up their own lives in an instant, gratefully in fact, if they thought it might bring my parents back.

I had been feeling pretty good about myself, with a certain
arrogance
more in evidence now that I was in the ninth grade and beyond some of the humiliations that were passed down to the underclassmen.  They were the ones now likely to be bullied, and though I still hated the fact that such conduct was completely tolerated, I wasn’t about to do too much to protect them; my own interests taking precedence over their unfortunate circumstances.  Now I had to somehow get past my next birthday which was fast approaching; December 8, 1975 was the first anniversary of the accident and just the thought of it
filled me with both terror and h
eartache.

A truce of sorts had developed at home and for now at least, things were more or less peaceful. 
I was expected to do certain chores around the house and show up for meals and family events with some regularity, but otherwise I had attained an acceptable degree of freedom and at least what I considered to be a lukewarm relationship with my aunt and uncle.  They had their own lives and plenty to worry about in terms of keeping both
their sanity
and their marriage intact.  But life being what it is, a dynamic series
of
inexplicably complicated events, I knew in my gut that things just might not continue this way, and that this relatively serene subsistence might be temporary in nature
; that a long
and difficult
road might
still
lie ahead for us. 

No one that I talked to in the office knew what to make of the sudden departure of Mr. Finnernan, or what possible logic might underlie the selection of his successor. 
We knew that Tim was spending a good deal of time considering our organizational structure and possible changes to the management hierarchy.  As you can imagine, that concept set me off on a series of panic attacks whenever I thought about it.  I
spent nearly
two
days
contemplating the potential pitfalls threatening my livelihood
;
weighing the probabilities, judging other’s reactions, speculating,
doubting
, hypothesizing, conjecturing and otherwise exploiting every logical avenue that I could call upon, with absolutely nothing to show for all of this effort and anxiety.  In other words, I had no idea what the hell
to expect now
.

Over the years, I have learned that when faced with a problem such as this, where answers seemed as elusive as shade on the hottest day, there was one place I could go for
sound
ideas
and practical
solutions.  So I did what I always did when I found myself in a bind, I called Joseph.  Unlike me, Joseph
was busy
at work, but still he found time to talk and gave the matter the necessary consideration.  Already quite familiar with the ludicrous environment that formed the basis for my employment, as well as my reticence for considering
hard work
as a viable option, he came up with a brilliant plan.

Joseph reasoned that because of Tim’s incompetence,
there might be a better way than
for me to sit back and wait to see what his pathetic psyche would dream up, and that any changes at all that he might think of were not likely to be to my benefit.  Instead, Joseph’s astute plan involved me circumventing Tim by coming up with a detailed office-wide reengineering proposal on my own, one that would look good on paper and appeal to Tim’s one-dimensional thought process, thereby making both Tim and me look good, for which I would undoubtedly get a lot of credit, both for my technical savvy, as well as my proactive approach in bringing the pitch to
him
without even being asked. 
The reorganization plan did not have to be very good, it just had to sound good, because as Joseph so eloquently explained, Tim was too thick to know the difference.  It was all a matter of having it look polished and packaged nicely; the actual value of the proposal itself would be irrelevant. 

Now let’s
stop for just a
moment here
to
consider what a competent manager would do in this situation.  He or she would recognize his or her limitations, would seek out advice from others with more knowledge and experience, would solicit feedback, ask for alternatives, and would gain support and consensus before moving forward.  Joseph’s luminous plan would eliminate the need for all of that
, based of course on the assumption that Tim was not a competent manager
.  And best of all, I would make sure that the newly revamped organization would put me in a position where I had more or less the same responsibilities, duties, functions and accountabilities that I already had; that is to say, virtually none. 
Joseph, you are a genius; I’m taking you out to celebrate on Friday night.

As soon as I hung up the phone, I marched into Tim’s office and told him I’d been working on a reorganization plan that he might be interested in.  I made it up while we talked.  It would involve minimal disruption in work flow, but would increase productivity by making a few changes in the reporting structure, allow for accounts to be more readily distributed within the newly arranged groups according to the
size,
complexity, and geographic location of the client, and provide for facilitated oversight and input from management.  There would be promotions, incentives, regular evaluations and customer satisfaction surveys.  It would include development opportunities, peer reviews, and more effective financial controls and training.  Tim appeared to be salivating; he asked how
long
had
I
been working on this for.  No more than twenty minutes  was
w
hat I should have said, but I lied and said since the day he had been promoted
when he
mentioned
his plans
for possible or
ganizational changes.  He wanted to know if I could have a detailed proposal to him by the end of the week.  Today was only Tuesday; it would be on his desk by 5:00 Friday at the very latest.

I wasn't all that good with computers or their corresponding graphics or presentation software, and because form over function was clearly a business imperative, at least on this project if not everything else
I
worked on, I would need to enlist the help of someone who
could
assist
me with the formatting and printing of the
proposal
.  Luckily, there was a young associate named Christine Robinson who had worked with me on a couple of minor assignments in the four months that she had been with the company.  She was creative and intelligent and would fit the bill perfectly, especially since she had a friend named Lois in the graphic arts department who could help us with the final presentation using the large format printer that they had
, and she said she could have it professionally bound as well.
  When I told Christine and Lois what I had in mind, the two of them went to work immediately and began to design a template that included a very sharp looking cover page to go with the brochure we would make.  Christine had some original ideas beyond just the basics and I found her interest and enthusiasm for the project refreshing.  I actually gave some thought to the content itself and as I ran through the drafts over the next two and a half days, I surprised myself with some decent ideas, although they weren't tested at all and were not based on anything more than
gut feelings.  On Friday, Christine and I spent most of the afternoon finishing things up and assembling five copies of the proposal that Lois had beautifully
printed,
which I took to Tim's office at
4:30
.  Thanks for all the help, Christine, this is perfect.

It looked amazing, even to me, the person in the best position to understand that it was mostly bullshit; that is to say neither Lois nor Christine had any tangible experience with respect to organizational structure
in general
, nor the details of our organization in particular, since as we have seen, Lois' specialty was in graphic arts and while Christine was quite intelligent and I thought had great potential, she was just a few months beyond undergraduate school and I don't think could have appreciated the weaknesses in the proposal.  When I went to give Tim the copies we had made, he wasn't in his office
,
and after waiting around for a few minutes, I decided to just leave them on his desk and head home.  I could wait until Monday to see what would happen and I wanted t
o
meet up with Joseph
for dinner as I
had promised, and to thank him personally for coming up the idea.  I grabbed one of the five copies off Tim's desk to take along; Joseph would have to see this
!