I prayed Hard for this Job

When Mrs. Pirate and myself graduated from college we moved to Ephrata, Washington. She had landed a job there in the Middle School as a Special Education teacher and I looked for work. After a month of searching and taking odd jobs I finally was hired by a finance company, a Gulf & Western Company no less. You know the ones. The companies that have lending practices that are barely legal. A couple comes in borrows $2,500 at 25% which takes them fifteen years to pay off.

We eventually moved closer to the office in Moses Lake, Washington. I had prayed for this type of job ever since I was a kid and watched those who had more then us and admired the men in suits. They looked like they had so much more then the "working folk" of which I was part.

I had grown up in a logging community and had worked my way through college in a plywood plant and basically knew nothing but the timber industry. Before working at the finance office I had worn a tie only for church, weddings and funerals. Now I had an office job. A job with a desk, a phone, an expense account and a computer. I was expected to wear a suit and tie every day except Fridays. On Fridays we let go in the office and removed out ties. "No Tie Fridays".

I complained to my friends and family about the attire but secretly I thought I had arrived. No more dirty sweaty work. No more flannel shirts, longjohn underwear, and working boots and gloves. It was high class time for me. You know with a haircut, three-piece suit, dress shoes and a tie I cleaned up pretty good. I was Mr. GQ. The movie "Wall Street" was the hit at the time. A movie that glorified greed and made it clear that all success was measured monetarily. Those who snoozed, winced, worried, cried or hesitated; lost. Plain and simple it was not what you thought, how you treated others, how you felt inside of yourself that ws important. What was important was how you looked and how you ended up with more of the money then the other guy.

I had went from a grubby little logging town imp to a powerbroker, a businessman. A person who could decide the future of others and decide how much I was gonig to charge them for it. And if for some reason the borrower thought they could ignore our arrangement I could be relentless in making them pay back or else.

It wasn't long before I developed a position in the community that allowed me to look down my nose at others. I could walk into a client's restuarant or tavern and they would immediately wait on me and waive the charge for my meal or drink. It wasn't long that some of the local powerbrokers were calling me aside and inviting me to their fraternal clubs and shady dealing.

I began to look at the blue-collar worker as potential profit. I attended community events for commercial purposes. I took every opportunity to make money for my employer and all I wanted in return was good pay, special perks and a pat on the back for doing a good job. Every other month I was awarded the employee of the month for the district. A district that covered Washington, Oregon and Hawaii. I was driven every month to be the "Golden Boy" and I was determined to be the president of the multi-national corporation I was working for someday. I put bonuses in my boss' pocket and his boss' pockets. I had shed my skin as a son of blue-collar workers and had arrived at the "white-collar" party.

When I went home to see my family and friends I had a little different walk. I drove a nicer car. I had more money at my disposal. I had become better then the lowly people I had originated from. The way I spoke, laughed, and treated people had changed. I was simply better then I use to be. It was obvious by looking at my wallet and the type of work I was doing. I was 25 years old and already making more money then my parents ever had.

Then eventually my conscience crept back in. No, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

One Thanksgiving we had went home to visit my family and to introduce our month old son to my family. My father was in the hospital recovering from a heart attack. My parents had recently divorced and what I knew as my past was completely disrupted. I was sitting at a table playing a card game of Uno with my siblings when the phone rang. It was for me. My boss called from Moses Lake, Washington to tell me his son had been shot in a hunting accident and he needed me to call the Vice President of the company and explain how he was not going to be able to open the office the day after Thanksgiving and that the office needed to either not open that day or get someone else over there.

I called the VP at his house in Pullayup, Washington. He got on the phone and listened to what I had to say. He then began to rip into me. Calling me all kinds of names, most beginning with the letter "F" and wanted to know why I had went to Oregon to see my family when there was much to do in the office. Standing in my mother's living room surrounded by my family I listened to this ungratful SOB read me the riot act for doing exactly what he was doing right that very moment. Spending the holidays with his family.

This was a man that I had made financially successful over the last three years. A man that I had given up many of my own morals and time for. And what did I get in return was a smack across the head. He told me that the office better be ready for business by opening time tomorrow morning (8:00 am) or I was fired. It is a 8 to 10 hour drive from Salem, Oregon to Moses Lake, Washington, that's in good weather. At this very moment the Pacific Northwest was experiencing a snow storm.

At 8:00 pm I bundled my wife and new baby up in the car and started for Moses Lake. We drove all night in a blizzard. At times I could barely see the road but I had to make it back. When we made it back to Moses Lake I dropped the family off at home and bolted for the office. Arriving at the office at 7:30 am I had time to spare. The phone rang at 8:00 am sharp. It was Marv Cobal, the VP. All he said was you are lucky, boy and hung up.

I sat in that office all day by myself and not one client called or came in to the office. It was a useless day. I had left my family back in Oregon who needed me. I had driven my wife and child through a snow storm endangering them for what?

From that day forward I began to plot my exit and developed a plan to get back to the Willamette Valley of Oregon on the company's dime and I broke out my old blue-collar.

So be damn careful for what you pray for...

Peace...