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Climbing the Ladder - The First Rung

Michael Loucks

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Contents







Copyright © 2015-2024 Michael P. Loucks


First publication date: 2021-08-01

First revision publication date: TBD



You may contact the author at: author@michaelloucks.com

https://a-well-lived-life.com/











For Jeremiah

Books in This Series




The First Rung

The Second Rung

Climbing Higher

Chutes and Ladders (*)


Other Books by Michael Loucks


A Well-Lived Life, Series I

Book 1 - Birgit

Book 2 - Jennifer

Book 3 - Pia

Book 4 - Bethany

Book 5 - Stephanie

Book 6 - Kara I

Book 7 - Kara II

Book 8 - Stephie

Book 9 - Anala

Book 10 - The Wife


A Well-Lived Life, Series 2

Book 1 - Bethany

Book 2 - Stephie

Book 3 - Jessica

Book 4 - Elyse

Book 5 - Michelle

Book 6 - Samantha

Book 7 - Sakurako

Book 8 - NIKA

Book 9 - Kami

Book 10 - Bridget


A Well-Lived Life Series 3

Book 1 - Suzanne

Book 2 - The Inner Circle

Book 3 - A New World

Book 4 - Coming of Age

Book 5 - The Pumpkin Patch

Book 6 - The World Turned Upside Down (*)


Good Medicine

Freshman Year

Sophomore Year

Junior Year

Senior Year

Medical School I

Madical Shool II

Medical School III

Medical School IV

Residency I (*)

Residency II (*)


From the Files of Doctor Fran Mercer (*+)


A Sailor's Diary

Book 1 - The War Years (*+)


+ Available exclusively on Patreon or BuyMeACoffee

I - The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

June 1, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

"Ready to go, Jonathan?"


"Let me just finish my coffee, please, Uncle Alec," I said, quickly downing the remnants of my cup of coffee. "Thanks for breakfast, Aunt Wendy."


"Thanks for breakfast, Aunt Wendy," my twelve-year-old cousin Lisa, mocked, sotto voce.


"Lisa, that's enough!" Aunt Wendy said firmly.


I got up from the kitchen table, made sure I had my wallet and house keys, picked up the brown paper bag with my lunch which my aunt had prepared, grabbed my Cincinnati Reds cap and a pair of sunglasses, and followed my uncle out to his Mercedes. I got into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. My uncle got in the driver's seat, started the car, and backed out of the parking spot.


"It'll take about fifteen minutes to get to North Michigan Avenue. I'll drop you on Lower Michigan at Hubbard. All you need to do is go up the stairs and 444 North Michigan will be ahead of you on your left. Spurgeon Capital is on the 34th and 35th floors. Just take the elevator up to 34."


"I really appreciate you getting me this job."


"Noel Spurgeon is a friend, but that won't matter one bit if you don't work hard and do your job. Nothing in this city is easy; nothing. Pay attention to everything. Learn. That's how you get ahead.


"I will."


I had one tiny bit of luck in my life, and that was that my mom's sister, Wendy, had married Alec Glass, who had made some money in real estate, but more importantly, had made lots of contacts. One of those, Noel Spurgeon, of Spurgeon Capital, had allowed me the chance to escape a bleak life in rural southern Ohio.


I'd never known my dad, and my mom had raised me on her own. We'd had very little, and I'd had to start working at fifteen to help make ends meet. I'd done all sorts of odd jobs, mostly manual labor, and work had made school a secondary priority, which had led to mediocre grades. And THAT had led to not being able to go to college because we couldn't afford it and I couldn't get any scholarships.


Mom had talked to her younger sister, Wendy, and Wendy had asked her husband if he could find me a job that only required hard work and common sense, and which might help me find a way out. That had led to the job I was starting today -- in the mailroom of Spurgeon Capital, which was some kind of investment firm. According to my uncle, if I did a good job, I could move up to 'runner', working on the trading floor of an exchange, and if I learned and paid attention, I could advance upwards from there.


I'd jumped at the chance, and the day after I'd graduated, I packed my few belongings in a duffel bag and boarded a Greyhound bus for Chicago with my meager savings in my pocket. I'd arrived just two days before and had moved into a small bedroom in my uncle's townhouse, right next door to my cousin Lisa, who I'd only met once before, when I was nine.


I had a plan -- work hard, learn everything I could, make as many contacts as I could, get my own place, even if it was a simple studio apartment, find a girlfriend, and make a life for myself. And that plan was going to be put into motion today.


"Here we are," Alec said, stopping at a dimly-lit corner underneath Michigan Avenue. "Just go up the steps and the building is in front of you on the left."


"Got it," I said. "Thanks for the ride."


"Be right here at 5:30pm, and I'll take you home. If for some reason we miss each other, you can walk west on Grand, which is the street just north of the building, and get on the Milwaukee L. Take it north to Logan Square. I showed you how to get home from there. Have a good day!"


"Thanks," I replied, unbuckling my seat belt.


"I probably should apologize for Lisa's behavior. She's a bit spoiled and we give her fairly free rein."


"It's not a problem, really. I sort of invaded her space, I guess."


"I'll have a word with her in any event."


"Thanks. See you later."


"See you later."


I climbed out of the Mercedes, then headed up the stairs from Lower Michigan Avenue to Upper Michigan Avenue, walked about half-a-block north, and entered the tall building. I walked across the lobby, past a bored security guard, and turned left to take an elevator to the 34th floor. I joined seven other people in an elevator, and about a minute later I stepped out into the lobby of Spurgeon Capital.


"May I help you?" a very pretty girl who looked to be about my age, or no more than a few years older, asked.


"Jonathan Kane," I replied. "I begin work today."


"I have you on my list!" she said brightly. "Go through this door behind me, and into the conference room on your left. Our Director of Personnel will take it from there."


"Thank you."


I moved towards the door and heard a buzz as she pressed a button to release the electronic lock. I pushed the door open, walked about ten feet down the hall and entered a conference room where I saw three other people sitting, and a woman who looked to be about thirty-five standing by the head of the table.


"You are?"


"Jonathan Kane," I replied.


"Welcome, Jonathan. I'm Mandy Peterson, Director of Personnel. Please, take a seat. We're waiting on two others, but they have another ten minutes to arrive. There is coffee or water on the table in the back of the room."


"Thanks."


I went to the table and poured myself a glass of ice water, then took a seat next to a wiry blonde guy about my age.


"Paul Dierks," he said, extending his hand.


"Jonathan Kane," I replied. "Mailroom."


"Same here. I guess we'll be working together. You from Chicago?"


I shook my head, "No. From southern Ohio; a small town called Goshen, which is east of Cincinnati. You?"


"Chicago my entire life. Oak Park. It's just a bit west of downtown on the L. Where are you living?"


"With my Aunt and Uncle in Logan Square for now. I hope to get my own place eventually."


"Not on our salaries you won't!"


"One step at a time," I said. "First step is the job! You living with your parents?"


"Unfortunately, yes."


Just then two young women walked in and Mrs. Peterson got our attention.


"Welcome to Spurgeon Capital. This morning we'll do your orientation, have you fill out tax forms and emergency contact forms, get you signed up for our benefits plan, and then get you to your supervisors so you can get to work.


"In front of you is our employee handbook, which you're expected to read and understand. Inside the front cover, you'll find a page to sign acknowledging receipt of the manual. Please sign that before you leave this room today. In the back of the manual is another signature page which confirms that you've read and understood the manual. Please return it by Friday, noon, or your employment could be terminated. If there is anything which is unclear, please speak to your supervisor or someone from my office. You can reach us by dialing 8875 from any internal phone. That number, along with the outside number is on the first bound page in the handbook.


"All of you are hourly employees, so you will need to clock in each morning, and clock out each afternoon, as well as when you take your lunch. Your supervisors will explain how the time clocks work, as well as the rules for tardiness. If you forget to clock in, or as with today when you'll clock in late, your supervisor can adjust your time card."


All of what she was saying was familiar, as I'd had to clock in for every job I'd held -- the feed store, the lumber yard, and the landscaping company. Two of my supervisors had been relatively cool, but the one at the feed store had been a consummate prick, who always looked for ways to dock pay, find fault, and otherwise harass employees who were doing back-breaking work.


I listened as Mrs. Peterson went over important points from the employee handbook, and then we filled out tax forms, which I had done before, and a form for something called 'Blue Cross', which would cover medical expenses. I'd had my regular checkups, but other than that, I'd never seen a doctor or been in the hospital. I'd hadn't even been sick since I turned twelve, and hadn't missed a day of work, ever.


There were a few other forms to sign, including life insurance, which almost made me laugh, but I wrote in my mom's name under 'beneficiary' wondering what she'd do with what I considered a princely sum of $25,000, in the unlikely event something should happen to me. The final form was for an investment account to which I could have a percentage of my pay directed before it even got into my hands.


My knowledge of 'finance' was limited to filling out my 1040-EZ form and the 5.25% interest I earned on my meager savings. Mom had insisted I put $5 from every weekly paycheck into my bank account, and that's what had allowed me, after buying some clothes for work and a bus ticket, to bring just over $900 with me to Chicago. I'd need to open a bank account, which I planned to do on my lunch break, if I had enough time.


Because of that lack of knowledge, I'd spoken to Uncle Alec about what to do, and dutifully filled out the form directing 10% of my pay into something called a mutual fund, which he'd explained was money pooled together to invest in stocks, and which was managed by someone at Spurgeon Capital. It was a tough trade-off in my mind -- every dollar that went into that account was one dollar less I had to use to get my own place and build the life I wanted.


Uncle Alec had patiently explained just how quickly even small investments could grow, and how if I started now, I could easily have over a hundred thousand dollars when I eventually retired, even if I never had a high-paying job. That was an unfathomable amount to someone who was making $5.75 an hour, which was $1.50 more per hour than I'd ever made in the past. In the end, my rough calculation was I'd need to live with my Aunt and Uncle for about five months, if I invested, before I'd have enough saved for a security deposit on a small apartment without depleting my savings.


"Now that you've completed your paperwork, we'll get you to your supervisors," Mrs. Peterson announced. "Just wait one moment and I'll have someone take you two young men to the mailroom. The rest of you, please come with me."


Paul and I waited as the others filed out, and a minute later, a very pretty brunette, likely about our age, came into the room.


"Jonathan? Paul? Would you follow me, please."


We got up and followed the shapely brunette down the hallway, watching her butt sway side-to-side. Paul and I exchanged a look, and grinned, focusing on her rear end. We went through two sets of doors, and suddenly the decor changed from opulent to purely functional. She stopped at a doorway with no actual door.


"Mr. Nelson? I have Jonathan Kane and Paul Dierks for you."


"Thank you, Misty!" a gregarious, cigar-chomping, balding man replied. "Come in, you two!"


We walked into a small office with a metal desk, three chairs, a filing cabinet, a few shelves, a coat rack, and a telephone.


"Sit!" Mr. Nelson said, pointing to the chairs.


We took our seats and waited. Mr. Nelson went over to a shelf and grabbed two clear plastic bags which contained some kind of garment.


"These are your jackets. You're to put them on as soon as you arrive, along with the ID badge I'll give you. The color, purple, with gold trim, is our firm's color on the trading floors. These don't have the trim, signifying you work in the office. As I'm sure you were told, proper dress is slacks, a button-down shirt, a conservative tie, and black or brown dress shoes. Loafers or wingtips are both OK.


"You two are here because we lost two people last month. Both of you are also here because someone said I had to hire you. That means you have to prove to me that you belong here. Do your job, follow the rules, and by God keep your mouths shut, and we'll be fine. You DO NOT fraternize with anyone while you're working. That means no flirting with secretaries and no schmoozing with the traders or fund managers. Speak ONLY if you are spoken to unless there is a VERY specific need for you to speak. Am I clear?"


None of my jobs had ever allowed ANY time for screwing around, or even much talking, so keeping my mouth shut wasn't going to be difficult. Not flirting with secretaries WAS an issue, as I'd already seen several very cute ones. That said, Mr. Nelson had made the distinction of 'while we were working', which meant that during lunch, or on breaks, it would be OK.


"Yes, Sir!" I said firmly.


"Yes, Sir," Paul said, less convincingly.


"Dierks, right?"


"Yes."


"Don't fuck with me on this or you'll be out on your ass. Do you hear me?"


"Yes, Sir!" he replied, though I could tell it was forced.


"Let me be clear; from the moment you punch in until you punch out, you're working. I'm the boss. You do what I say when I say and how I say. No arguments. No discussions. Just 'Yes, Boss!' and do it. You take your breaks when I say and lunch when I say. Each of you will have one of the floors -- Dierks, you have 34; Kane, you have 35. Your job is to make deliveries and pickups, doing your rounds once in the morning, and once in the afternoon, packages as they arrive, and handling anything that needs to move from one place to another and can be picked up. If it's too heavy, you report back and we'll get movers in to handle it.


"You're also responsible for the supply closets on each floor. All supplies are in the room across the hall and are carefully inventoried. When you restock the supply closets on each floor, you note what you take and where you put it. I keep a close eye on that because shit has a way of walking out of this place. I swear, Bic must have a factory that does nothing but make pens for us. When things run low, you fill out the appropriate requisition form and give it to Nick in the mailroom.


"Nick is the guy who receives the mail from the post office and sorts it into your bins. You sort your bins in whatever order works for you, but make sure you're efficient. We don't have time to fuck around here. It's been a bitch for Nick and me to cover for those two numb-nuts who quit last month. Nick will let you know when deliveries arrive -- anything that comes by courier gets delivered immediately. That is, drop everything and deliver it. There are pagers in the mailroom for you to wear so Nick or I can find you. Any questions?"


"Yes, Sir," I said. "Is there a floor plan or map I can use to familiarize myself with the floor and know how to sort the mail?"


"Well, shit, you might have a chance, Kane. They usually send me idiot children of executives, but you might have a brain in that head of yours. Yes. In the mailroom is a keyed map, along with a list of people who work on the floor. Personnel runs new lists every Friday and sends them to us. We make the changes on the floor plan, or create a new one if there are too many changes. Any other questions?"


"Just the location of the johns," I grinned.


For the first time, Mr. Nelson smiled at me, "Another excellent question. Ours is next to the mailroom. Do NOT use the johns in the main offices. Period. Now, if that's it, put on your jackets and ID badges, and we'll go over to the mailroom where I'll give you your pagers, keys, and floor plans. All of those things are to go into your carts at the end of the day."


"I'm sorry, Mr. Nelson," I said respectfully, "but where is the time clock?"


"In the mailroom. You'll get a fresh time card every Monday morning and you turn in your completed card from the previous week to me at the same time. You have to sign them, and forging ANY punches, or punching in for someone else, is a cause of immediate termination. If your card needs to be adjusted, come see me. I'll sign the necessary adjustment for today when I show you how to use the machine. This is a religion, gentlemen. Fuck it up and you're going to be in trouble."


As tough as Mr. Nelson sounded, he wasn't actually telling me anything I hadn't expected to hear. I was used to following directions and simply doing as I was told -- the feed store during the Winter, the landscaping company during the Summer, and the lumber yard year-round. The vibe I was getting from Paul was that he was already chafing from what Mr. Nelson was saying, and we hadn't even started working.


"Follow me," Mr. Nelson said, once we had our jackets on and our badges clipped to the pocket.


Mine said 'Kane, Jonathan R.' in moderate-size type, with a large purple 'MR' below it, which I was sure stood for 'MailRoom', though in the back of my mind the words 'Mental Retard' formed as well. Nothing that Mr. Nelson had said so far required significant brainpower, and the fact that he'd referred to the previous employees as 'numb-nuts' and 'idiot children' made me wonder just how dumb someone would have to be to mess up what so far sounded like simple tasks. Not to mention the added benefit of not being outside in the sweltering sun or involving carrying things which caused backaches even at eighteen.


Mr. Nelson showed us how to use the time clock, first with 'test' cards and then our own, then introduced us to Nick.


"Nick Boyne, meet Jonathan Kane and Paul Dierks. Kane should fill in for you on your breaks. Make sure he knows how to use the phone system."


"Yes, Boss!" Nick replied, then glanced our way, "Hi, guys."


"Hi," we both said.


'Nick will show you the ropes. If you need anything, ask him first. If he doesn't know, then come to me. Any question?"


"No, Boss!" I replied mimicking Nick's tone and language.


"No, Boss," Paul replied, and I could FEEL his eyes rolling.


Mr. Nelson turned and left without a word.


"OK," Nick began, "Let me show you your carts and how to use your pagers, then I'll show you the supply room, and Kane, I'll show you how the phones work. Mostly you'll just answer and take down requests. I make less than ten outgoing calls a day, and those are mostly to courier companies for pickups or to suppliers to place orders.


"One important thing for you Kane, is that you need to use the freight elevator to move your cart to 35. Never use the lobby elevators. There's a key on your ring that will let you go up to 35, come back to 34, and go to the lobby or loading dock. There's one on your ring, too, Dierks, but you mostly won't need it."


We went to where the carts and bins were, and Nick showed us everything, then took me back to his desk to go over the phones and how to handle incoming calls, then showed me how to use the elevator key. Fifteen minutes later, I joined Paul at the mail sorting bins.


Before I took anything out of the bin, I looked over the floor plan and using a pencil, mapped out the quickest way around the floor. I noted that the senior executives were all on the 35th floor, including Noel Spurgeon, who had a large office which I was sure had a glorious view of Lake Michigan. Of course, the chances of actually setting foot in his office were zero, as I would deliver his mail to his executive secretary or his executive assistant.


Once I had the route mapped, I began sorting Saturday's mail into the cart, in order from the front of the cart to the back.


"That guy is a real piece of work," Paul said quietly.


"Mr. Nelson?"


"Yeah."


"You mean because he expects us to do our jobs and not screw around?"


"If I'd wanted the Marines, I'd have joined."


"Personally, I prefer not having to charge machine-gun nests. I registered for the draft, but I much rather be in the air conditioning here than in some jungle in Asia or wherever. Is this your first job?"


"I was a busboy at a local restaurant the last two Summers. Flirting with waitresses was the best part of the job!"


"And here it'll be the last part, it seems, if you do it when you're walking around."


"The guy's a dick," Paul said derisively. "You think they'll really can us if we say 'hello' to a secretary."


"I think I'm not going to find out," I replied.


I found an envelope in my bin marked 'Hand Deliver' so I went to Nick and asked what that meant.


"You actually hand it to someone -- preferably the person it's addressed to, but if not, then his secretary or assistant. If the person isn't there, and their secretary isn't there, you leave a notice for them to call. There are blank notices on the shelf next to the bins. Usually, it's mail that came in as Certified or had to be signed for or some other reason. That way WE don't get in trouble."


"Do they have to sign anything?"


"No. Even if it's addressed to the Big Boss, I sign for it, or you do if the mailman happens to bring it while I'm on break. If it's marked urgent, you deliver it right away, otherwise on your next regular morning or afternoon run. Mostly you'll get that kind of thing because the Boss put you on the upper floor with the major Suits."


"Thanks," I said. "I'm sure I'll have more questions."


"Better to ask them than to fuck up. They don't tolerate fuck-ups from people like us. Those guys on 35? They can lose a million bucks and it's just a day in the office. We lose a single piece of mail and it's our asses."


"I got that picture."


He nodded and I went back to my bin and continued sorting the mail. Even though Paul had started before me, I finished first, checked with Nick, then took my cart down the hall to the freight elevator, pressed the call button, and when it arrived, I used my key to enable the button for the 35th floor.


When the elevator arrived on the 35th floor, I did exactly as I'd been told. I was a bit slower than I figured I would be in the future, because I had to look for the exact locations of the person's inbox or mailbox, and I had to check my floor plan regularly to make sure names matched desks or offices. I found one discrepancy which I noted on my floor plan, and then finished my deliveries and pickups, then used the freight elevator to return to the 34th floor.


I took the normal mail from the basket on the bottom of my cart and put it in the 'Outgoing Mail' bin so Nick could weigh it, affix the postage, and then place it in the trays which the mailman would take, and the envelopes and packages which would go by courier in the bin by Nick's desk. After checking with him, I went back to the 35th floor to check each supply cabinet, as well as the coffee supplies, copier paper supplies, and other items on my list.


As I moved around, one thing struck me -- I was, effectively, invisible. Nobody spoke to me, smiled at me, or even nodded. The sum total of my communication was limited to two times I said 'Excuse me' when I needed to get past individuals standing in the hallways. Even then, I hadn't been acknowledged, they'd simply moved out of the way so I could get past. It was strange, but given that I'd been told not to try to talk to anyone, it didn't surprise me.


When I finished checking supplies, I went back down to check with Nick, then loaded my cart with supplies and went back to 35 to stock everything. When I finished that, he told me to take my fifteen-minute break, so I clocked out and went down the hall to our break room which was most definitely not stocked like the ones on the executive floor. I decided I had enough time to go down to the lobby and get a cup of coffee and a bottle of juice from the small deli.


As I rode down, I realized that those two items would basically eat up an hour's pay, and by the time I'd reached the lobby, I'd changed my mind. I rode the elevator back up and settled for coffee from a vending machine. It was barely drinkable, but it did have caffeine, it was hot, and it was cheap. I was very glad I had brought a bag lunch of fruit and other non-perishable items. I saw a fridge in the break room and that would increase my options for bringing my lunch. Buying a small thermos and filling it in the morning at home would also save even the few coins the machine required.


I finished my coffee, used the restroom, then went back to the mailroom to clock back in. Paul was just coming back and was sent on his break. Nick told me my lunch would be at 12:45pm, so I could cover his lunch from 12:15pm to 12:45pm. I acknowledged that then collected two courier-delivered items to take up to the 35th floor. After delivering them, I returned to the mailroom and asked for something to do.


"Just hang loose for a few minutes. I guarantee you someone will need us to do something. If you get five minutes to sit down, take it, because there were days when I was doing your job that I never got to sit except on break."


"I worked in a feed lot and a lumber yard back home. And I did landscaping. I'm used to it."


"Damn. Athlete?"


"Never had the time. It was just my mom and me and I had to work at fifteen to help make ends meet."


"Rough. Were are you from?"


"Goshen, Ohio. It's about thirty miles northeast of Cincinnati."


"Reds fan?"


"I listened on the radio and watched on TV when I could, but a ticket would have been a luxury."


"Shit, man. That's rough. What happened to your dad?"


"Supposedly he died in a plane crash without even knowing my mom was pregnant. She was sixteen when she got pregnant and seventeen when I was born. He was in his twenties and traveled around a lot from what she said. But she didn't really know all that much about him."


"No brothers or sisters?"


"No. Just one cousin, my mom's younger sister's daughter. My mom's parents were missionaries in South America. They were home on furlough when Mom got pregnant, and they kicked her out of the house. She lived with a friend, managed to work part time, finish High School, and then started working full time.


"How'd you end up here?"


"My uncle knows Mr. Spurgeon and called in a favor. My uncle had some sympathy, I guess, because he and my aunt got pregnant with Lisa before they married."


"Missionaries? So are you religious?"


"Me? Never been inside a church in my entire life except for one funeral. Mom was kicked out of her church for being unwed and pregnant and swore she'd never go back. She read me Bible stories when I was little, but I don't believe in God. You?"


"Greek Orthodox. My first name should be a giveaway! I think half the men in my church are named Nick! I almost never go, though my wife goes pretty regularly. I can't be bothered with all the mumbo jumbo. My parents had me baptized when I was little, but they never went to church much. You a hockey fan?"


"Not really. Cincinnati lost its professional team two years ago. I don't know much about the sport. I'm a Bengals fan, because I could watch them on TV on Sundays if I wasn't working."


The phone rang and Nick answered it. He had a brief conversation with the person, made a note, then hung up.


"I need you to go down to the lobby via the freight elevator. They ordered food for a meeting. You need to meet the delivery guys in the lobby. Take them to the freight elevator, then up to the 35th floor. Wait while they unpack everything, then escort them out. One of the secretaries will check the orders and sign for the food."


"So just escort them, nothing else?"


"Correct. And stand outside the conference room while they set up. One of the secretaries will handle anything that comes up."


I nodded and went to the elevator and pressed the call button, and when it arrived, pressed the button for the lobby. I rode down and walked to the guard's desk and waited. About five minutes later, three guys with large food carts came through the doors and I escorted them as I'd been told to do. I waited a couple of steps away from the door of the conference room until they were done, then escorted them back down to the lobby. Once they were out of the elevator, I used my key to get back to the 34th floor.


"I think I see what you mean about being busy," I said to Nick.


"You seem to catch on pretty fast, so you'll get more to do."


"I was kind of surprised at just being thrown into the mix, so to speak."


"Sink or swim here. Nobody has time to dick around. If the Boss or I had to hold your hand, even today, our work would back up. You have one big thing going for you, and that's you being here because Mr. Spurgeon sent your name down. That's why the Boss assigned you upstairs. We'd look bad if we didn't trust the guy the Big Boss told us to hire!"


I nodded, "I won't let you down. I know how to work hard, do what I'm told, and keep my mouth shut."


"Right after lunch we'll have our weekly supply delivery. I'll have you start checking it in and shelving everything. Just stop at 2:30pm to sort your mail and do your afternoon run. I'll page you if there's anything critical."


"What do I need to do?"


"I'll show you when the delivery arrives."


Nick went to lunch as planned and I had a quiet thirty minutes at his desk, fielding one call which I sent Paul to handle, and then I took my lunch outside, and realizing there wasn't enough time to open a bank account, I sat in the plaza near the Wrigley Building, along the Chicago River.


The afternoon went pretty much as Nick described, checking the delivery against a manifest and against the order, then placing the items in their appropriate spot on the shelves. I sorted my mail and made my rounds, bringing quite a few envelopes and small packages back to the mailroom for Nick to weigh and get ready for the mail pickup which was at 4:30pm every day. I finished stocking the inventory, made a couple of deliveries, and at 5:02pm, I clocked out, satisfied I'd done a good job. I hung up my jacket, put the pager and keys in my cart, then headed for the freight elevator to go down to the lobby.


"This is going to be a shitty job," Paul said as he joined me in the elevator.


I shook my head, "There is no such thing. What's shitty is NOT having a job or enough money to live on. I've done WAY worse. Try spreading cow manure for eight hours a day in 90°F weather."


"Now that is literally a shitty job!"


"Well it put food on the table and clothes on my back and kept a roof over my head. Nothing in this world is free. Hard work is the only way to get it."


"You think the guy who owns this company ever really worked a day in his life?"


"I don't know Mr. Spurgeon's background, but my uncle, who's a real estate investor, started with $5000 he saved working at McDonald's while he was in High School. He and his wife worked so he could finish college, though they didn't marry until he graduated. They had Lisa when they were nineteen and eighteen."


"So he's loaded? What are you doing working here?"


"He's made some money, but not a lot. I guess I'd say he's comfortable, but I hear Mr. Spurgeon is worth a couple of hundred million, personally. My uncle doesn't have anything like that. And besides, if he does, it's his money, not mine. I want to make it on my own. He got me the job here, and I'm living in his townhouse until I can get my own place, but that's the limit of the help I want."


"That's crazy! Take anything you can get from him!"


I shook my head, "He did his part; now I'll do mine. All I wanted was an opportunity to get out of Goshen, Ohio and a chance to make my own life. Once I move out of Uncle Alec's house, then it's up to me. And that's how I want it."


"College?"


"Maybe, but my grades sucked because I didn't have time to study. I need to make some money and then maybe I'll go to night school. As soon as a 'runner' job opens up, I'm going to apply. It pays twice what we make and at that point I'll be able to actually talk to the guys who make all the money!"


"I'll settle for talking to some of the secretaries! Talk about hot girls! I take it you don't have a girlfriend?"


"I didn't have time or money at home, but there was a girl who lived next door I was pretty friendly with, if you get my drift. But she's back home, and when she graduates next year, she's going to UCLA."


"How are you going to meet girls if you don't flirt at work?"


"Not at the top of my priority list -- job, savings, apartment, girlfriend."


"You got your priorities backwards!"


The elevator reached the lobby and we walked out of the building.


"See you tomorrow," I said.


"Yep," he agreed.


He headed to the bus stop and I went down the stairs to wait for my uncle who arrived about fifteen minutes later. I hopped into the passenger side of the Mercedes and buckled in.


"How was the first day of the rest of your life?" he asked.


"Just fine. I'm used to having bosses like the guy I work for."


"Did you fill out the investment form the way I suggested?"


"Yes."


"Good. I got you in the door. The rest is up to you."


I nodded, "I know. And I'm not going to fail."

II - Settling In

June 6, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

"Breakfast is ready," Aunt Wendy called through my door on Saturday morning.


"Be right there," I replied.


I got out of bed and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, then went out to breakfast. I sat down across from Lisa who rolled her eyes. I ignored her, and picked up the front section of the Chicago Tribune. I'd never been much of a newspaper reader, but then again, not much ever happened in Goshen, Ohio. But this was a new city, a big city, and I felt I needed to get a feel for what was going on. Aunt Wendy set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of me.


"Thanks," I replied, lowering the paper. "Isn't Uncle Alec eating with us?"


"He's out of the house on Saturdays before 7:20am, just like weekdays," Aunt Wendy replied. "Sunday is the only day he doesn't work. What did you plan to do today?"


"I really hadn't thought about it," I said. "I suppose I'll explore the neighborhood and maybe take the L into the Loop and explore there, too."


"Lisa could show you around, if you wanted."


"Moooommmm!" she protested. "I'm hanging out with Marie and Niki!"


"It's OK, Aunt Wendy," I said. "I'll explore on my own. I don't think the princess here wants anything to do with me."


"You got THAT right," Lisa spat.


I just smiled at her and raised the newspaper again, holding it with one hand and eating with the other. I was an only child, but my friend Will back home had a younger sister and she had always acted like a bitch toward him. He'd gotten even, after a fashion, by popping the cherries of her three closest friends then telling her about it. He'd given me the juicy details and I'd hung on every word.


It wasn't that I was a virgin, but my 'luck' with girls was limited to my next-door neighbor Bev, and perhaps a dozen very enjoyable encounters. In grade school, we'd played doctor a few times, but then stopped when we nearly got caught. Nothing more happened until the Summer I turned seventeen and she turned sixteen when she'd teased me about playing doctor, and one thing had led to another, and we'd taken each other's virginities several times one hot Summer night.


We never dated, mostly because I didn't have the money to take her out, but we'd been irregular lovers for most of my Senior year, getting together every five or six weeks to reenact that warm Summer night. The last time had been the night before I'd left for Chicago, when after we'd screwed ourselves silly, she told me she was going to start going with a guy in her class, and planned to go to UCLA for college the following year.


That hadn't really bothered me, though I was certainly going to miss burying myself in her warm, wet, and willing pussy. We'd been lucky -- we hadn't used a rubber the first night, though we did for a time, but then she eventually went on the Pill. Now, a year later, I thanked my lucky stars that she hadn't gotten pregnant, and resolved to never make that mistake again.


Of course, to actually make that mistake again, I'd need to meet girls who didn't work for Spurgeon. Despite Paul's plan to chat up some of the younger secretaries, I didn't want to do anything that would mess up my chances of advancement. If that meant living like a monk for a few months, or longer, I would.


But before I worried about that, I needed to decide where I wanted to live. My finances would be limited for a time, which meant I wasn't going to have a nice place, but Uncle Alec had told me there were lots of apartments near the universities which were very affordable. I'd looked at a map, talked with Paul, Nick, and Mr. Nelson and decided that the best options were around Greek Town, not too far from the University of Illinois Circle Campus, or in Hyde Park near the University of Chicago.


I'd mapped out a plan to make the most efficient use of the L, check out both places, but also stopping at First Chicago Bank to open an account. Uncle Alec had explained that Illinois had very restrictive banking laws, and had only recently allowed 'branch banking' and as such, suggested one of the big Chicago banks which had hours on Saturday morning.


I finished my breakfast, and after thanking Aunt Wendy, which caused Lisa to roll her eyes again, I went to brush my teeth, then changed into jeans and Cincinnati Reds t-shirt, put on my Reds cap, and headed out the door, my first paycheck tucked safely in my pocket. I'd been surprised that payday was Friday, and that we'd been paid for the entire week, but Mr. Nelson had said adjustments would made on following paychecks if our hours turned up short.


I walked to the L and paid my fare. I made my way up the stairs to the platform and waited for the train which arrived about five minutes later. I boarded, found a seat, and watched the city slip by as we headed into the Loop. When I got off the train, I walked to Clark and Madison, and found the entrance to First Chicago. Thirty minutes later I walked out with a temporary checkbook and a small sheaf of papers for my newly established account.


I walked from the bank to the building where Spurgeon Capital was located to judge the distance and felt I could just make it to and from the Bank at lunch on Fridays to deposit my check. The only possible problem might come from one of the bridges over the Chicago River being up, but there were enough places to cross the river that I could work around it by walking north on Clark and then crossing the river at the first opportunity.


I retraced my steps along Michigan Avenue, crossing the bridge over the river, then turning right on Wacker Drive. I followed it along the river until I came to Jackson Boulevard, and turned right, heading west. I walked past Chicago Union Station, and a few blocks later, crossed over the Kennedy Expressway into Greek Town. A few blocks further, across Halsted Street, I turned south on Racine, and crossed the Eisenhower Expressway. Once across, I found apartment buildings and houses, some of which had 'Apartment for Rent' signs in the front yard.


Acting on Uncle Alec's advice, I knocked on several doors saying I was interested in an apartment for August 1st, the usual time college students moved in. I inquired about the rent and estimated utilities for each place, making notes in a small notebook I carried in my back pocket. All the apartment buildings were out, at least for a year, as I couldn't afford even a studio apartment and have any money left over at the end of a month once utilities, food, and clothing were factored in.


The houses with apartments were a bit better, though nothing I felt I could afford. I decided to try one last place, on Polk Street, between Aberdeen and May. I knocked on the door and a man I guessed to be in his forties opened it.


"Hi, I'm Jonathan Kane. I'm looking for an apartment for August 1st and I saw your sign."


"Nick Andros. Pleased to meet you. Student?"


I shook my head, "I just moved here from Ohio and I'm living with my Aunt and Uncle until I find a place. I work for a company on North Michigan Avenue."


"You have a pay stub to prove that?"


I nodded, "Yes, I do. Can you tell me how much the rent will be?"


"How about I show you first, so you know what you're getting?"


"Sure."


He came out onto the porch and I followed him behind the house to a stand-alone garage. We climbed a set of outside stairs, Mr. Andros unlocked the door, and we stepped inside.


"This is it," he said. "Comes furnished."


I scanned the large open room which had a hardwood floor partially covered with throw rugs. On one side was the kitchen area -- a stove and oven, a refrigerator, and a sink. In the far corner of the room was a door which I could see led into a bathroom with a tub. The bed was in the opposite corner from the bathroom, and there was a folding screen of some kind which gave it some separation from the rest of the room which contained a sofa and loveseat, a coffee table, a TV stand, plus a round table with four chairs. There were two ceiling fans, and a pair of standing lamps. Simple, but efficient.


"Heat's forced hot water; air conditioning is that window unit there. No drugs. No loud parties or roommates, but I don't mind occasional overnight guests, if you know what I mean. If you have a regular girl and she stays too much, we have to talk about the rent."


"I don't. And the rules are OK. What's the rent?"


"$250 a month; one month's security; rent paid on the 25th of the month for the next month. If you don't pay, you're out. No grace period. If the temperature is above 80° ten days in a month, it's an extra $20 for electricity for the air conditioning. That usually only happens three months a year."


I hadn't been to Hyde Park, but Uncle Alec had warned me that unless I got lucky and found an available furnished studio, I wouldn't be able to afford an apartment building, and even then, I was sure it would be a stretch. There were a lot of homeowners who rented to students, but all things considered, I could walk to and from work from this place, or take the L on a cold or rainy day, simply by walking back to the Eisenhower and boarding a train. If I could take the L only half the days, I'd save close to $300 a year, and probably more.


I considered my options and made a snap decision.


"I'll take it," I said. "I can pay you the deposit today, if you want."


"That would make me happy. Do you have anyone in Chicago who can vouch for you? You seem like a good kid, but I'd rather play it safe."


"My Uncle Alec is a real estate investor. He'll vouch for me."


"If you have an Uncle who's a real estate investor why are you looking at an apartment like this?"


"I want to take care of myself, not depend on someone else. He got me the job, and that's enough."


"Where you from? Big city?"


"Goshen, Ohio. It's a fair bit east of Cincinnati. Farmland, mostly."


"This must be quite the change, then."


"It's the place to make my fortune," I replied. "But I want to do it on my own terms."


"Can't argue with that. Shall we shake on the deal?"


I extended my hand and we shook. I followed him out of the apartment, down the steps, and then into the main house. We sat down at the kitchen table and he began filling out a lease. I provided information as he asked for it, and when he finished, we both signed. I'd kept enough cash for this eventuality, so I took out my wallet and extracted five $50 bills and handed them to him.


"Jonathan, this is my wife Irene," Mr. Andros said as a pretty blonde woman came into the kitchen. "Irene, this is our new renter."


I stood and said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Andros."


"It's nice to meet a polite young man," she replied.


"Mom would never let me get away with being impolite," I replied. "Stand when a lady enters the room, only speak when spoken to, that kind of thing."


"Where are you from?"


"Southern Ohio. A small town called Goshen which is east of Cincinnati."


"Student?"


I shook my head, "No, Ma'am. I came to Chicago to work. Maybe I'll go to college someday."


She laughed softly, "Sit back down, Mister Kane!"


"You can call me Jonathan."


"Then you should call us Nick and Irene. We're all adults here."


"Yes, Ma'...Irene."


"I think we're all set, Jonathan," Mr. Andros said. "If you want to move in before August 1st, let me know. We'll work out a pro-rated rent. Just give me a week to paint and get the place cleaned. The last renter just moved out last Saturday."


The place had looked spotless, but I wasn't going to complain.


"It'll need to be August 1st," I said. "I want to make sure I have enough savings to cover any emergencies, or whatever."


"Do you have a car? Parking is pretty limited around here."


"No, I don't. And I probably won't think about one for at least a year. For now, I'll manage with the L and buses."


"OK. If you do end up getting a car, we'll sort something out."


"Thanks."


A car was a pipe dream at the moment, as the rent alone was going to consume a full third of my take-home pay. Once I factored in food, clothes, and other essentials like toothpaste, I didn't have enough money to make a car payment, even if I thought that was a good idea. On the other hand, a bike would be great except during the coldest months, and was something I'd easily be able to afford.


"I just need to see your pay stub, and on Monday I'll call your uncle, if that's OK."


"Sure."


I pulled the envelope with the pay stub from my back pocket and handed it over. Nick checked it, copied down the company name and address, then handed it back. We were done, we stood and shook hands. I said 'goodbye' to Irene, and then Nick walked me to the front door where we shook again. I went out onto the porch, then down the steps to the sidewalk.


"New boarder?" a pretty blonde girl, who looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, and who was standing on the sidewalk, asked.


"Starting in August, yes."


"Liliana, but everyone calls me Lily."


"Jonathan," I replied. "You live here?"


"Yes. You going to UICC?"


I shook my head, "No. I'm working. Are you in college?"


She laughed, "I wish. I'll be a Senior when school starts again."


"Where? I mean, not that I know much about Chicago."


"Saint Casimir High School. It's a Catholic girls' school on Whipple Street. It's less than five miles from here. Are you new to Chicago?"


"Yes."


"I guess I'll see a lot of you, then."


I nodded, "I guess so."


She seemed MUCH more pleasant than my cousin Lisa, and that was a plus. Lily was also a total fox, which I suspected Lisa might grow into, but at twelve, that was the last thing I'd say about her. Not to mention the whole 'cousin' thing. I was from Ohio, not West Virginia, so that wasn't something I'd consider, even if Lisa wasn't being a bitch.


"See you in August, Jonathan," she said with a smile.


"See you then," I replied.


I turned and walked west, retracing my steps. I decided to check out the neighborhood and pulled a small map from my back pocket. I headed for the UICC campus and checked it out. I was sure that during the school year, this would be a great place to meet girls. I walked around campus, then walked back north, finding several small parks, a karate school with a Japanese name, a dance studio, a few small fast-food places, a butcher shop, and a grocery store.


I made my way back to the Loop and decided to skip the trip to Hyde Park and instead spend some time in the Loop. Before Chicago, I'd only been to Cincinnati, so the big city was all new to me. I walked around for about an hour, and realized I was hungry. I remembered seeing a place in Greek Town that I wanted to check out, so I walked west to Halsted and into Mr. Greek Gyros.


I saw a number of Greek flags and some religious art depicting Jesus and Mary. And a huge menu that included everything from hamburgers to hot dogs to fried chicken and a whole bunch of apparently Greek dishes I'd never heard of before.


"What can I get you?" the counterman asked.


"What's a 'gyro'?" I asked.


He smiled, "It's 'gyro' with the g sounding like a 'y'. It's beef in a pita, you know, flat bread. Usually served with onions, tomatoes, and tzatziki sauce. It comes with fries and a medium drink."


"I've never had one," I said.


"Tell you what, I'll make it for you, and if you don't like it, I'll make you a hamburger at no extra cost? Deal?"


"Deal," I replied.


I handed over the $3.45 for the meal and watched as he sliced beef from a rotisserie, put it in a pita, added onions, tomatoes, and sauce. He added a generous helping of fries, and then asked what I wanted to drink. I told him 'Coke' and he filled a cup with ice and soda, then put everything on a tray.


"I think you'll like this, but let me know if you don't," he said.


I took the tray and sat down and examined the sandwich he'd made. It was unlike anything I'd seen, but smelled good. I took a bite and immediately fell in love with the sauce, never having tasted anything like it.


"This is awesome!" I exclaimed between bites.


"I thought you'd like it," he grinned.


I devoured the sandwich, and the fries, which were also excellent, washing down each mouthful with some of the Coke. At $3.45, this meal cost a good portion of an hour's take-home pay, and so it would have to be a treat. But it was a treat I'd want to have again, soon. When I finished, I brought my tray to the counter and handed it back.


"Thanks," I said. "I'll be back!"


"Great! Glad you enjoyed it."


I walked out of the restaurant and took stock. Across the street was something called Athenian Candle Company which advertised Orthodox Christian items, and just past it was a Greek restaurant -- the sit-down kind. Past that was a grocery store and another restaurant. On the opposite side of the street were a series of Greek restaurants. Someday, I'd have the funds to eat in all of them. But not today, or any day soon.


I walked back to the Loop and towards the lake. I walked around Grant Park, thought about checking out the art museum, but didn't want to spend the money on admission. I told myself I was sounding like a broken record, but I saw so many ways I could outspend my income which wouldn't have been possible back in Ohio. On the other hand, the sheer number of gorgeous women in sundresses in Grant Park seemed greater than the entire population of Goshen and Milford combined.


I decided I'd seen enough for the day and headed back to Logan Square. When I let myself into the townhouse, there was nobody home. I took my shoes off, then went and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, went to the kitchen and poured myself some lemonade, then sat down at the table to read the rest of the newspaper.


About ten minutes later, I heard the door and Aunt Wendy came in carrying two bags of groceries.


"Hi," I said. "Do you need help?"


"Hi. There's one more bag in my blue Volvo. Would you get it and close the trunk?"


"Will do," I replied.


I put the newspaper down and went out the front door. I saw the Volvo just down the street and went down the steps and walked to it. I got the bag of groceries, closed the trunk, and headed back into the house where I set the bag on the counter. Aunt Wendy said she didn't need help putting things away, so I sat down with the newspaper again.


"How was your day?" Aunt Wendy asked.


"Good. I found a place near UICC I can move into on August 1st."


"Really?"


"The price is right and it's possible to walk from there to work or take the L or a bus if it's raining or too cold."


"You're sure you can afford it?"


"Yes. It's a single room over a garage, but it's clean, has a hardwood floor, and is furnished. The owner seems nice, too."


"That was quick! We expected you to be here six months."


"I know, but I really do want to be on my own. And I think Lisa will be VERY happy if I move out soon."


"Ignore her," Aunt Wendy said. "She thinks the world revolves around her and her dad feeds that attitude. If she's not careful, she's going to get in serious trouble someday. Where's your new place?"


"On Polk just east of May."


"I hope you'll come for dinner on Sunday evenings once you move. I promised my sister I'd watch out for you. Have you called her?"


"On Thursday night. I promised to call every two weeks at first. And I'd love to come to dinner. I'm going to have to teach myself to cook, so I'll have at least one good meal a week!"


"Why don't you help me with dinner on Saturdays and Sundays? Alec likes to grill steaks during the Summer, but there's plenty of other stuff to do. I can teach you enough so you won't starve or have to eat TV dinners every night!"


"Thanks. It's one of those things I never learned to do. Between work and school, I really didn't have the time and you know how it was."


"I do. I have to say I was lucky to meet Alec, and very lucky he was around to help raise Lisa."


"Did you know my dad?" I asked.


"No. Your mom was very secretive about it, but I guess you can imagine why. He was twenty-five or twenty-six and she was sixteen. It was legal in Ohio, but Mom and Dad had a fit about her being pregnant."


"Which is why we basically never saw Grandma and Grandpa. And I guess Mom never knew my dad's parents."


"I don't think so. She didn't know that much about him, really. She met him at a Reds game she went to with her Sophomore class. Maybe a week later she managed to see him, got pregnant, and then he disappeared. She found out a couple of months later he died in a plane crash."


"How?"


"His roommate found a Polaroid of your mom with her name, address, and phone number written on the back. He called to tell her."


"I never knew that."


"Your mom never wanted to talk about it, and once she had the falling out with Mom and Dad she was even less willing to talk about it. She moved out, and then your grandparents moved to Aurora taking me with them. I met Alec soon after. If I can give you one piece of advice, Jonathan, it's to make sure you're religious about using birth control. Our family doesn't have the best record in that regard."


"You seem to have done OK."


"I was eighteen and Alec took total responsibility. We had it rough while he was in college, but we've made it work. Alec is finally coming into his own."


"Which is exactly what I want to do, minus getting a girl pregnant."


"Linda never said anything about you having a girlfriend."


"I didn't. The girl next door and I hung out a lot together, but we never went on dates. I didn't have time or money to date, but we found stuff to do."


Aunt Wendy laughed, "I bet!"


I laughed, "Yes, that. Not much else to do in Goshen! So, what's for dinner?"


"Roasted chicken breasts, scalloped potatoes, and salad. It's simple, but filling. Stick around and I'll show you how to make it."


"Thanks!"


Lisa came home while I was learning to make dinner with her two friends in tow. Lisa made a snide remark, but then they disappeared into Lisa's room. I took Aunt Wendy's advice and simply ignored Lisa, thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have a little sister. I enjoyed the cooking lesson and dinner was wonderful, minus the contemptuous looks from my cousin.

June 8, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday, Uncle Alec dropped me at work and I was in the mailroom at 7:55am, with my time card punched and my jacket and ID on. I was already working on the mail which had been delivered on Saturday when Paul arrived two minutes later.


"Have a good weekend?" Paul asked.


"I did," I replied. "I found an apartment near UICC I can afford. I'll be moving in on August 1st."


"That's cool. I hate living at home, but I like not having to pay rent or buy food."


"I hear you on that one, but I have to do it. Did you have a good weekend?"


"It was OK. I tried to get this hot little brunette on 34 to go out with me but she was busy. I'm going to try again."


"Dude, we've worked here a week and you're violating the rules in a major way!"


"Nobody is going to do shit about me talking with a secretary!"


"Just be careful, man."


"Kane!" Mr. Nelson bellowed from the door.


"Yes, Boss?!" I replied.


"Got a special for you. Has to go to a law firm in the Sears Tower. You need to get it signed for. I'll give you a pair of taxi vouchers."


"Yes, Boss!" I affirmed.


I set down the pile of mail I was sorting and went to the doorway to get the thick envelope from Mr. Nelson, along with two taxi vouchers. I checked the name and address and saw the firm was on the 59th floor. I quickly made my way to the freight elevator, and two minutes later I went to the taxi stand in front of the Tribune building and got into a Yellow Cab. I handed the driver my voucher and directed him to the Sears Tower.


It took about fifteen minutes to get to the Sears Tower and I could have walked it in about the same amount of time. I hopped out of the cab and went into the lobby, checking with the security guard to find out where the elevators were. He directed me to an express elevator to the 66th floor, and said I would switch to a 'local' elevator which would take me down to the 59th floor. Five minutes later, I was in the lobby of Hart-Lincoln.


"I have a delivery I need a signature for," I said to the gorgeous redhead sitting behind the reception desk.


"I can sign," she said.


I handed over the envelope and she signed the attached receipt and handed it to me. I checked to make sure she'd signed, printed her name, and added the date, which she had. I thanked her and hurried back towards the elevators where I had to go up to go down. When I was at street level, I walked outside, found the taxi stand, and hopped into a Yellow Cab for the return trip.


Back in the office, I hurried to the mailroom and handed the receipt to Mr. Nelson.


"That was fast," he said.


"Straight there, straight back," I replied.


"They still have that hot redheaded number at the front desk?"


"Green eyes, nice chest? Yep!"


"That's her. My wife would kill me for the thoughts I'm having right now. Good job. Carry on."


"Yes, Boss!" I replied, then turned and went back to resume sorting mail.


I was about thirty minutes behind Paul, but I got back to the 34th floor at about the same time he did, no doubt because he'd been talking with the secretary he was interested in. There were a couple of cute young secretaries on the 35th floor, but there was no way I was going to risk my job for a girl. I'd find one someplace else!


I took my lunch break at the usual time, and went down to the plaza by the Wrigley building to eat. I saw a pretty girl with black hair and brown skin and a sketch pad drawing the Tribune building. I decided to sit down next to her to watch her draw while I ate. But I knew I should ask first.


"Mind if I sit here?" I asked.


"It's a free country," she laughed.


"Confession time," I replied. "I wanted to watch you draw."


"It's still a free country! What's your name?"


"Jonathan Kane. I work just down the street. You?"


"Anala Subramani, I'm an architecture student at IIT. What do you do?"


"I work in the mailroom for Spurgeon Capital. Not glamorous, but it's a start. Why are you drawing during the Summer?"


"I'm taking a Summer survey course on Chicago architecture. Are you from Chicago?"


"Ohio. I just moved here a few weeks ago. You?"


"Woodridge. It's in the western suburbs, but I live in an apartment in Bridgeport."


"Don't let me interrupt your drawing," I said. "And I need to eat because I only have thirty minutes and I've already burned close to ten!"


She began to draw again and I began eating my sack lunch. I watched as her pencil flicked over the paper and compared what she was drawing to what I saw with my eyes. I was no expert, but she seemed to be VERY good. She was also, I noticed, very pretty. I'd wanted to meet a girl, and here was the opportunity.


"I know we just met," I said. "But would you like to go out Friday or Saturday night?"


She smiled, "I'm seeing someone, sorry."


"No need to apologize! Some random guy on the street who asks you out having only met you three minutes earlier can't really expect success!"


"But you asked anyway."


"What's the worst possible outcome? You say 'no'? My ego isn't THAT fragile!"


She laughed again, "I love your attitude! If I can be forward, I have a friend who you might like."


"I know less than a dozen people in Chicago, so I'll take all the help I can get!"


"A refreshing attitude. Are you here every day?"


"Yes, unless it's raining."


"Sorry, I meant on North Michigan Avenue, not just lunch."


"Yes. Why?"


"I'll be here early tomorrow to draw the tower again. I have to draw it every day this week."


"Every day?" I asked. "Why?"


"Five drawings, five different impressions," Anala replied. "Early morning, noon, late afternoon, dusk, and night."


"Wow."


"Anyway, what time do you start?"


"8:00am."


"Can you be here around 7:00am?"


I could, if I took the L instead of getting a ride. And for the chance to meet a girl, I'd take the chance. The worst possible outcome was I didn't like her. The best possible outcome, well, that was obvious.


"Sure."


"Good. I'll have my friend Gudia with me."


"Gudia? What kind of name is that?"


"Gujarati. Our families are from the same village in Gujarat province in India."


"Cool. Is she an architecture student?"


"No, she's majoring in math at IIT with a minor in computers."


"I have to ask, why?"


"She's complained she can't find a boyfriend. What's the worst that can happen?"


I chuckled, "Good point. I'll be here at 7:00am."


I watched her draw until I had to return to the office, and when I left, I promised I'd meet her at 7:00am on Tuesday morning. I walked back to the office much happier than when I'd left it.

June 9, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

I left the house at 6:15am on Tuesday morning. It was a bit early, but I didn't want a delayed L to mess up my schedule, and I wanted to be early, not late. I wondered what Anala's friend looked like. I hadn't met a girl from India before Anala, but I was VERY attracted to the dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair. It was a far cry from the light-skinned blondes and brunettes who were the most common in my High School.


I boarded the L, and about thirty minutes later, I walked into the plaza by the Wrigley Building, and saw Anala with her sketchbook. Next to her was a petite Indian girl with long, black hair, wearing blue jeans and a light pink polo shirt. I suppressed a laugh because as I got closer, I realized she was perhaps 5'2" tall, compared to my 6'2". If she weighed 100 pounds, I'd be surprised, while I weighed about 175. Actually, probably a bit more because my work didn't involve heavy lifting and I felt a bit flabby. I'd need to borrow Uncle Alec's weights. I pushed those thoughts from my mind as I walked up to the girls.


"Hi," I said.


"Hi!" Anala replied. "Jonathan, this is my friend Gudia Chaudhary. Gudia, this is Jonathan Kane."


"Pleased to meet you, Gudia" I said.


"Hi!" she exclaimed, jumping up with a lot of energy for 6:50am.


My guess about her height had been correct -- I was about a foot taller than she was. I took quick stock and liked what I saw -- small, firm breasts which were nicely defined by her taut pink polo shirt, a flat stomach, and a very cute butt encased tightly in faded blue jeans. Her long, straight hair draped over her shoulders, framing a pretty face with big brown eyes.


"Anala tells me you're majoring in math," I replied.


"Yes. I'll start my Sophomore year at IIT in August. Anala says you work around here?"


"In the mailroom of Spurgeon Capital. My goal is to be a trader or analyst eventually."


"Are you going to college?"


I shook my head, "No. I couldn't afford it. Once I work for a few years, I'll probably start with night classes."


"Anala said you're from Ohio."


"I just moved here," I replied. "Would you like to get coffee and a donut?"


"Sure! Anala, how long before you finish?"


"At least thirty minutes."


Gudia and I walked south on Michigan Avenue to a donut shop where I bought us each a small cup of coffee and a glazed donut. It was a luxury, but well worth it to spend time with a pretty girl. We found a booth in the back of the shop and sat down.


"Why a math major?" I asked.


"I love math! I'm minoring in computers."


"So what will you do when you graduate? I mean for work."


"I'm actually planning on a Master's and a PhD. I want to teach. What do you do at work?"


I laughed, then said, "Anything they tell me, like any employee. Mostly it's delivering and collecting mail, stocking supplies, distributing memos, and running errands. Where do you live?"


"Naperville, but I live on campus during the year. Do you know where IIT is?"


I had asked Uncle Alec the previous night, so I did.


"I do. My uncle says it's in a pretty bad neighborhood."


"It is, but the campus is totally safe, and so is taking the L from the city."


"Does the L go all the way to Naperville?"


"No. I either have to drive or take a regular train to get into the city."


"Like Amtrak?"


"Yes, but for commuters."


"What are you doing Friday night?" I asked.


"That all depends on what you want to do!" she said with an inviting smile.


"I don't know much about the city or what we can do."


"How about Chicago-style pizza and then the Shedd Aquarium or Adler Planetarium?"


That was going to cost me something close to a day's take-home pay, and I wouldn't be able to do that regularly. But this was a first date, so I didn't feel I had many options. If we hit it off, I could explain my financial situation to her, and hopefully we could either do less expensive things or split the cost. For now, I considered it a good investment.


"That sounds great!" I replied.


As we ate our donuts and drank our coffee, I wondered why a pretty, intelligent, fun girl had trouble finding a boyfriend. I didn't exactly have a world of experience with girls, but Gudia seemed nice, and it didn't take much imagination to know she had a very sexy body under the polo and jeans she was wearing, and in my mind, sexiness covered a multitude of sins!

III - A First Date

June 12, 1981, Chicago, Illinois

Friday at work started off normally, though I was constantly checking my watch, willing time to pass faster so I could go to meet Gudia. I was very much looking forward to our date, though a conversation with Alec had made it clear that going out for 'Chicago-style' pizza was nothing like going out for pizza at home, which I'd done only a two or thee times during High School, in that it was likely to cost at least double what I'd expected.


I'd noticed in the two weeks I'd been in Chicago that everything was more expensive than it had been back home. I was really glad I'd never taken up smoking -- back home, a carton of cigarettes was about $3.50, while in Chicago it was around $7.00. Gasoline was about 40¢ a gallon more as well, though not having a car kind of made that point moot. On the plus side, the state income tax was about half of what it was in Ohio, not that I made enough for that to matter much.


Everything changed at 10:00am when Mr. Nelson called me into his office.


"I just fired Dierks," he said. "That means you and Nick are going to have to pick up the slack. I'll pitch in, too."


Paul had been taking twenty minutes longer on his rounds than I had, and I KNEW he'd been flirting with the secretary he was constantly talking about.


"Yes, Boss!" I replied.


I'd quickly learned that was the safest answer to anything he said, unless his question clearly and specifically required an answer of 'no' or he asked for some specific information.


"I also put you in for a 25¢ per hour raise, effective Monday. You're doing good work. Keep it up."


"Thank you, Boss!" I replied.


He'd just added $10 to my weekly paycheck, before taxes, which despite being a meagre sum, was significant in the message it sent. I also knew, from talking to Nick, that such 'merit' raises were rare, and when they happened, it meant someone liked you. What I was really looking forward to was the end of my 'probation' period, when I'd get another raise of 50¢/hour, taking me to $6.50.


"Hop to it, then!"


"Yes, Boss!"


I quickly went back to the mailroom and huddled with Nick, who had already been told. We worked out a plan to cover the additional work until a replacement was hired, which Nick said usually took a week or so, considering it was always done based on referrals.


"So what happens to the guy who referred Paul?"


"If this is his first bad referral, nothing. If it's his second, he'll be on the shit list and won't be able to refer anyone for at least six months without special permission. And Mr. Spurgeon doesn't give that lightly. So if you suggest someone, make sure they aren't a fuck-up like Dierks."


"I warned him about talking to that secretary."


"Guys do dumb stuff for slash, man. I told him, too. Then one of the senior money managers bitched to Mr. Nelson. That was it. Game over. Go directly to jail. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect $200. Or however you want to put it."


"No second chance?"


"Not when I'd already talked to him. And you know I had to tell Mr. Nelson or it would be MY ass. And I'm sure as hell not putting MY ass on the line for a fuck-up like Dierks. You only survive here if you're trusted. And if you're trusted, the sky's the limit if you're motivated."


"You?"


"I'm going to night school. Once I finish my law degree, I'm out of here. About this time next year, you can have this chair if you bust your ass and keep your nose clean."


"I take it that it pays better?"


"Against the rules to tell you a number, but it's significantly more."


"What about Mr. Nelson?"


Nick laughed, "He makes as much as some of the lower-level executives upstairs because NOTHING ever fucks up in here. Sure, we get occasional idiot like Dierks, but the machinery runs well. And trust me, nobody will cut us any slack because we're down a man."


"Then we should probably stop yacking and get to work."


The day was INSANE from that point on. Nick and I both went non-stop, and I ended up eating my lunch while sorting mail, after getting permission from Mr. Nelson to work thirty minutes of overtime. Technically, the law said I had to have a lunch break, but so long as I didn't complain, nobody would care. And the extra money in my pocket meant I wouldn't complain a bit.


By 5:00pm I was ready to leave. The only reason I wasn't run totally ragged was because I was used to being on my feet and carrying huge loads. But I could feel it, and that made it clear I HAD to start working out, not just think about doing it. Between Nick, Mr. Nelson, and myself we'd completed all the deliveries and pick-ups, restocked all the supply cabinets, and handled the myriad other tasks we were called on to do.


"Good job today, Kane," Mr. Nelson said as hung up my jacket.


"Thanks, Boss!"


I headed for the freight elevator, and once I was in the lobby, I walked to the L, took it south to IIT, then walked to Connie's Pizza on 22nd Street where Gudia was waiting in faded jeans and a pale yellow polo which clung tightly to her small breasts just as the pink one had.


"Hi!" I said.


"Hi," she replied, putting her hands on my arms and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.


We had to wait about ten minutes to be seated, then looked over the offerings. I let Gudia decide, as I'd never seen a pizza which looked anything at all like the ones pictured on the menus. She suggested something called 'Chicago Pan Pizza' with sausage, mushroom, and cheese.


"I hope pork is OK," she said. "I usually don't eat beef."


"Pork is fine. Are you Hindu?" I asked, remembering, vaguely, something I'd read for a social studies class in Junior High.


"Yes, but not too serious about it. My family doesn't eat beef, but we rarely go to the temple. It's more cultural than anything. Anala is more serious about it, though her sister isn't."


"Younger or older?" I asked.


"Younger. Her name is Papiya and she goes to IIT and is studying Mechanical Engineering. I stay away from her, though."


"Oh?"


"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Just forget it. Anala is totally cool, though."


"Does she fix you up on dates often?" I asked.


The waiter came to the table interrupting the conversation, and I placed the order for the pizza and a pitcher of Coke. He said the pizza would take forty minutes which seemed crazy to me, as the Pizza Inn back home could make a pizza in ten. I didn't say anything to Gudia at that point, but if this pizza wasn't the best I'd ever had in my life, I wasn't going to spring for it again!


"No," Gudia laughed. "First time. I was complaining to her just before school ended that despite the ratio of guys to girls being close to nine to one at IIT, the guys were mostly nerds, dorks, or dweebs."


"Nine to one?"


"It's one of the top engineering schools in the Midwest and it's always had a high ratio of guys to girls."


"And out of all those guys?"


She shook her head, "Nobody I want to date."


"But you do want to date me?"


"One date isn't a guarantee of a second!" she laughed. "But so far, I like you. Anala said you were really cool. Did you really ask her out?"


"I did."


"She's like five years older than you are!"


"So?" I grinned. "As I said to her, what was the worst thing that could happen? It's not like she was going to call the cops or anything. She just said she was seeing someone and suggested I might like you. So far, she's right."


"Did you have a girlfriend back home?"


"Sort of, I guess. I hung out a lot with the girl next door and we did a lot of stuff together, but we weren't going steady or anything."


"Do you talk to her?"


I shook my head, "No. She started dating someone when I left home. She still has a year of High School and it wasn't like we planned to get married or anything. I take it you're unattached?"


"So far. I was a total bookworm in High School and wasn't interested in guys. I went to Prom and Homecoming and stuff like that, but didn't like anyone enough to go steady. I met some guys at IIT, but again, nothing clicked. Anala suggested I change tactics, so here I am. What made you agree?"


"I just moved here and barely know anyone. I took a chance on talking to Anala and she suggested she had a friend. I decided to take a chance and see what happened. I mean, again, the worst case is I didn't like you and just didn't ask you out again."


"And the best case?"


There was no chance I was going to say what popped into my head, which was getting her into my bed!


"A second date," I grinned.


"Liar!" she said with a silly grin. "I can see you undressing me with your eyes!"


Busted! I wasn't sure though, if she was trying to imply something, or just teasing me. My sum total experience with girls had been with Bev, but I'd known her from the time we were in grade school. Trying to read the girl sitting across from me was an impossible task.


"And if I want ANY hope of ever doing that at some point in the future, no matter how distant, a second date is required!"


"You don't fool around on the first date?"


I chuckled, "I have no idea. I've never BEEN on a real date!"


"But your girl back home?"


"We mostly just hung out together, we never went on formal dates."


"You didn't go to Prom?"


I shook my head, "I wasn't really interested."


And I couldn't afford it, I didn't add, sounding like a broken record in my head.


"Weird. You're eighteen, right?"


I nodded, "And you're nineteen?"


"I'll be twenty in October. When's your birthday?"


"November."


"You've really never been on a date?"


"Not as such," I replied. "Bev and I did stuff together, but it was mostly hanging out listening to music, playing games, or watching TV."


"So what do you do in your spare time?"


"I didn't really have much. My mom was a single mom, and as soon as I could work to help make ends meet, I did. I started with mowing lawns and shoveling snow, then got regular jobs."


"What happened to your dad, if you don't mind me asking?"


"He died in a plane crash before I was born. My grandparents basically kicked my mom out of the house, or maybe made it intolerable for her to stay there. I'm not really sure."


"She never re-married?"


"No. She was determined to make it on her own. Same as me."


"Where are you living now?"


"With my uncle, aunt, and cousin until the end of July. Then I'm moving into an apartment near UICC in Little Village."


"A building or someone's house?"


"A room over a garage. It's furnished, clean, has nice hardwood floors, and is in my price range!"


"Anala has a place just like that in Bridgeport. It's pretty nice, actually."


"How did you guys meet?"


"I was friends with her little sister in High School. When I got to IIT last year, I basically adopted her as a big sister."


"Was friends?"


"Yeah. Let's just say Papiya changed from how she was in High School. But I'd rather not talk about her."


"So what do you want to talk about?" I asked.


"Do you like any sports?"


"Baseball and football."


"The American kind?" Gudia asked.


"Yes. Our school had a girls soccer team but I never saw them play. I did go to football games when I wasn't working. I liked to watch the Reds and Bengals on TV. You?"


"Cricket, soccer, and Formula One."


"I think I saw one race on ABC's Wide World of Sports. Monte Carlo?"


"That's the only one they show here as far as I'm aware. Do you play chess?"


I shook my head, "No. My mom taught me to play backgammon and I played that a lot."


"Cool. I play, too. Cards?"


I shook my head, "I know a few games but never played that much."


"Do you like spicy food?"


"Sure. Mom didn't make too many spicy things. She was pretty much meat, potatoes, and vegetables. But I like all kinds of stuff. How am I doing on the 'second date' points scale?"

 

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