Radio Days Pt. 01

Since Martha had abandoned me, our divorce was uncontested and I was unburdened with either alimony or property settlement issues. If Martha had come back to me after discovering how hollow Burk was, I might have considered taking her back. After all, we're all entitled to one mistake. Instead, she decided to reform Burk. She would turn him from a small-timer into a big-timer.

I was lost for quite a few months. I got up in the morning, ate breakfast, made my lunch, went to work at the county office, came home, ate dinner, watched TV or read, and went to bed. I had no sense of purpose during that time. I was just filling the hours. During the spring and summer, I would often drive around looking for a baseball or softball game I could watch. I loved that game, and it was my only relief from the dreary passage of each day.

Finally, I began to realize that what had happened wasn't my fault, so why should I continue to languish in the morose wilderness I had created for myself? I decided I needed to change my life.

I started by taking some night-school classes on computer software applications. I had a good understanding of the basics to start with since all of my work and records were computerized. However, there were a number of interesting programs that I wasn't familiar with and the courses would be helpful. It would also be handing me something to do with my spare time.

In addition, I started to think about finding another relationship. I had been badly burned by Martha, but I concluded that it shouldn't mean I couldn't find another woman who might be more compatible with my ambitions. The big question, of course, was who? And what did I want to do with my life. Aside from my job and my love of baseball, I really didn't have anything interesting to offer a woman.

For the first time since I had met Martha, I began to look around me. At my office there were a number of women, but most were married while others were too young or simply unappealing. On top of that, although my plight was well known around the small town, I had not been inundated with offers from single women. Apparently, I wasn't very attractive to the opposite sex.

I gave myself a critical review one Saturday morning. I was slightly overweight -- perhaps fifteen pounds. My skin was a pasty white from being indoors far more than outside. My hair was a very conservative close cut. I wore horn-rimmed glasses to read. My clothes were ordinary in the extreme. I wore a dark suit to work each day with a white shirt and a nondescript tie. My shoes were polished black wingtip brogues.

On the weekend I went crazy. I wore tan or navy khakis, a checked shirt, usually buttoned to the neck, and either brown walking shoes or sneakers. My windbreaker was tan to match my personality. If you were going to define a boring, middle-aged man, I would be the poster boy.

My self-examination might have sent me back into my depression, but instead, I resolved to change. I had no other responsibility than to myself. I drove to the community recreation center and asked about their adult fitness program. The young girl at the counter smiled and handed me a brochure. The center offered an exercise room with a trained attendant as well as an on-going fitness program. I enrolled immediately.

My clothes were another problem. I really didn't know what I could change that would still be appropriate for my job and my age group. I had never really paid much attention to how I looked other than to follow my mother's admonition to be neat and clean. I would need some help with this next step.

I went to high school with Ernie Gent. We were pretty good friends, but after high school I went on to college in Pocatello and Ernie went to work at his dad's clothing store. I bought both my suits from Ernie, but in truth, I couldn't remember the last time I'd been in his store. When I left the aquatic center, I headed directly for Gent's Fine Clothes. Might as well get on with the program.

"Jesus Christ ... I don't believe it! A visit from Ozzie Hanswatter!" Ernie proclaimed loudly as he spotted me. There was no one else in the store besides his dad and the elderly woman who did the alterations.

"Nice to see you too, Ernie," I smiled.

"Don't tell me you need a new suit. Why it seems like only yesterday that I fitted you with that nice charcoal two-button," he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. Ernie always did like to needle his friends. That's how you knew you were a friend.

"Yeah ... well ... actually I need some advice ... in private," I stammered.

The look on Ernie's face told me that he took my request seriously.

"Let's go in the back," he said, turning toward the small office. He held his hand up to his father as they passed, clearly not about to say anything.

It was time for confession. I laid out my plan for personal reconstruction and Ernie listened with a slight smile and the occasional nod. I needed his help and he was more than willing.

"OK," he said seriously. "I know what you need, but I don't know what your budget is."

"Why don't we start at five hundred and see what it gets me," I suggested.

"Yeah ... well ... a couple of new suits for sure, some shirts and definitely some new ties. That's about it for five hundred," he concluded.

"Uhhhmmm ... let's get started then. I'll tell you when to quit," I grinned. I got a big smile in return.

"This is going to be fun," he said, shaking his head. "I get to remake Ozzie Hanswatter into a new-age man. Who'd have thunk?"

I spent a lot more than five hundred that afternoon. Closer to nine hundred. But when I walked out of Gent's, I had two stylish new suits, five button-down colored dress shirts, and five colorful silk ties. I also had four new sport shirts, two pair of dress slacks, new belts, socks and a wide brim fedora. Ernie said I needed to make a statement, and he talked me into the hat.

It was almost closing time when I walked into Farnsworth's Footwear. Ernie had called ahead to let them know I was coming and two hundred dollars later, I had new dress shoes, new loafers and a pair of Topsiders.

The suits and slacks remained at Gent's for hemming and minor adjustments. I made sure Ernie understood I would be going on a fitness program and I might need adjustments. He was so happy to have me back as a customer that he offered the alterations for free.

I'll admit I was apprehensive when I had tried on the new office attire. It was so radically different from my old style that I worried I might be laughed at.

I sucked it up when I went to work that first day with the full complement of new stuff, including the hat. When I walked into the foyer of the county offices, I got a double take from Barney, the security guard and a wide-eyed look of shock from Sharma, the receptionist. Neither, however, said a word.

By coffee break, the news was out. Someone had kidnapped Ozzie Hanswatter and replaced him with a look-alike. I had to smile. I looked over at the hat hanging on the coat rack. Ernie was a genius. Not only had I caught everyone's attention, I felt great. It really was a "new me."

Three months later, I returned to Ernie Gent's store for some alterations to my pants. While the suit jackets still fit, my waistline had contracted by almost two inches and my weight was down thirteen pounds.

"Ozzie, you look fantastic!" Ernie grinned as he marked the slacks and pants. "I'm just proud to have you wearing our clothes."

"Well, you gave me a hell of an incentive. Once I got started, I couldn't let all the free alterations go to waste. I'm glad I took your advice."

"Yeah ... you sure the hell did! And the new hairstyle looks great too." Ernie was nothing if not enthusiastic and I remembered why I enjoyed being around him.

He had married his high school sweetheart, Pearl Standfast, and she bore him three children, all boys. It dawned on me that Ernie and Pearl would be celebrating their twentieth anniversary next year. Where had the time gone?

My change in attire and physique was noticed by a number of single women. I began to get the idea that several of them would be happy to date me. I felt it only polite to oblige them. Over the next years, I dated several different women and enjoyed each of them for their company. I had no intention of getting involved in a long-term relationship. My wounds from Martha were still somewhat raw, and I made sure the women I was with were aware I was not ready for anything permanent.

My life went on this way for the next four years. I was popular around the office because I was so upbeat and "cool." Or so they said. I saw Ernie regularly to make sure my wardrobe was complete and contemporary. He invited me and my current girlfriend to his house for a dinner quite regularly and I responded by taking Pearl and Ernie to dinner at one of our better restaurants on more than one occasion.

My dating had led to a renewed sex life and I know that it contributed to my self-confidence. I wouldn't say I was developing a swagger, but I certainly wasn't shy around the ladies. What changed my lifestyle once again was the death of my uncle. The aftermath of the reading of the will turned my life upside-down.

-0-

When I finally slumped back in my chair, I looked up at the clock and saw that it was almost five thirty, Thursday morning. I had been working steadily since arriving back from Paramount at just after seven. I had carefully recorded the information coming out of the little radio in front of me. My neck was stiff and my eyes were tired. There was no way I would be capable of work today. I walked to the phone, punched in the main switchboard number, then the office extension of the Revenue Commissioner and left a message. I would not be in today and would let them know if I was fit for work on Friday.

My head was spinning. Not just from the fatigue which threatened to overwhelm me but from what I had learned. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that I had in my possession a device that was the key to Uncle Darby's riches. Uncle Darby was right. This was truly a remarkable little "radio" and I would have to guard it with my life. I would also have to keep its existence a total secret. From everyone!

I looked down at the pages and pages of notes I had made in the past seven hours. It had taken a while to determine the pattern, but eventually, I had figured it out. Earlier I had guessed I was listening to the future. But not only that, each individual station was at a different time in the future. Some as near as a few days from now while others were as far distant as years away. Only one question remained. How could I take advantage of the information?

It was a question for later. I was falling asleep just sitting in the kitchen chair. I stood and dragged myself to the bedroom. I had no recollection of getting undressed and into the bed, but when I awoke, I was under the covers and wearing only my jockey shorts. I looked across at the clock radio and saw that it was nearly two. Since it was broad daylight outside, I deduced that it was two in the afternoon and it was probably still Thursday.

It took me twenty minutes to summon the energy to get out of bed and head for the shower. I gradually began to recall what I had learned the night before and I remembered that my first objective was to protect the little "radio" from unwanted discovery. I would have to find a secure place to keep it safe from intruders and accidents.

I chose the fireproof vault I had invested in several years earlier in a moment of paranoia. It was built into the floor of my office closet and tied into the cement foundation. For the life of me I couldn't remember what the source of my fear was, but just the same, I was grateful for its existence as it met my needs.

As I looked at my inheritance, I saw the small felt-tip pen marks I had made on the case at the location of each of the stations I had been able to discover. I had logged each location and an estimate of what place in future time it represented. So far I was guessing, but I was reasonably confident that I wasn't radically wrong in my estimates.

By five that afternoon, I realized I was too tired to concentrate on the radio and I phoned my boss to advise him I would be in the office at the usual time tomorrow. I had an interview with a prospective employee scheduled for ten Friday morning and I wanted to clear my desk completely before I left that afternoon. I wanted a totally free weekend to dedicate myself to solving more of the puzzling, mysterious device.

I'm not sure how I made the leap, but I had accepted that this "radio" could give me tomorrow's news. Better yet, it would give me the news from much further ahead than tomorrow. It should have been a mind-bending experience, but for some reason, it wasn't. I think I had come to the conclusion that Uncle Darby knew it worked and therefore, why would I question it?

I had already decided that I would need to test it in some tangible way. I would extract some information from it about the near future and test it against the actual results. The first thing that sprung to mind was baseball. Games were being played every day. It would be simple enough to compare the results on the "radio" to the results in the sports news on TV.

I looked at my notes and turned on the radio. I had recorded the approximate location of the three day forecast station and carefully tuned it in. Shortly after six, the local Sunday sports weekend roundup came on the little device and I dutifully recorded the scores as they were reported. I knew the schedule and had listed each game, only needing to write in the numbers as the announcer read them out. It was just a case of waiting for Sunday evening to determine if I had the mechanism that might open the doorway to create wealth.

My appetite was making a forceful appearance by then and I decided to drive to the local Pizza Shack for beer and pizza. As I sat in the booth nursing my beer, I knew I was right; I had in my possession a radio that would tell the future and allow me to take advantage of the information. No one else on earth would have any such thing, I thought. Where did it come from and how did Uncle Darby come into possession of it? With his death, perhaps I would never know.

I went to bed at nine that night, exhausted and yet excited as well. I had trouble falling asleep as my mind was full of confusing thoughts about the little blue box and what it might mean to my future. Finally fatigue won out and I fell asleep.

I awoke at my usual time, seven am, and went through my usual routine. The extra hours of sleep yesterday and last night helped restore my usual fresh start to the workday. I had two objectives today. Participate in a "team interview" of a prospective employee for the County Clerk's Office and clear all the accumulated paperwork from my in-basket.

Some years earlier, the County had decided to use a new hiring procedure where at least three department managers of approximately equal status would individually interview a prospective candidate and then compare notes afterward. One of the interviewers would be the manager of the department for which the candidate was applying. It was a good system and forced us to carefully evaluate people and helped eliminate a variety of biases and oversights in the interviewing process. It worked very well.

Today, I noted that the candidate was one Leticia Darling, a graduate of Eastern Washington State College in 1997. By my estimate, she would be approximately thirty-two to thirty-four years old. By law, her application would not require her age, but ultimately, when group insurance and medical applications were made, her date of birth would be "available."

I had reviewed her C.V. and saw that she was well qualified for the position of Assistant to the County Clerk. I wondered why she had left an equivalent job in Blanchford. It would be the subject of questions by all three of us I assumed.

Promptly at ten, Sharma announced Ms. Darling, and I walked out to the reception area to greet her. She was standing at the reception desk chatting with Sharma as I approached. She turned to me and smiled.

"Good morning. Mr. Hanswatter?" She had a voice that was both low-pitched and silky smooth.

I stumbled for a moment. This was no ordinary candidate. She was extraordinary.

"Yes ... yes, that's me." I tried manfully not to gawk.

She was dressed in conservative business attire. A white short-sleeved cotton blouse, a snug black wool skirt that fell a couple of inches below her knees and black low-heeled shoes. She wore no jewelry, not even earrings. A simple small analogue watch on her right wrist was the only adornment. She was gorgeous.

As I got closer, I noticed how tall she was. We were almost eye-to-eye. Her combed-back short blonde hair was neat and very attractive in what appeared to be natural waves. Later, I would realize that she wore no makeup. No lipstick, no eyeliner, no mascara, no nail polish -- nothing! Yes, she was gorgeous. Naturally beautiful. She needed no help at all.

As I guided her to my office, I thought that this might be the most difficult interview I had ever conducted. I was already corrupted. I was prepared to recommend her without her even uttering a word or answering a question. I wondered if the other two interviewers would succumb to her this easily.

My usual technique was to engage in some small-talk for a few minutes to let the candidate relax a bit and feel less threatened in the strange surroundings. Today, the small-talk was for me! I needed to recover my wits and at least not act like a complete buffoon in front of her.

"Did anyone explain our interviewing procedure, Ms. Darling?" I began.

"Yes. I understand I will be interviewed by three different department heads today and then I will be notified next week if I am the successful candidate. I think it's a very clever idea, by the way," she smiled.

"Ahh ... well ... the idea is to eliminate biases and oversights. It's worked very well for us over the years."

"I'm sure it has," she smiled again.

It took me a couple of minutes and some background questions to get going with the interview properly, but finally, I managed to concentrate on the things that were important to the man would ultimately be hiring the candidate for his department.

"What prompted you to leave Blanchford, Ms. Darling?" I asked directly, hoping she wasn't expecting this question quite then.

"I was fired. I was accused of sexual harassment by a junior employee. It was a false accusation and I was later able to prove that, but it was too late then. The County settled with me and I decided a change of scenery was necessary." She spoke without hesitation or emotion. It was as if she was reciting her educational background.

"That's quite a traumatic situation. Do you mind telling me how it came about?" I probed.

She looked at me squarely for several moments.

"A young man in the records department became ... infatuated with me. I had no idea, of course. He began stalking me and when I confronted him about it, he became quite angry when I told him I wasn't interested in him. I was quite abrupt with him, I realize, and that probably inflamed the situation. He filed a sexual harassment suit and without bothering to determine the facts, my supervisor fired me."

I nodded. Fear of this type of problem wasn't unknown in our office and Ms. Darling's case was an object lesson in getting the facts first.

"That must have been very stressful for you," I suggested.

"Yes ... yes it was. I felt I was defenseless. Luckily, I was angry enough and determined enough that I consulted a lawyer and he took my case on a contingency basis. It took five months, but we proved to the County that I was innocent when the little shi... uhhhh man confessed.