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Frank Arnold was fed up with retirement... It was time to find a new job! |
of TheColumnists.com
Frank Arnold’s golden years were tarnishing faster
than a brass pot left out in the rain. The 64-year old retired
production manager was in desperate need of employment.
It wasn’t the money. The well fixed Arnolds lived in a posh
Florida condo. Alice never had it so good. She had her card games
and luncheons. But off the record, Frank was a pain in the butt.
Alice couldn’t stand him around the house, around which
he was too often, especially when she had the girls over for
bridge.
Not that Frank enjoyed hanging around. But where else could he
hang? He’d been kicking ass for months now: His own. The
dumbest thing he ever did was to retire at age 62. Retirement
isn’t for everyone. Frank learned that the hard way. He
had grown to hate the word.
Dropping out of the rat race seemed like so much sense at the
time. He’d be free from plant pressures that seemed to grow
more hectic daily. He and Alice could take off and travel at
will. He could catch up on a zillion books he’d been meaning
to read.
And golf! That would be the best of it. He could hit the links
whenever he wanted.
Hah!
Now, two years later, still unable to break a hundred, he had
developed an avid distaste for the stupid game. Having dragged
Alice halfway around the world and back two years in a row he
discovered, as Gertrude Stein might have put it, that a museum
is a museum is a museum, and a cathedral is a cathedral is a
cathedral.
The zillion books? Forget about them. Frank was too restless
to read. The Olympic pool at the condo? Ughh! It was populated
by old farts whose main interests focused on the stock market
upticks and downticks, and the “early bird” fare around
town.
Borrrring!
Frank grumbled his disenchantment with the easy life to his best
friend. Joe Resnick, 67, was still hard at work on the job, energetic
and vibrant as ever.
Joe replied with critical disdain. “Face it, pal, you’re
bored out of your skull.”
“Thanks for the revealing insight,” Frank groused.
“So tell me: Who’s gonna hire a guy my age for anything
but a packer at Publix?”
Joe shook his head. His heartfelt sigh of sympathy didn’t
help “But what the hell, you gotta try. You never know.
That was true. Bleak as
the outlook appeared, Frank Arnold hadn’t risen to where
he had risen by tossing in sponges. One of the best production
men in the game, he had contacts all over town and beyond. Old
fart or not, he understood production, the manufacturing process.
And he knew from alpha to zed what motivated the grunts on the
line to bust their butts harder. He could be of value to some
plant somewhere. Yeah, but where?
Frank’s first shot was his former employer.
Tony Gentaro greeted him like a long lost buddy but the welcome
sunk several notches when he found out his mission.
“Hey Pisano, you have to be kidding.” His old pal the
plant manager hovered between shock and unease. “Your job’s
been filled by a very capable guy. There’s no way -- ”
“It doesn’t have to be the top spot. I’d settle
for number two. I -- ”
“ - Frank, that’s sewed up as tight as heart surgery.”
“Yeah, thanks, Tony, I understand.”
Who was it that said a lot of rain wears the marble? Frank slapped
himself on the back. The old bard. His memory was still intact.
He pulled out his little black book, and thumbed through it,
and snapped his fingers.
Charley Rose.
Frank recalled a few years back the time when the general manager
at Rooney and Rose, had hired a recruitment firm to seduce him.
Charley didn’t take his request seriously.
“You’re putting me on. At your age you’re setting
out to conquer the world again?”
“Not conquer, Charley. Simply make a small contribution.
You once said - "
“ -- I know what I once said, old buddy: ‘Frank Arnold’s
the best in the business.’ But hey, man, let’s be realistic.
. . ”
“Yeah, Charley. Thanks for your time.”
Out on the street Frank checked the black book again.
John Van Delft. John headed up production at Bestmade Auto Parts.
Having sniffed around town, Frank had learned that John’s
number two man, Bill Boyd, was opting for early retirement. It
wasn’t the ideal situation, but if it was open he’d
grab it. Shit, Frank mused, Boyd forgot years ago half the stuff
he had stored in his head. He’d be an ideal replacement.
He and John would make a great team.
John heard him out and agreed. “Frank, do you have any idea
what I’d have to do to make room for you?”
“I don’t know why. I heard Bill Boyd decided to cash
in his chips."
Van Delft’s eyebrows raised a notch or two. “Where
did you hear that? I wonder who spread that rumor.”
True or false, he got the message.
Next prospect on the list was Al Abrahms, plant manager at H
& G Electronics. Five or six years back Al had sent a couple
of his guys around to check out his operation in the hopes of
picking up a pointer or two. The next day he had called to thank
him.
“Hey, Buddy, I owe you one.”
Okay. Payback time was at hand.
Payback took the form of advice. “My friend, you must be
losing your marbles. This place is a circus. Know what I’d
give to be in your spot? Use your head. You’ve been busting
your balls for years. It’s time to relax and enjoy life,
play golf, travel, take up tennis or bridge.”
“Been there, did that. I - "
The phone rang. Abrahms picked up, motioned his apology to Frank
who slunk out of the office.
He finally came to the end of his list. Only one name
was left. Superior Home Products, a well heeled profitable operation
supporting a payroll of 1,200 or more. SHP was his last resort.
Frank said a small silent prayer and entered the plant.
He was known here.
Frank wasted no time on subordinates. He went straight to the
top where he was admitted at once. The CEO’s response to
his job bid was even more uncomfortably shocked than the others.
“I can’t believe what you’re asking. I -- ”
“ -- I don’t expect the top production job,” Frank
interrupted. “I’ll settle for the number two spot,
even maintenance supervisor, or security manager.”
“Christ, at your age - "
“--Not my age, my experience. And that’s not the only
advantage.” Frank was really pitching now. He spelled out
his qualifications one by one before the CEO’s objections
could gather momentum. His MBA masters degree, his hard years
of job experience, production achievements written up in the
press, commendations received. “Age doesn’t decrease
competence; it sharpens it. I - "
The CEO held up a hand interrupting Frank’s monologue. “Okay,
I get the message.” He sighed. “Look, Dad, if the job’s
that important to you I’m sure I’ll find something
for you.”
Frank breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, son, it’ll
be the best decision you ever made.”
©2004 by Ray Dreyfack. The illustration is from IMSI's Master
Clips Collection, 1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506,
USA.
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