Continuing to pretend

“I’m going to be a happy idiot
And struggle for the legal tender”

January 1975, a bit short of the six months my dad gifted me with to find a job. I had played some golf, taken trips to the beach, gone out with friends in the evening, spent money at the new and legal Off Track Betting that was available in NYC. I had a brand-new Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and no clue what I wanted to do.

I did know what I enjoyed the most was summer time at the beach, so I looked into teaching. I thought it was a great schedule, and my Uncle Dom was a teacher and loved it. Having zero credentials left me few options. But, the NYC Catholic schools didn’t require education credentials and a mathematics background was highly valued. So, a trip down to The Catholic Center resulted in an immediate offer to take a 6th grade position at Our Lady of Mercy in the Bronx for the sum of $6,100 annually.

I had zero clue what I was doing. I was not only teaching whatever 6th grade math was considered then, but a little bit of every subject. A funny thing happened on the way to the end of the school year: I discovered I was having fun, just not in 6th grade.

I did, however, take two formative steps, the first was being accepted into the MAT program at Colgate University which allowed me to simultaneously get my Masters degree and my teaching certificate. The second was to apply for and get a high school math position at St. Nicholas of Tolentine HS, also in the Bronx, and along with it an increase in pay to $7100/yr.

There is a Yiddish proverb “Mann tracht, un Gott lacht,”: “Man plans, and God laughs” which I heard many times growing up, in the Bronx around so many different folks, and never was it more apparent then at the end of the school year in 1976. I was called into the office for my final review. Then, after an excellent review, the hammer dropped, “Unfortunately your position next year will be taken by our assistant principal who wants to go back to the classroom. As a nun, she receives no salary so it is a huge savings for the diocese and us.”

And just like that, two weeks away from my wedding, with a new apartment month, a new car, I was unemployed and scheduled to spend the summer at Colgate in Hamilton, working on my MAT degree so looking for a job in person was impossible..

The need to find the legal tender took precedence, so Colgate was put on hold, and I was off to find a “real job” with no experience or plan.
I bought a suit, took the subway into NYC every day with a briefcase full of resumès, and knocked on door after door delivering them along with a cover letter to every personnel department I could find that might be interested in someone with a mathematics background.

Days became weeks, and finally after two months of searching I had a series of interviews for Royal Globe, a British conglomerate and was offered the position of operations analyst for the “enormous” sum of $9500/yr. I said “yes” and off I went.

Starting out in a corporate environment for a large company was eye opening. The routine was the same each day. At least once per month, I would take a trip to the satellite offices to work with the managers directly and discuss the reports. I hated the repetition and I hated the suit wearing. While the path forward was filled with upward mobility and salary increases, it was soul crushing.

I had been there a little over a year when I was sent on a three day trip to the office in Kansas and was told to bring my golf clubs. Travel was easy and comfortable then, and the expense accounts were generous to a fault. Whenever a NY person came out to a regional office everyone knew the playbook, someone or more than one someone was about to be cut.

After the morning introductions the office manager had arranged a golf outing where I met Tom Watson who played a few holes with us as a favor. That evening we went out to an incredible steak house in the stock yards, and the following day had a 3-martini lunch and then went to Arrowhead Stadium where we met Bunker Hunt, one of the owners of the Chiefs who took us around the owner’s suite.

The next day was decision day. I was up late that night pouring over the numbers, disturbed that the cost of my trip alone, never mind all that came with it, was in excess of the single salary I was there to cut. I spent hours trying to rationalize it all. The job prospects at that time were very difficult for the clerical folks so whoever was “out” was going to have a very hard time.

At the office the next morning, I met the three who were at risk and I closed the door. I told them they needed to listen to me and trust me. I explained that I could not make a decision at that point based upon what I thought were under reported numbers. I handed out forms with new numbers and told them that over the next two weeks these were the numbers that were necessary and would save all three jobs. They looked at me as if I was setting all of them up, but I assured them that was not true and while they didn’t have to trust me, they were, at the very least, being given a two week “extension”.

I also said that as soon as I was back in the office, my plan was to hand in my notice as I could not live with what I was being asked to do and that the numbers I gave them would suffice for the next six months at least regardless of who was doing the analysis.

When I gave my notice, I was offered a salary bump of almost 50% and a new title. I explained that I was not happy in a corporate environment. I stayed for a month to ease the transition, and was delighted to see that the numbers being sent in from the Kansas office were “suspiciously” familiar. I was able to save all three jobs, at least for another half of the year.

I’ll let Jackson conclude this chapter:
“Out into the cool of the evening

Kevin Fitzpatrick is a retired teacher who, along with his wife Sue (also a retired teacher) is enjoying exploring life in the lowcountry and all it has to offer