About six months into the job at MPT, l decided it was time to tell Ray about my time as a car thief and a State Prison inmate. He was "very disappointed " that l hadn't been completely honest with him from the very beginning, but he understood where l was coming from when l told him that l thought it would be better for him to learn those details after he had observed my work over a few months, but l never intended to keep it from him indefinitely. l assured him that
the remainder of my work history was accurate except l didn't mention my jobs in prison. (Dictation typist for the prison psychiatrist for the first few months l was there and locksmith from then until my release.) Ray did not fire me. ln fact, during our talk he said he couldn't fire me because, in the end l did tell him the truth before he learned about it for himself. And he said, in his opinion, l was as good a field rep as had ever worked for MPT. He hoped l'd still be there when he retired. l hoped l would too.
l came out that meeting feeling pretty good about my working future. l had never had a job that l liked more, and this one looked like l might really be
doing this job when l retire. l was 29 then, still almost 40 years to normal
retirement age. lf a guy played his cards right FOR FORTY YEARS?!! lt couldn't
hurt. But l knew, even then, that no matter how great the job, it's almost certain that l'll leave it within twenty-or-so months. The actual "BEST JOB ON
EARTH" might just be next.
l'm old now. Enough that l've recently noticed blank spots in my memory.
especially when recently acquired info is involved. The more recently acquired
the info, the more likely it will be difficult to recall. Older readers know what l'm
talking about. You are in your kitchen and you realize that you need some tool that is stored in the tool shed, about a hundred feet away. You walk to the shed,
but when you arrive there, you don't remember exactly why you are there. When you return to the kitchen you instantly remember why you went to the shed. But before you
dash back to the shed, l recommend you write down what you need and take it with you. Otherwise,likely as not,well, you know. What l find easier is to repeat the name of the object l'm going for, during my going. l'm not so old that l have trouble remembering my oldest memories, though. l remember Pearl Harbor and the speech that FDR delivered the next day as if it had happened yesterday. l was 3 1/2 then.
This memoir, titled Employed, will only cover periods when l was actually
employed, by company, by self or friend. The last time l was employed by a company was Jan 9, 2009. A date far enough back that l should easily
remember it all when this memoir reaches that date. Right now the story is in
Santa Clara Valley, Ca. in 1966 and 1967.
Mike Warner was an employee of Gates Rubber Company, whose job was to interface with all of the MPT stores on a regular schedule, to advise and assist
MTP reps with complicated rubber product applications for their accounts. In the
first few weeks l was at MPT, Ray hired Mike away from Gates to be MPT's
in-house rubber products specialist. l had a few accounts that use quite a lot of hydraulic hose and related items, and my main account (measured in invoices),
IBM was doing major upgrades to their hydraulic-powered, computer- operated
milling machines.(What they were doing was a whole other story,not classified
but probably proprietary and l would think of little interest to the reader).Anyway,
IBM itself was far and away the largest consumer of rubber products supplied
by MPT. And they were all mine. So, l guess it follows that l would spend a lot of time with the company's main rubber products guy.lt turned out that Mike
also liked bowling alleys for much the same reasons as l. (The music in the place,which could be bought and selected from your seat, either at the bar counter or a booth in the cafe combined with the sound of the active lanes
that somehow made a pleasant atmosphere even better. The food was good too. The first day we worked together, he drove some miles out of our way to have our lunch at Fourth Street Bowl. l usually ate there when l had no lunch date
with a prospect. With a guest, it would be the Brave Bull or one of it's ilk.
Mike also offered to share his Cannabis with me on that first day. l told him about my time stealing cars and my 19 months at Soledad. l told him that my time there was much less painfull than what l expected, but l was determined to stay out of prisons eternally and l intended to accomplish that goal by breaking
no laws. And at that time cannabis was very illegal.
Mike was not one to be easily dissuaded from his mission and every time we worked together over the next year or so, l got the "Boo" pitch. Many of my fellow inmates at Soledad were weed smokers and some, who were my friends
told me it was great stuff, and l had nothing to dispute that, but l didn't want
to have my sentence lengthened, so l always said "no thanks". l might have
wanted to try it (some, but not much) l managed to avoid it without difficulty
But with Mike there was difficulty: You know that salesman that just will not let you leave the lot without at least test-driving the car he thinks should be yours?
l've seen that guy on many car lots around America and he ain't spit next to
Mike Warner. Years ago, his co-workers named him Spike: He "nailed" his
prospects down as with a big spike. lt took a heavy, concentrated, practiced
resistance to overcome. l resisted Mike's offers of cannabis for very nearly a
year.
Dahlia and l were at Macy's one evening and we encountered John Doener and
his wife Corynne. He told me that he was just a couple of months away from
opening his flight school. His partner, Jerry Flynn was, John said was in Fresno
picking up one of the two Aeronca Champions they will lease to be used a s basic trainers and two Cessna 172 Skyhawks for Instrument Flight lnstruction.
The groundschool building was complete except for paint and Twenty-two concrete parking spaces. John was very excited and pleased and he still wanted me for his Sales Manager. l told him that my current job at MPT was turning out to be the best job of my life. He said he thought being sales manager of Alpha
Aviation could very likely become my favorite job. l agreed that was possible and that l hoped AA would prosper but l hoped he would realize that l was very comfortable with my position at MPT.
"How comfortable do you feel about this?"he asked as he handed me a copy of the Mercury News open to an article that applauded the war in Viet Nam for the
boon it was for all the high tech companies scattered thruout the Valley as well as lower-tech companies scattered thru the rest of the Bay Area. (The Second
World War, Despite the benefits it brought John, made him a pacifist and from
earlier conversation we'd had on the subject, he knew we shared some opinions
on the subject.
"l'm just hoping for a cessation of hostilities in the near future" l said. l had no idea how much of the very generous commissions l had recently received were
from sales to companies that somehow supply the war effort. l had been a pacifist since before l was a "Montery Merry" in the Cold War, so John knew he
had some leverage.
l have a step-sister named Maree. She is the daughter of my mother and
my mother's third husband, Eli. We were not close and we lived 500 miles
apart so we seldom saw each other or had much opportunity for communi-
cation. When she was about 19, she showed up at our home, out of the blue
(She didn't call ahead.) She had a problem. She was,at that time a student at
some college in Utah.She met her boyfriend there and they,in the course of a year-or-so became a loving couple. Everything was great for a few months and then the boyfriend was badly injured when he is run over by a fork-lift truck at his part-time job. He did not regain conciousness before he died a few days later. After the funeral, Maree and her boyfriend's best buddy pretty much
commisserated each other to a fault; they left the bar where the memorial
service was held and went to Maree's apartment and before you know it,they're
in the same bed. No big deal; Actually, it seems like a pretty natural thing; It all
just kinda fell together. Pretty soon, though the bill comes.The mourners have made a good start on replacing the life lost with Maree's boyfriend's passing.So
Maree is pregnant and both she and her boyfriend's budd have no desire to marry each other. So marie needs some one who will marry her just to give the baby a last name.She thought l might know someone that would do her that
favor.
Mike and l worked together the next day and l told him about Maree's problem.
l started to give him the details, but just a couple of minutes in,he interrupted
me."l'll do it', he said. l said "what? why?"
"She needs help and how difficult can it be for me? Twenty minutes at some
wedding chapel and then off to the reception.
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