Paranoid

All Rights Reserved © 2001 by John Fiduccia

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.

Writers Club Press an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

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ISBN: 0-595-19757-4

ISBN: 978-1-4697-0450-0 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Dedication

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Conclusions

Appendix

About the Author

Dedication

To my wife, who hung in there during the toughest of times, and was instrumental in my survival. Your patience and understanding was everlasting. Surprise, I wrote a book.

To you, the reader, thanks for giving this a shot.

Preface

Regardless of what category this book winds up being filed under, I tell you that it is a true story, and belongs under True Crime. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, and to prevent frivolous no substance lawsuits from the guilty. The times and places have remained correct, to not ruin the devastating effect surrounding the chain of events that occurred. I will warn you that there are some people out there who will deny these events that I am about to disclose. Deep down inside these people know that it’s all true, and that’s what really matters.

I am not an author. I am the author (of this book), but not an author. I’m just a person who has a story to tell, and the time to tell it. The story is about five years of my life, and the mostly negative things that happened during that time. The first two and a half years describe a terrible work experience and the last two and a half describe my attempt at pulling my life back together. I wrote this thing myself, and not by dictating my thoughts to a real writer a la all those celebrity autobiography books that keep popping out. It’s just me typing away, using moderately acceptable grammar. Is my story worthy of a book? I thought so, and hopefully you will too.

As mentioned, I am not a writer, and thus have no official existing writing style. By this I mean that I have no idea what I’m doing. My writing style was something I made up as I went along and hopefully isn’t too much of a mess. I tried to follow the language and flow of any regular book, while tossing in my own little things here and there. Some regular books are written in a boring style, usually done by the book (no pun intended). I see the lack of originality, or spice. I had the need to skew out of the norm every now and again in an attempt to keep your interest. I’m hoping I did enough of this to hold your attention, but not too much to make you annoyed.

I wrote this book by first doing a one page layout of each chapter in no particular order. This layout gave an overview of the story I had to tell. It didn’t go into great detail, as I wanted to fill in the blanks after the whole thing was formed. Each chapter was kind of its own short story, as it told a different tale. The chapters were in mixed up order because I was typing each one as I thought of it, and not as they actually happened. This book does not read like a traditional novel, in which it’s a continuous chapter by chapter story. The beginning was physically written at the end, the end was written in the middle, and the middle was written in the beginning. This sounds confusing, but will seem clear later on.

I was titling each chapter in the traditional manner of describing what the chapter was about. After completing all 33, I noticed that a few of the chapter titles turned out to be actual movie titles. This was done accidentally, as in those cases a movie title was the best phrase to describe the chapter. Sleepless in Seattle was the first one that I noticed, and is a good example. I then decided that it would be a cool idea to title every chapter after a movie. I made sure that the movie I selected still closely described the chapter, as that is the whole point of a chapter title. This gave me a chance to plug all my favorite movies and actors, as I tried to use movies that I had seen and liked (i.e. Easy Money, plugging the great Rodney Dangerfield).

Once the chapters were laid out and titled, I sorted them according to their order of occurrence. This showed me that I was missing some key frames of time, which I filled in, thus pushing the chapter total to 36. It was tough trying to remember the order in which everything had happened, but I did my best. When completed, I had a 36-chapter book outline ready to be worked on. You may see an occasional out of whack time frame, like going back before going forward. In addition, the move from one chapter to the next may sometimes reflect the next day, and in other cases reflect the next month or year. I’m trying to say that this whole thing

is not a continuous time flow.

The rest of the writing was easy, as I simply started from chapter 1, and filled in all the juicy details surrounding each exciting event. Each one-page chapter outline turned into a many page account of disgrace. Before I knew it, I had a close to complete, legitimate sized book on my hands. It all happened very fast, as what started as a one-page gag, transformed into a real work in a hurry. While commuting to and from work one day I literally hand wrote this preface.

Since I will probably never write another book, I also used this one as a vehicle to share my many philosophies, beliefs, and things I learned about life. In other words, in many chapters I tended to break away from the subject matter, and discuss some of my theories about the subject matter. I occasionally drifted very far away from the subject matter to discuss something in particular, but I always eventually drifted back. So, in addition to this book telling a true story about real events, it also sheds my personal insight about life. I shared my many thoughts by opening up to you, the reader.

Since I am a former comedian (see the quasi About the Author at the end of the book) and all around funny guy, I also used this book as a stage. By this I mean that I took a very serious, sad, upsetting part of my life, and made parts of it funny, uplifting, and smile generating. The overall tone remains the same as deadpan serious, but the comic relief fills the necessary gaps of a needed laugh. I guess you could call it the Lethal Weapon approach, in which a crime drama is told through an occasional site gag or joke. You will laugh from the some of the lighter things that occurred in my story, because they are lighter, and also from the way I told them.

This book is not a comedy. You will see time and time again clear-cut horrid treatment given by the character known as the boss. Have a tissue ready as some parts may even cause you to cry. Also have a tension release device (i.e. a thing you can punch) ready as some parts are going to make you so mad that you’re going to want to hand crack something. It’s an adventure filled roller-coaster ride of highs and lows, and ups and downs.

You’ll encounter all emotions while reading this book, which makes it the true reading experience. It can’t be categorized under anything as it has a little bit of it all. Miscellaneous is probably where it belongs.

36 chapters must and will become 33 by press time, as 33 has become my new lucky number. If any one chapter seems like it really should be separated into two, it’s probably because I did a phony combine in order to meet the magic number. I apologize, but superstition takes precedence over correct writing. The fact that I believe that a 36-chapter book would cause certain doom is quite foolish, but it still is my belief. If worse comes to worse and I can’t combine any two chapters due to compatibility issues, maybe I’ll go with some lettering system like an 8, and 8-A type thing. This would be considered a bootleg, and I’m not sure if superstitions work under a bootleg, but I’ll have to take that chance.

Whenever given a book to read in school, I would always flip the book open and look for some pictures. Most books today have no pictures, and are just straight text. I fear this, as the non-breakup of text from beginning to end seems like such a long road to travel. A little breather every now and again of a picture, images, or chart helps me read books. They are like rest stops on the highway, or intermediary goals from point A to point B. Anyway, I planned on placing one graphic per chapter as a means to best illustrate what is going on in that particular chapter. In addition, I planned on adding some other pages of pictures in the middle of the book so that you can take an extended break from reading (or driving), and enjoy the sights. I may not do this though, due to the cost and other factors. Not to mention that an internet web-site is a much better place for rich content. You might find pictures and much more at www.paranoid-book.com.

Somewhere in the book (I forget where, as it’s already been written) I explain why I actually wrote this thing. I’ll briefly repeat it here, just in case you can’t find it either. I had gone through an array of terrible experiences while working at my first company out of college. These experiences all related to employee treatment by the company’s owner, a character you will soon love to hate. This boss character really treated me poorly, and did many cruel and stupid things in the process. After telling these individual horror stories to friends and family over and over again, they got tattooed in my head.

After about two years of storytelling, I decided to type up what I thought was the worst of these true corporate experiences, as a one-page document. I simply wanted to express myself on paper with what I thought was the worst thing that happened to me while working for the boss. The purpose of this one pager was that I was going to see the boss at an industry function, and planned on giving him a copy. It was a way for me to tell him how much of a jerk he was by letting him read the story.

I gave the one pager to a friend to read, and watched the person as they read it. Their shift of emotion, and keen interest in the few paragraphs struck me with an idea. The reader told me that the story was disturbing, yet interesting reading. I believed that the person was hungry for more, so I typed up another one page story. I went with what I thought was the second worst thing the boss had done. I let the test reader examine this one as well. They gave it the Two thumbs up. On that day I decided to keep punching out these one-pagers until I ran out of things to say.

The information was all in my head, so I just started typing and never stopped. Each chapter added more and more horrid stories from my past, one worse than the next. At one point I couldn’t believe how much I had to say, as the document grew larger and larger. Before I knew it I was knee deep in a real book. I never thought that the terrible experience of working for the boss would be of any value, and here I am replicating his actions on paper. I just now hit the 100,000 word count from what was a little nothing. Anybody could do anything if they really try.

Surprise! I worked on this whole thing in secret. Nobody including friends, family, fiancé, or co-workers had any knowledge that I had a book in the works. I like surprises and thought it would be cool to all of a sudden present a finished product to a friend, and say Guess what, I just wrote a book. Best of all, I did it all in my spare time, and worked on it whenever possible. My other reason for the secrecy was that I didn’t want the pressures of people asking me how it was going, or if they can preview parts of it, or even worse-asking me when it would be complete. Since this was a part time gig, I had no clue if and when it would ever be done.

I have a few quick closing points, and then we’ll be ready to roll with the real deal. The first point is short and sweet. If you didn’t find this preface interesting, please don’t give up on the book. The best material is definitely yet to come, and is certainly better than this is. In the overall scope, I’m very happy with the outcome of all the chapters, as well as the other parts of this book. The preface, though good, is probably the weakest link of this chain. I may improve the preface, or even rewrite it, but please don’t judge this book by its preface.

The next and most important point is the reason why you should read this book, which happens to be the same reason why I wrote it. The purpose is for each reader to learn a little something about life, and how to not let it slip away. If each person walks away from this and learns one thing from my experiences, then I’m happy. Even if the only thing learned is Don’t work for a tiny company run by a greedy heartless bum, then that’s enough. That is the main point of the book, surrounded by thousands of other little, yet still important, points.

I want to exploit the boss. What better way then spelling out each and every horrible thing he did to his employees in print? I could go outside in traffic and yell, The boss stinks. I could also create an internet web page that says terrible things about him. I could even go as far as getting on public access cable for the purpose of ranting and raving about him. As good as these ideas are, nothing is better than good old fashion print. Unlike all the above options, a book is a solid existing thing. It’s not a temporary file, or a cup of coffee. It is a physical object that holds within it all the secrets and lies that the boss has possessed.

How many people in the world will ever run into the boss? Probably none, but I’m sure there are thousands of boss clones out there doing the same thing that he does, at the same level-or maybe even worse. The boss is the small business owner, trying to make as much money as possible by using his employees like sub-human Things. These bosses must be stopped, as should taking major advantage of unbeknownst young employees for the purpose of a quick buck must be stopped. If you work for the department of labor, please bring this book in and give it to the guy in charge.

Could the boss be rehabilitated? I’m not sure, as I think that he does not even realize how horrible he treats his employees. He thinks it’s just the way to do business, and that everything is Warm and Sunny in his office. This is a shame, as the boss is like the drug addict who thinks he’s clean. If the real boss reads this, I think he’ll be shocked and appalled at the actual things he’s done. At first he won’t believe it, but then it will dawn on him that he is a total jerk. I’ve done him the favor of putting a piece of his life in front of him for review. He either went through the piece with blinders on, or he is a real idiot. Either way it’s time for him to find out who he really is.

If the boss reads this book and denies one word of it, he is either a liar or a moron. I personally think he’s both, but that’s beside the point. If he reads it, and accepts the fact that he was and is a terrible life ruining man, then we’re getting somewhere. Putting all my other goals aside, let the boss admit his flaws, and I’ll call it a success. My mission would be completed, and I’d be able to move on in my life. I would have stopped the boss simply by pushing him in front of a mirror. It would have probably been a lot easier for me to just call the guy, but that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it? Will the boss read this book? You better believe it. I will send him and each member of his current staff a complimentary copy, no strings attached.

This is my final point. It’s about money. I’ve been going on and on about my reasons for writing this book, and how I have a point to get across to the boss and to the readers, etc. These are my only goals, and are the only things that I want, even though this book does come with a price tag. It costs money to buy for many reasons, most of which are obvious.

The main reason is that it costs money to make the book. I’m talking about the physical printing, not cash in the pocket of the author. The other reason is that if it were free, people would probably take copies and use them as drink coasters, or even worse-a paperweight.

The serious point I want to make on the money thing is that this book is in no way, shape or form a moneymaking vehicle for me. As a matter of fact, when you are done reading it (and will hopefully like it), don’t recommend it to a friend; instead give it to a friend. Spread the news. Give it to a family member, give it to a stranger-the deal is that I don’t care if the reader you recommend it to buys it, borrows it, or steals it. Is all I want is for him or her to give the thing a read. I don’t mind the loss of a sale if it means the gaining of a reader. If you’re reading this right now in a bookstore, you don’t have to buy it. Either keep reading until the manager kicks you out, or go to a library and rent it gratis. I don’t care about numbers of books sold; I care about number of books read.

Now that I’ve been generous by non-promoting the sale of the book, and by keeping the price as low as possible for buyers, I ask a simple favor of you, my new friend in literature. I only ask that you give an honest effort to reading the whole thing. I have a lot to say, and sometime take a while to get it out. If the book drags, stick with it. If it bores you, read it with the television on. If you think it’s the worst thing you ever read, then let that be the case, but at least finish it so that you can honestly tell people that it was the worst thing that you ever Read. If you decide to throw it out, please recycle.

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Chapter 1

Interview with the Vampire

It all started about two months before my college graduation. I was spending all my free time working on this thing I called my résumé. I knew that the job market was in bad shape, and that finding a job after school ended was going to be tough. My résumé had to be perfect. No spelling errors, no misalignment of text, no statements that I couldn’t explain (i.e. Proficient in Paradox v3.0 without knowing what Paradox v3.0 was). My résumé had to stand out amongst the giant pile that would be reviewed by perspective employers.

My résumé was chock filled of real work experience, good grades, and extra-curricular activities. I was President of the Computer Club, and Head Writer of the school’s Humor magazine. I took a one-semester internship with a major corporation. I worked computer related entry-level jobs all through college. I was definitely well prepared to finish school and get a job. I wasn’t sure if the job would be in computer programming, or joke writing, but either way I was prepped to go.

I studied hard and made sure I did well in all my Computer Science related classes. I was also a Business minor, figuring that knowing a little about the business would always come in handy. My extensive study in my major and minor had a somewhat negative effect on the other classes required by the college. In other words, I paid no mind to Philosophy, English, Psychology, etc. The end result was I scored almost all A’s in what I thought were the important classes, and barely passed the ones that I deemed as not so important. I cordially only displayed my major and minor part of my G.P.A. on my résumé, strictly as a numbers game.

My goal in life was to get a job as a computer programmer. I had dreams of working for a large corporation, and making it to the top by way of hard work and effort. I was always a go-getter type of person all the way back to my days as a cutthroat paperboy. Anyone born after about 1975 probably doesn’t even know what a paperboy is or was. This is because it has become an extinct kid’s job. We basically delivered newspapers in the morning to homes on our routes for tips. Today the job is done by actual adult employees of the newspaper companies, in effect downsizing the paperboy.

I got my first computer at the age of 12, and wrote my first computer program in the same year. This is in a time when all my friends were busy hanging out and playing Atari. I did those things too, but just worked and played a longer day. It was back then that I knew I wanted to become a computer something-or-other when I grew up. I never looked back, as close to 20 years later I’m still working with computers, and still playing Atari.

The day before my college graduation I sent out about 10 résumés to companies I found out about through my school’s placement program. These résumés were all sent to companies in the big city, though I was not able to detect how big any of them were. Some of the companies were names I was familiar with, but most were not. I didn’t care, as I just

wanted that first job so I could get my career started. This was an exciting time as I was taking my first step on the road to my dream.

The next day after the official graduation I left for a one-week vacation to a Caribbean island with my college buddy Mojo who won the trip on a game show. Mojo took me because I found out about the audition for the show, and talked him into trying out. This would turn out to be the last vacation I would see in a long time. If I knew that then, I would have celebrated a little harder.

The week was very relaxing as I caught up on a lot of sleep, and spent much time laying on the beach doing close to nothing. Though I was very concerned about finding a job, I blocked it out of my mind for the week and concentrated on taking it easy. When I returned from what I’ll now refer to as the Disaster preamble, I noticed that my answering machine light was blinking. It was the light of hope.

I listened to the message, and was excited to hear that it was a potential employer calling. I had received a quick response from one of the résumés I sent out before the trip. Who’s better than me? I graduated, went on a free trip, and now immediately have a job opportunity. Things are happening; I’m a man on the move. At the time that I received this message I was thrilled. Little did I know that in responding to the message I was going to hit a major detour on my road to success.

I replied to the message by calling the company the next day, and I spoke to an unidentified lady on the phone. She started to conduct a quasi interview over the phone. She asked a few basic questions regarding my background and education. She then told me that my résumé looked good, and that she wanted to setup an interview. I told her I was completely free, and she had asked how 8:00 AM the next day sounded. I told her it was fine, and hung up.

I was one step closer to the all important job. I now have a physical interview set up with a company located in the big city. I had a good vibe about this job after talking with the lady, and felt that I was going to do well at the interview. My confidence was up, and then I thought of something. It struck me a little odd that she planned the interview for 8:00 AM, when I clearly told the lady that I was available anytime during normal business hours. It was commonplace for interviews to be held before 9:00 AM and after 5:00 PM for candidates that had other jobs, but I was just a newly donned house bum. I wondered what was the meaning of 8:00 AM was, and what kind of company had employees in at that hour. I would soon find out.

I knew the position involved database, or what’s commonly known as xbase programming. In college, we were taught strictly old style mainframe stuff. Luckily in my one database theory class, the guy who sat next to me was an xbase programming wiz. He had worked part time for a big airline, and did some real programming for them. During my last semester, he had taught me all the basics of the xbase language, so I had a running start. I took a strong liking to xbase programming, and was now a little more excited about the interview. I didn’t do much prep work, except scrap together a few sample xbase programs I had done in school. They were primitive at best, but they were something.

The next day I put on my one cheap suit, packed my briefcase with all my interview stuff, and then left the house. I arrived at the building of the company ahead of schedule, and spent a little time checking the place out. I explored the neighborhood just to pass the time. My watch struck two minutes to eight, and it was finally time to go in. I proceeded up the elevator to the correct floor of the office, got off, and knocked on the door. The lady answered and invited me in. The philosophy of first vibes being right played a big part here, as my first two to three minutes in the office gave me a negative impression.

For starters, it was a very small office. Actually it was a tiny small office. Based on the phone interview I had with the wife, I wasn’t sure what size the company was, but was definitely expecting more than what I saw. The office seemed almost too small, and for a moment I thought it was just the foyer leading to the real office. The whole place consisted of a really small lobby area, and two tiny inner rooms. I would have to describe the place as dirty and gloomy. Words were zooming through my head. I thought working in the city meant big corner office with a view of the park. This place was more like a gas station bathroom.

The office possessed no sign of life or activity. Nobody was around; the place was too quiet. For a second I thought I was being setup to be rubbed out by the mob or something. I was waiting for the door to lock behind me, and a couple of goons to jump out and either blow me to pieces or put a plastic bag over my head. Day one out of school, and I now thought I would soon by sleeping with the fishes.

I had dreams of coming out of college and taking corporate America by storm, and here I am entering a shoebox sized filthy office to be interviewed by some lady with a 70’s haircut. I guess I’ve seen too many movies, as this was more like reality. I felt overdressed in a business suit, as jeans and a tee shirt would more fit the place. While I’m describing things I might as well describe the interviewer. She was a dumpy looking lady in her mid 30’s, and definitely Brooklyn material. She was the wife. I’ll have a lot more on the wife later.

If my first vibes were bad, then maybe I should have just turned around and got out of there. To do it in a more classy fashion maybe I should have purposely tanked the interview so I wouldn’t get a call back. Many other ideas were running though my head as my post college life was off to a rather disappointing start. Before I did anything stupid I remembered how crappy the job market was, and that any job in the field of computer science was a good one. This got me back on track, as I was ready to be interviewed. I professionally greeted the wife, and began what would become a joke interview.

She took me into inner room #1 and began the process. It was just her and I, as no other employees had arrived at the office yet. At this point I wasn’t sure if any other employees existed, but if they did there was no sign of them. The wife started by asking me some very vague lightweight questions about my résumé, particularly my education, and some general questions about myself. She seemed more interested in my personal life, than in

my professional one. We were now about a half-hour into the interview, and I wondered if any other employees were ever going to show up.

The wife goes on and on with not one single question or query about computers, programming, software, or hardware. She insisted on interviewing me on non-related things like my hobbies and interests. The closest we came to talking about the computer business was a boring story she told me about the first PC her and the boss bought a few years earlier. I made believe I was interested, but could have cared less. The only thing I gained from the story was that the company had at least one other employee. It was the boss, who was apparently already out taking care of business.

I finally jumped in and asked the wife if she was interested in seeing some of the sample programs I had brought with me. She declined, twice, saying that she knew nothing about computers or the programming of them. I found that a little strange, as I was on an interview for a computer programmer job, and the interviewer knew nothing about computers, but I rolled with it. I wanted to say to the wife If that’s the case, what the heck am I doing here, but held back rethinking about the job market.

The only thing I gained from bringing up the topic was that she told me about even another employee. His name was Junior, and he was the lead programmer. She told me that he would be interested in seeing the sample computer programs, but he too was already out in the field working. That makes a count of at least three employees in the company, though I still considered two of them as vaporware.

I had now figured out that the point of the interview was for the wife to make sure I was socially acceptable to work at the company. The interview was in no way, shape or form any test of my technical ability or experience. It was just to check if I the right number of body parts, and no unnecessary facial hair, tattoos or visually bad habits. I could have been a total computer bozo, but if I had the right look, and spoke clear English I would have passed this phase of the process. Qualifying for a second interview with this company was quite easy, as it just meant showing up.

Apparently I had what it would take, and passed the Beauty and Personality part of the job pageant. The wife wrapped things up by asking me if I was available the next morning at 8:00 AM again, to take a technical exam, and meet the boss and Junior. Based on the conditions of the office, my bad vibes, and the fact that the first interview was a waste of time, I should have said no. Since I really wanted a job, I didn’t hesitate to answer the wife, as an opportunity was an opportunity. I was all for it, and told her No problem. She then escorted me to the door and saw me off. I walked towards the elevator thinking about the next morning. It would be me there again at the same time, in the same suit, with a different tie.

That evening when talking with my mom, I told her that I felt pretty good about the interview and that there was a better than 50% chance I would get the job. I say job and not job offer, because it was clear in my mind that I would accept anything offered to me, as I was certainly in no position to shop myself around. I knew that there wasn’t going to be that many offers in the float with the depressing job market, and I was willing to grab something that I might not be totally happy with just to gain some experience. As a piece of complimentary advice, don’t do this.

The obvious small size of the company and unorganized filth of the office didn’t steer my thinking one bit. I wanted a job, and anything that paid a salary looked good. I had long forgotten about the nine other résumés I sent out a week earlier and was only concentrating on this interview. Despite all the negativity, I for some bizarre reason wanted to land this job. I’m not sure if it was the excitement of being newly out of school, or if I was being punished for being bad as a child. Either way I was in the process of digging my own grave. I spent the evening reviewing my xbase notes, and getting ready for the big test.

I showed up the next day at 7:55 AM, and was sent into room #2 by the wife to take the technical test. This morning the wife and I were not alone. There was someone else in room #2. It was Junior, the first other employee I’d seen in my two days. Junior was sitting at his desk wearing a suit, working on his computer. He was maybe 28 to 30 years old with red spiked hair, and two chins. He was an odd looking character, but that was all that I expected. Junior was in charge of giving me the test outline.

Besides introducing himself to me and handing me the test, he said nothing. He asked me no questions, and attempted no chitchat, small talk, or plain old talk. He was like a robot or zombie of some sort. He looked expressionless, almost as if he was not allowed to smile. My assignment was to write a small computer program that did something or other. I sat next to Junior for about two hours while working on the test. During the entire time he just stared at his screen, typing away. He never stopped, he never looked my way, and he never spoke. At one point I had this wild thought that maybe Junior was an android from another planet, like in the move The Terminator.

I was taking a technical exam for a job that I never truly interviewed for. Sure I went on an interview, but the questions asked of me were by someone who didn’t care about my skills, but only if I had bad breath. I was getting ready to wrap up the test at about 10:00 AM. It was still only the terminator, 70’s hair and me in the office. The three of us were sitting around in what became known as the dungeon. The test was no problem to complete, and I spent some time polishing the program up, and trying to figure out if Junior was comprised of metal parts and transistors.

I informed the wife upon my completion, as I was not sure if Junior was alive or not. She had me demonstrate the program to Junior, and as it turns out he was still with us. The program was functional and worked correctly. After the two-minute demo, Junior and the wife went into conference. I sat in room #2 wondering what time Junior got into work that morning, and more importantly why he didn’t speak one word in the two hours I spent with him. Junior was probably just a boring guy, and very busy, even though it was only 8:00 AM. The truth was that every minute he would have spent talking to me, would have been a minute he would have to makeup working overtime.

While they were conferencing, the boss showed up. He stormed into the office, and gave the impression that he was in a rush. He was very sweaty, and headed into office #1 joining the conference already in progress. He was a big bloated man, who appeared to be severely out of shape. He looked all business as he hustled into his office. My first memory of the boss was him taking his suit jacket off in the lobby of the office. His entire back was soaked with sweat. It looked like he just walked in from a rainstorm, but it was clear and sunny outside. I also remember his grimy looking mustache.

After several minutes, Junior and the wife exited room #1, and I was asked to enter. This was the first time out of many that the boss and I would be having a talk. He started off by introducing himself, and shaking my hand. He then proceeded to tell me the fabulously uninteresting story about how his rinky-dink company got started. I pretended to be intrigued, and even tossed in some feedback questions about his company. This was standard issue interview stuff, as not asking questions showed lack of interest.

After the exchange of opening statements and questions, I had the boss sized up. I saw him as being an intelligent person who knew all the angles. It seemed that he had his act together, and was very capable of running a successful business. I was starting to feel good, as maybe I was hooking up with a winner here. This couldn’t be further from reality, as it turns out I was dealing with a smooth talking bozo in a sharp executive’s clothing.

We discussed several computer topics at length including programming languages such as mainframe COBOL, the growing market of the PC, and practical use of computer applications. We talked in detail about the role of xbase programming, and agreed that it was the fastest way to develop functional working systems. He asked me several questions about my experience during my school internship, and my part time computer jobs. He was very impressed with my computer knowledge, and the amount of professional experience I had under my belt for a recent college graduate. We got along very well, and shared the same opinions on many computer and business subjects. Before I knew it, we were talking for over an hour.

This truly was an interview as the boss was asking interview type questions. He inquired about the business things on my résumé, and asked for detailed explanations as to my prior jobs, and what I studied in school. Things were looking better as maybe this was a legitimate small business on the rise. The boss seemed professional, and the possibility of working for him seemed good. I was thinking that maybe the boss’s company would grow quick and getting in on the bottom floor would be great.

It was about 11:30 AM, and the boss asked me if I wanted some lunch. I declined, as I was convinced it was some sort of trick question. If I said yes, that meant that I liked lunch and taking breaks. Lunch was supposed to be for wimps. Hard core computer programmers worked straight through lunch, and dinner, and sometimes worked for days on end. By saying no, I made the statement that I was tough. I was able to handle over three hours of testing and rigorous interviewing without needing to refuel on a sandwich and soda. I thought the lunch query at 11:30 AM was a little early, but then realized that the boss had probably started working way before 8:00 AM, so it was actually time to get some food.

After my double decline, the boss wanted to order lunch for himself anyway. He summoned the wife into the room, and gave her his food order. The interview was going to last about another 45 minutes. During these 45 minutes the boss was going to put out the bait to catch me. He was then going to reel me in flawlessly. He was going to convince me to take the job by making me think it was the best thing that ever happened to me. He had a plan, and I had Sucker tattooed on my forehead. In the next 45 minutes I was going to get roped in by the boss.

Chapter 2

I’m Gonna Git You Sucka

The interview was going too well. I am now convinced that the boss was setting me up. I was 22 years old, and very naïve. I knew nothing about the real job world, and how things were supposed to be. I think the boss knew that I was hungry for a job, and planned on taking severe advantage of me. He wanted to hire a kid fresh out of school who didn’t know his rights. Someone who would just do what he instructed him to do, and accept it. He wanted someone to mold, someone whose work ethic was a blank slate. He wanted to create a workhorse, dedicated to serving his needs. He also wanted someone who would think he was doing him/her a favor by letting them work at his company. These are all things I know now, but didn’t know then.

The boss was done questioning me, and then proceeded to tell me about all the perks of working for his company. It was the boss playing his now famous con game. He was an expert at telling a person (either potential employee or client) all the great positive things about his company, while conveniently leaving out all the negatives. I’m dubbing the term Selective explanation. A good example would be renting an apartment for someone for a really low price. The landlord boasts about the great view, new hardwood floors, and working appliances. He does not tell you about the leaky roof, the insect problem, or the neighbor who plays the bongos at 3:00 AM. The landlord was not lying; he just decided to keep some information to himself. It was a selective explanation. This was the boss.

Positive number one was that since the boss had a small company, he would directly appreciate all my good work and efforts, and this would be reflected in my reviews. In other words I wasn’t going to become just another number working amongst a sea of thousands of other numbers. I was only going to be one level removed from the owner of the company, unlike IBM where I would be a thousand levels removed. The owner of the company was going to know about, and have direct awareness for the work I was going to do. Wow, I’m jumping up and down.

The next positive was in regard to the work I would be doing. He told me that since the company had clients in many different industries, I would learn the operations of all these industries. The clients ranged from stock brokerage, to accounting, to the sale of toxic waste. I was going to learn them all, and get paid to boot. All the diverse industry experience I wanted, free of charge. He actually worded this positive thing in such a way that he almost implied that I should consider working for free just to gain the experience. I appreciated that, as I always wanted to know the standard unit of measure used in the packaging of decomposed animal body parts. Hooray, I can no longer hold in my excitement.

The last positive thing that the boss commented on was how I would grow and mature with the expansion and success of his company. By this he meant that if his two employee tiny company ever became a giant driving force in the computer industry, I would have gotten in on the bottom floor. I would also personally enjoy the benefits of the company being a big hit. If his company were to become large and legitimate, I would one day have the chance of being a boss myself. He was trying to convey the point that much money, and fame would come along with this. Ooh, Ah.

Just so you know, all of these positive things turned out to be a bunch of bunk.

The boss was now done talking as the official interview had ended. Unlike a usual interview he did not ask me if I had any other questions about him or his company. In addition, he didn’t tell me that they would be in touch, and that I should have a nice day. Instead he asked me to step outside to the lobby and take a seat. He then called in the wife and Junior into his office, and closed the door after they entered. I sat and waited as the three stooges briefly discussed if they wanted to hire me or not. I sat nervously hoping that the consensus would be yes.

After a few minutes the door opened, and Junior and the wife exited. I was asked to reenter, and close the door. I sat down, and was ready to hear the good or bad news. I assumed the news was good, otherwise the wife would have just asked me to leave. The boss got right to the point and made me an offer on the spot. The offer was thirty thousand dollars a year. I had done my research, and the range of 25 to 27 thousand is where I thought a freshman programmer would be. The boss was offering me three thousand dollars above my top estimate, with room to grow. My eyes lit up like they did when I got my first computer as a Christmas gift ten years earlier. He had caught me completely off guard, and I fumbled in trying to figure out what to say.

Do I take it? Do I decline? Do I tell him that I want to get back to him? Do I negotiate? A smart person with a little more experience would have slept on the offer, or it least thought about it for the remainder of the day. As great as an offer may sound on anything in life, it is always a good idea to take a step back and think about it. Don’t rush to judgment; don’t make a quick decision that you might soon regret. Even if you are sure of your decision, the delay in statement will prevent the other party from thinking you are too anxious.

My problem was that I was not expecting to be made an offer right there and then. I also had forgotten to prep myself in the area of being given an offer, and didn’t have any answer ready. I had spent my whole college career preparing to get a job. I had all the experience from part time jobs, I had great grades, and I had taken an internship at a reputable company. I had also spent weeks perfecting my résumé so that it would stand out amongst the rest. Now the moment of truth, as I approached the last leg of the getting hired hurdles. I was about to trip.

I thought about the boss’s offer for probably less than a minute, and fully accepted. This was clearly in conflict with my theory of waiting it out a day. I guess the overriding theory was that the offer was here now, and I might as well take it before it’s gone. The boss had yet to have a discussion with me regarding company benefits, time off, working hours, or even what exactly my job was. Knowing this, I had accepted his offer with a smile and all. I had an offer, which in itself excited me, and it was for thirty grand. I was a kid about to making thirty grand a.k.a. $30,000. All I kept thinking was thirty grand. That would be the last time I accept anything off the hip.

Once I shook the boss’s hand and gave my verbal acceptance, he immediately started to lay down the cold hard facts. These were the things that he neglected to mention pre-acceptance. He wanted to quickly zip these things by me, figuring that I was so caught up in the excitement of having a job that I wouldn’t care. He was right as I paid no mind to the obscure, non-beneficial things he was about to tell me. This was the fine print that I was about to stupidly ignore. These things went in one ear and out the other, as all I was thinking was that my job search was over on the second day after it began.

Note to self: always read the fine print-even for something as insignificant as a rental contract from your local video store.

The first fact was one I knew nothing about. It was about medical insurance, or in his case lack of. The company offered no medical plan. I would be given one thousand dollars a year to get my own health insurance. This worked out to about $83 a month. The only health insurance you can get for anywhere near that amount was the RTD coverage. This meant Role the Dice without insurance, and hope you don’t get sick. Real insurance cost about $400 a month for an individual, and it didn’t seem worth it. Shelling out $5000 a year for something I would probably never use didn’t seem like a logical cost effective move. Remember, I was 22 years old and fancy-free at the time. What a bad idea that was. What a bad benefit it was as well.

Up until my college graduation I was covered under my parents medical plan, and didn’t know the importance of having medical insurance. The boss said that his company couldn’t offer it because the rates for small companies were too high. Since it was too high, he was going to happily pass the expense on to his employees. Basically he was saying that the health of his employees would be compromised over a few dollars. He would rather spend the money on an elaborate European vacation or newer furniture for his home. Any person with any benefit sense would have balked at this. I shook my head and told him that the $83 was fine.

Next he informed me that I would receive no vacation time until I completed one full year of service. After completion of the year, I would then be