Locomotive to the Past by George Schultz (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📕

rather stressful—physical—tests! The first “realistic” challenges, to his legs! They’d—steadfastly—refused to cooperate! (Well, virtually his entire body made its—undisputed—displeasure known!) More emotional anxiety, for him! More abject frustration! More out and out disgust—with his unforgivable “non-masculine” self!

Valerie, as it was turning out, seemed to be actually enjoying her new job! Her first evening at home, after having put in her initial shift, she simply ranted, on and on—about what a wonderful product, she was helping to produce. And she’d, continually, lauded “the three wonderful people”—with whom she was working. And, of course, the wonderful clientele—that she was having the privilege, of serving. And all this wonderfulness—earned her a whopping 65-cents per hour, to boot!

Jason was convinced that she was doing her best—to remove an onus, on his perceived lack of manhood! (One that she’d always considered totally ridiculous. A curse that he’d placed—on himself.)

Things didn’t improve, the following morning. Valerie appeared—in her husband’s eyes, anyway—to be moving noticeably slower, as she’d shuffled off, to begin her second, “wonderful”, day, at her “wonderful” job.

He’d tried to encourage her to take the glorious Dodge. But, she’d declined—with the explanation that, “It’s only a couple, or three, blocks”.

At a few minutes before noon, on that day, Jason turned out to be glad for his spouse’s “Dodge Or No Dodge” decision. The phone rang—giving him quite a start. The only person—he was positive—who could be calling, would be his wife! Surely, she’d suffered some kind of disastrous, life-threatening, accident—at that “wonderful” Donut Hut! He “never should’ve let her take the stupid damn job, in the first damn place”!

It turned out that the call was not from his, presumed-to-be, sweat-drenched, badly-injured, horribly-ravaged, wife! It had come, from Brooks Garback—of Radio Station WXXD! Not from the man’s secretary—but, from the president, himself! Party of the second part—to his episodic collision, at the radio station!

“Mister Rutkowski?” he asked. “Have you got a minute? A minute to talk?”

“Yes! Yes, Sir! Yes! Yes… of course, Sir! Of course I do.”

“Well, we’ve come up with a bit of an emergency, here.”

“An… an emergency?”

“Yes. Peter Andrews… our afternoon, four-to-eight, personality… has quit! Totally unexpected! He’s come up with a network job… CBS! In Chicago! A very lucrative one! He’s given us… all of a two-and-a-half hour notice. Now… truthfully… I have three, or four, fellows, that I can call. Each of them has on-air experience. Some… really extensive! But, none of them have really… have really dazzled me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Now, I realize that you are a neophyte. Still, after our little… ah, our little collision, the other day… I have to admit that I was quite impressed with you! Impressed with your… I don’t know… with your demeanor. Your… ah… your manner. Now, I may regret this whole thing. But, I don’t happen to think so. What I’m saying is that… well, I’m tempted to… tempted to take a chance, on you! Probably makes no sense, at all… from a corporate standpoint! It’s strictly a gut feeling! But, I’ve been pretty lucky, you see… through the years… when I do, go with my gut! Would you be interested?”

In the rush of this out-of-the-blue happening, Our Boy was on the verge of using his grandfather’s favorite response—to such an obvious question: “Is The Pope Catholic?” Fortunately (he felt) instead. he’d simply shot this gentleman an uncomplicated (but, highly-emotional) highly-articulated, “Yes! Yes, Sir! Of course!”.

He was admonished, by the great man, to get down to the studio—as soon as possible! The overwhelmingly grateful young man promised that he’d “be there… before you know it, Mister Garback”.

The latter laughed—heartily—and issued another admonition: “Drive safely! We don’t need you getting yourself all banged up! Not any further than you were!”

Once the connection had been broken, it took Jason three emotional attempts to phone his, picture-of-health, wife—at her “wonderful” job site—and to relate the remarkable news to her! Valerie was—of course—elated! But, she’d issued the same admonishment—to drive safely!

Thirty-five minutes later, Our Hero was seated, across from Mr. Garback—in a smallish, surprisingly-Spartan, office, on the 15th floor of The Lee Plaza. They didn’t sit there for long.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the president led his prospective employee down the long corridor—to an empty, darkened, studio. He immediately brought the place to life—and bade Jason be seated behind the “oversized” microphone. This mic was immense—when compared to those, in general use, in the early-21st-century.

The mic was attached to a long, ponderous, boom—located off to the prospective employee’s right. In front of him, stood a wide, wooden, counter-type surface. Atop that “desk”, were six or seven 78-rpm records.

Those were the only phonograph records available, to the public, in that era. Grandpa Piepczyk had always maintained—that they’d weighed “about fourteen pounds apiece”. On each side of the chair—that Jason was now occupying—was located a gigantic turntable! Jason had never before seen one (let alone, two of them) that size. Or laden—with that much padding.

Mr. Garback handed him a few pages, of printed copy—fashioned, in an extra-large font. And—after giving the younger man a few minutes, with which to familiarize himself, with the material—he’d had his prospective employee read the verbiage back to him. The president seemed satisfied.

The candidate had hoped for a verdict of “well pleased”. But, with the older gentleman, it turned out to be a good-bit more difficult, to tell. The almost-overwhelming enthusiasm—that the poobah had shown, during their wondrous phone conversation—seemed to be quite lacking! A most-worrisome prospect!

Next, Jason was instructed to familiarize himself with the records. Review the discs, lying in front of him. Once the young man had spent two or three minutes complying, the president unloaded upon him! Almost swamped him—with a comprehensive tutorial! A thorough, painstaking, demonstration—covering every aspect, relating to how one operates the pair of turntables. That period of intense instruction—the fact that Brooks Garback had “stayed with him”, for so long—was (the “newbie” felt) quite encouraging! A much-needed form of (hopefully) pending success!

Then, came a sort-of-oral test: The “Head Gazink” bounced a multitude of questions—off the