I hadn’t visited home in years, but I always enjoyed driving over the pass and looking at the open fields along the way. My buddy Rich had found an ideal sales job for me, and any money seemed like a good deal. I was nearly at Snoqualmie Pass when my engine over-heated. Luckily, I had brought a couple plastic cans of oil. This was not my first time crossing the Cascades. I pulled over amid some oily smoke and stopped. I opened both back doors to clear out some air so I could breathe in the car on my way to Lakewood.
I opened both cans of oil, popped the hood, opened up the oil tube and poured the oil carefully into the engine. A husky blast of wind had me step back and catch my balance. The engine just needed a little more oil. I carefully got out every drop of oil I could get and then went to pick up my other can. I stopped in my tracks. That blast of wind had blown my sports jacket and slacks on to the oil can and knocked it over. What wasn’t leaking onto the ground was now soaking into my borrowed outfit for my next day sales meeting. I thought to myself, “Well, Slick, you don’t need to worry about getting the job. Who would hire you?”
Back on the road I was just a sad case. I cheered up a bit as I neared Lakewood. I was going to be staying with my old friend Rich. I was sure we would get a laugh out of my bad luck, drink some beer and then head back to Spokane tomorrow morning. I was wrong. Rich didn’t laugh and didn’t offer a beer. He simply said “Get in my car. You’re not getting off so easily.” We drove in silence and then we pulled into St. Vinnies in South Tacoma. “They have lots of clothes. Hopefully, you can find some clothes to let you look like an adult.” I went into the store with him.
I tried on this, I looked at that, but no matter what, when I looked at myself in the mirror wearing the only outfit that actually fit, I wanted to die . . . but by the time I looked and thought a while I told myself, I could wear it. Of course it didn’t help my ego very much, when Rich chocked on a swig from a bottle of root beer and then said, “Well, except for the fact that you look like Alfred E. Newman from “Mad Magazine” you look okay. The flaming red jacket and the pink tie, really are eye catching.” We both giggled like teenage girls. I accepted the challenge. You never know how things will work out.
The next day, confident and pleased, I walked into the business hiring office and stopped dead. There were five other qualifiers wanting to be hired . . . and they were all dressed to the nines. Sport coats and slacks perfectly cut and maintained. I think they were all ten years younger than me. I took a deep breath and marched straight ahead. I met each one and gave them all a condescending look. I claimed I was a proud graduate and a member of the Gonzaga Bulldogs and had played in the Elite Eight. I wished them all luck and walked over to the coffee machine and humming to myself poured me a cup and turned around to offer them each a refill . . . but there was no one there but me. When the hiring guy came in I glad-handed him and said, “I don’t know where the other gentlemen went, but I’m raring to go.” The hiring guy looked at my red coat. I said, “Oh, this is my lucky sales coat. I’ve never lost a sale when I’ve worn this outfit . . . people just love it. It’s why I’ve always broken goals and sales competitions. I believed it, he believed it, and the company kept giving me raises . . . so the company must have believed it as well.
Did I lie? You betcha. Oh, how I wanted to play basketball, I was pretty good. We moved to Spokane after I graduated from Clover Park. I had a bad knee and opted out in 1998. The next year Gonzaga had the Cinderella run to the Elite Eight. I cheered them on . . . and that just might be why everyone loves us . . . me. I wish I had been selected . . . heck, I just wish I had attended.
