My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

9

I slept rather badly last night, as either Riley forgot to give his captain my message, or that Lee had too much demanding his attention to return my call. But I couldn't dwell on it. There were pressing matters to attend to. 

“Well, sir,” Budget Director Sam Bates said handing me the three completed applications, “I’ll get right to the point. All of the applicants are about equal as far as education and experience are concerned, but Mr. Hawthorne does have additional computer software experience. However, we'd be damned if we do and damned if we don't decide on him.Favoritism on one hand if hired, and reverse discrimination on the other if  we don't. It’s a civil liberties nightmare.”

“I know you won't let his relationship have any bearing on your decision, Sam. Use your gut instinct if all of the applicants are about even."

“Well,” Bates took a deep breath. “All three have something to prove. All three could be an asset to the company if given a chance. All three are equal to the task. Personalities, well, all are friendly, but most applicants are, at least on the surface. But Mr. Hawthorne is politely arrogant. But we don’t have to like who we work with. The thing is, cards on the table, he may be the best choice. But I don't feel comfortable making the decision."

"Well, it's only an office assistant you need, a glorified go-fer, not a decision maker. We'll review the taped interviews with HR and go over all of the files together. I want a unanimous decision.”

For the next hour we tried to figure out just what the hell we were going do. Actually, what I was going to do as the others voted for Ronald. I'm not sure if it was favoritism in some form, despite the choosing parameters all in place. The final decision had to be mine. It didn’t help that my stomach ached.

“I think it’s best to err on the side of caution,” I finally said, “No one can fault us for going with the better qualifications, even by a hair. Hire Mr. Hawthorne.  But he has lot to learn about the interpersonal skills I demand of my employees. Make sure that’s a part of his initial NIMR training…er…NCIMR,” I added with a grin. “Also, be sure the hire is for a thirty day trial only, not the standard three months we usually allow. But don’t tell him that.”

 I didn’t know if I was going to puke or if I really needed to go to the Med Center. All I knew was that I just couldn’t stand the idea of Ronald working anywhere near me, politically correct though it was. He was, after all, the best candidate with that extra computer training and experience.

“I’ll call him with the news,” Bates was saying, “might even get him in later today to tour the facility and…meet the boss if you wish.”

"By the way," the HR director snorted, "just don't let him near the admiral's scotch on the outer office sideboard. Did you know he went to bartending school?”

“No, why didn’t you bring it up?” Bates asked.

“Because it’s irrelevant, not being a requirement for the job.”

“You should still have. It's an extra diploma.”

“It’s a moot point,” I said. “We’ve already decided he’s the best applicant of the three. Very well, call him and see if he can come out today.

Postponing my visit to Med Bay, I steeled myself for the hastily arranged visit.

"Admiral, he's here," Angie announced and he entered my private office.

“Oh, hi, Pop," he said "or should I say 'admiral' while I'm in the office?"

"It's customary to use his title while on duty," Angie said. 

"Even though my brother calls him Harry all the time? Which is kind of weird, don't you think, using his given name?"

"Never mind all that now," I said. "Congratulations, Ronald. You have the job."

A few standard ‘blah blah blah’s later, Ronald noticed the pink stuff on my desk. I had to admit to him that I hadn’t been feeling well.

“Dr. Winesap can help, ” he said eagerly. “He’s an M.D. I know,  but also uses hypnotism. I’m sure I could get you in to see him today. He's very accommodating for his special patients. And hypnotism is a proven method of pain suppression…and,” he added, “it can even help you cut back on smoking."

“I’m not sure I’d be a good candidate for hypnosis. You see, all of my naval training has been to defy the powers of persuasion. In case of capture by the enemy. Besides, I’ve always heard that you can’t be hypnotized to do or stop doing something unless you’re in agreement with the suggestion.”

“It's still worth a try. I’m sure my brother would want you to.”

Ah, he used the trump card. So, I agreed, and after his quick call to the Dr.’s office which could see me right away, Ronald insisted on driving me.

I informed Angie that we'd be gone for the afternoon and that the necessary forms and tour for our new hire could wait.

Apparently Winesap was into body building if the framed pictures of him in a ‘Strong Men’ pose and trophies along one wall meant anything.

He assured me that most of his patients were a bit hesitant about hypnosis to begin with, and some did have problems ‘going under’. And, he stressed, a gastrointestinal exam was also in order for my tummy troubles. 'Just drink some barium and let the x-rays do the rest to show any blockage, ulcer, etc. Just in case.' He also guarenteed that hypnosis could help with the pain at least and he could certainly cure me of my smoking habit.

After the barium exam, he asked me to just close my eyes and listen to the music awhile to help me ‘relax’ before the session began.

It was weird. I didn’t remember ‘going under’ at all, and awoke to the sound of rain on the window.

And my stomach didn’t hurt any more.  He told me that the barium tests came up negative and the problem must be stress related. But that continual sessions were indicated for both problems.

I agreed and said I’d leave the actual scheduling to my Administrative Assistant. Feeling so much better, I was a convert!

Ronald suggested we stop at the nearby McDonald’s on the way back to the institute.  I was ravenous, and glad that we were pretty much ignored though  I did notice a few heads turn in our direction, but soon relaxed as he chattered happily about his favorite sports, hockey, football, both American and Soccer, baseball, etc. and his new life with me, and that he wanted to learn about my likes and dislikes as I did his.  It took awhile to consume our hamburgers and fries we were so busy talking. Well, he did most of the talking, I did most of the listening. It was almost as if we’d known each other all of our lives.

Then he told me that when he’d been on one of the visitor’s tours, he’d seen some things that could use a bit of updating and began to offer suggestions.

“Thank you, Ron,” I interrupted him, “I’m well aware of what we need, but Lee’s postponed those very improvements for now.”

Ronald looked at me as though I’d slapped him.

“But I’m glad you’re showing an interest in the betterment of the institute,” I said quickly to sooth his ruffled feathers.

“So, my brother can just nix what’s apparent that we need?”

“Lee had his reasons and is my business partner. We share the running of the business, including necessary evils like accepting, declining, or postponing suggestions, initiating upgrades, the budget, contracts, etc. I trust his judgement. It’s saved us time and trouble, and even lives.”

“On the sub, maybe, but ashore…”

“Ron. Enough.”

 “I just want you to be proud of me, that’s all. I give a damn about the institute. About you. I know what everyone is saying, that I only want to share in the profits…in your wealth… but, it isn’t all like that…I want to show you that I’m a Nelson.”

“You already have,” I said, squeezing his shoulder, as thunder boomed and rain began to fall,  “by what you’ve just said. Well, I can’t eat another bite. You think we can manage to waddle out of here?”

It was dark, more due to the rain than the hour, when we returned to the nearly deserted institute, and I waved goodbye to Ron as he drove back to his hotel. Apparently neither he nor his mother had purchased or rented a house yet.

“Lee called,” Ames, pulling on his raincoat, said, waiting for me in the lobby, “preliminary repairs should be done by tomorrow afternoon. As reported Seaview will still need dry dock when he brings her in. Possibly tomorrow, more likely the day after. Admiral…I think I should warn you. Lee’s livid about how the press has been handling what happened, joking about the boat's ‘connubial bliss’ and all.”

“I'm afraid she’ll be the butt of some rather disgusting jokes for awhile.”

More thunder, closer lightening, heavier rain against the glass doors.

"Well, drive carefully, Drew," I said and pressed the button for my private elevator while letting it scan my eye.

As soon as I entered my living room I turned on CNN. 

Of course, Seaview was still a hot topic.

“In addition to Seaview's damage," the reporter was saying, "undisclosed injuries to her crew and captain have been reported. Meanwhile, Captain Nelson-Crane’s adopted father, Admiral Harriman Nelson, enjoyed dinner today with his other son, Mr. Ronald Hawthorne aka Nelson at a local McDonalds as you can see from these contributed pictures. We’ve learned from Ms. Jessica Hawthorne that her son has been hired for the Budget Dept. This reporter, however, has to wonder if he was  hired over the other two applicants due to his relationship with the Admiral. While the position is an hourly, non-executive job, it’s  likely he’ll soon be advanced to a more responsible position. And now, in other news….”

I could only wonder if Lee had bothered to watch the newscast.

I tried calling him, but O’Brien informed me that the skipper was having dinner with Chip at the O’ Club.

At least, I thought, Lee had a friend during this trying time at a place that reporters were certainly taboo.

So, if all goes well, Lee and I will be having dinner together tomorrow at the earliest.  I think I’ll plan on take out. All I’ll need to do will be to  decide on pizza or Chinese. Or maybe McDonalds. We can  always go through the drive through.