11.
Reports of Carl's PC expertise and word processing skills spread further than he was aware, and as a result, in late August of that second year, he was invited to interview for a secretarial opening with the City Manager's Office. Following that interview, his actual transfer was approved.
Three weeks later his appearance on Wheel of Fortune took place; he hit bankrupt several times and came out with nothing. Carl has promised to provide me with further details of that experience at another time. His disappointment was tempered by the fact that his new job was one for which he had waited for years. Supporting the City's top administrators, he became in effect a small office manager as well as document processor. It was infinitely more interesting than Purchasing could ever have been. All his editing, word processing and grammar skills were called upon. The letters, reports and memoranda he worked on were often prepared for the City Council, and needed to be perfect in every way. He even worked for one manager, Roger Torys, who was known City-wide as "the" resident language and writing expert. When Roger dictated to Carl at the keyboard, they both got great pleasure from debating minute bits of grammar and style.
In November of the third year, thirteen months after he left the planet of purchasing, Carl bumped into Cerise Chimera during the course of one of his routine errands for the City Manager. Cerise was still an admin-aide working for the equal opportunity contracting compliance program, the position she had been assigned after the Police Department revoked her transfer. Sharif Rakelford, meanwhile, had left San Miguel, taking a position as Director of Purchasing for the City of Reno; Laura Schwartz had then succeeded him as City of San Miguel Purchasing Agent. Sandra Graves had also left the planet of Purchasing, transferring into Public Works, and Lisa Castro had quit the City and moved to Las Vegas.
Carl Wilson, now working as support staff in the highest office of City administration, but still only being paid lowly clerk-typist wages, had again taken the admin-aide exam, and scored well enough to be certified for another year. However, as before, he watched the few open positions be filled by higher ranking principal clerks and executive secretaries who transferred, even demoted, strictly for the chance of climbing onto the bottom rung of the administrative ladder. The competition was rough, and Carl had concluded he must tell no one of the admin-aide notices he occasionally received. It is in this light we must view the entry Carl made in his journal concerning his chance meeting with Cerise.
Was running a little gofer errand today around two o'clock of the afternoon when I met up with Cerise Chimera, quite by accident, on the southwest corner of 2nd & C.
She smiled, I smiled, she touched me quite lightly on the arm, we exchanged "How's it going" greetings, and as we were parting she asked, "You don't know of any openings, do you?"
I immediately thought - Ah ha, she possibly hasn't heard of the two new jobs in Financial Management and I certainly ain't about to tell her because then she would be competing with me and besides... oh, but, well, I really shouldn't be thinking so evil of her.
In that split second those thoughts flashed through my head, vindictive and guilty.
I had only in the past hour gotten off the phone with Haskel Stevens after he had told me of the two admin-aide openings in Financial Management. I had called in response to a certification received over the weekend listing Stevens as the contact man.
As I was thinking these thoughts I turned toward Cerise who had gone a few steps south on 2nd Avenue, even as her words hung in the air "You don't know of any openings, do you?"
I turned, she turned to see if I would respond, and even before my vindictive thought had worked its full course into guilt, she continued, now facing me again, "I've just got to get out of that crazy department."
I smiled. Why did it please me to know she was still suffering on the planet of Purchasing? Then the devil put the perfect words into my mouth. I spoke them like keys to unlock her, "Didn't Kristin tell you what that place was like, when you came over?"
I took two steps toward her, subtle energies of curiosity flowing out of me with the words of that damnable question. Would I get her to confess her connection with Kristin, through the back door of gossip?
The key fit perfectly. She opened the outer lock. It was too easy; she must have wanted it. She must have wanted to talk.
Cerise laughed and shook her lovely curled hair. The look on her dark face was very pretty as she said, "Oh yes, Kristin told me; but what she said was that it would be better than the City Attorney."
We both laughed. "Oh no," I said, "that's really not saying much. It's true, of course; Purchasing is a much better world than the Attorney's office, but then, anyplace is better than there!"
"Yes," she nodded, touching me again lightly on the arm, her own particular version of magic, "Kris told me alright, and she was right. But still, there's got to be someplace better!"
We laughed, and parted. But I felt myself begin to squirm, inside. Cerise had played along, openly admitting she talked to Kristin before moving into Purchasing. And I, meanwhile, had told her nothing of the two openings in FM.
How could I do this to someone as attractive and likeable as she? The last embers of my anger, now more than two years old, faded into ashes. I can't believe I actually cried about that stupid job.
Dear Reader: Whoever you are, thank you for reading our story. As you may have guessed, it is loosely based on true occurences in a large California municipal government. As our private joke, even the colors used in this printing are close mimics of two official paints used by the local government in question: the background is almost exactly "City of San Miguel Tan" and the text is very close to "Centre City Blue." Carl Wilson (not his real name) the clerk is a close friend of mine -- a writer of science fiction who asked me to help him write this slightly more "mainstream" story. After reading what I put down, he insisted that I use only my name as author. He says regardless of whose name is listed as writer, anyone who reads this story will know that he told it to me. For him, and for myself, again, thank you for your attention and time. I look forward to submitting more work to Xanadu -- in fact, Carl and I have already begun writing another story about his continuing life in the San Miguel civil service.
Until next time, I (and Carl) remain your servant. -- Charlotte Dustin --