Tipping Point Ch. 01

"Dad ... can I stay with you for now? I don't want to be at home any more if you're not there. I can help pay for the room ... or maybe we can find an apartment to share. I've got some money."

"Sure. I was going to look for a place to live, so we might as well look together. But what about Jilly?"

Jillian Forester was Tommy's girlfriend, and both Sylvia and I expected them to announce their engagement sometime soon.

"She'll understand. When I quit college, she was really upset, but I told her it wasn't permanent. I just needed to earn some money and then I could go back."

"I don't understand, Tommy. I ... we were looking after your tuition. You know I was upset when you dropped out. Your grades were fine. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now. Talk to me, please."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I should have told you what my plan was. It's just that things were so ... upsetting at home. I didn't think you needed another problem. I had a plan, and I didn't want you to have to worry about me, what with Mom being like she was."

"Tell me about your plan, then. Help me understand."

"After two years, I realized I wasn't getting the education I wanted. Lots of theory and case study, but no practical knowledge. I wanted to learn how to design and develop computer systems. I wanted some hands-on knowledge. I figured my best chance would be at South Ohio Tech.

"Their tuition isn't bad, but instead of going full time, I decided to enroll in night-time adult classes. I was accepted, but couldn't get in until this coming January. My plan was to work during the day and take classes at night. Instead of two years, it would take me three or more, but I would have the knowledge and hands-on experience I needed. Dad, everyone who graduates from SOT has a guaranteed job. They even recruit some of the drop-outs."

"Why didn't you tell us this? We would have supported you."

"I didn't think you'd approve. It's not an accredited college. It only grants certificates of merit. I know how much you wanted me to graduate from a proper college. But their reputation is amazing in the business world. Ask anyone about an SOT graduate. They'll tell you."

"You don't need to convince me, Tommy. I've seen some of their graduates on the job and you're right. They come ready to work and more than capable. If that's what you want, then you'll have all the support I can give you."

The smile on my son's face was worth everything at that moment. It was the one bright spot in the past two days. I reached over and hugged him, and received a warm hug in return.

"What are you going to do now, Dad?"

"Well ... I'm going to resign from Faraday and Crosse on Monday. I've had it with them and their miserable attitude. I'll find somewhere to work. I know my skills and I know my customers. I've had offers before, but I never treated them seriously. I didn't think your mother would be very happy to move, or to see me start all over again. Well ... none of that matters any more. I can do what I want ... what I think is best for me."

"Good for you, Dad. I have a feeling you're going to be okay."

"Yeah ... me too," I smiled, hoping he was right.

Tommy went home with the intention of packing his clothes and belongings and coming back to the motel. He was back by five that afternoon. There had been no confrontation at home, his mother wasn't there. I intended to go back Monday afternoon and collect all the miscellaneous things I hadn't packed this morning. Neither of us wanted another confrontation. I was surprised, however, that I hadn't heard from Sylvia. She knew my cell phone number.

I took Tommy out to dinner, and we decided to do something different. We went across the river to the Kentucky Ranch House. It was a noisy barbeque roadhouse with a live band. I would not normally have chosen it as a place for dinner, but both Tommy and I were keyed up with our new arrangement, and we decided to celebrate. The ribs were great, and the music was country.

Saturday night at the "Kane-Tuck" was lively. There were a lot of single men and women in the place. The big dance floor was seldom empty and I envied how much fun most of the people were having. I couldn't remember the last time I'd enjoyed myself this much. I felt a bit sorry for Tommy. I'm sure if Jilly were here, they'd be out on the dance floor, stompin' with the best of them.

Since Tommy was the designated driver that night, I nursed a couple of beers. What surprised me was the number of women who passed by that asked me or Tommy to dance. Tommy accepted a couple of invites, and I guess that gave me some courage too. I had several dances with different women. None of them propositioned me, but that wasn't a surprise. It was just nice to be asked.

We got back to the motel shortly after midnight, and both of us went straight to bed. The room had two queen size beds, so we had plenty of room. I slept like the dead and didn't hear a thing until after nine on Sunday morning. When I stirred and finally rose, I must have wakened Tommy. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, and then came back to give Tommy a chance.

When we had showered and shaved, we headed out for a late breakfast. Tommy's Focus was left behind, and we took my Pontiac to the nearby Denny's. This was no thrill for me. I'd seen the insides of far too many Denny's in this country, but the food was predictable and the prices reasonable. As usual, I was automatically watching my pennies.

"So, are you really going to divorce Mom and quit your job, Dad?" Tommy seemed to be having a hard time believing I was going to take such radical action.

"Yeah. Besides, if what you say is true, and your mother is cheating on me, well that's reason enough, even without being the bit ... nasty person she's been lately."

Tommy grinned. "It's okay, Dad. A bitch is a bitch, and Mom certainly qualifies."

I shook my head, having a hard time realizing we were having a conversation that I never imagined we would. "Don't think too badly of her, Tommy. I've been away so much in the past three years that I may have contributed to her deciding to stray. She's still your mother, and I don't want you to forget that."

"Yeah, well, that's real noble of you Dad, but the truth is, whether she cheated or not, you couldn't go on being treated the way she was treating you. Did she ever say she wanted you to quit traveling?"

"No ... not really."

"Well ... then I don't think she's justified in whatever caused her to act the way she has."

"How about we change the topic?"

"Okay ... what did you think about all the women that wanted to dance with you last night?"

I laughed. "They must have been desperate. But to tell the truth, it was good for my ego, and I needed that."

"Yeah, well, they thought you looked pretty cool for an old guy," he grinned. "No offense."

"None taken. I haven't been single for so long that I've forgotten what it's like."

"Doesn't look like you're going to have any trouble finding dates, if that was any indication."

"To tell the truth, Son, I'm not sure if I'm ready to look for female companionship right now. I'm still married to your mother, and I've never cheated on her in all the years we've been married. I've been tempted a few times, but I always remembered that promise I made to her in front of the preacher all those years ago. Those are things you don't forget."

"I know, Dad. I wish I believed Mom was living up to that same promise. I hope I'm wrong. Maybe I am. I hope so."

"Me too. Now let's get off this topic. We have some serious choices to make this afternoon. Like, which NFL game to watch, what kind of beer to get, where to go to dinner tonight. You know, all the important stuff." I was trying to lighten the mood from the rather gloomy topic of separation from our home.

"Well, the Bengals are in New York against the Jets. I like Miller Genuine Draft, and maybe we can find an Olive Garden nearby. How's that?"

"I can live with that. It's good to have a plan, I always say."

It was a good afternoon we spent in that motel room. I stepped out to get a dozen MGDs just before the game started. Our Bengals stomped the Jets as they continued their unexpected resurgence. Later, the Olive Garden had a nice clam fettuccini special that went well with a glass of dark red Italian wine. I can't remember a more pleasant Sunday than Tommy and I spent. It helped me keep my mind off the next morning and my confrontation with Wendell Morrison, my soon-to-be ex-boss.

I slept well that night. I didn't give Sylvia a thought, nor did I experience even a moment of guilt. I had turned off my cell phone to circumvent any attempt by her to talk to me. I had a lot to do Monday, including picking up the rest of my things from the house.

Monday dawned another cold, sunny day in southern Ohio. Tommy was up before me, off to work early so that he could grab breakfast on the way. I would have to remember to go shopping for some essentials today. We couldn't keep eating at restaurants. I showered and shaved, preparing to head to the office and present my resignation. I was strangely calm, considering the seriousness of my decision. I didn't have any doubt that I was going to do this.

I arrived at the office about twenty minutes later than my usual time, attracting the notice of quite a few people. I just didn't do that. I was noted for my predictability and punctuality. I was always a bit early, but today was a notable exception.

I sat down at my desk, oblivious to the looks that I was getting and the comments that were being directed my way. They weren't mean-spirited. I had a good relationship with virtually everyone in the office, and I had surprised them with my tardiness. I pulled the printed letter from my inside jacket pocket and looked at it once more. Only three sentences. Barely thirty words. Not much to say for twenty-four years of service to a company I once considered my one and only job. But nothing had changed from Saturday. I was going to put an end to this. Today!

I used the photocopier to make two additional copies of my letter, then walked down the hall to Wendell Morrison's office and tapped on the door. I got a gruff "come" in response.

I entered and closed the door behind me, another change in behavior. Usually the door was left open.

"Well, what is it, Copely?"

"I'm here to tender my resignation," I said quietly. I pulled the letter from my jacket pocket and handed it to my superior.

Morrison looked up at me as if I had three eyes. Almost absently he took the letter from me and continued to stare at me.

"What did you say? Resignation? What's this about, Copely?"

"Read the letter. It's self-explanatory," I replied in a calm, quiet voice.

He looked down at the folded paper and opened it. It didn't take him long to read it.

"Why are you resigning? Do you have a better job? You think this is a way to get us to pay you more, Copely?"

"Nope. I don't have a better job. I don't have any job at all. I'm just fed up with the way I'm being treated here and I've decided to quit. It's as simple as that."

"Are you crazy? In this economy? You can't afford to quit. You need this job. Who's going to pay the mortgage on your house? How are you going to put food on the table? You better think this over, Copely, before I accept it. You need us more than we need you."

"I don't need you at all, Mr. Morrison. I'm through with Faraday and Crosse. I've given you twenty-four years of loyal service, and in return, lately I've been subjected to more abuse and humiliation than I care to think about. You treat me and my colleagues like dirt. Well, enough is enough. It's up to you to decide if you want me gone today, or if you want me to finish out the next two weeks of my schedule. It's your call."

Morrison was quite red-faced at this point. I could see he didn't like my attitude at all, and was about to strike back.

"You can't talk to me like that. That's insubordination. I'll have you fired for it."

"Too late. I've already quit. So make your mind up. Do I work out my two weeks notice, or would you prefer I leave now?"

"Damn you, Copely. You know perfectly well we don't have anyone to cover your assignments. You'll work out those two weeks, that's for certain."

"Nothing is for certain any more, Mr. Morrison. And one more thing. If I find you trying to short me or cheat me in any way, I will advise my lawyer to prosecute F & C and you individually for constructive dismissal. You should look it up under Ohio labor law."

My last comment was an empty threat. I'd heard something about it on a radio talk show, and decided that my mythical lawyer could file a mythical law suit against my idiot boss. Just the same, based on how he was reacting to my comment, he seemed taken aback by my warning. Knowing how lazy he was, I doubted he would bother to look up the statutes for confirmation.

I turned and left his office without another word, closing the door quietly behind me. I sat at my desk, looked at the assignment sheet, and phoned my customers to arrange my visits in the second week. When that was done, I logged onto my computer and booked my travel, hotel, and car reservations. It was another chance to thumb my nose at the hidebound establishment that had become Faraday and Crosse.

When I handed in my expense report at the accounting office, I told them that I was resigning, but would have further expenses during the next two weeks. I stopped off at Human Resources and advised them of my resignation, giving them a copy of the letter I had handed Wendell Morrison. I also advised them that I was no longer living at my previous address and would ask that all communications be via my cell phone. I asked them to switch the bank account for the deposit of my paycheck to the account I used for my expenses, and would like that to be handled immediately.

Dana Miles, my contact in H.R., was distraught. She'd seen too many of us long-timers leave in the last few years, and her equally long service made her feel more and more alone. On the other hand, she wasn't oblivious to what was going on in the company, or with my job. She was sympathetic, but sad to see me go.

I left the office at noon and didn't return. I no longer felt any obligation to fall into my normal regimen. I was certain by now word of my quitting had circulated throughout the staff. I picked up a sandwich and a bottle of pop at the local deli and headed for my home ... my former home. I was reasonably certain that Sylvia would be at work, but just to be sure, I swung by her office and checked the parking lot. As expected, her car was there. I drove directly to the house, parking my car inside the garage and out of sight.

I prowled through the house, uncertain what I wanted from what was left. I had my clothes, toiletries, and laptop. Maybe my snow boots, gloves and hats? I suddenly realized I still had all my customer files in the little room I laughingly called an office. It was a tiny space below the stairs that housed a small desk, a two drawer file cabinet, one swivel chair and a fluorescent lamp fixture. More often than not, I had to leave the door open just to make sure there was enough oxygen in the room.

I made a quick trip to the local stationery store and purchased a pack of five legal size file boxes. I returned to the house and carefully transferred my files from the cabinet to the boxes. There were over twenty years of customer call records, repair notes, and expense reports in those files. I may just want them in future. When I finished, I put the cartons in my trunk and returned to the house.

To be honest, I was feeling pretty down when I looked around the home that Sylvia and I had shared for so many years. It all seemed such a waste. The marriage, now destined for the divorce court, wasn't all bad. Hell, a lot of it was pretty good. What caused it to fall apart? Was I to blame with all the travel? Was Sylvia? Both of us? I didn't know. The last room was our bedroom and I noticed a photo album in the closet. I hadn't looked at it in a long time. Perhaps there would be something there I wanted.

I thumbed through the pages, pulling out some pictures of Tommy and our family from happier years. It was all I wanted until I came to some loose photos. They were of Sylvia, taken by a professional photographer on the announcement of her most recent promotion. These were proofs that she had kept. I looked at them and selected a couple that I thought were quite good. I was confident that she would never miss them. Surely she wouldn't begrudge me a couple of souvenirs of our marriage. I made one last trip through to make sure I hadn't left anything I truly wanted. I left my house key, garage door opener, and wedding ring on the kitchen table.

I didn't expect to feel as down as I did driving back to the motel. Second thoughts? I didn't think so. The memories of her criticisms and derision were still fresh. Yet, I didn't have that strange feeling of euphoria I had on Saturday. I hadn't won anything. I had just chosen not to lose.

I picked up a local paper at the newsstand, and began to look for an apartment for Tommy and me. I wouldn't mind having my son as a roommate, but I wondered how it would affect his relationship with Jilly. For that matter, what if I found someone ... a woman ... someone I might become involved with? I put the thought out of my mind. I was in no position to enter a relationship with any woman until my marriage to Sylvia was resolved. That would be some months down the road.

*

My thanks to ErikThread and DaveT for their expert assistance in editing and technical advice. Any errors are mine alone.