Tipping Point Ch. 03

Chapter 3: Moving Out and Moving On

My last week on the job was one of mixed emotions. I was busy working, but I was saying goodbye to many of the guys and gals that I had befriended over the years. I had no way of knowing if I would see any of them again, but if I did, I was confident that it would be a happy reunion. If I could take anything from my twenty-three years with F & C it would be my relationships with my customers. I really couldn't think of anyone that I wouldn't want to work with in the future. I felt very good about that. I would even miss the flirting from the women who couldn't resist teasing me.

When I arrived back at the motel on Friday afternoon I was feeling a bit down in the dumps. If that was my last week, it was a let-down. I don't know what I expected, but it didn't seem very satisfying. When I arrived at our room, Tommy and Jilly were there waiting for me. Once more, we were going to the Foresters for dinner, and that simple thing brightened my mood quite a bit.

Thanksgiving was the following week, and it would be that weekend we would be moving. Not the best timing, but with a little pre-planning, we were able to get the power turned on, the phone and cable TV hooked up, and our change of address cards filed with all the appropriate organizations.

Maureen and Dick insisted on my joining them for Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday. I hadn't been looking forward to spending it on my own. The thought crossed my mind that Sylvia would be by herself. Her parents were living in Arizona, and they seldom saw each other. She was never very close to them, and I often wondered why.

My father had passed away five years earlier. He had finally succumbed to the after effects of the Vietnam War. My mother lived with my older sister and her family in Des Moines. I had sent them a card and would call them on Thursday. It was something I did on every major holiday and their birthdays. I would see them once in a while if my work took me nearby, but that was barely twice a year lately.

I had an appointment to see Carmen on Monday morning, and for the first time, I met her mother, Teresa. She was clearly Hispanic and very beautiful, with jet black hair pulled back tightly. She instantly reminded me of Katy Jurado, a long ago Mexican actress, mostly starring in western movies. I was slightly surprised, since Carmen was light-skinned, although she shared her mother's dark eyes and shiny black hair.

"Hello, you must be Mrs. Croft. I'm Stan Copely."

"Oh, Mr. Copely, how nice to meet you. My daughter will be with you shortly. She's just finishing up with another client."

I sat in one of the chairs by the entrance and picked up a magazine. I wasn't paying much attention to it though. I was busy watching Teresa. She was in her forties, I guessed. Not much older than me, if at all. She had an elegance about her that I found irresistible. Perhaps that was how I connected her with Katy Jurado. Her presence was just like the actress ... elegant and proud.

I was still staring at her when Carmen opened the door to her office and ushered an older couple out, shaking their hands, and wishing them good luck. As they passed me, Carmen smiled and invited me in. I nodded to her mother and followed the young woman.

"So Stan, Friday was your last day. How did it go?"

"Not bad. I mean, fine, I got everything done that I was supposed to do, and I got to say goodbye to my customers. I felt a little sad about that, but ...." I left it at that.

"Good. Now we can go to work on your former employer and see if we can get you some compensation for your troubles. Have you filed your last expenses?"

"No, I'll drop that off this morning. I wanted to say goodbye to a couple of the girls in that department anyway."

"Fine. I won't file until Wednesday or Thursday, but let's go over what I'm going to claim, and you can tell me if I've got anything wrong."

She began to read the various violations of Ohio labor statutes. It was a surprisingly long list. I had no idea there were so many regulations about what employers could or couldn't do. The more I heard, the more upset I was getting at how I'd been so stupid as to accept all these "rules."

When she finished, she looked up at me. "Well, did I miss anything?" She was smiling. I think she was looking forward to the tussle with F & C.

"I can't think of anything. What do you think will happen when they see this?"

"I suppose they'll run straight to their law firm and see just how much trouble they are in. They probably will want to deny or contest a lot of these violations as imaginary, or ones that you agreed to willingly. Luckily, you have witnesses and hard copy evidence in your files."

"I do?"

"Yes. You kept copies of your e-mails and office memos that spelled out the company policies. That comprises hard evidence. Our filing with them will contain copies of those statements. I believe they are going to have a very hard time contesting your claims."

"Well, as long as they pay me enough so that I can pay you for all your work," I grinned.

"Oh, I think we'll do just fine on that, don't you worry. I'm just amazed that you put up with this for so long. You must be one tough guy." There was a hint of admiration in here voice.

"I don't know about that. More likely I was just too soft to fight it. Too willing to go along and not make waves."

"Well, you're going to be making waves now, Stan." She sat back with a big smile of satisfaction.

When I left her office, I stopped at the reception desk and thanked Teresa for her courtesy. As I left, I saw Carmen packing up her briefcase and moving out toward her mother. They looked like very happy and successful people. I envied them.

I spent a good part of Monday afternoon, Tuesday and Wednesday calling my regular customers and asking them if there was any opportunity for me to work as an individual contractor. I would hire myself out to repair, service, or even provide training on both our equipment and our competitors. Over the years, I had collected service manuals for our competitors' equipment to see what they did differently, and why their equipment might be either superior or inferior. There wasn't anything about most machines that was beyond my experience.

The answers I got were encouraging. If I could work for the same or less than what F & C and the others charged, there was business available. In fact, the way the fees were structured, I could save them quite a bit if I was able to work on more than one brand of equipment. My only problem was to work out if I could make a good business at the going rate. I needed some help with that, and I went to the source I thought would give me good advice; Carmen.

I had also conveniently forgotten that one of the benefits of working for F & C was their health plan. I wasn't a frequent user of the plan, aside from a couple of yearly visits to my dentist and my annual physical. However, there was no guarantee that things would stay that way. I would need medical coverage if I was going into business for myself.

Thanksgiving Day I slept in, then rode with Tommy to the Foresters. The big meal of the day would be served at four o'clock, and the men would watch the NFL game while the women worked in the kitchen. I noticed Tommy helped out a bit while Dick and I generally goofed off. On the other hand, my old arrangement with Sylvia was that if she made the mess in the preparation of a special meal, I'd be the one to clean it up. Tommy and I knew the drill, so we would take over after supper.

We got a bit of resistance from Maureen and Jilly, but when Tommy and Dick made the count three against two, the ladies gracefully accepted our help. We reserved the right to call on them to determine where things should be put. The three of us made fairly short work of the dishes, pots and pans, much of it ending up in the dishwasher, but there was plenty of other items to hand wash and dry.

By six o'clock, it was all over except the coffee. I was stuffed, and I could tell Dick and Tommy were as well. Maureen was a very fine cook and the food was irresistible. I declined a second glass of wine, knowing it would probably put me to sleep after a meal like that. The coffee was strong and the only way to keep me awake.

On Friday, I called Carmen's office, but it was closed for the Thanksgiving weekend. I left a voice mail requesting an appointment to discuss setting up my own business. I assumed they would get it Monday morning. In the meantime, Tommy was working Friday, while Saturday was our "move day." We didn't expect to be more than three or four hours with the move, so Jilly and my son would have some time to themselves on the weekend.

I decided to avoid the shopping areas and chose to do something I hadn't done in at least five years. I went skating. I remembered sticking my skates in a box of miscellaneous items that I took from the house and it only took a couple of minutes to find them and dust them off. The blades appeared to be sharp, so I was all set.

There was a community rink a couple of miles west of the motel and it was open for public skating from 1pm to 5pm this week on Friday and Sunday. I was looking forward to it again. Sylvia didn't skate and didn't want to learn. I used some of my Sunday afternoons to skate before my travel schedule got in the way, while my wife decided to stay home. She said it was too cold to sit in the stands and just watch me go around and around.

I pulled on the skates and it was nice to feel how familiar they were. I had learned to skate when I was five or six, and played organized hockey all the way through high school. I was usually assigned to the defense because I was one of the few who could quickly transition from skating forward to backwards. I enjoyed the game and the camaraderie of playing on a team. When high school ended, so did my hockey.

I did a bit of stretching, just as I had been taught more than twenty five years earlier, and then stepped on the ice. It was an enjoyable experience to glide along the frozen surface once again. The rink was crowded, easily more than fifty skaters, young and old. Little girls practiced their spins in the middle of the rink, while young boys raced around the outside, showing off to their girlfriends. The adults just slipped quietly along, enjoying the motion and smoothness.

I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings as I skated. I was thinking about what I wanted to do now that I had made two very big decisions for my future. So it was no surprise that I didn't notice the woman skating beside me, keeping pace with my leisurely stride.

"Do you come here often, Mr. Copely?"

I turned in surprise and saw it was Teresa Croft. "Oh ... hello. I didn't see you there, Mrs. Croft."

"It's Teresa. May I call you Stan?"

"Yes, of course. And to answer your question, this is the first time I've been skating in over five years. My wife didn't skate, so ...."

"It's my favorite exercise in the winter months. When the weather's nice, I walk. Right now, that's not very pleasant."

"No ... I guess not. I like to skate too. I'd forgotten how much until I laced up today. I almost feel like I should have a stick in my hands. Maybe I'll try and find a beer league to join."

"What's a beer league?"

"Just a bunch of guys who like to play hockey. No hitting, no slap shots, and no practices. Just perfect for a bunch of over-the-hill guys who don't ever plan to grow up," I grinned.

"So it's fun, then. That sounds like a very good idea. Good therapy for stress."

"Yeah. That's the idea. Work off a little steam, have some fun and exercise. I haven't had the time in the last while, but if I can find a team, I think I'll join."

"Good for you, Stan. Get back into circulation with your friends and enjoy yourself. Trust me, it worked for me."

"Oh ... how so?"

"When my husband and I divorced, I was pretty down. I got talked into joining a ladies only club. We went for walks, played cards, and had social nights at each others' houses. It did me a lot of good. Stopped me from brooding about my failed marriage."

"Yeah ... I can see how that would help. My first goal is to find a new job. I'm going to talk to Carmen about starting my own company. I think I've got a chance to make a go of it on my own. At least I'd be my own boss."

"Wonderful! Good for you, Stan. And here's some more good news. I can help you with that. You don't need a lawyer to do what you want to do. My status as a paralegal can look after it ... and I work cheaper than Carmen," she laughed.

"Great. Then let me know when I can make an appointment to talk to you about it." I was enthusiastic about Teresa's quick response and offer of assistance. On top of that, I would get professional advice from a movie star look-alike.

"Is Monday too soon?" she asked with a smile.

"Nope. Name a time and I'll be there."

"Nine o'clock too early?"

"Nine o'clock it is. Do I need to bring anything?"

"No ... just your usual information; Social Security, home address, and ... oh, I forgot. Do you have a permanent address?"

"I'm moving tomorrow. I have an apartment I'll be sharing with my son. He's moved out too. I also have a new phone number, so I guess we should be able to do all the paperwork."

She smiled as we skated along. As we reached the end of the rink and began our turn, two young boys went speeding past, one of them bumping Teresa's shoulder and knocking her off balance. I saw it happen and reached for her to steady her, holding her arm in one hand, my arm around her back to keep her from falling.

"Are you hurt?" I didn't think she was, but wanted to make sure.

"No. Just surprised. Thank you for catching me. Falling on the ice is no fun."

I was pleased that she was all right, and then a bit surprised she hadn't made any move to separate us. Reluctantly, I let go of her, and then took my arm from her back. I was tense from the quick reaction to her loss of control and the unexpected close contact with an attractive woman. We were silent for a few strides.

"Maybe you should hold onto my hand ... in case it happens again," she said, turning to me.

My smile told her I thought that was a good idea. I held out my hand and she took it. She was wearing thin, soft leather gloves, and the warmth of her hand was evident as I held it.

We skated together for a while longer until I suggested we take a rest and have a hot chocolate at the concession. She agreed and we walked awkwardly across the rubber matting to an unoccupied table. She sat while I ordered the two drinks and returned.

"I don't remember the last time I had a nice afternoon like this. I'm glad you saw me. It's made this very pleasant. I'll have to do this more often," I said.

"Thank you. I'm having a very nice time too. Usually, I come here on Sunday afternoon, so I'll probably be back here then."

"Would it bother you if I was here as well?" I didn't want her to think I was stalking her, but wouldn't mind spending some time with her.

"No. We could skate together again. I'd like that." She smiled, and that recurring image flashed through my mind. I was looking at her closely, mentally comparing the two very attractive women from a very different time.

"I know this is going to sound corny ... or maybe phony, but ... you resemble a movie star I've always admired."

"Oh, Stan. Is that the best you can do? Me ... look like a movie star? I don't think so," she laughed.

"No ... really. Her name is ... was ... Katy Jurado. She was in a lot of westerns ... even High Noon. She almost always played a Mexican woman ... I guess because she was Mexican. She looked so completely different from all the other actresses. Like you, she had beautiful eyes. I had a crush on her when I was a kid. I loved western movies and I would never miss one on TV if she was in it. Anyway, they haven't made any westerns in a long time, so I collect all the old ones on DVD and watch them at home."

She laughed again. "I'll have to look this Katy person up on the Internet. Maybe I could be a star if they ever bring back cowboy movies again."

"That's not beyond the realm of possibility ... you being a star I mean. I'm not so sure about them bringing back the old westerns though. But ... you never know."

We talked for a while as the ice was being resurfaced. She knew about my problems at home, but didn't pry. I didn't ask her about her failed marriage either. I didn't want to spoil the mood. For the third time this week, I was enjoying myself, and I would get to do it again on Sunday.

We went back on the ice, but nearing four o'clock, she said it was time for her to go home and get supper ready. Carmen and her boyfriend would be joining her tonight.

"Guess what I'm serving?" she said.

"Turkey leftovers," I guessed, and we both laughed. I was right.

I prepared to go home shortly after Teresa left. I scanned the bulletin board for any sign that some of the beer league teams were looking for players and found a couple of notes with tear-off phone numbers. I would call them tomorrow and see what it was about.

Saturday dawned cold and cloudy. No sign of rain, the weatherman said. Tommy and Jilly showed up just after nine and we prepared ourselves for the move. I thought ten o'clock would be late enough that it wouldn't bother Sylvia when we arrived to pick up the furniture. I was expecting an awkward moment when we appeared on the doorstep, but it couldn't be helped.

Tommy backed his friend's van into the driveway. I knew it was up to me to ring the doorbell, so I took a deep breath and pushed the button. I heard the chime and waited. It didn't take that long before the door opened and Sylvia stood there in her housecoat. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed. It wasn't a very flattering appearance.

"Oh, hello Stan. I suppose you want me to open the garage door," she said in a dull, lifeless voice.

"Please."

She turned and walked away toward the connecting door to the garage, and in a moment, the door began to open. Taking advantage of her absence, I moved to the garage and led Tommy in to assess what we would load first and how we would load it. Sylvia was standing at the inside door to the laundry room and watching us.

"I put some old towels and blankets over by the side. You can use them to protect the furniture," she said. It was an unexpected thoughtfulness on her part.

"Thanks." I wasn't about to engage in conversation with her if I could help it.

We loaded the van fairly quickly, noting that we would have at least one more load to go. Sylvia had disappeared, so we left with the door open, assuming she would close it at some point.

It took less than an hour to get to the apartment and move the furniture into the various rooms. We left Jilly there to decide where things should go and returned to our former home. The garage door was still open when we arrived. Tommy and I quickly loaded the remaining furniture, having just barely enough room for it and ourselves. I was about to leave when I decided to let Sylvia know we were finished.

I rang the chime once more and she appeared within a few seconds.

"We're all done, Sylvia. Thank you for letting us have the furniture. It's a big help."

She nodded, a forlorn look on her face. "After you get settled, maybe we should talk. I need to know what comes next, Stan."

I sighed and nodded. "Yes ... you're right. We need to talk. I'll call you next week after we've got ourselves organized."

And that was the extent of our conversation. I walked to the van and climbed in. Tommy looked at me, but I said nothing. He put the van in gear and we drove slowly away from our home of over twenty years. Neither of us looked back. We checked out of the motel on the way back to our new address. I wouldn't miss it.