“The Bush Job Solution…”

Freddy Brown did what any good college graduate would do when he went out looking for a job, he went to a personnel office.

There were personnel offices all around the place.

And he wasn’t quite sure what to do except he knew he didn’t want to empty bed pans.

Freddy looked around. It looked pleasant enough. He went up to the desk and a nice looking woman, in her fifties, asked him if he would like an application and he shook his head.

She handed him a form that was several pages long along with a sharpened pencil and gestured for him to take a seat in the back.

Freddy sauntered over to the rear seats, noting that they were just about all full.

Hmmm, he thought, wondering what was so popular about this place.

Of course, he was in a city and most of the jobs had moved out of the city.

So this place must know the ropes because it looked like they were thriving.

Freddy looked at the form.

Wow! He thought, they really ask some personal questions.

Has he ever been sick?

What was the extent of his illness?

Was he on medications?

Did he serve his country?

Did he have any disabilities?

All of these questions before they even began to ask him whether he could do a job.

That was kind of depressing, he thought.

Anyway, he slugged it out with the forms doing the best he could.

He felt kind of washed out when it was over as if he had laid bare his most intimate thoughts.

But he guessed that’s how it was done today.

He walked up to the secretary and passed her the forms.

She smiled and said take a seat we will be with you shortly.

Freddy waited about 45 minutes and nothing happened.

This was worse than the doctor he thought.

Finally, some young man, not much older than himself, came out to wave him into a little cubby at the rear of the office.

It led him to believe that he was being handed down to the lowest ranking interviewers at the office.

What’s more, the interviewer, he could tell, was a Brit like everyone else employed here.

Why a Brit he wondered. Wasn’t there enough people in his town to staff this job?
Or was this a NAFTA deal—payback for Britain’s helping us in the Gulf?

Well, at least he was getting somewhere.

The young man looked at him and smiled.

Freddy smiled back.

They kept it up for the better part of five minutes.

Finally, the young man asked, “How may I help you?”

Freddy thought he should know that from his papers.

“I’m here to see about a job.”

“Okay, that’s a start” the young man replied.

“That was the answer I wanted to hear. Nobody can accuse you of not being on the ball, Mr. Brown.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Freddy, started to worry.

“Okay, moving on, what kind of job do you want?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure.”

And then the young man started to bob his head like a bird over and over again, and started clearing his throat.

“I see….I see” he said.

And Freddy smiled.

And the young man smiled.

“Okay, Mr. Brown, is it?”

“That’s right!”

‘Tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Well, it’s all there.”

“I know but I would like you to tell me in your own words.

“For example, why did you come here?”

“I saw your ads.”

“Very good! Very good….”

“Go on….go on!’

“Well, I just graduated college.”

“Ah, you were going to keep that to yourself, were you?

“And what was your major.”

“Science….”

The interviewers face lit up!

“Well done; well done.


“How about your grade average.”

“3.90 out of a possible 4.00.”

“Way to go. Way to go.

Then getting serious all of a sudden, the interviewer stopped at stared hard at Freddy Brown.

“Okay, what are you looking to do.”

“I don’t know. “

“Ah, that is the conundrum is it not?”

“I guess.”

“Okay, okay….. We’ll work our way around that!

“What are your interests?

“Do you speak a foreign language.”

“Spanish…”.

“Hmmm, nothing esoteric like Farsi, Pashtun or Ukrainian….”

“Not really.”

“Ah, too bad. What else can you tell me?.

“Do you like sports?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you play?”

“Basketball, just a little.”

“Are you good?”

“Average.”

“Too bad. I had a good spot for a good basketball player who spoke Spanish with a background in Science.

“Okay, let’s not get our hopes down….”

“You are good in science are you not.”

“Yes!”

“Very good. Would you mind taking a little test?”

“When?”

“Now?”

“Okay!”

“We’ll just put you in that little corner over there and hit the buzzer when you’ve completed the quiz. This is timed as well so don’t dally. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“Here’s the test. Carry on.”


“Thank you.”

Ten minutes go by.

“How are you doing, Mr. Freddy?”.

“No, it’s Brown. Freddy Brown.”

“Ah, yes, sorry. How are you doing Mr. Brown.”

“Good. I’ve finished.”

Checker checks his watch.

“Right on. Good show!”

The young man gathers the test.

“Wait here please.”

“Okay.”

In twenty minutes, the interviewer comes out beaming from ear to ear.

“How did I do?”.

“You did very well, Mr. Brown. Very well, indeed.”

“Did I qualify?

“Ah, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

“Yes, you don’t know how lucky you are.

“Don’t I?”

“You’ve qualified for a very good entry position with a highly regarded company.”

‘Wonderful!”

“Wonderful doesn’t begin to describe it.

“Yes, you could even start in two weeks.

“There is only one tiny little hitch.”

“Yes, and that is?”

“Do you like curry?”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, you wouldn’t be working here. Initially, that is.”.

“Huh?”

“Well, if you are accepted, they may assign you here.”

“I see. Well, that sounds okay.”

“Then you have no problem going to Bangladesh?”

“Bangladesh? Where is that?”

“It’s somewhat overseas….”

“What do you mean somewhere overseas”

“Well, you see you go there and if they like you and hire you,
they may ask that you agree to work here.”.

“You mean I have to go to Bangladesh to work here?”

“Something like that, yes. And if they hire you, they will arrange to pay you back.”

“I see if they hire me. That is still the big ‘if’.”…..

“Yes, and then they may ask you to work for an American firm.”

“Why doesn’t the American just hire me? Wouldn’t be quite right, would it? I mean according to the rules…”

“Why not?”

Oh, they can’t. They have the Indian firms for that.”

“I think I’m beginning to get it. If I prove out as a good American worker, the Indians may hire me.”

“Yes, so far so good.”

“And they may choose to send me back to America to work.”

“That’s it. Perfect. You’re a fast lad. Are you not?”

“Yes, but I don’t understand it.”

“Ours is not to understand, you know. We do as we are told.”

“In order to get a job in the US.”

“Yes, it’s the dawn of a new day in America.”

“And the Indian companies are the new gatekeepers to the best American jobs?”

“Seems so.”


“The only thing is that I will have to go to Bangladesh so I will need a Visa.”

A Visa….yes, indeed. It is part of the law. And, just think, if it works out, you will be able to participate in the American dream…”.

“I guess. But somehow it seems a little different than it was in my dad’s day.”

“Hey, this is a new world, my young friend, and we all have to adjust.
Just think about what our forefathers had to go through.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Okay, here’s the Visa application, a language book and the short guide to Bangladesh at low tide. Good luck, young man. Contact us when you get there.”

“And oh by the way, I forgot to mention that under this new plan, you pay our fee and the training required for the American job if you get it.”

“But I don’t have any money.”

“Why didn’t you say so and spare us all this time.”

“I didn’t think of it.”


“Next!”


Les Aaron
The Armchair Curmudgeon


Les Aaron