Irving Thackerman Parking Lot Impresario (Short Story – Part III)

                                                                                 Word Count: 1149

      Milo’s computer programmer job made his investigation quite convenient. For one thing, hacking into the city-planning computer hard drives proved to be an easy task once he snuck into the offices. The evidence he dug up was quite revealing, and he told Irving he needed a second visit to find more information. A week later, Milo insisted they go out to lunch instead of doing a brown bag thing.

     Irving was perplexed by his friend’s extreme paranoia. “So why all the secrecy? Doris was going to provide me with a special mushroom lasagna for today’s lunch until I said I’d be going out instead.”

     “I managed to dig up all sorts of revealing information, and it isn’t a plan to erect a statue in your honor in case you’re wondering.”

     “Ok.”

     “My buddy had to rush me off one computer since I spent almost too much time logged onto it and he was afraid I’d get caught.”

     “That’s part of the reason you had to go back, isn’t it?”

     “Yup. Turns out I found a list of employees the city wants to have disappear. Guess whose name is on that record?”

     An unusual sinking feeling suddenly engulfed Irving. Looking back on his life, he never had any intention in the first place to be with the parking bureau for so long. Like lots of things though, those years slip away when you’re not taking notice. Pretty soon you’ve been in one position that feels like a comfortable pair of slippers on your feet. Almost as suddenly, the thought of everything being yanked out from underneath you puts the fear of uncertainty directly in the face of your psyche. “I’m on the list aren’t I?”

     “Towards the top. Which basically means you’re one of the first people they want to have wandering the local mall out of boredom six months from now.”

     “Damn.”

     “It gets worse. This new liaison position they’ve created is just a ruse to get you to jump ship before your pension kicks in. That way the amount of money you collect is lessened because you quit before obtaining the golden watch.”

     “They’d do that to me?”

     “Of course. Most of the people working downtown went to law school. Morals are something their grandmother told them about over cookies & milk.”

     “I can’t believe this?”

     “The city bureaucrats will deliberately not steer much activity your way once you’ve started heading this new department. Then you’ll get disenchanted and quit. Best case scenario; yesterday, or right before you’re private subsidy becomes retroactive.”

     Irving reached for extra sugar to put in his iced tea. Figuring it might drown his sorrows. “Can’t get much worse, can it?”

     “Not necessarily. I also came across an e-mail that was sent to the head of the entire city-planning department, Neil McMaster. We all know him by the moniker “McBastard.” It concerns you.”

     “How so?”

     “About a year ago a contractor in Chicago that builds parking facilities sent McBastard and the City an e-mail asking if they could contact you about doing some outside consulting work for them.”

     Irving was blown away. “Really?”

     “Although your salary doesn’t reflect it, you’ve established quite a reputation within the car parking intelligentsia of most major cities.”

     “Me?”

     Milo had a look of glee as he spoke. “ I made a copy of the e-mail McBastard passed along to Personnel and I quote; “Irving Tackerman working for the City of Los Angeles is considered by many to be the authority on the construction of parking structures and going through bureaucratic channels to get them built.”

     “Almost makes me sound like an expert.”

     “You said it, not me.”

     “So why didn’t McMaster and the people he passed this e-mail on to follow up on it? Give the Chicago folks permission to contact me?”

     “Oh I’m sure the forwarded e-mail was safely buried in a file of, “To Get To” stuff. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what whomever got the duplicate didn’t do. Instead they let it sit there, and then after awhile forgot it was sent to them. Left it firmly embedded inside the Inbox languishing.”      

      “So I suppose I should feel good about being wanted, but then again not wanted?”

     “More unwanted actually. Remember, the big wigs in City government want to get rid of you, so you should feel rejected.”

     “That’s reassuring.”

      “Thanks. Always happy to accommodate.”

      “So what do you suggest I do at this point?”

     Milo smiled. “Glad you asked. I’ve formulated a scheme that’ll work.”

_______________

     Another week passed before Irving contacted, and was granted an appointment with Neil McMaster. Specifically to talk about early retirement from The City of Los Angeles.

     McMaster agreed to the meeting because he remembered an earlier conversation he had with Irving at the Cities’ Personnel Picnic three years previously. Irving told him about Doris’ involvement in her U.F.O. cult and McMaster was curious to know the latest. Irving on the other hand, wasn’t interested in telling him what was new in that area. He had more important matters to discuss.

     The day after the fateful meeting in which McMaster reluctantly agreed to part with Irving and his enclosed automobile expertise, he received an e-mail from the Chicago firm of, Wiley Parking Construction.  That Saturday Irving went to dinner with his soon-to-be former work colleague Milo.

     “So it worked perfectly?” asked Milo. ”I had a feeling it would.”

     “Except for telling McMaster Doris left me last month to join the cult full-time, things went swimmingly.”

     “Good. What about him having you retire?”

     “No problem. When that first meeting ended, he was hesitant about letting me go. Then he got the e-mail from Chicago in response to the fake one we sent them through McMaster’s computer. I’m sure things changed because of that.”

     Milo smiled “Actually that was a good strategy having me get back on McBastard’s computer. Wiley Construction needed permission before contacting you. Did McBastard call you after he got the e-mail from Chicago?”

    “Yup. Said he was sorry to see me go, but understood.”

    “I hope so. When you told him Wiley is going to pay you big mullah to be a parking consultant, did he say anything? He should’ve felt guilty about having you all these years at an embarrassingly reduced rate. Probably not if I know him.”

     “I’ve decided to move to Chicago.”

     “I figured you would. You know they have seasons there? Not boringly blue skies like it is here.”

     “I’ll adjust,” said Irving.

     “Who would’ve thought being an authority on car parking could lead to something like this?”

     “Not me.”

END

{Strangely enough}