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This is a short story I entered into the Jamie Cat Callan Humorous Writing category of the Soul Making Keats Literary contest (an extended community arts outreach program of the National League of American Pen Women). I was lucky enough to receive an Honorable Mention for the piece, in addition to also receiving an honorable mention for the latest long form manuscript I submitted to their Joanne Catherine Scott novel excerpt category.

 

This version of the short story is a complete re-write of an earlier missive I wrote way back in 2013. The initial writing of that tale was a complete kick in the pants, and the re-written version you’re about to indulge in was more fun than most people have in a year!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Word Count: 2492

 

 

Obscure Subject,
But Still An Expert

 

Some people won’t admit it, but they love saying they’re an expert at something. The type of person people look up to as “the” authority on a subject no other person has even the slightest knowledge of. In some cases, the subject is so obscure that no one really cares that this person happens to be a specialist.

This was the situation for Ira Phelps, a city of Los Angeles employee in the enclosed car department, or “Automobile parking” if one wants to get technical. A trivial topic if ever there was one, and the subject of no documentaries. Maybe the ones you see on the History Channel at 3:00 am when they need to fill programming space.

Ira never intended to be a City hireling for twenty-eight years. He figured he’d work in L.A. for a year, and then go back to school to pursue his interests in kitchen appliance design. Followed by a rewarding career as a distributor of stand-up freezers and self-sanitizing trash compactors.

But that didn’t happen. Ostensibly because he met Doris; his chef, bottle washer, and companion for the next twenty-seven years. The parking Bureau job was a steady paycheck.

They thought about making their live-in arrangement legal by tying the knot, but Doris’ friends told her the apocalypse was coming. The U.F.O. cult they belonged to specifically stated that only unmarrieds would be returned to the mother planet.

The first ten years Ira worked for the City, he labored in the accommodation wing of the parking bureau. This branch’s main task was shuffling paper in an attempt to set aside areas adjacent to thoroughfares. Thus ensuring that residents would have spots to park their automobiles, then take advantage of the highly efficient, well-organized, mass transit system.

They accomplished this task in two major ways. First, by increasing the size of bus stop benches along all major routes, and secondly by purchasing more land holdings along sides of the freeways. This would guarantee that every major freeway in the L.A. Basin would increase in both width and size.

The directive to enhance the size of bus stop benches (which Ira had a hand in) would end up having a positive secondary advantage. By increasing the overall bench size, they inadvertently anticipated an increase to the size of people’s derrieres. Years later the cities’ transit director would compliment Ira for expecting this to happen.

The increase to the size of the cities freeways wouldn’t be quite as positive an enhancement. In time, it led to the creation of a massive system of roadways interconnecting all parts of southern California. Forcing people to use individual driving for most transportation needs.

This wasn’t Ira’s problem though. A staff shake-up resulted in him being transferred into another department within the parking bureau. Since he was a small fish in a big ocean, this duties change didn’t have much of an effect upon his overall status within city government. Most people still didn’t know his first name, let alone whether or not his transfer would influence operation of the department.

The decade he spent working in the allocation wing of the parking bureau did enhance his overall knowledge of the subject. Slowly, but surely Ira Phelps was getting more and more learned concerning the “ins” and “outs” of automobile parking. The next transfer would bring that knowledge to an even higher level.

As part of the cities efforts to improve its appearance, the design and installation of new parking structures became an entire department within the Bureau. Ira’s great grandmother happened to be Cree Indian, and the City of L.A.’s parking director desperately needed to increase the number of minorities in his department. Additionally, a strong urge to hire from within influenced his decision to grab Phelps up directly during a big staff shake-up. The parking Structure Director was also one of those who didn’t know Phelps’ first name, so he came across the Cree background knowledge while perusing staff files.

Ira didn’t design each new parking structure since he didn’t have an architectural background, but he was knowledgeable about the geography of L.A.’s freeways. Thus he became a go-between for the architects and officials wanting to locate new enclosed car buildings, a new-parking facilities middleman.

This position proved to be Ira’s longest posting, as he would work for the new structures department until circumstances precipitated certain changes in his life. In the meantime, the next twenty-two years proved extremely productive.

The new structures department built and phased into operation a series of parking facilities that closely emulated famous architectural sites throughout the world. Including a concrete Eiffel Tower where autos that parked towards the top of the tower won a lottery to do so, an Empire State unit, and a Taj Mahal-like facility. This model even included a reflecting pool, as did the Sydney Opera House parking duplicate-which was surrounded by a moat emulating the original’s harbor.

This form of parking structure design wasn’t without its share of controversy. Right after the Wailing Wall structure was completed, equal billing/hasty construction for a Dome of the Rock, Mormon Tabernacle, Buddhist Temple, and Vatican Square parking facilities ocurred.

Then all Hell broke loose when it was discovered that the Washington Monument parking facility was secretly sponsored by a sexual prophylactic company. Ira was forced to play diplomat in this situation, as he did during the religious parking wars of ’00-’01.

The program proved to be extremely popular though. Construction of The Guggenheim parking structure was wildly successful. The Big Ben Parking unit even had a working clock, Finally, the Berlin Wall facility got constructed in record time because the parking bureau encouraged local youth to paint graffiti all over the outside of the structure.

 

During all this time, Ira kept improving his knowledge of new and innovative ways to construct automobile parking spaces. Each opportunity presented him with a greater challenge, and he began to relish problems with a kid-in-a-candy-store zeal. This still didn’t stop the higher ups in city government from deciding to transfer Ira once again. This time it sure felt like they had other motives at work too.

The New Structures Department of the Parking Bureau during a fifteen-minute coffee break, which methodically turned into a half hour:

“So the folks upstairs are giving you the boot?” asked Milo Hiaasen, Ira’s buddy, and person he always seemed to be bouncing ideas off of.

Ira half-heartedly smiled. “Well not quite. They want me to take over a new department the city wants to create.”

“Oh how exciting,” Milo was a master at speaking effeminately. “Do tell.”

“Some of the big boys from the downtown office met with me on Tuesday. They’ve created a department that acts as a go-between for city planners and us worker bees in the outer parking bureau. “I’ll be headin’ up the whole shootin’ match,” as cowpokes used to say. Pretty nifty eh?”

“I assume by nifty you’re referring to a pay raise?”

“Actually we didn’t talk about that particular subject. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind about how this is supposed to affect me.”

“Well why not? Money isn’t everything, but it makes things a little bit more tolerable. Particularly when one has to shovel lots of ####.”

All of a sudden, Milo’s enquiry gave Ira a different perspective. He reached across the lounge table for that last donut. Eating it might give

him a different outlook. “Maybe I should examine this from another angle. You got any ideas?”

“Maybe I’m being paranoid, but the current situation tells me, “something smells rotten in the state of Denmark,” as Willie Shakespeare put it. I’ve got this friend who slaves away at three jobs in order to put his kids through college.”

“How noble.”

“I think so too. One of those jobs happens to be the night janitor at the city planning offices downtown.”

“What you getting at?”

“ I’ve always wanted to play detective, see how good I look in a fedora and trench coat. I’m going to tag along when he does his night shift this coming Friday. Do some sniffing to see if anything smells.”

________________

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. 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 the brown bag thing.

Chic Bistro, L.A.’s new lunchtime eatery and the place to hang out in the hopes of catching a glimpse of a second tier celebrity:

Ira 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 entree until I said I’d be going out instead.”

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

“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 Ira. 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?”

“Right at 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.”

Ira 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 McMichael. 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.”

Ira 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?”

Hiaasen had a look of glee as he spoke. “ I made a copy of the e-mail McBastard passed along to Personnel and I quote; “Ira Phelps 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 in 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 Ira 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 Ira at the Cities’ Personnel Picnic three years previously. Ira told him about Doris’ involvement in her U.F.O. cult and McMaster was curious to know the latest. Ira 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 Ira and his enclosed automobile expertise, he received an e-mail from the Chicago firm of, Wiley Parking Construction. That Saturday Ira went to dinner with his soon-to-be former work colleague Milo.

Moo Shu Guy, L.A.’s premier Chinese restaurant:

“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 Ira.

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

“Not me.”