There was this man, Josh. He worked in an office answering telephones. He sold diet pills. He sold miracles. He was a miracle worker. He was in his mid thirties. He had short, curly hair, a neat beard and brilliant, brown eyes. He wanted to change the world, but he wanted out of the miracle industry. He had little money and could not afford to quit.
He came into his office on a Monday morning with lazy enthusiasm. Josh walked past the receptionist, past the water cooler, past the boss’s door that was closed and straight to his cube. He turned his computer on and sighed as he stared at his muted reflection in the blank screen. The monitor lit up and he logged into his computer. He browsed the internet. He was agitated by all of the political rhetoric being strewn about the world.
He briefly thought to himself, that he would make a great candidate. One that would not vote strictly on a specified agenda. One that would vote on the populace. The issues that the American people wanted. He would be a party of the people.
His phone rang and he was taken out of his day-dream. It was his boss. He wanted to see him. He wanted to see him immediately. His door was still closed. Josh knocked. A muffled voice invited him in. Josh sat down at the chair of the boss’s desk.
“Baer?” he said.
“That a Jewish name?”
“Not really sure, not very religious.”
“How can you not know where your name comes from?” he asked.
“Not sure I really ever asked.”
“That is strange. Any way. I called you in here because we need to talk about your performance.”
“It appears that the latest numbers have not been going well for you.”
“We’re in the midst of a recession.”
“My boss doesn’t care about that. Problem is, your numbers have been slipping for a while.”
“I see. Well, sir, I know that I can bring them back up. You can have faith in me.”
“My boss doesn’t have faith, Baer. I’m sorry, but we are just going to have to let you go.”
“Let me go?”
“Yes, let you go.”
“Okay. I’ll pack my things.”
“I let you go in the midst of a recession and you just say, okay.”
“It’s out of our hands now, isn’t it. Nothing we can do. I’ll land on my feet. I usually seem to.” Josh shook the boss’s hand and left his office to pack his things. He left quietly and met his brother Peter for a drink.
That sat at the bar and drank their beer and picked at a bowl of peanuts.
“That job was kind of bullshit anyway, wasn’t it?” Peter asked.
“Uh, yeah. It was a job, but I have been kind of wanting to get out.”
“Well, here you go.”
“Here I go.”
“What do you want to do when you grow up Josh?”
“I don’t know, man. I’m 35 years old. Not sure where else I can go at this point.”
“Jesus, I thought you were 33.”
“You got to stay out of the water, bro, it’s killing your brain.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a surfer.”
“That’s it. I’ve never wanted to always, be something.”
“You can come back and build houses with dad and I.”
“I tried that, and I just don’t know. I hated every second of it.”
“You’re too smart for it, anyway.” Peter said. A commercial came on for a local election. Josh looked up at it and started to dream again. Peter noticed the commercial as well. “Maybe you should just run for office.” He laughed.
“What? You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? I just got fired and I’ve always kind of wanted to help people. Why can’t I?”
“Right. Come on. You can’t be that drunk. We’ve only been here,” he looks at his watch, “Shit! We’ve been here for five hours. Helen’s going to kill me.”
“Peter. We’re doing this.” He grabbed his arm and looked in his eye. Peter knew at that point that this was going to happen. They were going to run for office.
“Well, I guess we will shoot to be the new, Jewish Kennedys.”
“Are we Jewish?” Josh asked.
They left the bar. Josh was so excited that he walked straight home and went straight to the computer to begin working on ideas for the campaign. He sat, with a drunken smile. He typed ferociously and when satisfied went to bed.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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