Maxwell's Job

Maxwell loses his job and learns something new about the world.

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It was a sad day when Maxwell Zetterberg lost his job. The boss had called him just after lunch. "Max, come into my office, please."

"Yes, sir," and on his way down the hall Maxwell speculated that maybe the boss was going to give him a promotion. He had been working in Human Resources for two years, and Martha Pinson had to be about to retire. Surely he, as next in line, would take over as HR director. He had a smile on his face when he entered the boss's office.

Edmund Oriole did not look happy. "Sit down, Zetterberg."

Maxwell did what he was told. He sat on the edge of the chair in front of the boss's desk. Suddenly he had a premonition. This was probably not going to be a promotion.

"You know, Zetterberg," Mr. Oriole began, "these are difficult times here in Ashleyville. Unemployment is fairly high, and we lost the battery plant we were hoping to get here. Well, you know all that. What I need to tell you is that your services are no longer needed."

Edmund looked startled. "What? I can't believe it. What's wrong with my work?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

"Then why fire me?"

"I don't like that word, Maxwell. We're undergoing a reorganization. We have to. We needed to downsize HR, and we, that is Martha and I, thought that you would have an easier time getting a different job than, say, Dorothy, who does her work but is a bit of a plodder. We'll give you a good recommendation."

Maxwell spent the rest of the afternoon, what was left of it, packing up his stuff. He didn't even say goodbye to Martha Pinson or to Dorothy Smollett. He gave a brisk nod to each of them and went out the back door to the employees' parking lot, looking at his small pile of personal belongings--antacid, photos, pens--as he opened the car door.

Back in his apartment only a block from Ashleyville's village green, Maxwell Zetterberg took stock. He had majored in history at Ashleyville College, even though he knew that he was not going to be able to find a job as a historian. Even with a doctoral degree in history, he would have had difficulty finding a job. He had liked his job at Oriole Enterprises, makers of plastic containers, biodegradable plastic containers they boasted, though Maxwell was not sure how that worked. He turned on his computer, went to a search engine and typed Ashleyville Ohio jobs. Soon he was on a website, Ashleyville Associated Employment Opportunities. And there they were, a host of jobs he didn't particularly want: stocker of shelves; delivery person for a pizza place; roofer; janitor. He called his buddy Marty.

"Hey."

"Hey. What's up? I'm still at work." Marty was an electrician. They had met at the gym some months ago.

"Just lost my job."

"No! Sorry, buddy. Can't talk now. I'll call when I get off work."

Maxwell ended the call and stared some more at the screen. Then he decided to call Grace, his girlfriend. Maybe soon to be former girlfriend. They hadn't been seeing each other for very long anyway. What the heck. Might as well tell her.

A fourth-grade teacher, Grace would be home by now, or able to answer her phone anyway in the car or a store.

"Hi, Maxwell. What's up? Are we still going to the movies tonight?"

"I guess. Unless you don't want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to?"

"I lost my job."

"You lost your job? How come? I thought you liked the job and they liked you and everything was just dandy over there."

"I thought so too. Guess not."

"What happened?"

"Oriole told me they didn't need me. I guess I was redundant, as the British would put it."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Look for a job. I started, but all I can find online are jobs that don't require a college education."

"Oh." Then there was a long period of silence before Grace spoke again. "Well, maybe we shouldn't go to the movies tonight. Too much going on."

Maxwell was astounded. There was nothing going on. Just job hunting in a market that didn't need or want his college degree or his knowledge of the Crimean War.

He was also hurt. And lonely. "OK. See you whenever."

"Sure."

He sat staring at the computer screen again. Did she stop caring the minute he told her about the jobs available? Didn't she want to go out with a stock boy? Stock man? Stock person?

The phone rang. It was Marty.

"Hey, Marty. Are you home now?"

"Yeah. Lisa and I are going out to dinner. I have a few minutes. What happened?"

Maxwell repeated what he had told Grace. How stupid it all sounded.

When he got to the part about being a stock boy, he stopped. Did Marty have a college degree? Maybe not. At least he was an electrician. And he never made grammatical errors.

"Marty? You still there?"

"Yeah. I'm here. Listen, Max, I think you need another perspective. So you went to college, right?"

"Right."

"What did you major in?"

"History."

Marty laughed. "Just like me."

"You went to college?"

"Surprised?"

"No. Not really. Sorry."

"No worries. So I know what you've been through. When I got out of college, I started working for the local radio station."

"WASH?"

"Yep. I was a reporter. Wrote stories. Sometimes my knowledge of history came in handy. I did some human interest stories once in a while, on anniversary days, the end of World War II, that kind of thing."

"So what happened?"

"The station became affiliated with a station in Cleveland. I wasn't needed anymore. Lost my job."

"So then what?"

"That was five years ago. You know what I did first? I became a stock boy. Stock man. Stock person. I guess stocker is the safest thing to call it."

"Didn't you feel embarrassed?"

"Max, my dad had all kinds of menial jobs. So did my mom. They had to. They were proud of me when I went to college and even prouder when I graduated. And they never asked me what I was going to do with my major in history. They thought a college degree was all you needed to get a good job."

"Yeah. Maybe it used to be that way. Must be too many people with degrees right now."

"Right. It's the old supply and demand. But my parents taught me something--that all work is dignified and worthwhile and respectable as long as it's legal and the workers are doing something to keep things humming or to make things better. I didn't believe that until I lost my job. My dad told me to get a job, anything, even if I thought it was beneath me. It was good advice."

"But you're an electrician."

"While I was stocking stuff at the grocery store, I met an electrician. He got me into an apprentice program."

"And you like it?"

"Yeah. It's been pretty good."

"You don't miss your old job at the radio station?"

"Sure. Once in a while. But I keep reading history and who knows, maybe I'll write a history of Ashleyville. I don't think anyone's done that. Listen. Lisa wants to get going. I'll call tomorrow."

"OK." And then Maxwell had an epiphany. He would not wait until unemployment stopped paying. He would look for a job. Any job. Would they hire a college graduate? Maybe not, or maybe yes. But he now felt better. He didn't need to limit himself. He was willing to see where the future took him. And if the future didn't include his girlfriend, that was all right too. Her loss, he decided.

By Anita G. Gorman

From: United States

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