Where are American Jobs?

Seriously in the tank after and over indulgence of the chemically induced, in which proceeded three holes of golf, (See, “You Can’t Have Any Borders without a Fence.”) the Scarecrow and I headed down a highway in his red convertible.

“So you’ve been down on your luck,” he said.

“I have. Been very hard to keep or even get a job really with you and the other three constantly showing up.”

“Not by our choice,” he responded then gave me a hard look. “Well any way, I have an acquaintance that I’ve recently talked to and he said he could probably help you out. That is, if you wish?”

“Boy, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need any help.”

“What no argument?”

“Tough times are tough times,” I responded shrugging my shoulders.

With that we sped on down the road and eventually arrived at a gated driveway with a house looking bigger than the White House sitting beyond it. The Scarecrow hit a call button and a voice responded quickly and opened up the gates.

We pulled up in front of the large home and got out of the car and walked to the front door where I man in his late fifties met us.

“HST,” he greeted the Scarecrow with a hand shake.

“Well met Arnold,” the Scarecrow returned the gesture.

“And you must be Venley Hobbs,” Arnold said turning to me.”

“I am, hello,” I greeted shaking his hand.

“Come now you two. Mrs. Shaffer has put out a spread for us, and HST she went to the market and picked up some fresh grape fruit for you.”

“Well God bless her for that.”

We walked into the museum, hum, hum, I mean home and made our way through rooms filled with antiquities and treasures. The man was loaded and I was thanking God at that point because I believed the Scarecrow had really set me up nice. The dining hall, hum, hum, I mean room was set for the company of kings and queen and not really for two people of the likes of the Scarecrow and I. The meal upon the table was vast in variety and flavors and without any conversation of any importance we all indulged until the belts we wore started to sound, signaling to us, the expansion of our waist lines.

“BMW cars I have fifteen lots all in the area. You can’t buy a BMW in these parts without coming to see me,” said Arnold over coffee.

“That’s not all he owns Venley, but that’s where he’d like to give you a job,” added the Scarecrow.

“What do you want me to do wash the cars or something?” I asked.

Arnold chuckled in response and then said, “No Venley I want you to sell them.”

“Are you serious?” I asked,” I’ve never sold cars before.

“They’re BMWs they’ll sell themselves.”

Without out to much thought I agreed and again the conversation turned into one of lesser importance. After we had drowned ourselves in the alcoholic seas of tranquility and as the hours grew late the man Arnold said he’d put us up for the night and then had his servant Edward show us to our apartments, hum, hum, I mean rooms.

2.

The next day I awakened to the sound of my door slamming onto the carpeted floor. The Scarecrow had kicked it down.

“You are one heavy sleeper,” he said throwing me a grapefruit.

“Did that really warrant you kicking down the door?”

“Yes,” he said then walked away, yelling “Hurry up!” as he did.

After noticing a well pressed suit folded over a chair and a little wondering of; if the door was unlocked (Someone had to put the suit there.) why the hell did he have to kick it down? I mean really what’s wrong with that guy? Anyway I dressed myself in the suit and then headed outside where I met the Scarecrow who was now behind the wheel of a BMW. No changing the man though, it was still red and it was still a convertible. I got in the car seeing he had resupplied the back seat with the usual props of guns, grenades, bottles upon bottles of Wild Turkey, and a medical bag filled with more drugs then a Walgreens. I got in the passenger seat and we headed off to one of Arnold’s BMW dealerships.

The first thing I noticed as we pulled up to the Newark Airport parking lot, hum, hum, I mean the dealership were four homeless men sitting with backs against a two foot high wall that went around the entirety of Rhode Island, hum, hum, I mean lot. For some reason the four stuck in my mind as we drove through the miles and miles of cars until we got to the building that held the moon, hum, hum, I mean sign that read Arnold’s BMW’s which held the likeness of Arnold on it giving a thumbs up to the astronauts in the space station, hum, hum, I mean to cars that passed by.

We walked through the doors and were led by one of the salesmen to Arnold’s office. As we walked I noticed that all the people in the dealership were speaking a language I couldn’t quite understand. Very reminiscent to the language I heard spoken by the people on the golf course the day before if not exactly the same. Anyway with the four homeless men on my mind, couldn’t figure out why I was thinking about them as I did, we all shook hands and made our greetings known to each other. With a brief description of what I was to do and with being told that, not if, but when I get a buyer to come see him. Don’t let another salesman try to help. You won’t understand them and they’ll know that and cheat you, I think was how he put it. So leaving the Scarecrow and Arnold behind I was shown by one of the others to my desk.

3.

Buyer after buyer came in during the course of the day. Sell after sell I made bumping my commission up as I did. The cars truly were selling themselves and by lunch I figured I could retire for the next twenty years of my life. It had to be the richest area in the world I thought as I watched a line from outside the front doors and listen to the chatter of conversation between sales person and buyer. (Not to say I understood what they were saying. I had no idea.) When lunch was called I decided I would make the hike from Chicago to Toronto, hum, hum, I mean through the lot and across the street to Taco Bell. As I passed I noticed the four homeless guys still sitting at the wall. (They plagued my mind all morning until the customers started to role in.) I don’t know why, but I asked them if I could get them anything from Taco Bell.

“Four ten dollar boxes and four large Mountain Dews,” said one of them.

Now realizing I had just made a fortune I had no problem getting them what they wanted even though I did think they were being a bit excessive with the order. Any way I went across the street got the order and brought it back to them along with my lunch and before walking back through the Mohave Desert, hum, hum, I mean lot I decided I would sit with them and figure out why I was so intrigued with their existence.

After some time of conversation I had learned that they were all brothers. Dale, Evan, Charles, and Kevin Desadario were their names. Not really learning anything from them to cure my curiosity. I decided to make the hike back to my desk. When I returned the sales just kept a coming and my commission grew to such an extreme at the end of the day I couldn’t believe the numbers typed on the face of my check. Yep those numbers right next to Arnolds signature, Arnold Desadario.

“Wait a second,” I said to Arnold after he handed me the check.

“Yes Venley what is it he said with a smile?”

“Those four men…” I stopped.

“What four men are you talking about?”

“The homeless guys outside sitting against the wall.”

“I’ve been meaning to do something about them. They are definitely an eyesore aren’t they?”

“Do you know what their last name is? “ I responded.

Arnold laughed, “Well of course I do. They’re my sons.”

“Why are they out there like that?”

“Oh I had to fire them.”

“Your sons. You fired your own sons.”

“Of course it’s good business. I’d have to pay them way more then I have to pay the foreigners I have working for me.”

“Are you insane?”

“I’m starting not to like your tone Mr. Hobbs.”

“My tone?”

“Good business is good business. I have twelve guys working for me right now and I’m paying them all what it would cost me to pay my sons. You can understand that can’t you.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“I think it’s time for you to go Hobbs.”