Crazy Like A Fox

Crazy Like A Fox


The professor said he had told Mr. X, I was the only one he knew, who could fill his open position, and I should call Mr. X for an appointment. I drove 35 miles home from class and talked it over with Amy. The new position was in another state, we would have to leave our nearly completed house and live in a very small community; one about the size of the one near the farm I had grown up on. Amy had lived in Chicago all her life till then. It would be a big culture change for her, yet she was in favor of me making the appointment. It would be the strangest and shortest job interview of my life.

Mr. X was portly, had a gruff voice and wore a scowl. We exchanged few pleasantries. He told me a short history of the company, its products, where its plants were located and their industry market standing. I do not remember the details, but I do remember his asking me what I thought of him.

"I think you're crazy like a Fox."

"Your from the farm, not the city."

It was the closest to a smile he ever showed me. He knew exactly what that saying meant. (I respect you, will keep my distance, and always keep an eye on you, because you are way smarter than you want people to know.)

"It is a rubber extrusion operation, has 175 employees, in the red $100,000 last year and looks to do it again. I will pay you $600 a month; relocation expenses are your own. Your title will be Time Study Engineer. I want you to put the place in the Black. You can't write a purchase order for more than $50.00. If you are interested, call and tell my secretary when you are going down to look at the plant and meet the General Manager. If you decide to take the job, tell him the date you will start."

He stood up, shook my hand, and showed me the door. He did not say thank you, good luck or goodbye. I looked at my watch as I entered the elevator; the whole interview had taken twenty minutes.

It was a three-hour drive, we went on a Saturday morning, and drove around town to see what it was like. With one grocery store, one drug store, one liquor store, a local newspaper operation and one auto dealer, it was like my hometown; quiet. We found the plant, which stood silent for the weekend.

The GM was waiting for us, dressed in nondescript trousers and a short sleeve sport shirt. I wore a suit, white shirt, bow tie and polished shoes. He showed us the factory, where my office would be and explained the plant schedule. Everything, every surface in the plant, was coated with carbon black dust, which came from the rubber mixing operation. There were no dust controls. The ceilings were 35 feet high with windows way up to let in light. They were so dirty that little light came through. We told the GM I would call in a few days, to let him know if I was taking the job and when I would start.

We got a copy of the local newspaper at the drug store, learned no rental housing was available but that a one room "apartment" was available in the next town. We looked at it, left a check to hold it for a week and drove home. Two days later we decided the challenge of the job and the new culture, was too good to pass up.

At twenty-five I had made a major decision, based on faith. It would shape our family and be the foundation for everything I did the rest of my life.

Continued in : Why Did He Hire Me?