sujane

Chapter 2 & 3- Re-Written: Jane considered herself a “Jane-of-all-trades”, a generalist. That was how it had turned out anyway. She had never had a career path as such. When she was about eight years old, she told her parents that when she grew up she wanted to travel the world. That was her biggest ambition. She thought at the time the best job you could have to see the world was as a stewardess – that's what they were called in those days. For years she and her sister, Cynthia, would fantasize about their life as grown women, living together in an apartment, working as stewardesses. Marriage and children didn't come into the picture. And, indeed, when Jane was finished high school, she enrolled in a community college to take Travel and Tourism. She didn't want to be a stewardess anymore; it was too much like waitressing, and she had a steady boyfriend from high school who she was pretty sure she would marry at some point. She couldn't picture herself jetting off around the world as a free-wheeling flight attendant anymore. But the interest in travel had never waned. After college, she worked as a travel agent. But that particular career only lasted about three years. Jane married her boyfriend, who, in a twist of fortunate happenstance (at least Jane thought so) had become a commercial pilot. Now it didn't matter what career Jane pursued – being married to a pilot meant that one's whole life would revolve around travel – and she would go wherever he went. His career would be her career, and they could fly all over the world for free. This was how she imagined it, anyway. The reality was five moves in four years and one trip outside the country, to the Bahamas, for a vacation. The next nine years were spent in one place, raising two children. It was a pretty good life though, by anyone's standard. Over the years, it gradually dawned on Jane that pilots, as a breed, were actually the antithesis of risk-taking adventurers. What they lived for was control and order. The captain of a multi-million dollar aircraft, carrying hundreds of human souls, must be the kind of person for whom perfection is not just a goal, but an expectation; and mistakes in action or judgment can be catastrophic. Taking risks doesn't enter into it. It is difficult to find a pilot who doesn't carry this basic nature over into their private lives. And God help the spouse who doesn't share a penchant for perfection. After many marriage counseling sessions and much heartache, Jane and her husband finally divorced after 13 years of marriage plus 8 years of relationship prior to that, and 2 sons. Jane moved out on her own, knowing, without a doubt, that her sons would be just fine in the highly structured and orderly environment provided by their father, and that she could never live up to his expectations, nor did she want to. She knew he was a good man, and a great father, but they were inherently incompatible and she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with him. A year later, Jane met an easy-going, tolerant, funny, loving, and definitely non-perfectionist man, who had a wide streak of risk-taker in him, and who loved to travel. Five years later, she married him. And moved another four times in five years. Here is a comprehensive list, in a somewhat chronological order, of all of the jobs Jane had had in her 48 years: Newspaper carrier, babysitter, health-food store clerk, fabric store clerk, fish market clerk, accounts receivable clerk, courier, easter bunny mall-walker, pizza maker, waitress, bookkeeper, library clerk, house-cleaner, print shop worker, data-entry clerk, assistant restaurant manager, executive secretary, travel agent, travel agency manager, incentive travel tour guide, newspaper subscriptions telemarketer, lawn-care telemarketer, long-distance phone service telemarketer, product sample-server in liquor stores, receptionist,day spa business manager, cashier, administrative assistant, home-care worker, typist, customer service representative, house-sitter, liquor store clerk, short-order grill cook, sous-chef, accounting assistant,and she had owned several small businesses, one of which was somewhat successful. If nothing else, Jane was a very adaptable woman. As an astounded friend had once told her, “I could pick you up, blind-folded, and drop you anywhere in the world with nothing, and you could not only survive, but thrive, without knowing where you are, nor knowing a soul there. And you would be fearless.” The longest period of time, and the happiest, that Jane had been in one position was five years. That had been in her own secretarial/business support business. This, she knew, should tell her something. But her life never seemed settled enough before and after that period for her to start another business that she could pour herself into. And so, she continued to take jobs wherever and whenever, never for longer than a year or so, and frequently less. The changing of jobs wasn't predicated by her being flighty, although most of the work wasn't particularly rewarding or exciting; it was usually because life was taking her somewhere else – another city, another country, another circumstance. Most of the time, she didn't mind. In fact, she liked change. But, like it or not, she knew, every move both took something out of her, as well as adding something to her. It was akin to the Chinese curse: “May you live an interesting life.” However, Jane did not consider herself a victim of circumstance, unable to direct her own life. She knew that at every point of change, she had made choices, even if the choice was to simply “go with the flow” and see what happened. She could have made different choices; she could have played it safe. But “safe”wasn't appealing to her nature; she liked taking risks, without being addicted to it. The one dangerous aspect of Jane's nature, an aspect that she, herself, only became aware of when she was well into her mid-thirties, was that she suffered from depression and had been afflicted since her teens. It was a genetic inheritance, unrecognized and untreated for many years. It wasn't until she had had her second child that a doctor noticed that she was likely experiencing postpartum depression and reviewed her history with her. She realized, by looking back, that this altered and distorted consciousness was nothing new. Since then, she had accepted the pharmaceutical treatment, along with some therapy. It worked to a degree, but the disease never went away. It stalked her, most of the time like a domestic cat, but sometimes like a leopard. There had been times when depression's alter-ego, mania, had also sneaked up on her, and her behavior during these times was something she tried to forget about, or at least forgive herself for. By now, she knew herself very well-and the big cats-and could recognize when they were creeping too close, ready to pounce. The best way to respond was to keep busy. She hadn't worked for several months, and the last job had been part-time. The summer, her favorite time of year, was coming to an end, and it was time to start something new. Chapter 3 “Good morning, I'm Jane.” When she had walked through the door on her first day, the staff seemed busy, and initially they did not acknowledge her presence. When she announced herself, the older woman behind the big reception desk looked up. It was the woman with the bed-head and biker shorts, and she didn't look much different today. “Oh, yes. Hello. I forgot you were starting today. I'm Fran, and this is Eva. Winnie usually sits at that desk, but she isn't in today.” She waved towards the other woman, who said hello and went back to her work. Fran looked down at the papers on her desk and in a slightly irritated way said, “Well, I guess I'm going to be the one to start your training. Winnie was supposed to do it. Not a good day, I'm so busy, but, please take a seat; I'll be with you in a few minutes.” Jane had not yet even taken off her jacket, and wondered where she should store her purse. She sat down at Winnie's desk. “Is Johnny or Karen here?” she asked. “No, no, they're never here. Well, hardly ever.” Jane waited quietly, watching and listening. Eva was an attractive, tall young woman with long dark hair. Today, she was extremely well-dressed, although her blouse was a little inappropriately low-cut, Jane thought. Just then, a man of about thirty, wearing a kind of cowboy hat, came in the door and sat down near Eva. He was introduced to Jane by Fran. “This is Richard, one of our driving instructors.” Richard shook Jane's hand enthusiastically, grinning. But his eyes were on Eva. Jane watched, amused, as he sat down again and began chatting up to her. Eva seemed dismissive of him, but he was undeterred. He leaned over towards her from his chair, cracking jokes. She's used to this kind of attention, Jane realized. And not just from him. “Eva, what exactly do you do here – what's your job title?”, Jane asked in a friendly way. It was important, she felt, to get the lay of the land in every new job. “I'm the Administrative Assistant for the Corporate Division.” “Corporate? What does the Division do?” “Well, it's fairly new. We have started running specialized courses for companies that have a fleet of vehicles and drivers – like oil companies. We assess and upgrade the driver's skills.” Eva explained. She seemed to appreciate Jane's interest and showed her the computer data-base she was using to book all the details for each course. She's no dummy, this one. Jane liked her. “I'm ready to get you started now, Jane.” Fran said loudly. It struck Jane that she actually seemed a little put out that Jane and Eva were hitting it off. “Now, the first thing I like to tell new people is that we all take turns emptying the wastebaskets, sweeping and mopping the floors, and washing any dishes and coffee cups. I'll show you where we keep everything, and then maybe you could start by taking out the garbage and washing up.” Is she kidding? Jane struggled to hide her astonishment. She decided to play it cool for now, and dutifully followed Fran around to see where the all the cleaning supplies were, and soon found herself washing out coffee mugs in the tiny bathroom sink and setting them to dry on the back of the toilet. Good God, I think this woman is deliberately trying to bring me down a peg right off the bat. What's her problem? Jane wasn't alarmed, just bemused. She had met this type before and wasn't easily bowed; she knew how to handle them. “Alright, Fran, I'm done with the dishes. How about you show me a few things about my job now?” Jane smiled brightly at Fran and pulled up a chair beside her at the desk.

More to read: Jane considered herself a “Jane-of-all-trades”, a generalist. That was how it had turned out anyway. She had never had a career path as such. When she was about eight years old, she told her parents that when she grew up she wanted to travel the world. That was her biggest ambition. She thought at the time the best job you could have to see the world was as a stewardess – that's what they were called in those days. For years she and her sister, Cynthia, would fantasize about their life as grown women, living together in an apartment, working as stewardesses. Marriage and children didn't come into the picture. And, indeed, when Jane was finished high school, she enrolled in a community college to take Travel and Tourism. She didn't want to be a stewardess anymore; it was too much like waitressing, and she had a steady boyfriend from high school who she was pretty sure she would marry at some point. She couldn't picture herself jetting off around the world as a free-wheeling flight attendant anymore. But the interest in travel had never waned. After college, she worked as a travel agent. But that particular career only lasted about three years. Jane married her boyfriend, who, in a twist of fortunate happenstance (at least Jane thought so) had become a commercial pilot. Now it didn't matter what career Jane pursued – being married to a pilot meant that one's whole life would revolve around travel – and she would go wherever he went. His career would be her career, and they could fly all over the world for free. This was how she imagined it, anyway. Here is a comprehensive list, in a somewhat chronological order, of all of the jobs Jane had had in her 48 years: Newspaper carrier, babysitter, health-food store clerk, fabric store clerk, fish market clerk, accounts receivable clerk, courier, easter bunny mall-walker, pizza maker, waitress, bookkeeper, library clerk, house-cleaner, print shop worker, data-entry clerk, assistant restaurant manager, executive secretary, travel agent, travel agency manager, incentive travel tour guide, newspaper subscriptions telemarketer, lawn-care telemarketer, long-distance phone service telemarketer, product sample-server in liquor stores, receptionist,day spa business manager, cashier, administrative assistant, home-care worker, typist, customer service representative, house-sitter, liquor store clerk, short-order grill cook, sous-chef, accounting assistant,and she had owned several small businesses, one of which was somewhat successful. If nothing else, Jane was a very adaptable woman. As an astounded friend had once told her, “I could pick you up, blind-folded, and drop you anywhere in the world with nothing, and you could not only survive, but thrive, without knowing where you are, nor knowing a soul there. And you would be fearless.” The longest period of time, and the happiest, that Jane had been in one position was five years. This had been in her own secretarial/business support business. This, she knew, should tell her something. But her life never seemed settled enough before and after that period for her to start another business that she could pour herself into. And so, she continued to take jobs wherever and whenever, never for longer than a year or so, and frequently less. The changing of jobs wasn't predicated by her being flighty, although most of the work wasn't particularly rewarding or exciting, it was usually because life was taking her somewhere else – another city, another country, another circumstance. Most of the time, she didn't mind. In fact, she liked change. But, like it or not, she knew, every move both took something out of her, as well as adding something to her. It was akin to the Chinese curse: “May you live an interesting life.”

Thanks Barbara, No, I have a full book in mind.....

Okay, I have done some re-writing and added to what I posted before. Comments? The Driving School Chapter 1 Cruikshank’s Driving School had been housed in a small strip mall on a busy street for twenty-five years. God knows how many young new drivers have walked through its doors. Some of them were actually second-generation customers. It’s hard to imagine why; the appearance of the place did not inspire a feeling of quality education. The owner, fifty-year old Johnny Cruikshank, was surprised and adopted a slightly hurt expression when anyone suggested that the place could use some sprucing up, or that he might consider a moving to a newer building with a better image. “Are you kidding? This location is great, been here for years, everyone knows it. Besides, where am I going to find another space for a thousand bucks a month? Anyway, I put in new flooring and painted it eight years ago!” The front office area was cramped and cluttered. Behind it, there was a larger room, which was used as both a classroom and another office space. The occupant of the desk there was forced to vacate it whenever a class was held. Classes were frequently interrupted by the whirring of the photocopier/printer and the staff walking in to pick up their work. There was one tiny bathroom at the back of the room. On occasion, especially after a day of class, it would back up and flood the floor. In the back parking lot, three more staff worked in a refurbished industrial trailer. A persistent bad moldy smell pervaded the trailer, barely masked by air fresheners. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, except when the propane heater ramps up with the rumble of an airplane engine and blasts warm air out, quickly over-heating the two-room office. Several shredding wires and cables snake on the ground outside from the mail building to the trailer, connecting the two, creating a tripping hazard for the workers who run back and forth many times during the day. This was where Jane Clarke worked. And was slowly becoming unhinged. It wasn’t just the physical working conditions. The driving school was a den of dysfunctional personalities, the like of which Jane had never seen before. Jane wasn’t young. She wasn’t inexperienced. She was forty-eight, twice-married, intelligent and rational. She had worked for difficult people before. But this was a freaking collection of difficult, disordered people. It became apparent very quickly when she started a year ago. She was first contacted by an email from Johnny Cruikshank in response to her posting a resume on a job website. He referred to himself as Dr. Cruikshank and asked her to come in for an interview, which she accepted. Unfortunately, he didn’t mention that the company had a separate “boardroom” space in another part of the city, which is where he was at the time of the interview. Jane showed up at the driving school and asked for “Dr. Cruikshank”. This immediately prompted a couple of the staff to snigger and one to say, “Oh, Doctor Cruikshank. Are you Jane? Didn’t he tell you to meet him at the boardroom?” (Jane later learned that Johnny had a Phd in Education, obtained through correspondence, but no-one ever called him Doctor – only he did). “Boardroom? No, where is that?” “Never mind, I’ll call him and tell him you are here instead.” Jane sat down to wait and took in the unimpressive surroundings. It was August, and the big windows faced south. Even with the blinds closed and a small laboring air conditioner, it was hot. Man, this place is a dump, she thought, spying dust bunnies on the dirty floor. There were three desks crammed into the small space. Three women busied themselves on their phones and computers, ignoring Jane. I don’t get a good feeling about this. Jane shifted in her chair; her shirt stuck to her back. And I’m definitely over-dressed, she observed, discreetly checking out the appearance of the staff. One of them, a loud woman of about fifty, was wearing biking shorts and her stringy graying hair looked like – yes, it does! – it had bed-head at the back. The other two were wearing jeans and T-shirts. Jeez, I forgot how much I hate dressing up in business clothes, especially in this heat. I think I’ll head down to the river for a swim when I get home. Do I really want this job? Give it chance, it’s the only interview you’ve got right now. Jane mused to herself. Just then, Johnny arrived and led her into the back room where they sat on two of the student chairs. Johnny Cruikshank was a short, balding man of about Jane’s age. He wasn’t unattractive, but he had a kind of “baby” face and pale blue eyes that did not appear to have eyelashes. Jane, at 5’8”, towered above him. “Sorry about that – I thought I had asked you to meet me at the boardroom,” he started out. “No, but that’s okay,” Jane politely responded. You definitely didn’t. I hope it makes a better impression than this place does. “Well, let me tell you a little about our company and then you can tell me about yourself”. The interview continued, and soon Jane noticed that Johnny had an odd behavior of not quite looking her in the eye. It was unsettling. It seemed as though he was looking at her face just below her eyes. Was it because he’s short? Jane did her best to try to catch his eyes more directly when she spoke to him, but she couldn’t. “Well, Jane, I’m satisfied that you are very suitable for this position. All that is left to do now is for you to meet my wife, Karen. I know she will really like you. She runs the car division and you would be working for her. You can discuss the matter of the pay rate with her.” Jane’s heart sank. Oh, no, not another family-run business. She stood and shook his hand, feeling internally doubtful but she decided to accept the meeting with Karen the next day. She had worked in family-run businesses before, and it had never been a good experience. In fact, the last one was so bad that she had left one day without notice after three months – the woman she had worked directly under, the wife, had been verbally abusive and had a violent temper which was tolerated by her husband and her father who both worked in the company. In fact, they had appeared to be afraid of her. Jane had realized that there was no alternative, no “higher” authority in the company that she could complain to, and she would either have to take it or leave it. She left it. So, alarm bells were already ringing about this job, but Jane was determined to give it chance – she wanted to work full-time again after years of part-time temporary postions. In fact, she needed to, not for the money so much – her husband, Rob, made a good income in software consulting -but for herself. I’ve farted around for too long. If I don’t get out and do something useful and challenging, I’ll keep sinking deeper into depression. The next day, she met Karen. Chapter 2. Instead of the office, Karen asked her to meet her at a coffee shop nearby. At first, Karen struck Jane as an upbeat, friendly woman. She was in her forties, slight but athletic-looking, with very short curly dark hair. She wore a track-suit and running shoes. There was intensity about her and she spoke in a forthright, authoritative way. After a little chit-chat, Karen fixed her eyes on Jane and said, “Johnny was quite impressed by you, and now I can see why.” Jane was startled. “Oh? What do you mean?” He hardly even looked at my resume. Karen grinned. “It’s just that you have a strong aura of being grounded. Calm - deeply planted. Like an oak tree. We need someone like you in the office.” “I see.” Jane answered slowly. “Yes, I guess that’s true – about me I mean. I’m often told that I am a rather quiet, calm person.” Isn’t this a little personal for a first interview, though? I’m getting a weird vibe. Karen nodded sagely. “But you’re no pushover, are you? Jane smiled slightly and shook her head. “Tell me all about yourself – married? Children? I want to get to know you.” Okay, definitely weird. Why not ask me about my work experience? Jane gave her a brief run-down, not going into too much detail. She touched on having lived and worked in the Middle East and the U.S. in the past five years, while following her husband around the world on consulting jobs. She had been living in this city for about two years in order to return to close proximity to her two sons, who lived with their father. The conversation continued in this vein for a while, then Karen said, “ I’d like to offer you the job. Are you aware of the starting pay?” Jane took a breath and said, “Your advertisement said $10 per hour plus a $250 signing bonus. However, I feel that is too low for someone with my abilities.” Karen nodded. “Yes, yes, I think you’re right. It’s below market.. Would you excuse me? I’m going to make a quick call to Johnnie.” She stepped away from their table and had a hushed conversation on her cell phone. When she returned, she told Jane, “Johnnie has okayed my offering you $15 an hour after 3 months, but still starting at $10. Does that work?” Hmmm. I don’t know, Jane thought. Karen sensed her hesitance. “Listen. Jane, I really like you. You will hardly ever see me in the office – I don’t work out of there. I just pop in and out. I run another business on the side – I’m a personal trainer – so I won’t be there looking over your shoulder. You’ll be pretty much autonomous, once you are trained.” Jane liked the sound of that. But $10 an hour? And a big bump to $15 in 3 months. You can try it for 3 months and see how it goes. “Okay, thanks, Karen. I’ll accept.” They shook hands and Jane agreed to start the next week. And she wondered what she was getting herself into.

Thanks Peter. I'm really encouraged by all the responses. I was trying to start it in present tense and then flashback to Jane's start at the job. In the beginning, she has been there one year. But I guess I can achieve the same thing AND use the past tense like this: Cruikshank's Driving School had been....

Thanks Michael. I have been reading all of your work here and enjoy it - I'm glad to get your comments. The focus isn't that Jane is primarily seeking a healthy, sane place to work (although she hopes so - who wouldn't), but that she does keep finding herself in unhealthy, insane places. The question is why? But, more than that, the story is about THIS particular insane place and Jane's experiences in it. There will be many very odd characters brought out as the story goes along, as well as one or two normal, rational people that will contrast with the insanity. Jane will use this experience to question herself and the reasons why she's there and why she stays, and then how & when she finally leaves.

I agree - Jodie Foster is a better choice - they are really going to have to play down Jolie's sexpotiness - and wrap & flatten those boobs somewhat.

Thanks Laure! It has been a while since I've taken any education in grammar, but English was my strongest subject and I share your pet peeve on grammar and spelling! You've given me incentive to keep going on this - yes, you WILL find out why Jane took this job!

Thanks Kevin - I really appreciate your feedback. I will review with a fresh eye, do some re-writing, and re-post.

Thank you for your comments Barbara. I'm pleased that YOU would say you'd want to read more. I appreciate the constructive criticism about too many details, I will review that. About the name - I just couldn't resist trying it out in my first draft, but I won't use it in the final. Ms. Rand DOES have a huge influence on me, as she has on so many others - we all have to resist the temptation to emulate her in our writings and be original, I know that.

I have attempted writing stories before, mostly short stories. This the start of my latest and I think this group could be helpful with some critique. Don't worry, I'm not fragile. I honestly want to know if this seems interesting and readable. It is very much autobiographical and therefore a true story. But I wrote it in 3rd person (? is that right) and changed names etc. I read somewhere that writers often begin their careers using autobiographical material and once that is out of the way, they may go on to write true fiction. Every time I think about writing, I do seem to go in that direction - think that's true? I see this story as a kind of "Catch-22" or "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" in which one or two people are relatively sane in an insane situation. The Driving School Chapter 1 It has been housed in a small decrepit strip mall on a busy street for twenty-five years. God knows how many young new drivers have walked through its’ doors. Some of them are actually second-generation customers. Its hard to imagine why; the appearance of the place does not inspire a feeling of quality education. Don’t they wonder why it doesn’t look any different than when they were here many years ago? Of course, the owner, fifty-year old Johnny Cruikshank, is surprised and adopts a slightly hurt expression when anyone suggests that the place could use some sprucing up, or that he might consider a moving to a newer building with a better image. “Are you kidding? This location is great, been here for years, everyone knows it. Besides, where am I going to find another space for a thousand bucks a month? Anyway, I put in new flooring and painted it eight years ago!” The front office area is cramped and cluttered with three desks, several reception chairs, filing cabinet and various other pieces of office equipment. In the winter, a good space heater is needed; there are no air vents for the furnace up front. In the summer, a very small air-conditioner and a large fan labor to take just take the edge off the oven-like heat of the south-facing space. Behind it, there is a larger room, equally unattractive, which is used as both a classroom and another office space. The occupant of the desk there is forced to vacate it whenever a class is held. Thirty chairs are stacked on top of each other against the wall when not in use. Classes are frequently interrupted by the whirring of the photocopier/printer and the staff walking in to pick up their work. There is one tiny bathroom at the back of the room. On occasion, especially after a day of class, it backs up and floods the floor. Through the back door and another cramped storage room, three more staff work in a separate trailer parked in the back lot. A persistent bad moldy smell pervades the trailer, barely masked by air fresheners. Similar to the front office, it is hot in the summer and cold in the winter, except when the propane heater ramps up with the noise of an airplane engine and blasts warm air out, quickly over-heating the two-room crowded office. Several shredding wires and cables snake on the ground outside from the mail building to the trailer, connecting the two, creating a tripping hazard for the workers who run back and forth many times during the day. This is where Jane Taggart works. And is slowly becoming unhinged. It isn’t just the physical working conditions. The driving school was a den of dysfunctional personalities, the like of which Jane had never seen before. Jane wasn’t young. She wasn’t inexperienced. She was forty-eight, twice-married, intelligent and rational. She had worked for difficult people before. But this was a freaking entire collection of difficult, disordered people. It became apparent very quickly when she started a year ago. She was first contacted by an email from Johnny Cruikshank in response to her posting a resume on a job website. He referred to himself as Dr. Cruikshank and asked her to come in for an interview, which she accepted. Unfortunately, he didn’t mention that the company had a separate “boardroom” space in another part of the city, which is where he was at the time of the interview. Jane showed up at the driving school and asked for “Dr. Cruikshank”. This immediately prompted a couple of the staff to snigger and one to say, “Oh, Doctor Cruikshank. Are you Jane? Didn’t he tell you to meet him at the boardroom?” “Boardroom? No, where is that?” “Nevermind, I’ll call him and tell him you are here instead.” A half-hour later, during which Jane had a chance to sit and take in the unimpressive surroundings, Johnny arrived and led her into the back room where they sat on two of the stacked chairs. Johnny Cruikshank was a short, balding man of about Jane’s age. He wasn’t unattractive, but he had a kind of “baby” face and pale blue eyes that seemed to have no eyelashes. “Sorry about that – I thought I had asked you to meet me at the boardroom”, he started out. “No, but that’s okay”, Jane politely responded. “Well, let me tell you a little about our company and then you can tell me about yourself”. The interview continued, and soon Jane noticed that Johnny had an odd behaviour of not quite looking her in the eye. It was unsettling. It seemed like he was looking at her face just below her eyes. Was it because he was a short man? Jane did her best to try to catch his eyes more directly when she spoke to him, but she couldn’t. “Well, Jane, I’m satisfied that you are very suitable for this position. All that is left to do now is for you to meet my wife, Mary. I know she will really like you. She runs the car division and you would be working for her. You can discuss the matter of the pay rate with her.” Jane’s heart sank. Oh, no, not another family-run business. She stood and shook his hand, feeling internally doubtful but she decided to accept the meeting with Mary the next day. She had worked in family-run businesses before, and it had never been a good experience. In fact, the last one was so bad that she had left one day without notice after three months – the woman she had worked directly under, the wife, had been verbally abusive and had a violent temper which was tolerated by her husband and her father who both worked in the company. In fact, they had appeared to be afraid of her. Jane had realized that there was no alternative, no “higher” authority in the company that she could complain to, and she would either have to take it or leave it. She left it. So, alarm bells were already ringing about this job. The next day, she met Mary.

Yes, it is liberating! It never did make logical, rational sense to me but I wasn't able to clarify or verbalize why, exactly, to myself or others. But Dawkins speaks my language and he looks at the "delusion" from every different angle. He's also debated this with some of the best and most passionate religionists, so he knows all the ways they try to come at you to argue their point of view. I don't intend to get into debates on this with anyone (what's the point?), but if anyone asks me and really does want my reasons/opinion, I am prepared.

I said in an earlier post somewhere that I thought I was at best an Agnostic. I just finished reading this book and it has pushed me over the edge into full-fledged Atheism. Anyone else read it?

Okay, I think I answered my own questions. I emailed the leader of the Party and he responded. YES, this Party is entirely based on Objectivism right down to the philosphy, unlike the Libertarians. I like what I hear. Any caveats from anyone?

Okay, Wayne, I'm patiently waiting...... :poke: