Part 1, Episode 1: "Welcome to Farnsworth"

“My name is Frederick Farnsworth, president of Farnsworth University. You need a job, I need your skills. Come to my office at 3:00 PM tomorrow so we can discuss a mutually beneficial endeavor.”

The cryptic voice mail Conrad received on his cell phone the prior evening had intrigued him. Along with wondering how Farnsworth had obtained his cell phone number, he was curious about the nature of this “endeavor.” After several days of indulging in self-pity, Conrad was finally ready to begin at least tentatively moving forward and establishing some direction for this new life he had been thrust into.

Conrad Kondratowicz had given the last twenty years of his life to the athletic program at Edgar Allen Poe University in Baltimore, Maryland. During that time, he had worked his way up from an unpaid intern to the position of assistant athletic director. Conrad had once been considered a rising star in the field of college athletic administration, but the rug had just been snatched out from beneath him, leaving only a seemingly bottomless hole to fall through. At 43 years old, he now felt that he had lost everything that meant anything to him.

To be sure, Conrad’s career was now dead in the water. He had astutely concluded that Saddam Hussein had a better chance of being elected president than he had of landing a decent job in athletic administration. As far as other schools were concerned, he was radioactive. Recent events had also apparently extinguished the last dim spark in Conrad’s eight-year marriage and threatened to widen the distance between himself and his precious four-year old daughter Connie.

When a man feels he has nothing left to lose, he can find himself receptive to opportunities that would have previously held little or no interest for him. That attitude had led him to answer the summons and make the trip from his motel room in suburban Baltimore down I-70 toward Farnsworth, Maryland to meet the mysterious Frederick Farnsworth.

Farnsworth was a very rich man who had founded Farnsworth University nine years ago. The county was so eager to receive the financial benefits of hosting his university that they allowed him to annex the acreage for the campus, incorporate it as a town and name it after himself. Having been so absorbed with his work at Edgar Allen Poe U, Conrad had paid little attention to schools not competing at the same athletic level. EAPU was an emerging Division I power in several sports, while Farnsworth University had a rather non-descript Division III program. He didn’t even know what the school’s mascot was.

Conrad had heard that Mr. Farnsworth was considered a loose screw, a combination of Mark Cuban and George Steinbrenner. As he cruised down the interstate, he wondered what it would be like working for someone like that. After all, Steinbrenner’s employees seldom seemed happy despite dominating major league baseball for nearly a decade. Any man who would name a town after himself was probably not to be trifled with. In Conrad’s present situation, however, self-actualization was not a priority. If all Farnsworth wanted was someone to flip burgers in the school cafeteria, he felt he would have to swallow hard and listen. He needed cash to pay for his motel and his suddenly substantial beverage expense, and his estranged wife Camilla had a stranglehold on most of the assets accumulated during their marriage.

As Conrad wondered for what may have been the thousandth time over the last few days how it was possible he could be in this situation, he exited the highway on the ramp designated for Farnsworth University. Visiting the campus for the first time, he was impressed enough with the spectacular landscaping and immaculately kept grounds to take his mind off his problems for just a moment. It was a magnificent late August afternoon, and the beautiful flora and fauna including a babbling brook meandering through the property more closely resembled an image of Augusta National Golf Course than a college campus. Despite a serious drought in central Maryland that summer, the grounds practically glowed with a plush greenness.

He quickly found the sign marking the location of the school’s administrative offices, where he would begin his quest to find Mr. Farnsworth. The voice message he had left for Conrad was lacking some basic information, such as a phone number and the location of his office. He wondered how difficult it would be to pry information about this “endeavor” out of the old man.

The administration building more closely resembled the home of an old southern plantation owner, and Conrad was taken aback by the exquisite antique furnishing that filled the interior of the facility. He was hardly a furniture expert, but to his untrained eye it appeared that there were a lot of hand-carved features in the furnishings he encountered in the lobby. He thought that Farnsworth must either be a man of style or had hired a decorator that had seen “Gone With the Wind” one too many times.

Conrad was warmly greeted at the information desk at the end of the majestic lobby. He was quickly given directions to Frederick Farnsworth’s suite, noting how odd it was that it was not called an office. The clerk also handed Conrad a glossy color map of the campus and implored him to, “enjoy your visit to Farnsworth!” As he made his way back to Farnsworth’s suite, he noticed that some of the tension he carried around with him had dissipated and given way to a hint of optimism. That feeling lasted until he reached the suite and encountered Farnsworth’s executive assistant, a plain librarian-type 40-ish woman identified only as “Kate” by the simple nameplate on her desk.

Conrad stood at her desk for a few moments not wanting to interrupt Kate, whose fingers were attacking the keyboard on her computer. As he looked around, he felt like he was in a museum. The paintings on the wall were all from the impressionist period, a fact he would never have know if his estranged wife had not dragged him to a few art galleries back when they actually did things together. The furniture was of a similar ostentatious design to that he had seen in the lobby. Finally, Kate looked away from her computer screen, obviously annoyed at having her personal space invaded by an outsider, and asked, “Are you Mr. Kon-RAD-o-witz?”

“Yes,” he replied, “I’m Conrad Kon-drah-TOE-veech.”

Kate’s glare hardened, as she apparently did not care for being corrected. “Mr. Farnsworth will be with you shortly,” she snapped.

“Is there any paperwork you need me to fill out?” Conrad inquired.

Having turned back to her computer, Kate jerked her chair around to face him directly and sternly told him “If there were, I would have given it to you. Sit!”

Ah yes, there’s that familiar tension, Conrad thought while he felt his body tense up as if it were a rubber band being stretched in preparation for launching. He noticed that he was seated in a hunched down position like a young boy who had been scolded by his mother or schoolteacher. “I see Farnsworth has armed himself with the latest version of the attack secretary”, Conrad thought as he squirmed in his seat.

Conrad sat as his fellow victims in the waiting area were granted their audience with Farnsworth. Finally, at precisely 4:32, an hour and forty-five minutes after his arrival, Conrad was ordered in to meet The Man. He could have sworn he heard Kate hissing at him as he passed her desk, but dismissed that thought when Frederick Farnsworth welcomed him with a hearty back slap and a firm handshake. “It’s good to meet you Connie. I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” Conrad fought the instinctive urge to cringe, hating what he considered the effeminate bastardization of his name and responded “Good to meet you too, sir.”

During the handshake, Conrad had a moment to size up this captain of industry (although he did not know which one) and patriarch of higher learning. Farnsworth was a solidly-built man, Conrad observed, probably standing around 6’3” with a full head of hair that clearly was not all originally his. For a man probably well into his 60’s he was quite an imposing figure, much more so than Conrad could ever hope to be with his slight 5’10” (on a good day) build.

After being ushered into a plush black leather chair in front of Farnsworth’s massive desk, Conrad’s mind drifted for a second and pictured a fighter jet landing comfortably on that majestic piece of dark mahogany furniture. It dominated the office that, while large, hardly merited being labeled a “suite.” He could not help but sink down in the chair, putting him below eye level as he faced Farnsworth. He sure knows all the power moves, Conrad thought as he struggled to maintain an erect posture.

Farnsworth, after settling in to what resembled a leather throne behind his desk, then reengaged Conrad. “I’m sure you are wondering what I have in mind, aren’t you Connie?”

“That I am sir,” Connie, er, Conrad, replied.

“Well, I’ll tell you. By the way, your last name, Kon-RAD-o-witz, is that Polish?” Farnsworth inquired.

“Yes sir, it his” he replied, “Kon-drah-TOE-veech comes from Polish ancestry.”

“Really?” Farnsworth asked thoughtfully. “Have you heard about the Polish man who locked his keys in his car?”

Conrad, stunned that he was being told a Pollock joke on what he assumed was a job interview, gathered himself and said, “No sir, I haven’t.”

Farnsworth continued, “He had to use a coat hanger to get his family out!”

Conrad forced himself to chuckle while Farnsworth was roaring with laughter. At least, Conrad thought, he didn’t tell than awful joke about the Pollocks screwing in the light bulb. If he heard that one more time in his life, he thought he would surely scream or barf or both.

After Farnsworth pulled himself together, he asked Conrad, ‘Well surely you’ve heard the one about how many Pollocks it takes to screw in a light bulb?”

“More times than I care to mention sir,” Conrad replied, struggling to keep the tone of his voice level and avoid screaming or barfing.

“Yes, my boy, that’s a classic all right,” Farnsworth said somewhat wistfully.

“Anyway,” Farnsworth abruptly barked as he spun to directly face Conrad, “I need a new athletic director here at Farnsworth U. I’m rich, and we should have the best of everything here, but so far our athletic program hasn’t gotten off the ground. I think you’re the man that can put Farnsworth athletics on the map, and on television.”

Oh my god, Conrad thought, he thinks this twinkie school can get into big-time college sports. This guy IS a squirrel.

After allowing a moment for the job offer to sink in, Farnsworth stood up, moved around his vast desk, and sat on the front edge only inches away from where Conrad was being consumed by the leather chair. “I know you’ve had a bad run of luck recently, Connie. I’ve checked you out quite thoroughly. You have a great work ethic, outstanding problem solving skills, and the leadership qualities that your previous employer did not properly utilize. Besides, don’t you want the chance to pluck the feathers of those dastardly Edgar Allen Poe Ravens?”

Flattery and revenge were two good selling points, and Conrad found himself momentarily captivated with the idea of running his own program, a notion inconceivable when this day began. But this one? How could he get a young Division III program with no winning tradition to the point where it could compete with a powerhouse like EAPU? The next-to-last thing he wanted was to take a beating from the Ravens. Of course, the LAST thing he wanted was prolonged unemployment. Finally, he responded to Farnsworth, “This is certainly an intriguing offer.”

Farnsworth jumped in before Conrad could continue, “I know what you’re thinking, my boy. How can you compete with a major program like EAPU? We don’t even do that well in our current division.”

Wow, Conrad thought, this guy is gooood.

“The answer is simple, my boy,” Farnsworth continued, “I’m rich. Some call it filthy rich. You smell that aroma Connie? That’s the sweet smell of success!” Conrad thought it smelled more like freshly planted farmland. “If you need anything, I will get it for you. You will have unlimited resources, and a good man with that kind of backing can’t help but be successful.”

Conrad pondered the indisputable logic of that last statement. “What would be the terms of employment?”

Farnsworth smiled, knowing he had his man. “We do things a bit differently here at Farnsworth. You’re salary will be $100,000 to start, with 50% deferred the first six months. If your performance is deemed acceptable, and I have no doubt it will be, you will receive the balance in a manner of your choosing at that time and start being paid at your full salary.”

Conrad fought to lower his eyebrows, which had instinctively arched when Farnsworth said $100,000. “What will determine whether or not my performance is acceptable?” Conrad asked. “Two things,” Farnsworth began, “first, I want a thorough review of our fall sports with a detailed action plan that will have our weaker sports, especially football, on a path to short-term success in our current division.”

“Fair enough,” responded Conrad, “what’s the second part?”

“Oh yes,” Farnsworth lit up, “I expect at least one of our teams to be on track to gain acceptance into Division I. I know the process takes a while, but I expect at least one of our teams to be on that path.”

“In six months?!,” Conrad, somewhat exasperated, asked.

“My dear Connie, if the job was easy, I wouldn’t need someone of your abilities to do it, now would I? Do we have a deal, or are you currently entertaining other offers?” Of course, they both knew there would be no other offers for Conrad’s services in the foreseeable future.

Conrad stood up after fighting his way out of the man-eating leather chair and uttered words he was sure he would soon regret, “We have a deal sir.”

Farnsworth took the extended hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “Welcome aboard, my boy! Now go enjoy your weekend and report in Monday morning. Here’s your contract, take a good look over it and I’ll answer any questions you may have then. I know your living situation is somewhat unsettled right now, so I have arranged for a room on campus for you.”

“Thank you for the opportunity sir,” Conrad said, trying his best to sound sincerely grateful. It would be nice, he thought, to move out of the crappy motel he had been staying at. “By the way, what is the school’s mascot?”

“The ferret, my boy, the ferret!” Farnsworth proudly announced, “You are now the leader of the Farnsworth Fighting Ferrets!”

Conrad wondered, not for the last time, if he would have been better off leading Custer’s troops at Little Big Horn.