Part 1, Episode 3: "First Day Of School"

After a fitful night’s sleep, Conrad awoke Monday morning as ready as he could be to begin the arduous chore of transforming the Farnsworth University athletics department into a big time operation. His shower didn’t quite wake him up, but the jarring sight of Freddie’s larger-than-life wheel prior to ingesting the magic elixir known as the day’s first cup of coffee did the trick (and necessitated an extra trip to the little athletic director’s room).

As Conrad prepared to head into the office for the first time, he looked toward Freddie’s room. Freddie had told him last night that he was a late riser and a sound sleeper so don’t look for him early in the morning or worry about tiptoeing around the room. Apparently ferrets are nocturnal animals, Conrad thought.

A question had popped into his mind as he was preparing for the day; does Freddie sleep in the ferret suit? It was hardly a vital fact to know but a very interesting one nonetheless. Fighting pangs of guilt for wanting to invade his new friend’s privacy, Conrad moved toward the door to Freddie’s sleep chamber and attempted to crack it open. Alas, it was locked tight. “A private little animal, isn’t he”, Conrad thought as he hastily grabbed his briefcase and began his career (or was it a sentence) as the Athletic Director of the Farnsworth Fighting Ferrets.

The school’s athletic department was housed in offices adjacent to Farnsworth Forum, the school’s glamorous basketball arena. The offices were not luxurious compared to the administrative building, but it was quickly clear to Conrad that no expense had been spared furnishing this facility either. The main reception area featured a large half-oval desk, apparently done in mahogany wood, surrounded by several plush leather chairs and couches on the perimeter. “Stay out of those man-eating chairs,” Conrad thought to himself.

The receptionist was a lady he guessed to be in her mid 30’s with a petite build and bright red hair that was somewhat askew. She was hyperactively trying to handle several tasks at once as Conrad approached. He noticed the nameplate on the front railing-“Gretchen Applebuns.” Does anything around here have a normal name, he wondered to himself. Stepping forward, he made eye contact with Gretchen and said, “Hello, Gretchen, I’m Conrad Kondratowicz, the new athletic director.” She responded by standing up and going “Mooooooo! Moooooooo!”

Conrad had tried to prepare for anything this morning, but being greeted with bovine noises from the receptionist was not a contingency he had considered. He was frozen in his tracks, not having the first clue what to say, when a young man who had been sitting in one of the chairs stood up and rescued him. “I’m Fred Farnsworth, Connie, welcome! Good to meet you.” Conrad, still processing his welcome from Gretchen, stuck his had out weakly and said, “Hi.”

“Let me show you to your office so you can start getting settled in,” Fred said to Conrad, already steering him in that direction. “OK,” Conrad replied, fearing what could be behind closed doors in this loony bin if the person out front mooed at guests.

As Fred led the way to his new office, Conrad made note of the expensive décor, furniture, and equipment in the department’s main work area. At least he wouldn’t be embarrassed bringing people into this first-rate office setting. He wondered if there was a back door so they could avoid being greeted by strange noises out front. Fred stopped in front of an office that was large enough for the football team to practice in. The furniture and shelving reminded him more of how a CEO’s office would be appointed. It sure beat the old metal desk and file cabinets that wouldn’t quite close which he was used to working with, he thought.
“Here’s your office,” Fred announced. “Sweet, huh?”

“It sure is,” Conrad replied while he tried to avoid the appearance of gawking. “Everything I’ve seen here is first class.”

“That’s what my granddad is all about. First class all the way! Pretty good for a guy that started out shoveling horse poop.”

“Really? Wow, he sure has come a long way.”

“You bet. That was the inspiration that led to his fortune.”

“Do you mean the hard work and humility he learned working in a horse stall?”

“No, I mean that instead of shoveling it, he was going to use it so he never had to do menial work again. That’s how he made his fortune.”

“On what, horses? Is he a breeder?”

“No, he hasn’t liked horses since one pooped on him while he was cleaning a stall. I mean the poop! He started Farnsworth Fertilizer and built it into the world’s largest producer of odorless fertilizer. It made him a billionaire!”

“So his fortune is based on…”

“Poop. Crap. Dung. Feces. Excrement. Yep, that’s my granddad.”

“That explains the ‘sweet smell of success’ he referred to in my interview. I THOUGHT it smelled like poop. Please tell me everything around here doesn’t smell like that.”

“No silly. He has that in his office because he never wants to loose touch with his roots. He says it keeps him grounded, whatever that means. By the way, don’t ever use the S-word around him. He finds it very demeaning.”

“Demeaning?”

“Yeah. He’s always felt that fertilizer doesn’t get enough respect. He won’t even watch HBO because they use the S-word so often.”

“Well, I sure wouldn’t want to disrespect fertilizer.”

Conrad moved around his desk and lowered himself into the chair gingerly. “Ah, this one is nice and firm,” he thought when he did not feel himself being swallowed up. He relaxed, leaned back in the chair, and reengaged Fred. “So, what do you do around here, Fred?”

“I’m the assistant athletic director. I’m really glad granddad hired someone with your background. I sure could use the help around here,” Fred somewhat exasperated, told Conrad.

Feeling his eyebrows raise yet again, Conrad thought maybe he should have them stapled that way and save the effort. “YOU need help around here?” he slowly spit out at Fred. “What exactly do you do?”
“Well, you know, lead, motivate, and assign tasks, that kind of thing.”

“In other words, none of what you do has any kind of measurable performance objective?”

“I’ve been told that before, so I guess not. I don’t fool with a lot of details or handle paper, that’s what the underlings are here for.”

“I see. Where’s your office?”

“Oh, I don’t really need one. I’m out in the field most of the time.”

“Doing what? Oh, I know, leading, motivating, and delegating, right?”

“See, that’s why you’re going to do so well here. You pick up on stuff real quick!”

“Yes, I do, my friend, I certainly do,” Conrad replied ruefully. “Can you have someone get me the staff personnel files so I can begin reviewing them and meeting with the people?”

“I’ll have one of my underlings get those for you. Anything else I can help you out with?”

“Just a couple of quick things. First, it’s Conrad, not Connie. Second, please don’t let me hear you use the word “underlings” again. Employees or staff would work much better.”

“Whatever floats your boat ConRAD,” Fred emphasized. “I’ll have those files sent to you ASAP.”

“Twit,” Conrad thought as his alleged assistant sauntered out the door.

After Fred departed, Conrad turned around in his chair and faced toward his office window, which gave him a panoramic view of this beautiful campus. His hopes of having a few moments to unwind were quickly dashed when he heard a frantic knocking at his door. Turning around, he saw a distraught Gretchen. She blurted out, “Sir, may I take a few moments of your time and try to convince you not to fire me? Mooooo! Mooooo!”

“Sure,” Conrad replied, “close the door and have a seat.”

Gretchen, obviously terrified, inched toward Conrad’s desk. Seeing her hesitation, he stood and moved to a small circular table closer to the door with only two chairs around it. If he was going to find out what was up with this chick, Conrad needed to put her at ease as much as possible. “Please, let’s sit over here,” Conrad said, motioning to the small table. Gretchen followed his lead and sat, moving her chair away from the outer edge of the table. She sat motionless and speechless. Just entering the office had apparently taken all the courage she could muster; she had none left to speak.

Conrad decided to break the silence, “Well, Gretchen, let’s start with the obvious. What’s with the mooing?”

“It’s not just mooing, sir. Sometimes it’s barking, other times it’s howling, growling, hissing, sounds like that.” Gretchen said as she slumped in her seat.

“That’s good to know, but you didn’t answer my question”

“I have a condition, sir.”

“I already figured that much out Gretchen. What type of condition?”

“It’s called Tourrete’s Syndrome, sir. It usually kicks in when I’m really stressed. Woof! Woof!”

“Like now, I assume. I think I’ve heard of that, but I thought people mainly shouted obscenities instead of making animal noises.”

“That’s usually what they show on television, sir. I do that sometimes when I’m really, really upset, but it’s mostly animal noises. The doctors tell me it’s involuntary. I’m on medication that keeps it from being worse, but there’s no cure. I’m so sorry, sir.” Gretchen then began to cry and howl.

Trying to stop the crying and, more importantly, cease the god-awful howling, Conrad reached over and touched her gently on the arm. “Gretchen, one thing I’ve learned how to do in my career is to look at someone’s talents and put them in positions where they can be successful. I’m hopeful I can find a spot for you that will minimize the stress and help you keep these outbursts to a minimum. I am sure, however, that it won’t be as the receptionist. What rocket scientist came up with that idea?”

“Four F, sir.” Gretchen replied, still looking down at the floor.

“Four F? Who’s that?”

“Fred Farnsworth, sir, the assistant athletic director. We call him that because his full name is Frederick F. Farnsworth the Fourth. It also seems somewhat descriptive.” Gretchen, now making eye contact with Conrad, told him.

“Four F was the classification of an Army reject, wasn’t it?”

“Yes sir.”

“I get it,” Conrad replied, feeling a slight grin appearing on his face. “Can you get coverage for the rest of the day at the reception desk?”

“I think I can, sir.”

“Good. I’ll need some help going through the personnel roster and files. Why don’t you work with me today on that and maybe during the process we can figure out a better role for you to play on our team.”

Gretchen, now sitting fully upright, began to crack a smile, “I would be honored to work with you, sir.”

Conrad shook his head and smiled himself. “Gretchen, let’s find a middle ground between mooing and treating me like a General. Why don’t you just call me Conrad?”

Gretchen replied, “Yes sir, Conrad sir!”

As the afternoon wore on, Conrad spent most of his time reviewing the personnel files (which Gretchen had obtained after Four F had wandered off). He also took time to ask Gretchen, who had worked for the athletic department since the school first fielded athletic teams nine years ago, what she knew about some of the key people. It was quickly evident who she did not like, since those names were met with loud barking. “At least,” thought Conrad, “I won’t have to spend a lot of time reading between the lines with her. I’ll have a pretty good inkling when she’s upset about something.”

When the workday was coming to a close, Conrad put down the files and asked Gretchen to sit with him for a moment. “I think I know a good spot for you in the department,” Conrad said.

“That would be wonderful, sir. Where would that be?“

“Right outside my office. There’s enough open space out there to set up a desk and the necessary equipment. You’ve really impressed me this afternoon, Gretchen, and I’d like you to be my administrative assistant.”

“That would be wonderful, sir. What would my duties consist of?”

“Primarily helping me sort through this mess of a department and trying to make sense out of it. You have a lot of institutional knowledge I desperately need, plus you seem to have a good knack for organization. I think you could be a tremendous help to me. What do you say?”

“That would be wonderful, sir. Are you sure my condition won’t be too much of a hindrance?”

“I’ll admit it will take some getting used to, but I think it will be worth the effort. I’ll try to treat it like an ‘early-warning system.’ If I hear noises, I’ll assume there is some problem and try to make myself available to deal with it.”

“That would be wonderful, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t. I’m sure it will be wonderful.” Conrad smiled.

Gretchen, embarrassed at realizing how many times she had repeated herself, started whining like a hurt puppy. Conrad said, “I’m just having some fun with you, Gretchen. Don’t take me too seriously. I try not to take myself too seriously either. Let’s try to have some fun amidst this chaos, OK?”

“That would be wonderful, sir,” Gretchen replied, then hustled out of Conrad’s office, her whining noise gradually fading as she walked.

Conrad ended the day more pessimistic about his chances for success at Farnsworth that he was at the beginning. Not only did he have a pompous blowhard rich kid for his assistant AD, the rest of his staff review had left him with a feeling of isolation. The files read more like a rogues’ gallery than a staff roster. Was he going to have to try and turn this department around by himself?

No, he had Gretchen, a competent professional who he suspected was much more talented than she realized. Oh yeah, and who also made various animal noises when stressed. Well, at least it was a start. Since the fall season was about to get underway, he needed to move along at a brisk pace.

Or maybe he could just find a good place to hide.