Part 1, Episode 4: "WWFD-What Would Freddie Do?"

On his way to work Tuesday, Conrad stopped at the student union and bought a bottle of antacid tablets, figuring he would need them as he met with various staff members and began the uphill climb to reshape the Farnsworth athletic department.

On Thursday morning, he returned to purchase a king sized bottle, having already emptied the one he had picked up Tuesday.

Conrad spent much of his first week on the job evaluating the merits of cleaning house and dropping down to a skeleton crew while he hired more competent people versus those of keeping the current staff in place with the realization that there would be considerable damage control and resistance to culture change.

Remembering the furor in Washington when little Danny Snyder purchased the Redskins from the estate of Jack Kent Cooke and did his best impersonation of Cape Canaveral (by firing everything in sight), Conrad reluctantly chose the latter course of action. He decided he had enough problems without coming off as a hatchet man, particularly in an environment where someone previously had to practically commit a felony to get fired. He also wondered if he could buy antacids in bulk.

Conrad’s Friday activities began with a meeting regarding the football team’s new media guide. It had gone to the printer before Conrad was hired, and Thursday had been his first opportunity to review the content. His first action upon completing his review was to schedule a meeting with the Farnsworth sports information director, Gabe “Gabby” Sullivan.

Promptly at 9:00, Gabe arrived at Conrad’s office, announced by Gretchen whimpering like a dog who just had a paw run over by a car. Conrad had learned just how reliable her “early warning” system was and braced himself for trouble.

Conrad stood behind his desk and welcomed Gabe. “No small table for this meeting,” Conrad thought, “this clown needs to know that I’m in charge.” Conrad began, “Thanks for coming by, Gabe. It’s good to meet you.”

Gabe, spitting out words in double time, replied, “It’s good to meet you Mr. Cone-ro-do-witz. I’ve heard you did a lot of good things at EAPU, including the dean’s wife. I hear she was a real hottie. Boy, I hope she was worth getting kicked down here to the bush leagues. My wife’s not very attractive, so she’s probably safe from your libido. I hope so anyway, because I’m not that much of a catch either and I’d hate to put myself back on the market. How are you today?”

There it is, Conrad thought, the first person to broach the subject. The mention of the circumstances leading to the sudden end of his career at Edgar Allen Poe University filled Conrad with the rage every seemingly helpless victim must feel. Quickly gathering himself, he considered his options. He didn’t know which to do first; jump over his desk and strangle this idiot (fun but messy), fire him on the spot (desirable but probably subject to being overturned by human resources), or calmly slice him to ribbons, point by point. As was his custom when confronted, Conrad selected the third option.

“First off Gabe,” Conrad began deliberately but forcefully, “the issue of my termination from EAPU is absolutely none of your concern. Second, any and every married woman is safe from my libido. Third, you work for me, at least for the moment, and I WILL be treated with respect. This point is non-negotiable. Fourth, I called you in here to explain this football media guide you produced. Start explaining.”

Conrad sat back, having successfully knocked this blowhard off stride, and watched him squirm. Gabe mustered a burst of righteous indignation and huffed, “What do you mean, EXPLAIN it? This is a fine publication!”

Conrad evenly replied, “Yeah, for a third grader. If all you want to do is look at pretty pictures, this guide is full of them. If you want to read about Old Man Farnsworth and how he founded this school, that’s in there too. Without a word being changed in the last six years, I noticed. What I don’t see, Gabe, is much about THE FREAKIN’ FOOTBALL TEAM!”

Gabe, trying in vain to keep himself together, shakily responded, “Mr. Farnsworth tells me that I should put out information that reflects well on the school. That’s what I did with the media guide.”

“If this were targeted toward prospective students with no interest in sports, it would be pretty good. The two main purposes of this publication, however, are to make Farnsworth an attractive destination for high school football players, and to also serve as an information resource for the media. This, Gabe, does neither.”

“Have you SEEN our football team play?”

“No, I haven’t. And I didn’t learn a whole lot about them by reading this glorified post card either! This is a 96-page publication, and there are only 28 pages that even mention the word football. Half of those are nothing but pictures. What IS this!?”

“Have you SEEN our team play? The only school we beat regularly is Galludet, you know, the deaf kids. We haven’t beaten a team than can hear in five years! How am I supposed to make that look good?” Gabe responded, flailing his arms about wildly.

“You’ve still got to put out basic information,” Conrad said, refusing to waver. “With all our kids, there should be the essentials, you know, how they did in high school, what accomplishments (if any) they’ve had since they’ve been here, maybe a pronunciation guide, which I noticed is not your area of expertise. That’s what other schools do, even the ones that suck.”

Gabe stared back, arms folded, and offered no reply.

Conrad broke the silence. “When are the basketball guides due at the printer?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe snapped.

“Find out. I expect to see the draft BEFORE it goes to the printer, and I expect it with enough time to edit it before it goes out.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” Gabe replied, now in a full snit.

“If you want to keep your job, you’ll figure it out. We’re done here. Have a nice day.”

Gabe stood and tried to have the last word, but Conrad had abruptly turned to face the window, leaving only the back of his chair for Gabe to rail against. Declining that option, Gabe huffed off as Gretchen hissed at him.

Conrad sat for a few moments and then left his office for a walk to clear his head. Gretchen stood up and they locked eyes for the moment. No words were exchanged, but they didn’t need to be. The encouraging, respectful look in Gretchen’s eyes gave Conrad a much needed morale boost.

It was approaching noon on Saturday when Freddie strolled out of his room and found Conrad poring over yet another stack of papers he had brought from the office. This scene had been repeated every night for the past week. Even after staying late in his office, Conrad has usually brought a SuperStar Burger combo (no cheese, only ketchup) and a stack of work home with him, devouring the food while he attacked the mound of paper. Freddie decided enough was enough. Tonight he would liberate Conrad and show him a good time, by force if necessary.

“Hey Conrad, am I safe in assuming you don’t have any plans for tonight?” Freddie asked.

“No, nothing big. I thought I might catch a movie on the satellite. Is there a channel you don’t get?” Conrad replied.

“I don’t think so. The funny thing is I don’t watch much TV. I’m a participant not a spectator pal. Anyway, I’ve made some plans for the both of us tonight. I’m going to treat you to a night on the town, Ferret style,” Freddie said enthusiastically.

“Here in Farnsworth? How long will that take, about five minutes?” Conrad snorted.

“No silly,” said Freddie, undeterred. “There’s a town just up the Interstate called Midville. It’s where the land for the school was annexed from. I know it’s not as glamorous as big-city Baltimore, but there’s more there than a few cornfields and a general store. We do have nightlife around here and I know just where to find it. I’m Central Maryland’s Official Hospitality Ferret.”

“Official Hospitality Ferret?” Conrad asked with a tone of disbelief.

“That’s right,” Freddie insisted. “Central Maryland Magazine gave me this plaque right here two years ago. When they were doing photo shoots for their ‘Best of Central Maryland’ issue, the editor noticed I kept showing up everywhere. This area loves me, and I love this area.”

Conrad saw that there actually was an engraved plaque from Central Maryland Magazine proclaiming Freddie Ferret as “Central Maryland’s Official Hospitality Ferret.” He stood and thought about Freddie’s proposal. He could stand to blow off some steam, and apparently trailing Freddie around would not be a freak show—“Hey, mommy, look at the six-foot tall ferret. He scares me!” Instead, he was a celebrity.

Freddie Ferret was a figure not only accepted, but also perhaps even revered locally. Conrad wondered what kind of town would make a ferret mascot its hero. Well, this night seemed as good a time as any to find out. “Let’s do it,” Conrad said to his approving friend.

Downtown Midville is a mix of antique shops, quirky specialty stores, restaurants covering the full spectrum of pricing, row houses, and boarded up buildings waiting for someone to bring them back to life. This night was a beautiful early September evening, lacking the stifling humidity common in the mid-Atlantic region this time of year. A light breeze made the night downright comfortable as Freddie and Conrad reached their first destination.

Conrad had been nervous when Freddie insisted on driving (when is the last time YOU got in a car with a ferret behind the wheel?), but Freddie was able to navigate his Hummer down the narrow streets flawlessly. Conrad noticed that Freddie had skin-tight covering on his hands with the furry paws laying over them, allowing him to take advantage of the opposable thumbs he received at birth. It was the first time Conrad had ever been in a Hummer, a Farnsworth owned vehicle provided to insure Freddie was never restricted by bad weather.

There was a line waiting to enter “A Taste of Rome,” but the greeter saw Freddie and ushered him and his friend to the one empty table at their sidewalk café. Conrad expected to hear someone voice an objection, but none was forthcoming. The cute little waitress assigned to their table absolutely gushed over Freddie, and Conrad enjoyed some overflow.

Between bites of his linguini, a few fans came up and asked Freddie for his autograph, requests he gladly responded to, signing with a wild flair to his F’s, making it look like “FF” with scribbles next to them. Two girls walked up with t-shits displaying “W.W.F.D” and asked Freddie to sign them.

“What does WWFD stand for?” Conrad asked.

“What Would Freddie Do?” Freddie replied.

“You’re putting me on,” Conrad said, dumbfounded.

“No, really. A t-shirt shop in town started selling these a couple of years ago. Mr. Farnsworth asked me if I minded and I told him of course not! Pretty cool, huh?”

“Amazing,” Conrad responded, shaking his head.

The night was all about Freddie, and Conrad was content to kick back and watch him soak up the attention. Freddie did not come across as needy, having to thrust himself out amongst the masses to receive adulation and, therefore, validation. Instead, Conrad observed that he approached his accessibility as more of a responsibility. If he was going to be Freddie Ferret, this came with the territory, and he embraced it graciously. As Conrad would see during the course of their outing, it was good to be Freddie Ferret in Midville.

After a pleasant meal, Freddie headed off to their next stop for the evening. Conrad was still thinking about how amazing it was that Freddie could eat a bowl of linguini in a ferret suit and not get a drop of marinara sauce on it. After all, Conrad had to dab off spots of lasagna from his shirt, making him happy he had worn a navy blue polo instead of white or a pastel. Freddie apparently felt like some dancing, because their next stop was “Inhale,” the most popular dance club in the area.

Again, Freddie was able to ignore a long line outside the building and gain immediate entrance for himself and Conrad. Once inside, Freddie was mobbed by more fans, most of them females. There were a couple of instances where fist fights nearly broke out when women were jockeying for position on Freddie’s dance card. Conrad was impressed watching his furry friend glide around the dance floor. Freddie had all the moves--he was one agile ferret.

Freddie was also considerate, sitting out dances to share a drink with Conrad. Conrad thought back to his younger days, when his best friend Nick had bailed on him more than once during outings like this when a cutie gave him a “come hither” look. Freddie, however, was making sure Conrad was enjoying himself, and it was working. Although he did not venture onto the dance floor, Conrad was enjoying the music (an eclectic mix of ‘80’s and 90’s songs) and the energy from the crowd. When Freddie wasn’t sitting and shouting to him over the music, Conrad got a big kick out of seeing a six-foot ferret doing what frequently crossed over into dirty dancing. Yep, he had ALL the moves.

The dynamic duo’s final destination for the night was “Country Corner.” There was no crowd hanging outside the door with the hour now well past midnight, but it was a packed house inside. Once Freddie was spotted, a loud cheer went up and Freddie waved to the adoring masses. He then gave the keys to his Hummer to the manager, indicating it was time to seriously kick back and throw down some cold ones.

There was no dancing here, just mingling with others, swapping stories, and lots and lots of laughter. Later on, Conrad found himself caught up in the revelry and, joined by Freddie, leading everyone in song.
“You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille. With four hungry children and a crop in the field. I’ve had some bad times, lived through some sad times, this time the hurtin’ won’t heal. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille.”

After several rounds of that classic (or is it infamous) Kenny Rogers bar song, Freddie had a young lady on each arm and motioned the crowd to a drawn out climax and a finish punctuated with loud cheers. He then bid them and the ladies adieu for the night (by then morning) and asked for a cab to be called to shuttle Conrad and himself back to campus.

As they were downing their last beverage of the evening, Conrad looked at Freddie and said, “Thanks, man. This was freakin’ GREAT!”

“My pleasure,” Freddie responded. “It was good to see you unwind.”

“It felt really good to relax for a change. It was amazing to see you in action. You are a furry gigolo,” Conrad said, clanking bottles with his friend.

“True ‘dat!” Freddie exclaimed.

Coming Tuesday, August 1: "The Voices of Farnsworth"