After I flunked out of Penn State my first thought was to try to get reinstated, so I applied to take a correspondence course.

Big mistake.

The course I enrolled in was Economics, a subject that I had always hated and did poorly in. I figured that as Terry was an Econ major that I could always ask him for help.

But of course, I never ask for help.

Then the unexpected occurred.

Of course, I should have been expecting it.

I heard from Stewart Klopp at the Richland National Bank. He wanted to know when I’d be paying back my student loan.

I explained to him that I was trying to get reinstated, and he accepted that explanation, but he said I didn’t have much time.

When I realized it was a lost cause, I called Stewart back and made arrangements to pay back the loan.

But I knew I needed to find a job—and as quickly as possible.

I had to pay the monthly rent and other expenses at the apartment plus now I had the loan payments, and all that I had was the left over loan money. It was a few hundred dollars, and it wouldn’t last long.

Checking the help wanted ads, I found a pizza place was advertising for delivery guys, must have car. As it happened, Carl was running low on funds himself. It might have had something to do with that thousand dollar stereo system that he had just bought and installed in our living room. Boy did it sound great! 

We each had a car, so the two of us went and applied together.

By the time we got there, they only needed one more delivery guy, and Carl got the job.

Over the next couple months I kept checking the help wanted ads and applying where I could, but I wasn’t really qualified for much.

I remember applying at a copying place on Allen Street, just below College Avenue. It was a night job starting at midnight, and all you had to do was make Xerox copies of the pile of stuff that had come in during that day. It was estimated to take about four to five hours per night. It would have paid about 50 bucks a week, which would have been just barely enough for me to get by.

They guy who interviewed me asked why I wanted the job and I made the mistake of saying I needed a job to support myself. He said this was not a supporting job. I said it would be enough for me.

I didn’t get the job.

I remember going by the place in the wee hours of the morning a few weeks later and seeing a young woman busily making copies.

I banged on the glass door with my fists, yelling “That should have been me! That should have been me!” 

OK, no I did not do that. That was a fantasy sequence.

I’m not sure why it was so hard for me to find a job, but I suspect that at least part of the problem was that I was being a bit too picky as to what jobs I was applying for.