Driving through Cleveland's "Collinwood" this week, a door to a 1960 memory was suddenly opened.
Just out of high school at the age of 17, wheeless and jobless, I enrolled with the Ohio Bureau of Employment Services in the hopes of finding some work. A position was open at a company on Saranac Rd. I informed my dad of this opportunity, asking him what was the best way to get there by bus. He told me to go ahead and make the appointment; he would see that I got there.
I made an appointment to fill out an application, interview and take their written test. Dad, indeed, was helpful getting me there. I rode over in the backseat of his powder blue Cleveland Police detective car. It had black tires and a shotgun fastened upright, just beneath the rear view mirror. His detective partner rode along with us.
On time for my interview, I was deposited at the door and went inside to go through the routine. All the while I was inside, company employees inside the office were going to the window, peering out to the parking lot, and remarking, "What are they doing out there?" and "Who do you think they're looking for?" Even though Dad and his partnerhad "Detective" written all over them, the shotgun was definitely agiveaway!
Focusing on the written test, the word was unspoken about my transportation arrangement. After finishing the test and interview, I left, got into the back seat of the vehicle and we drove off.
I never heard back from that prospective employer......they probably presumed I was being returned to a juvenile detention facility!
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