U-WRITE-IT RESULTS

Pretty sure he was born in the wrong era, Ricky detested this whole hippy existence. Oh, he'd given it a try. Summer of Love and all that. Drove to San Francisco with the four of them. Bought all the gas. Shared his jug of wine. Got his sleeping bag ripped off by some "brother" reeking of mildewed patchouli.

Like a loose checker knocking around in a box of puzzle pieces, Ricky just didn't fit.

Taking a last look around at his party guests passed out on the floor, Ricky shut the door and never looked back.

Looking out his office window at Weiden & Kennedy, Ricky checked his appointment book. He had a 3:30 meeting with the head of the Oregon Tourism Commission to unveil his teams' ideas for the summer campaign, but his stomach was in knots. He hadn't felt this way since he was originally hired three years ago.

Ricky made a point to have his secretary hold all calls, while he sat down at his lap top and hacked into the personnel department s web files. He searched his name and noticed something had changed on his profile.

"Mr. Sanderson?" his secretary's voice startled Ricky back to his office. "Mr. Weiden would like to speak with you... right now."

"Ron, I don't know what to say. What about John?"

"Your department needs new leadership. John didn't have what it takes. We need people like you."

"Thanks" was all he could say. How would he tell Sam? How would he face John in church?

"One more thing," Ron looked him straight in the eye.

"This promotion has conditions. You need to mix the chemicals with less nitrates. Find a filler or we ll loose profits. No profits, no job if you know what I mean?"

"What do I tell our customers?"

"Why tell them anything? As long as it works, who cares?"

Ron winked with a smile, "It'll be our little company secret, if you know what I mean?"

Yeah, I know what you mean, Ricky thought.

"Ricky, dear, join me? Drinky-poo?" La Diva beckoned from across the darkened lounge. The rhinestone shoe buckle ring winked seductively from that ruby taloned hand.

Ricky picked up the whipped peach cocktail in one hand and his icy Corona in the other. "Here ya go, Boss."

Inhaling the drink through a clear plastic straw, La Diva finished it off quickly with three very loud, very unladylike gurgles. "Okay, toots. Here's the deal: your weekly pay will most likely double just working weekends."

Ricky knew he was a great bartender, but the offer astounded him.

"Course you'll need a new 'do, flashier clothes." LaDiva dropped out of character once again, burped, and slapped Ricky on the back. "How's the name Sharon LaStones sound?"

Ricky was no longer sure he wanted to tend bar at a club featuring female impersonators.

When his boss asked him what was wrong, Ricky said, "I've been on the moon about it, but everyone else says they're down in the dumps..."

"Stay on the moon, Boy," the boss said with a smile on his face, "You're like a breath of fresh air around here -- and until they all start behaving like you instead of turning out the rubbish they get from the dumps they're in, they'll not get a raise either!"