Wild Fyre by Ike Hamill Read Free Book Online Page B

me? I have no experience.”
    “That’s my problem. You go in for the interview and I’ll get you an offer. What do you have to lose?” I asked.
    “Nothing, I guess.”
    Self-esteem is what she had to lose, but I didn’t mention that. I didn’t need to, either. I got her in the door with some smooth talking and a promise to cut my fee in half if they took her. She got an offer based on the interview. After almost a week’s deliberation, she took the job. It turned out to be the best decision of her life.
    She excelled at the job. Her skills translated perfectly from manipulating metal to running the project. They finished on-time and under-budget and then she took several months off to have her first baby. She was pregnant when I met her. I had guessed it, but of course I didn’t bring it up. It was probably the reason she was willing to walk away from the metal shop. They’re pretty safe places, but not as safe as an office environment.
    When she was done with maternity leave, the company begged to hire her full time. She jumped at the chance. I took my full commission the second time.
    I’m not sure how word got around, but it did. Hiring managers started taking my calls without hesitation. I would place almost anyone, regardless of how small the commission. I placed a fast food manager one time. Another time, I placed a grade school janitor. I don’t think I earned enough to pay for dinner on either occasion, but I built my reputation. If I called, managers understood that a talented person perfect for the job would show up.
      As my confidence grew, I dreamt of quitting my government job and doing nothing but staffing. It seemed like a reasonable goal, so I worked the numbers. I would have to start working with higher-wage talent if I wanted to make it pay off. My approach required a decent time commitment to research just the right fit, and there was only so much volume I could handle. That meant that I would have to get paid more for each placement. Which, in turn, meant I would have to work with people who could command a higher salary. I began to reject people. I didn’t tell them I wouldn’t work for them. I would say, “Keep up with your own job search and I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”
    Then, if they called again, I would repeat the same line. It felt horrible, but I got used to it.
    So that’s what I did for a few years. I’d wait for someone to show up, examine their skills, estimate their value, and then find them a job. The market got a little tighter and it felt like everyone decided at the same time to lower commissions. Less money per client meant I needed more clients, or better clients. My standards lowered. Then, as recruiters placed less-worthy applicants, companies moved most of the bounty out to after probation. I might get 5k for placing a welder, but I’d only get one thousand on signing and the other four if the worker lasted a year. Tell that to the mortgage company—I’ve got twenty percent now and I may give you the rest in twelve months.  
    I began to think I’d have to go back to the government and start at the bottom again.
    That’s when I met Bertrand Russell Arthur Williams—how’s that for a name? He had a ton of talents listed: cabinet maker, mathematician, author, sailor, physicist, drafter, auto mechanic, art critic, lawyer. I arranged a meeting in my humble office.
    Bert stood about 6’2”, but he seemed even taller. He was one of those really skinny guys who carried himself like a flamingo. His charcoal-gray pant legs looked like marble columns until they moved. Then they flapped against his skinny legs and you watched to see if his knees bent backwards or forwards. I’m not allowed to ask age, but based on his timeline and look, I’d say he was mid-fifties.  
    “Have a seat, Mr. Williams,” I said.
    “Bert,” he said.
    “Thank you, Bert. I’m Ed,” I said. I shook his hand and gestured towards the chair again. He looked down at it, as