He found Joanie's house, a once-matronly home now split into two stifling apartments, its white paint peeling like a co-ed's skin after spring break. When she opened the door, Rufus said, "Hi hi hi," like he always used to do when they were together.
"Hi, Rufus. Glad you're here."
"Sorry, I'm late," Rufus said, stepping into the room and looking around at the cracked sheet rock, the stained ceiling. "A bear held me up."
Joanie stopped short. "You were robbed by a bear?"
"Oh no. He just manhandled me a bit. Seriously, some family in Gorton saw one in their yard and called the cops, and called the paper. At least they called the cops first."
"Wow. Did you get a picture?"
Rufus crushed his teeth together and leaned his forehead against the wall. "Geez. Why do I even wake up in the mornings?" he said.
"You forgot to shoot the picture?"
"Well, he was in the cage when I got there anyway. Maybe I can get a shot when they release him later today."
"I'm sure you can. Do you like chicken pot pie?"
"With the Veg-All mixed vegetables?"
"None other."
"Ah, Joanie, you didn't forget. Oh hello, Leonard." Joanie's husband had come out of a room bearing what must have been little Jason. "I take it this is the pup."
"The pup himself," Leonard said. "So you saw a bear?"
"Boy did I."
Rufus and the couple sat and ate the chicken pot pie, with rolls. Joanie brought out some apple cake later. They talked about Rufus' job primarily, with Rufus explaining how long he'd been there, what it was like to cover murder trials, corporate layoffs and Christmas rushes on merchants. They seemed disappointed it was all done through interviews and reading reports.
When Rufus had finished his apple cake, Leonard asked him. "So, Rufus, how are they paying you."
Rufus knew most people found it offensive to be asked such a question or, at least, in poor taste, but he always welcomed the question. Answering it was a form of protest against those depriving him of his surplus value. "Six bucks an hour."
"Excuse me, you said SIX?" Joanie asked.
"I did. That's what they've been paying this position since the late 80s. Thank God I got the degree, eh? Excuse me, I missed one. I mean degrees."
"Yeah, you finished your master's didn't you?" Leonard said.
 "May of 95."
"I don't want to seem too forward here. I don't mean to pry," Leonard said, showing his palms.
"Oh, no problem at all, believe me."
"But have you considered other things? Maybe not necesarrily in your field? But which could change things for you?"
Rufus thought this was a good place for one of his standard jokes. "Sure I have, but I can't afford to rent a crack house." As Joanie and Leonard grimly laughed, Rufus crossed his arms on the table and put his face down for a moment. "I've sent resumes out. Put up a web page to sell myself complete with beardless, conservative mugshot. I can write. I can teach in a community college. That just means I have a great career waiting for me in the trucking industry," he said to the red, vinyl tablecloth.
"Well, would you consider selling long distance service? For us. And we'd help train you, and get you into the downline," Joanie said, brightly.
"Eh?"
A couple of minutes later Rufus sat on their couch in front of their console television. Joanie pressed one button on the VCR. They watched a fifteen-minute video presentation by a man from south Arkansas who wore a shirt that looked like the Italian flag and claimed he was getting $50,000 a month because he was "selling opportunity." It all started, he said, when he persuaded his friends and neighbors to switch long-distance carriers to his company. At the end of the presentation, he said you could do the same and it would be the best $200 you ever spent. "So what do you think?" Joanie said. She had either been fluttering her fingers and chewing her nails as the tape rolled. Rufus felt the muscles in his neck bunch up a little thicker every time the man said, "money-making."
"Eh . . . well, it must be legit. Otherwise you two wouldn't be into it, would you?" Rufus said to their matted beige carpet.
"I'm hearing skepticism," Leonard said. "If I may, I'll just tell you what we're doing. We invested the initial $400 two months ago to become a distribution center. And although we had to take a break when Jason was born, we have made that back."
"So now you've broken even? Does that count my $200."
"Uh . . . yeah. If you would join. The training sessions are fairly easy. Very convenient. They are scheduled for Saturday mornings."
"Ah. Ah. Well."
"So do you think you want to do this?" Joanie asked.
"I would have to really really think about it. And I would have to consult with at least three credit card companies."
"You too," Leonard said. "That's how we paid for this ourselves."
"Ah. Ah. Well."
"When could I call you and get your decision?" Joanie said.
"Well, I guess next week. I really have to be going," Rufus said, standing up. "I think there's a planning commission meeting and I need to get briefed on the pattern of variances in our R-3 zones. Otherwise, who would know what I was talking about?"
"Nice to see you again, Rufus." Joanie said, standing up too as Rufus headed out.
"Ah. Yes. Great chicken pie. I always love it when you add the lima beans. Great choice. I'll call you. You bet I'll call you."
"Thanks."

When Rufus got back to the office, he went to the break room to gab with the crew, mainly the advertising sales people because the reporters didn't really get along. Rufus thought Monica was the type who took any attention from a male to mean prurient interest. She was always looking for the perfect way to say to him the words, "Step off, loser!" without opening her mouth. Like the time he gave her the only coffee mug left two mornings back, and she made a show of dousing it in that orange antibacterial dish soap and scrubbing it hard enough to make squeak noises. Rufus hardly spoke to Phil and Phil hardly spoke to anyone. Except when he would correct your grammar, marking up the whole conversation with a red pen. Monica obviously buttered him up, probably because she found he'd go easier on her. Phil was what hall monitors grew up to be.
Rufus held forth to Janet and Sam and Bill about the recent bear sighting. Camcorders. Persimmon tree. Cage made out of a culvert. Four tranquilizer darts. He couldn't talk about Joanie's attempt to trap him in a pyramid scheme, because there was something too painful about it. Vickie Lou blew into the break room in a hale of newspapers, which she was checking for printing imperfections. "Rufus, you need to be at Sharpe's Home Cooking. The Attorney General is there on a campaign stop," she called at him.