I was dressed in a navy-blue suit, wearing a white buttoned-down dress shirt with a yellow tie. My mother made me iron my shirt again. She thought it was still wrinkled. I told her not to worry as my suit jacket would cover most of the shirt. I really didn’t think this could vary my chances of getting the job, but oh well, one more time, it is.

I was mentally preparing for a job interview on a cold Wisconsin Friday afternoon in the middle of January. Standing at the reception desk at the local Boy Scout office, I hear,

“Mr. Winson will see you shortly. Please have a seat,” The receptionist urged. 

There was a small sitting area with only a handful of chairs. I turned around to take a seat next to the end table that had a pile of magazines, none of which caught my eye. I will admit I was pretty anxious about the interview. I was thumping my right leg at the thought of it.

Mr. Winson contacted me three weeks after to inform me about the new Camp Director that was hired. He coordinated a date and time so we could meet. I met with the new Camp Director the following weekend at a south-side bar and grill back in my hometown.

When I arrived, the waitress informed me that my guest had already arrived. The waitress escorted me to the table. The Camp Director looked up when he saw the waitress and me approaching the table. He smiled and stood to shake my hand.

“Frank, nice to meet you!”

“Pleasure is mine,” I replied while shaking his hand.

“As my boss has probably mentioned to you that my name is Taylor Meeks. Please sit down.”

He said warmly.

The waitress had left, assisting a nearby customer a few tables over. 

“Hopefully, you weren’t waiting too long?” I replied.

My alarm had gone off, playing Smokey Robinson and the Miracles music. Not a great song to wake up to this early in the morning. It was eight o’clock. Today was the first day of staff week. This was the day I’d been anxiously waiting for since I accepted the Program Director position.

I reached over to turn the alarm off. I slowly pulled off my covers and sat up. It was freezing cold. I quickly dressed, put my scout uniform and wristwatch on, and walked outside my cabin. The cabin was big enough for two people, but I lived alone. It was one of the perks of being the Program Director. Several cabins were grouped together in a layout of the number eight. One circle of cabins was where the minors lived, and the others were over the age of eighteen. The campsite was known as staff city. The only bad thing about living in the cabins was the tin roofs. When it rained, the roof made a considerable amount of noise that prevented adequate sleep. Program directors typically slept in the lodge with the camp director and health officer. Still, the chef took my spot instead as he had recent hip replacement surgery. He requested a room in the lodge as he was still adjusting after surgery.

I had rounded on the program areas before lunch. Each area was making progress with little disruption. No fights broke out, which was always a plus. All of the staff returned to the lodge for lunch. They all looked exhausted from the morning as the Waterfront had gotten all the boats out of Eco/Con’s pavilion. The supply tents were set up in all the campsites with most of the supplies needed for the first week of camp. Scoutcraft had set up their tents and grabbed some of their equipment stored in the quartermaster building and lodge. Scoutcraft was going to be the area that needed the most attention due to building the area from scratch every year. Scoutcraft never had a permanent building structure. There was more work to be done for the afternoon.

Jed and his assistants had laid out some burgers with baked beans and potato chips in the staff lounge. Everyone had gathered in the room, ready to eat.

“Great job, everyone! After lunch, I will need to see the area directors and Blaine so we can go over tasks for the afternoon. Larry, why don’t you start by saying grace?” I asked.