Dad wasn’t used to the politics of business. Sell outs, take overs, a company “changin’ hands.” He just figured he’d get a job in the profession he’d studied so hard for and that’d be it. He’d be set. He’d get to do microbiological research and maybe make a difference . . . do some good and for 2 years we were almost middle class. Then one day he came home stunned . . . just shaken. We kept askin’, “What’s a pink slip? What’s a pink slip?” “I’ve been canned god damn it,” he yelled. He went down to the tavern. He could hardly get up the next day. He paced back and forth . . . smokin’ . . . shakin’ his head. Seems like a new bossman had appeared on the scene. He brought in his own people and cleaned house. Dad wasn’t the only one let go. He got on unemployment and typed up some letters and resumes. A place out at Kansas City give him a call for an interview. It was an 8 hour drive but he got in the station wagon. Alice went with him. They got there and finally found the restaurant. Alice said the men were nice and dressed in suits. They ordered steaks and so did she. Dad didn’t eat a thing. He just sat there drinkin’ coffee and smokin’ cigarettes. He told them guys that he was too up set to eat. He said he didn’t like to drive . . . it made him nervous. He said he was worried he might have him a conniption fit on the way back. He said that’s why he brought Alice . . . so she could “grab the wheel” if she had to. Alice said the men just looked back and for forth at each other. When they were done eatin’ they shook dad’s hand and said they’d be in touch. Dad and Alice hit the road. They made it home. Finally a letter came. They thanked dad for his time and trouble. They’d enclosed a check for gas . . . and that was the closest dad ever got to gettin’ another job in his field.