“Sorry for all the interviews we put you through,” the suit on the other side of the grey metal desk said.  “I’m sure you can understand how critical it is for us to get a new hire like this just right.  Everybody and their dog has to sign off on it.”

“I understand. That’s why I’m here,” Tug Gilstrap responded. And he did, but it irritated the crap out of him, just the same. The seven hour drive from Houston to Fort Stockton was an absolute beating. Having to make it four different times for four different interviews with four different suits seemed to be about four times more than necessary, at least in Tug’s mind, anyway.

“Just need to get you over to the Personnel Office,” the suit said.  “Get you signed up on the company health plan.  Issue your ID card.  Cross the i’s and dot the t’s,” he laughed at his own joke like only someone in a short sleeved oxford shirt with a pocket protector would.  “You know the drill.”  He leaned back in his chair and smiled.

“Not a problem,” Tug said.  “I’ve got an appointment with a real estate agent, a ‘Mrs. Shaddock’, to look at houses while I’m here.  Don’t want to make the drive back and forth any more times than I have to.  Hope to find something quick and wrap up the transition. So if we could move along, that’d be great.”

“Pretty sure you’ll find it a lot more affordable to buy a house in Fort Stockton than it is in Houston, especially around NASA, where you are.  I hear Mrs. Shaddock is the best,” the suit said.  Once you get settled, maybe we’ll stop over at the Lucky Lady for a beer after work some time.”

Tug already knew that was never going to happen. The suit was the smarmy type that had a desk and a cubicle, but as much depth as the potholes in the road on the way to the The Facility. He could tolerate guys like that, but he wouldn’t have a beer with them. Once he got to know his fellow engineers, those are the boys he’d have a beer with. The ones that could talk equations and formulas and the language of the people that would change the world. It was nothing against the suit, personally. Folks like him just bored Tug and he didn’t have the patience for them. Moving to Fort Stockton from Houston was going to be enough.

The suit stood up, indicating the interview was over and reached out his hand for a limp handshake.  Tug remained seated on the other side of the desk.  Pulled out a pack of Winstons, slid one out, and lit it with a sterling silver Zippo engraved with the Marine Corps insignia.  “Just one more thing,” Tug said.  The suit sat back down uncomfortably.  Tug crossed his leg and smoothed out the crease in the slacks.  “I haven’t seen the final copy of the contract.  I need to look that over and sign it before I head over to Personnel,” Tug winked.  “I’m sure you understand.”

“Sure, sure. Of course. No problem,” the suit said as he fumbled around with stacks of folders on his desk, placed there to make him seem like an integral part of the organization. Let me just find it.”

Tug drew a deep drag on the Winston and blew the smoke out through his nose, looking a bit like a fire breathing dragon in the process. “I’m sure you’ll find it.”

Beads of sweat seemed to form on the suit’s forehead as he fidgeted. “Ah, yes, yes, yes. Here we go. Right in front of me the whole time. If it was a snake . . .” the suit giggled uncomfortably.

Tug, having mastered the art of speed-reading at MIT, flipped through the pages quickly. The suit sat back down, rigid in his seat. Tug flicked the ashes from his Winston into the amber glass ashtray on the desk, then abruptly stopped reading and set the file down in his lap. “The car,” Tug said. “There seems to be an issue with the car.”

The suit squirmed and tried to act like he didn’t know exactly what Tug was referring to.  “What?  I’m not sure what . . .”

“I specifically negotiated a new, company provided Mercury Monterey Custom 2-Door Hardtop as part of the package,” Tug said slowly and deliberately as he crushed the butt of the Winston into the ash tray, never taking his eyes off the suit.  “It was quite clear.  It was even agreed the car would be ordered in Dark Aqua Metallic with a white painted roof.  That’s how specific I was in the negotiations.”

The suit looked down and then began fumbling with the same folders he just restocked moments earlier. “Ah, that,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes, of course, yes. I remember that now. The Mercury. Here’s the thing with the Mercury. We have a company relationship with Frontier Ford here in Fort Stockton. Have always done business with them. They’re the ‘Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal’, you know. Anyway, the automobile in the agreement was changed to a Ford Galaxie in whatever color they had in stock as a matter of convenience and cost savings to the Facility. The was a $400 difference in price, almost $500 with sales tax. We’ve got an obligation to be as efficient as possible. Support the local businesses. I was sure you’d understand.”

Tug slowly rose from his chair.  “Do you even understand what ARPANET is?  Do you know the impact it will have?  Now and into the future for as long as you can see it?  Do you understand what being able to tie together all the computers in the planet will do one day?” Tug asked rhetorically.  “Of course you don’t.  You don’t understand what one computer can do, much less one on every desk and in every home, all being able to communicate with each other.  This facility could have been on the cutting edge of that Network Control Protocol technology I bring.  And you thought $400, $500 with tax was enough to keep that from happening?”

Tug took the contract and ripped it in half lengthways, then in half again, and tossed the pieces on his desk.  “Good day,” he said. 

He stopped at the Piggly Wiggly to use the pay phone out front on his way out of town.  He called his wife and told her they’d be moving to Los Angeles instead of Fort Stockton, much to her relief.  He called Mrs. Shaddock, the real estate agent, to cancel his appointment with her that afternoon, much to her dismay.  And he called the Mercury dealer closest to UCLA in California and placed the order for the aqua and white Monterey, giving them wiring instructions for his bank in Houston. He specified the Y-Code 390 V8.

As Tug was pulling out of town, the President of The Facility walked by the suit’s office, ducked his head in and said, “We get everything wrapped up with Mr. Gilstrap and get that Mercury ordered for him?  Funny how he was so specific in what he wanted.  Guys with that kind of genius can be a bit quirky. Nonetheless, I want to make sure it gets here as soon as he starts for us.  Don’t want anything to go wrong with this one, he’s a game changer for us.”

Tug moved to California, took possession of the Mercury as soon as he moved the family out.  Went to work immediately debugging what was known as the 1822 Protocol, clearing the way for ARPANET to become functional in 1970.  It eventually expanded across the country, and then around the world.  The system was decommissioned in 1990, its work eventually becoming the internet.

Tug became wealthy enough to eventually purchase the next car of his dreams, a Ferrari, whereupon he gave the Aqua Metallic Monterey to his wife, and later to his 16 year old son. The suit ended up working the midnight to 8:00 AM shift at the Eggs & Ammo. A t-shirt, featuring a 44 Magnum pointed at a chicken screen printed on the back, took the place of the suit. He was forever denied access to the internet, limiting his ability to ever find female companionship or enjoy the convenience of mobile banking.

And that is how Fort Stockton missed out on becoming the Silicon Valley of the Lone Star State.  It all boiled down to the difference between a Ford and a Mercury.