2008 - Glendale Community College

sense of adventure anymore? By the time I
made it to the location it had taken half
an hour.
The coordinates led to a corner house,
not an office as I had assumed. As I
approached I slowed down to scout the
site more thoroughly. Rock and dirt yard,
a few big cacti scattered about. A couple
nectarine trees. And an old woman looking
right at me.
I guess I hadn’t really thought this
might be a customer’s house. In that
moment, however, it crossed my mind.
I’ll admit that I slightly panicked. My
advice is that if ever you find yourself
in a similar circumstance, try to act
casually. Maybe toss a smile at the old
woman, or even just throw her a normal
look and follow it up with a drive-off
type move. Immediately ducking your head
below window level and peeling out in
what happens to be a school zone tends
to be conspicuous, and perhaps counter
to your original intention of avoiding
notice.
Still, it had taken me thirty minutes
with traffic. The way back home only
took twenty-five. Assuming I hadn’t been
reported to the Phoenix police, the trip
was helpful.
I decided to leave at 9:55 PM – to
make sure I was prompt. Two vehicles
were already waiting. One appeared to be
an SUV, looking golden in the glow of
the tiny garage bulb. As I pulled in,
I glanced at the plates. Sure enough
FLMINGO had arrived. But who was KLJ 873?
FLMINGO approached my van. “Are you
Matthew?” I was. She directed me to pull
up parallel to KLJ 873 and join her in
the garage. Within, I couldn’t help but
notice the variety of display pieces:
Flamingos, Pigs, Penguins, Storks,
Bats, Rabbits, Hearts, Sports Balls of
all sorts, Dinosaurs, Stars, Circles,
Shamrocks, Tombstones, Smiley Faces, and
Fish – to name a few. So this was indeed
home-base – not a customer’s house. The
old woman must have been all part of the
cover.
“Both of you; welcome to Flamingos By
Night. You passed my first test: finding
this place.”
KLJ 873 and I looked at each other.
In that moment I realized something: You
know what doesn’t look good with dark
curly-wavy surfer-type hairdos? Really fat
people. Nor, I immediately recognized, the
middle-aged. While employers may not be
allowed to discriminate based on oldness,
hair-dressers should be required.
44
Alright, alright. I’ve been told
I get judgmental when competing for
a job. But ever since I lost out on
previous employment to a girl whose
only qualifications were her ‘floatation
devices,’ I’ve become a tad embittered.
(It was lifeguard duty in Texas. Why the
city couldn’t supply the floatations,
I have no idea. I still hold a grudge
against El Paso Park District #11.)
I seized the initiative and introduced
myself to fatso. But I wanted to use a
code-name, like FLMINGO. I choose MATHEW
(Note the single ‘T’). He countered with
Chandler.
A character from Friends? So much for
originality.
FLMINGO continued, “Tonight we’re
delivering a flock of flamingos and a halfflock
of giant lips. We call them flocks.
And when you receive a flock, we say
‘You’ve been flocked.’ And when you’ve
been flocked, we refer to you as the
Flockee. Our flocks are very well trained.
They never wander off. They don’t poop in
your yard. They won’t tear up your grass
or nibble on your fruit trees.”
FLMINGO had clearly been in the field
for too long, her perceptions skewed
by twelve years working the valley. In
her mind, these plastic animals and
shapes were alive. To her, there was no
difference between flesh and blood and
plastic and kitsch. I applauded Command’s
decision to limit FLMINGO to training
missions.
FLMINGO handed KLJ 873 (I won’t bother
to use his lame code-name) and I a few
cheat-sheets. We learned how to pack
boxes, which pens belonged to which
flocks, how many to group in each type of
flock. Customers pick and choose their
flocks. In addition they get a custom
sign (Custom means that we velcro black
letters onto a white sign) and a custom
card (Custom means we use a black pen on
a pink slip). Tonight’s was a ‘Thank You’
Mission. And as everyone knows, nothing
says ‘Thank You’ like flamingos and lips.
“We once delivered a flock of pigs to
a house, and the card read ‘I’m going
to make you squeal and snort!’ Can you
believe it?”
It’s sad when an agent goes. Years of
service had boiled down to this. Now,
seeing FLMINGO, her mind still in her
glory-day missions of the Cold-War, well,
that’s a risk every Agent must face sooner
Traveler