Tom Schreck: TKO

“You would be an asset to our organization,” Rocco said, employing his best badass face.

“Mr. Dombrowski.” Sanchez nodded in my direction.

“Mr. Cramer, if you choose to be recognized by the IBOSK, you must keep your training secret. You must not appear as a karateka to the outside world, except in the way you carry yourself. In that way you must be a karateka at all times, understand?” I said.

“I think so, sir.” Billy looked as confused as Mike Tyson at a spelling bee.

“In that case, by virtue of your intense commitment to training but to a greater degree because of your character, selflessness, and bravery to help your fellow man…” I paused for dramatic effect while I fished it out of my pocket.

“The IBOSK confers upon you the rank of first-degree black belt,” I said, and I held the black belt I had gotten as a teenager.

I didn’t think it was possible for Billy’s eyes to get wider but they did. He was visibly shaking and his eyes welled up. He wasn’t the only one with overactive tear ducts at the moment.

I approached Billy and tied the belt around his waist while tears streaked both our cheeks.

“Mr. Cramer, sir. Welcome to the rank of black belt!” I said then I turned to the group and yelled the command “Attention! Bow!”

“WASABIIIII!!!!!” the group yelled out in unison as they bowed to the IBOSK’s newest black belt.

Billy came to attention and bowed with as much pride as I’d ever seen on a human being’s face.

And he deserved every bit of it.

Rocco convened the IBOSK to their first-floor clubhouse where the group threw down the ceremonial shot of Jameson’s. Grandmaster Sanchez pulled rank and made Rocco buy him three more, which because of the IBOSK’s protocol, he had to do.

I put my arm around Billy and welcomed him to the club. He couldn’t stop thanking me.

“Sir, I don’t know-” I didn’t let him finish.

“It’s not ‘sir’ anymore. We’re the same rank,” I said, smiling.

“Sir?”

“Ahhh.” I waved my finger at him.

“Duff?”

“Yeah, that works,” I said.

Then, I told him how his new rank meant no more Bad-Breath Karateka Ninja suits and how in the IBOSK we wore our rank on the inside and carried it in our hearts. He got it and didn’t seem at all upset about his wardrobe. I figured getting Billy out of those goofy outfits would go a long way toward him not getting picked on. That, and what he now genuinely carried inside.

Billy’s black-belt reception went on for another hour. When it was time for him to leave, he told me he wanted to walk home and make the day last. We shook hands and then I hugged him as hard as I ever hugged anyone.

Billy tucked his folded belt in his pocket and headed home. He already had a different walk. I thanked all the guys and bought a round for everyone.

“How come I’m only a second degree?” Rocco said. “I want a promotion.”

“You not ready, yet,” Sanchez said. He was a full head shorter than Rocco. “Buy your master another Jameson,” Sanchez said.

“Duff, you’re an interesting fellow,” Dr. Pacquoa said.

“Doc, thanks for helping out. Sorry about the stereotyping,” I said.

“Not at all. I happen to carry a rank in Kendo anyway.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but I think I’d rather be in the IBOSK.” He laughed. “Don’t forget, if I can do you a favor sometime.”

“You just did,” I said.

“This was something else. If I can do something for you, I’d like to.” I thought for a second and figured, what the hell…

“Actually, Dr. Pacquoa, there is something…”

As it turned out, September 2, the day my work suspension ended, fell the next day. The good news was the suspension was over and the bad news was the Michelin Woman was going to fire me. She’d had a month to get the approvals and to get her angry little ducks in a row, and I just knew she was drooling with anticipatory delight at the prospect of looking me straight in the eyes and letting me know I was canned.

“Hey, Duff.” Just my luck that Sam would be the first guy to greet me when I came through the clinic’s door. “Did you hear about the Polack who confronted the ventriloquist about making Polack jokes?”

“Good morning, Sam. It’s good to be back,” I said.

“He goes up to the ventriloquist and says ‘I’m sick of you making fun of my people and now I’m going to kick the shit out of you.’ And you know what the ventriloquist says, Duff?”

“No, Sam.”

“He says, ‘Hey Buddy, relax. It’s just an act.’ And you know what the Polack says, Duff?”

“No, Sam.”

“He says, ‘I wasn’t talking to you. I’m talking to that little asshole on your knee.’” Sam laughed extra hard all the way back to his cubicle.

I went to see Trina while at the same time trying to avoid Claudia, which wasn’t easy to do because Trina’s desk was just outside Claudia’s office.

“Hey, Duff, welcome back.” Trina’s smile was precious.

“Hey, Trina, thanks. Hey, I’m waiting for a fax. Did anything-” Claudia interrupted before I could finish.

“Duffy, I didn’t know you were in. The instructions in your letter were clear about you meeting with me before talking to anyone else in the clinic,” she said.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, Claudia. I-” She interrupted me again.

“Please go to your desk and get your keys.”

“Uh, doesn’t all the shit that happened count for anything?”

“Duffy, the events that occur outside of this office have nothing to do with your performance and your behavior in this office. Get your keys and meet me in my office immediately.” She finished it off with a glare and a smile.

I headed off to my desk without looking at Trina whose head was down, looking at her blotter. She sniffled as I walked away.

I got my keys out of my desk and headed into Claudia’s den of power. Losing the job was one thing, but losing to Claudia was another. I could find another job, but I couldn’t take letting her win. I sat in her office and she had a series of forms and statements for me to sign acknowledging that I was given several warnings for “inappropriate behavior” and that I full well knew the consequences. There were forms about insurance cancellation and about taking clinic property when I was leaving. She also had a form about a private security guard to come in to escort me out.

I looked at all the forms in front of me and took my time reading them and asking stupid questions to slow things down. Claudia sat with her hands folded, glaring the whole time with her Starsky-do seeming to expand by the second. Twenty, thirty minutes went by, and I decided not to prolong the inevitable; I picked up the termination notice to sign off on it.

“You know something, Claudia? You may not believe this, but I care about the people who come here. I may not follow the rules, but I care about the people,” I said.

“Rules are important, Duffy, and you don’t follow them,” she said.

“What’s the use,” I said, mostly under my breath, and I picked up the pen.

“Claudia, you have a fax,” Trina said from the doorway.

“I’m busy, Trina,” she said.

“I think this is important,” Trina said, and she walked in and handed the fax to Claudia. She flashed me a wink as she headed back to her desk.

I put the pen down and studied Claudia’s face.

“Oh, I don’t believe this,” she said, continuing to read. “Are you kidding me? I won’t allow this! Oh, the nerve!” she said. She placed the paper down on her desk.

“You must think you’re pretty cute,” she said.

“Well, I’ve been told-”

“Shut up and get out of my office, now!” The Michelin Woman’s face went bright red.