We All Need Somebody to Lean On

Ivan ends his job-changing adventures in a surprise meeting with his old friend and mentor, the fictional Jim Kahuna:

“Dark suit, white shirt, conservative tie, no jewelry,” Ivan murmured as he peered at himself in the mirror and ticked off each item on his employment counselor’s checklist. “Polished shoes, manicured hands, freshly cut hair, close shave. What do you think,” he asked his reflection, “are we ready for our interview?” His reflection answered with a wry grin, reminding Ivan of his counselor’s parting comments.

“You’re going from the top to the bottom,” she’d said. “Instead of giving orders you’ll be taking them, and that lack of authority won’t be comfortable. Expect to be a little off-balance, particularly during your first interview. Just keep thinking of that shop you’re going to own one day, though, and you’ll be fine.”

Knowing it was time to leave, and hoping that the tension in his throat was really nothing but first-interview jitters, Ivan gave his reflection a quick nod, checked to make sure that he had a working pen and several copies of his resume, and then strode out into a brilliant morning. “Acknowledge and move on,” he told his fluttery stomach as he drove off, quoting The Big Kahuna, his best friend in the good old surfing days.

He’d almost reached that state of peaceful contemplation the Kahuna called “the zone” when he pulled into the parking lot of The Ultimate Surfin’ Safari a half-hour later. And then he felt the band around his neck tighten again when he stepped out of his car and surveyed The Ultimate’s blocklong facade.

An industrial-strength concern, The Ultimate resembled the shop Ivan hoped to eventually own about as much as The Jewelry Mart resembled the small, cutting-edge establishment off Rodeo Drive where Ivan had bought a 40th-anniversary present for his parents. Dismayed by the prospect of selling mass-produced equipment to inexperienced surfers, but determined to take the fullest advantage of this opportunity, Ivan squared his shoulders. ‘Acknowledge and move on,” he repeated aloud.

“But not through those doors,” said a well-remembered voice next to him.

“Kahuna!” Ivan yelled, grabbing his old friend’s hand and pumping it eagerly. “In the flesh,” replied a broadly grinning Jim Kahuna.

“In a lot of flesh,” Ivan thought as he took in Jim’s Hawaiian-print bags and fish-net vest. “And all of it in ‘the zone,’ ” he added more than a little enviously. From the top of his long, sun-bleached hair to the soles of his bare feet, the Kahuna glowed with health and bright-eyed contentment. “Five years older than I am,” Ivan thought wistfully, “and he still looks like a college kid.”

“I was taking the long way into town when I saw you standing here,” Jim nodded when they’d completed the obligatory round of shoulder punches, “and stopped to say hey. Doable duds, by the way. Executive quality, too, as befits a successful pharmacist. If I didn’t know better, though,” he continued, giving Ivan a wink, “I’d be tempted to say that you’re looking for a job.”

Feeling suddenly awkward, Ivan took a deep breath and gave the Kahuna a thumbnail sketch of the process by which he’d come to be standing outside The Ultimate with an appointment slip in his hand. “I’d hoped to start somewhere more, uh, creative,” he concluded, “but this seems to be the only place that’s hiring.”

“Creative, huh?” Jim said, plucking the slip from between Ivan’s fingers and tearing it neatly in half. “Get in there and tell the man, ‘Thanks but no thanks.’ I’ll wait for you in the jeep.”

“What’re you doing? Where are we going?” Ivan stammered.

“To a little place up the coast,” the Kahuna replied smugly, “with a small but select clientele and the most innovative boards in the world. The owner is looking for a full-time clerk and a part-time board sander. If you’re serious about this, and don’t mind hard work, long hours and a chump-change paycheck, I’ll get you in.”

“What makes you so sure you can get me the job?” Ivan gasped a few minutes later, holding on for dear life as the Kahuna made one of his trademark U-turns. Jim just tipped him another wink and made a flying left onto Pacific Coast Highway. “At least tell me the name of the place,” Ivan yelled.

“The Zone!” The Big Kahuna yelled back, “and I can guarantee that you’ll be hired because the owner’s name is Jim Kahuna. If you swear that you’ll never wear a suit or a tie again in your life,” he said, breaking up at the stunned expression on Ivan’s face, “he might even make you a partner some day!”