Ten Years: A Love Story

By G. Emanuel Reed

TEN YEARS, is a fictional story based on inspired events. It is a love story about a ten-year relationship between two people, Manolito Sneed and Francesca Bright. It begins when Manolito is awakened to find his fiancée Francesca, in full cardiac arrest. Not knowing the fate of his soul mate, Manolito is overcome with grief, and passes out several times throughout the story. During his fainting spells, he takes the reader on a ten-year journey of their life together, beginning when he first meets his co-worker Francesca. The only problem is, Manolito is married with a young son, and is fearful of telling his wife, Deidre, about his new relationship.
Ten Years attempts to weigh out the options of staying in a safe and secure, though unhappy marriage; as oppose to leaving to experience true happiness with being in love for the first time.
My hope is that Ten Years will cause you, the reader, to ponder some of the subject matters in the book; and share your perspective on how the characters relates to such topics as, infidelity, true love, forbidden relationships, injustice, and forgiveness. The book is a collection of thoughts and feelings on a variety of life's issues. Travel with me as I present some of those issues, during a season of love in a fictional novel called... “Ten Years” A Love Story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781546275800

G. Emanuel Reed

Emanuel started writing as a means of therapy to deal with a significant loss. Ten Years was created from that loss, and it is the author’s first published writing. “Growing up, I always had a gift for creating and making up stuff; we didn’t have computers or cell phones back then to entertain us. So, whenever I got punished, and sent to my room, writing became a source of entertainment for me,” the author says. Currently, Emanuel resides in Windsor Hills, Maryland with his wife, Vonda Delisa Reed of twenty-three years, and are the proud parents of Aaron and Emanuel Quincy. Retired after 33 years of government service, Emanuel devotes most of his time serving on various ministries at his church. The author also enjoys going to the movies, the beach, making pottery and playing tennis. He loves spending time with his family, especially his grandson Titan. Emanuel plans to write a second book soon.

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© 2019 G. Emanuel Reed. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  10/06/2021

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7577-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-7580-0 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedications and In Memory

Acknowledgments

About the Book

The Introduction

Chapter 1     My First Day

Chapter 2     Gettin’ Adjusted

Chapter 3     Reggie

Chapter 4     Little Brenda

Chapter 5     The Makings Of My Marriage

Chapter 6     Brother Hairston

Chapter 7     Meeting Francesca

Chapter 8     Rediscovering Brenda

Chapter 9     Being with Francesca

Chapter 10   A Peaceful Evening

Chapter 11   Meeting Lisa

Chapter 12   The Missed Appointment; Sincerely Fran

Chapter 13   The Apology

Chapter 14   The Confession

Chapter 15   The Next Chapter

Chapter 16   Home Confrontation

Chapter 17   Dee’s Night Out

Chapter 18   Dee’s Night Out Part Two (A Split Decision)

Chapter 19   A Lovely Day

Chapter 20   The Bed and Breakfast

Chapter 21   From Dreams To Reality

Chapter 22   Hairston’s Dilemma on Dee’s Account

Chapter 23   Manolito Reclaims His Life

Chapter 24   A Weekend To Remember

Chapter 25   A Day To Remember

Chapter 26   A Day To Remember Part Two

Chapter 27   A Day To Remember Part Three

Chapter 28   A Day To Remember Part Four

Chapter 29   A Day To Remember Part Five

Chapter 30   The Inconvenience of Moving On

Chapter 31   Francesca’s Thoughts

Chapter 32   Dee And Manolito’s Compromise

Chapter 33   Manolito Overcomes His Grief

Chapter 34   Interlude of A Dream

Chapter 35   Selling the House

Chapter 36   Finding Out About the Gorilla-Man

Chapter 37   It’s All about How You Explain It

Chapter 38   The Church Outing

Chapter 39   The Church Outing Part Two

Chapter 40   Years Later

Chapter 41   The Awakening

Dedications and In Memory

Ten Years is dedicated to Tracey Y. Holmes, Tonya P. Ferguson and Emanuel Quincy S. Reed. It is in memory of the Scott Family: Frances Elizabeth Matthews (Mom-mom), Irvin L. Sr. (Scotty), Irvin Jr., and especially Adrienne Francesca…, Rest well in Paradise family.

Ten Years is also in memory of my parents, Emanuel W. Reed and Bettie B. Reed, and to my brother Ricky Reed. To my uncles, Ernest Knight, Walter McKenny (Trigger), Yancey Motley; to my dear aunts, Barbara McKenny-Barr and Ora Dale Knight. Also, to my grandfather, Herman Hardee (Daddy Herman) and to my beloved grandmother, Annie Dora Spain Hardee (Mama Dora) To all the members of the Reed, Hardee/Spain families as well as the Hamlett family who have earned their wings…, may you all Rest In Power, in Peace, in Paradise.

Acknowledgments

F irst and foremost, I want to give thanks to God the Father, to my Lord, the Savior of my life Jesus Christ, and most of all to the Holy Spirit which aided me in writing Ten Years. It was the Holy Spirit that opened me in ways I had forgotten, to create a story that would cause the reader to ponder some of the issues in the book. I thank God for His grace and mercies that endures and saves sinners like me in our life journey.

I want to thank those individuals, and you know who you are, that helped motivate me to write this book after telling me many years ago, you outta write a book. Thanks Moe Page!

Thank you, to those who gave advice; to my Publisher Associate, for your patience, expertise and assistance in the cover design of Ten Years. To Sis. Maxine, who said, Keep your paragraphs ten lines or less, and I won’t say why she said it (smiles); and don’t be afraid to finish the book and let it go! I value your advice as a seasoned author. Thanks Sis. Also, thanks to those who checked my manuscript and reminded me that the more eyes you have before print, the better.

To my City Temple of Baltimore church family, my Pastor and First Lady Pat, thank you for your prayers, even though you didn’t know why I was asking for prayers, and you prayed for me unceasingly. To my (big) baby sister and brother and the entire Reed Family, thank you for your inspiration and your love.

To my sons Emanuel Quincy Reed and Aaron S. Wright, to whom without their existence, I would not have known what fatherhood was about and the joy of it. To my grandson, Titan Emanuel Reed, you are the future of my heart. To the lady in my life who continues to stand by my side, twenty+ years and counting; my confidant, friend, life-partner, and wife, for being my number one fan. Thanks, Vonda, for your support, advice, and inspiration. You are what we call in the hood, a triple treat good-looking, wise and intelligent. Thank you for your spirit, your love and patience over the past years in writing Ten Years; it has been a labor of love creating and writing this story.

To everyone who has a story to share (and we all have at least one), know that there is a book within you waiting to be released. That through a word, perhaps a sentence, or maybe a phrase or a paragraph, your life story can be helpful to someone who reads it.

Also, to those who are afraid of change, embrace it! For it’s the easiest way to overcome the fear of it. Know that it takes more energy and effort to resist change, than it does to accept it. And whether we realize it or not, change is good for us; it helps us grow. Without it, life will stay the same and ultimately become stagnate and soon die. Without change, there is no adventure while being on this journey called life. So, I thank God for the courage to change… and to become a new creature in the process!

Finally, to you the readers of Ten Years, thank you for your support! I hope you will enjoy reading my book as much as I have enjoyed the experience of writing it, and sharing my creative thoughts with you. I must admit, thinking, responding and reacting as some of the female characters in the book was a bit challenging; but I’ll let you be the judge of that (smiles).

In closing, I pray that God’s peace and blessings continue to fall fresh on you and give you the desires of your heart, which you so richly deserve. Here’s wishing you sweet dreams; that love finds you wherever you may be, and that your love story comes true; as we share with one another our life’s journey for the healing of our souls.

Cause’ life is but a dream…

~ Emanuel ~

About the Book

"T EN YEARS A Love Story" is a fictional novel based on some inspired true events. If you’ve ever fallen in love with someone but love came at an inopportune time, then you’ll love reading the novel, " TEN YEARS A Love Story ." It is a story based on a ten-year relationship between two people, Manolito Sneed and Francesca Bright, who found true love…, however, it was forbidden for them!

The introduction opens when Manolito is awakened to find his fiancée, Francesca, gasping for air. Not knowing the fate of his soul mate, Manolito is overwhelmed with grief and passes out several times through-out the story. During his fainting spells, he takes the reader on a ten-year journey of his life with Francesca. The story begins when he first meets Francesca at his new job and falls in love with her. The only problem, Manolito is married with a young son, and is fearful of telling his wife, Deidre, the truth about his new relationship.

"TEN YEARS" tells how one can evolve from being a hard-nosed rebel, to find true love, and through that love develop a personal relationship with God. "TEN YEARS" attempts to weigh the options of staying in an unhappy marriage as opposed to separation, to experience true happiness of being in love for the first time.

My hope is that "TEN YEARS" will cause you, the reader, to ponder some of the subject matters in the book; and share your perspectives on how the characters handle such topics as: marriage, infidelity, lust, forbidden relationships, true love, forgiveness, injustice and more. The book is a collection of the author’s thoughts and feelings on marriage, relationships and a variety of life’s issues. Travel with me as I present some of these issues and more during a season of love, in the novel called…

"TEN YEARS A Love Story {The Remix}"

The Introduction

I t was early one hot July morning when I was awakened by the sound of a faint ringing in my house. After hearing the sound again, I realized that the phone ringer was on in the backroom, and that I had turned off the ringer in the room where we slept. I eased from my bed to answer the phone while my fiancée, Francesca continued to sleep.

The voice on the other end was my fiancée’s youngest daughter, Sonya. Morning Manny, she said. Morning baby, how you doin’? Sonya replied, Oh, I’m fine. Is mommy up yet? As I yawned, I said, No, not yet sweetie, but hold on, I’ll call her to the phone. I yelled, Frannie babe, wake up sleepyhead. Sonya’s on the phone! After hearing Fran slowly moving around, I told Sonya, Hold on sweetie, your mom will be right with you. Everything okay? She replied, Yup everything’s okay. Great, I’ll talk with you later, okay? I laid the phone down then went to the bathroom.

Sonya and her older sister, Stacey, both lived with Francesca’s mother, while Fran often stay with me during the week so I wouldn’t have to make an extra stop to pick her up on the way to work. We met at a federal installation located in Woodchuck, not far from Baltimore. It was called the Agency. Fran had worked at the Agency for nearly twenty-three years; I had close to ten. Before being hired at the Agency, I worked in security and had served in the military prior to that.

After returning from the bathroom, I found Francesca back in bed with the covers drawn up to her neck. She was sound asleep. So sleepy-head, I said, we playin’ hooky from work today? I didn’t expect to get a response since she was now in a deep sleep and had even begun to snore. It was early and we still had a few more hours to decide if we were going to work, or calling in sick. With Fran still peacefully sleeping, I decided to climb back under the sheets and snuggled up with her as we were before the phone ranged. Soon after, I too drifted off to sleep as well.

It was no more than twenty minutes into my sleep, that I was again awakened. This time by what seemed to be the sound of gasping air. Still half asleep, I couldn’t tell exactly what or where the gasp had come from. I shrugged Fran thinking it might have been her snoring again. She gave no response.

I whispered, Babe, babe wake up…, you’re snoring again. Still no response. Then I heard her gasp again. This time I was fully conscious and knew something was terribly wrong. I began to shake my fiancée frantically, and still there was no response from her. I now realized that my friend was having trouble breathing and that she may have been in cardiac arrest. Though I had been trained in CPR, it had been some years since I’d practiced it as a security officer, and I never thought I’d have to perform it on my fiancée. I dialed 911 for paramedics, then nervously took her limp body from off the waterbed and gently placed her onto the carpet floor to begin CPR. I was in a state of shock and couldn’t believe that my best friend was lying there lifeless before me.

When the operator answered, my voice trembled as I reported there was a medical emergency here, and that I needed an ambulance as quick as possible. I gave them all the required information to get them to my house. The operator then asked was my fiancée conscious and did she have a pulse? I told them that she was not conscious and that I couldn’t tell if she had a pulse or not. I yelled to them, Can you please send an ambulance now! They told me to remain calm and that the paramedics were on the way. They advised me to stay on the phone until they arrive.

I listened to the 911 operator instructions as they continued to encourage me to stay calm. I started doing CPR as I had been trained; 15 compressions and 2 breaths, and prayed to see some sign of consciousnesses. But there wasn’t any. I began to pray. Lord please don’t let me lose her..., not now Lord, please not now! I cried. It had only been several months ago that I had proposed marriage to Fran. After nearly ten years of being soul mates, we had started making plans together as man and wife.

While I continued to do CPR, I couldn’t help but notice the ring I had placed on her hand after proposing to her in the park. It sparkled from the sunlight shining on it through our bedroom window. It was as if she was telling me, Manolito, be at peace. I continued to pray, Please God..., please don’t take away the only one that I’ve ever truly love. Tears began to roll down my face.

Suddenly, my prayers were interrupted when I heard the 911 operator telling me that the paramedics were at my door; that I should hang up and let them in. I wiped my eyes and thought, I did not want to leave Fran’s side. I felt her wanting me to stay with her; as if it were her last request. But I knew she needed professional help. So, I ran downstairs to open the door, skipping several steps at a time.

As the medics entered, I nervously told them that my friend was up in the front bedroom. They told me that I had done well and advised me to stay downstairs. With medical apparatus in hand, they quickly ran upstairs to attend to my future wife’s situation. As I attempt to follow them, I felt a tug on my shirt from behind.

When I turned, to my surprise I saw that it was my father. Manolito, he calmly said, Why don’t we wait down here for the paramedics to come back. I sighed seeing him there, and immediately turned to hug him. I began to weep in his arms. To this day, I cannot tell you how my father knew what was happening that morning; or if he just happened to be there. All I know was that I was glad to see him.

As a youngster, I’d saw my father as being a tough, stern, non-sensitive type of man. But as we waited for the paramedics, I remember seeing him getting teary-eyed as he sat talking to me. I always knew that beneath his tough exterior, there was a gentle spirit. Actually, he was the most sensitive man I had ever known. I will always love my father and remember how he consoled me during the most difficult time of my life {My dad would pass away some years later. I shall miss him dearly... RIP Pop}.

Though the events that morning seemed like a lifetime, it actually happened in a short period of time. From the moment I called Fran to the phone, to when I heard her gasping for air in her sleep; to performing CPR, and now waiting for some positive news from the paramedics. I felt numb; as I listened to my dad trying to find words to console me; trying to let me know that Fran was in good hands and that she was going to be all right. How desperately I wanted to believe that. But my father had not heard the sound she made that woke me from my sleep. Nor had he seen her limp body when I took her from the bed to the floor in my attempt to revive her.

I couldn’t remember all that dad had said as we waited on the couch; I was only thinking of Francesca and what she was going through. It seemed so unreal; like a dream that had turn into a horrible nightmare in which I couldn’t wake up. I knew of no reason why she was in the state she was; she had not been sick. In fact, the night before we were at her mom’s barbecuing with the kids. We all had a good laugh after she burned the ribs and wings on the grill while watching the Tonight Show. And minutes ago, she had just spoke with her daughter on the phone; she was fine then.

But now my soul mate was fighting for her life. As I thought about those events, it made me feel more anxious. Shaking my head in total disbelief, I slipped in and out of consciousness.

I began reminiscing of the day where I had proposed to Fran in the Patapsco State Park. I remembered how excited she was when I got down on bending knee with ring in hand and asked her to be my wife. It was the most memorable day of my life. I thought about how much we loved going to the park after work; simply to enjoy some afternoon delight; listening to some of our musical tapes we had mixed from our mocked radio station here at home. She was Lady DJ and I was DJ Manolito.

As I started to drift further into a state of semi-consciousness, I began thinking about the many things Fran and I had done that cause our lives to become entwined. I thought about how her gentle demur personality, smoothed out my rough-edge ways, and that my life had been forever changed because of it. And even though I didn’t know it then, I would later discover that because of God’s great love for me, He had used Francesca to lead me back to Him; and because of that I was in the process of being transformed into a new creature.

Sitting on the couch, I began to feel faint and light-headed; I felt myself uncontrollably falling into a deep sleep. I started dreaming about the one person who had made the most significant impact on my life; the one who helped clear my view from the dense fog which I had been in for years; the one who had shown me what love looked like through her relationship with God. All of this happen during those ten wonderful years.

When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant child. But when I grew up, I left behind those infant ways for good. We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through the mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears, and the sun shines bright. Then we’ll see it all as clearly as God sees us; knowing Him directly just as He knows us! But for right now, until that Completeness arrives, we have three things to do to lead us to that consummation: trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of these three… is love.

1 Corinthians 13:11-13 MSG

Chapter I

My First Day

M y story begins on a warm, sunny mid-August morning, and it was my first day on the job at the Agency. I had just completed my orientation class on the Main Campus and was to report for duty at the Pickers Building. I had been assigned to the Mod Seven unit, working as a Record Maintenance Clerk, also known as RMC’s. The instructor from the orientation class advised us that we could either catch a shuttle bus to the outline building, drive our own personal vehicle, and take a chance on finding a parking space there, or we could simply walk to the building since it was a short distance. It was a nice day out, so I decided to walk.

While walking, I noticed how beautiful the Agency grounds were kept. I smiled as I thought, no more working security in blighted areas of the city, guarding banks, taking threats and having to be suspicious of everyone while working. Yes, this was the best job advancement I had since leaving the military. I felt blessed to be employed at the Agency, as opposed to the Mass Transit Police (MTP) where I applied several months earlier. I thought about the two positions and begun to compare them. With the MTP, I would have to be on patrol, deal with rude and dangerous people on the buses and subway system, make arrests and be required to work swing shift, which I’d never did like working.

Unlike the MTP, being employed at the Agency would allow me to work a flexible shift between 6 am, and 6 pm. I’d preferred working day shift over nights because it allowed me to attend evening classes at the Community College of Baltimore. Though the MTP position was more appealing because of its higher salary and starting benefits, a career with the feds would be in a safer environment, and the pay scale at the Agency would eventually adjust itself to be as much as the Transit Police.

After leaving the military, I worked with several different security companies in and around the Baltimore area. Some of the positions included, riding shotgun in armored trucks, patrolling strip malls, and even did some undercover work. Later, I was told about another security company which was under contract with the feds. Working on federal grounds was one of the safest security jobs there was; mainly because it was federal property and was protected by Federal Police (FP).

I applied with the security company and was hired to work on the property known as the Agency. I’d previously had a gun permit before working under contract and while having a gun permit, you were assigned to various banks throughout the city. Many of the bank assignments were in some of the most notorious crime-ridden areas in Baltimore. I was thankful that I never had to draw my weapon. But there was one scary moment in which I thought I might had to.

It was a time when I was standing guard at a Union Trust Bank on the east side of town, at the corner of Hartford and Bonaparte. A young man in his early twenties entered the bank and slowly walked over to me and said, Hey you, what would you do if I robbed this bank? I was totally caught off guard by his remark, and briefly thought he was joking.

Then with a stern face I replied, Sir, I guess you’ll have to rob it and find out for yourself. Then I added, But let me warn you…, I am a Vietnam era vet, and a marksman who is quick on the draw, and won’t mind puttin’ a bullet in any part of your body..., sir! Laughing, the man said, Aww man, I-I-I was just kiddin’ wit’ cha’ bro. I quickly replied, Sir, I’m not your bro and in all seriousness, I am not kidding! With my hand resting on my weapon, I said, If you’re not conducting any business here sir, please remove yourself from the premises. He replied, Uh, uh sure, sure brother, uh officer sir, I-I-I’m movin’… don’t shoot me now! Then I noticed the manager witnessing what had happened and gave me the thumbs up. I whispered, I’ve gotta find a safer line of work.

Several months later, I received a call from the MTP. They offered me a high-ranking officer position because of my military police background from the National Guard and because I was working as an armed security guard contracted at the Agency. I was excited about the offer. In fact, I trained with them for about a week or two. They showed me around the various post locations where I would be in charge of. But all I could think about was the danger that came along with the high-ranking position while patrolling the new subway system in the city. It was during that same time that the Agency called saying I had been accepted as a Record Maintenance Clerk.

For a short time, I was torn between making more money and working dangerously around the clock for MTP, as oppose to making less money, but working in a safer environment on a flexible shift with the feds. It was no question in my mind which position I wanted. However, my wife thought differently.

Deidre, also known as Dee, was delighted when she heard about the MTP position and tried desperately to convince me to take the job. Secretly, I thought she only wanted me to take the police position because of the chances of getting shot were greater than working in a more secured place as a clerk. Not to mention she wasn’t thrilled about me working around so many women that the Agency was known for. As I continued walking to my newly assigned office, I thought about my buddy Frank, who I had met while working as a contract officer at the Main Campus. It was him who informed me about the Veterans Readjustment Program; a federally funded program which hired veterans to work in civil service positions. It was this program that I was selected by the Agency.

As I made my way to the parking lot of the Pickers Building, I was reminded of the infamous reputation that the building was known for. The extraordinary parties, the outlandish dress attire and mischievous behavior, as well as the numerous loose women that worked there.

When I entered the building, my thoughts were interrupted after hearing someone call, Hey Brother Sneed! Welcome to the Pickers Building my man. To my surprise, it was one of the officers whom I had worked with at the Main Campus. As he walked towards me, I recognized his smile that he so often displayed. He greeted me at the entrance. Shaking my hand off he said, Man, I heard you got picked up under that veteran’s program. Congrats my brother! Thanks, my brother, I replied. It’s good to see a familiar face over here.

I had known Brother Hairston for quite some time while working in security. We had become good friends soon after the company had hired him. I called him Brother Hairston because I couldn’t remember or pronounce his first name, which he had changed to Arabic, but kept the family’s last name of Hairston. He was about ten years older and had retired earlier from a previous job because of a disability he had incurred while in the military. He was picked up part-time because he wanted to spend most of his time with his wife, Adrienne, who was sick at home. After her passing, he later started working full-time to stay busy. Hairston was one of the few security officers I could confide in when it came to serious matters.

He would always give me good sound advice with a lot of wisdom, and plain old common sense. Bro. Sneed, as you may know, they’ve expanded the contract to this building. You might be seeing a few more familiar faces over here, he said. That’s good bruh. Uh look, can you direct me to the Modular Seven office? Sure brother. I’m just getting back from my break, but I’ll walk you to the elevators.

Once there, Hairston then gave me directions. Look, take this elevator to the second floor, pivot right and keep straight. The long hallway will lead you to your office, he said. Thanks, bruh…, see you still got that military lingo. It’s also good to see that you’re adjusting well too, I replied. Thanks for the directions and I’ll be seeing you around, huh? Sure thing Bro. Sneed.

As I entered the elevator, Hairston said, You know since you’re new around here, you’re gonna need to be careful of all these women. They’ll be looking at you like new fresh meat, he said laughing as the elevator doors closed.

I smiled at the thought of what Hairston had said. Then I thought…, these women can’t be that bad…, can they? I wasn’t used to dealing with such women as Bro. Hairston described. But I did think that it may be interesting to have the experience.

My thoughts were interrupted when the elevator stopped abruptly on the second floor. There were three ladies and one gentleman waiting to get on. As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw two other ladies running and shouting, Hold the elevator please! I turned and caught the door just before it was closing. While doing so I dropped my briefcase. One of the ladies in the elevator quickly stooped down to pick it up, then handed it to me as the two other ladies entered into elevator. Thanks for holding the elevator for us, the two said. No problem, I replied. And thank you ma’am for picking up my briefcase.

The lady looked me straight in the eyes, hesitated, then replied, Oh you’re welcome. After all, one good deed deserves another. You have a nice day. I replied to the lady, Yes ma’am, I certainly will do that... and uh, thanks; thanks again. Y’all have a nice day now! Then the elevator doors closed. I proceeded onto my destination as I thought about the incident, and the lady who picked my briefcase up. She seemed a little strange, yet familiar as we looked at each other; as if she had known me.

I continued to walk the long hallway as Bro. Hairston advised me to do. I was amazed to see so many women in one place. I had heard that the population of women here outnumbered the men five to one as I witnessed at the elevators. For the first few minutes I felt as if I was the only man on the floor. Where were the men, I wondered?

It was at that time I notice a group of women walking pass me; they looked me up and down smiling. Again, I remembered what Hairston said, that I would be looked at like new meat. Immediately, I began to feel self-conscious. I thought... isn’t that a jail term for newly incarcerated inmates? But it may be fair to say that these women were probably checking me out because I was new to the building. Besides, they hadn’t seen me before, and I was like a tourist in a strange city and could be easily spotted as such; exploring my new surroundings. However, as I got closer to my new office, I began to notice the dress attire of the employees.

For the most part, they wore professional and business-like clothes; unlike what I had heard. I saw women wearing business and casual suits; some wore dressy blouses and skirts, as well as two-piece pants outfits. The men wore suits with dress shirts and ties, and casual dress slacks with nice sport jackets. I saw several men in dressy jeans and casual penny loafers. But I also saw a few men with open collar shirts and khaki pants and baggie jeans; some even wore Timberland boots and a few expensive white tennis shoes. Some of the men’s suits appeared to be expensive; perhaps from top brand name clothing store.

As for me, I was wearing the only suit I had ever own. I had it made almost seven years ago while in Europe. After seeing what the men were wearing around the building, I knew I had to step up my wardrobe if I were going to make a good impression on my boss to advance my career. I also thought by wearing a fine suit, it would make the ladies more attracted to me as well; and there were plenty of them to attract. But I had to remind myself that the Agency wasn’t paying me for either of those reasons; fashion or getting attention from the women.

Although the women were attractive, I was hired to do the best job that I could possibly do, and I needed to keep that first and foremost in my mind. But I also needed to remind myself that I was a married man. And though I’d never considered myself as a lady’s man, I knew working here would be a challenge.

I had very little experience working around women, but so far, I was liking it. I felt like a kid in a candy store who wanted to try all the goods. But I had to remember that even though I wasn’t a happy camper at home, I was still married, with a young son. Working with so many fine women wasn’t going to be an easy task, as I thought... I’m really going to need much prayer!

While I continued to search for my unit, the hallways began to gradually get crowed. I began to see more men than before. I figured that it must be getting close to the morning break in which employees were allowed two fifteen-minute breaks; one in the morning and one in the afternoon. I had known about this from working in security over at the Main Campus.

When I arrived in the vicinity of several large mod offices, I noticed a group of ladies gathered in the hall, giggling and talking near a water fountain. They were all looking in my direction, pointing and whispering. As I got closer, I could hear one of the ladies say, No girl, I don’t think he’s deaf at all. I approached them and asked, Uh, excuse me ladies, but can either of you direct me to the Module Seven office? They giggled. Then one of the ladies said, You’re standing in front of it handsome. Can I help you? Please, I said. Can you tell me where I can find, a Ms. Amanda Sheen, the Module Leader? The ladies began to look at each other in puzzlement, then said, Amanda Sheen... who is she? they giggled some more.

Then one of the ladies in the group, a short thick one with attitude said, Uh, you must mean Sheenie don’t you? That’s what we call her around here. Uh, yeah, I guess that’s what I mean…, Ms. Sheen, I replied. No, the fat one said. Just Sheenie. You can drop the Miss. Then a giggly girl shrugged the thick one and said, Like, did he say Sheenie was a module leader? Then all of them, except for a very fine lady in the group, corrected me as they all enunciated the word, saying each syllable distinctly; That’s MOD-MAN-A-GER, as if I was hard of hearing. Then they laughed and gave each other high-fives.

Another lady then said, Sorry sir, we’re just messin’ with you. She’s on break right now. She may be back in a few minutes... or, maybe not! Again, they giggled. You wanna wait? the thick one said. I replied nervously, Ah…, sure, sure I’ll wait. Thank you, ladies. I smiled and slowly backed away into the office area. Then another lady, the fine one in the group said smiling with a pleasant voice, Sir, if you’d like, you can wait for Sheen at her desk. It’s over there near the windows, as she pointed in that direction. Well thank you miss lady, I said as I smiled and nodded to her.

She politely nodded back, then I said to the heavy one, And thank you miss for correcting and setting me straight. She replied, Oh your welcome, and I’ll set you straight anytime handsome. I turned and slowly headed towards the area that the fine lady directed me to. As I walked away, I could hear the ladies giggling and talking. One said, Lawd have mercy, girrl, I knew he wasn’t deaf or dumb, not the way he walks. Another said, Child, all I know is that I could watch him all-day-long. Then I heard one other say, I know that’s right girl. Tall, caramel and handsome? Yea girl that he is, and I wouldn’t mind climbing up on that mountain. Then I heard them laughing and saying, Oh no she didn’t say that! They all chuckled and snickered, but the fat one laughed the loudest.

I felt a bit awkward walking toward Ms. Sheen’s desk. I tried to ignore what I had heard and tried not to feel too self-conscious. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was on display... like new fresh meat being poked at. I felt my every move was being watched. All that was missing was the whistle.

As I began to regain my confident walk, suddenly I heard it, a whistle in the background. I couldn’t believe it at first until I looked back to see them trying to hush the fat one up. All but the fine lady was laughing and giggling. I started to think how some women must feel to be jeered at by men who called them out inappropriately. I myself had been guilty of that while being in the company of guys whistling and jeering at women.

But up until now, I never once thought about how they must have felt being taunted like that. Of course, I couldn’t relate to how women felt hearing such jeers as, Yo, I sure would like to ride dat bump, and, swing that thang shorty. However, I was liking all the attention from the ladies. It was a bit awkward at first since I wasn’t used to the attention like that. But it was a shot to the ole ego, even though it was unjust by a group of girls like these. And because I wasn’t getting any attention at home from the wife, being treated like new meat was flattering to me.

After waiting several minutes, the manager returned to her desk. May I help you? she asked. Yes ma’am… hi, my name is Manolito Sneed. I was instructed to report to this office for work. I’m the new Record Maintenance Clerk. Are you Ms. Amanda Sheen? Yes, I am, she replied as she looked surprised. Then she said, Welcome to Mod Seven Mr. Sneed...is it Manolito? Yes ma’am, it is. I’m named after my father, I proudly replied.

That’s a nice unusual name Manolito. So, did you have trouble finding your way here? she asked. No, not at all. I just followed the directions they gave me at the front security desk. Fine, she said. Give me a minute and I’ll show you around the office. You can leave your briefcase here at my desk, and please have a seat if you’d like. The restrooms are over there and, I’ll be right back. I placed my briefcase down as she briskly walked away to another part of the office, then disappeared. While I waited for her to return, I noticed the employees were now wandering back to their desks. Apparently, the break was over.

As I looked around to observe the activities in the office, I saw the short fat lady with all the attitude, waddling her way back to her desk. She saw me standing at Ms. Sheen’s desk and gave me a little wink, while waving her short chubby fingers. I was a little leery of waving back because of the sassy comments she made towards me moments ago.

Several minutes had passed when Sheen returned. Okay, are you ready? Sure Ms. Sheen, I’m ready... Sheen interrupts and says, Manolito, please call me Sheen, mostly everyone else does. No problem Ms., uh, Sheen, I’m ready when you are, as we began our tour.

Several times while showing me around the office, Sheen would excuse herself to talk with other women outside the mod. The women appeared to be more like girlfriends than coworkers. Hey Sheenie, they’d shouted. What’s going on girl? You got a minute to talk? From their conversations, it appeared that most of them were like old friends that she had probably known from outside the Agency; perhaps from college. I thought it seemed very unprofessional for her to interrupt a training session with a new employee just to chat. At lease she could have introduced me to some of them since I was standing all alone.

At one time in her conversations, I overheard her talking about me to one of her friends, as they both glimpsed in my direction, then giggled like two schoolgirls. But because she was the manager, I guess she was able to get away with doing such antics. Once again, I waited.

During those moments when Sheen would go off to talk, it gave me time to observe the interactions of the employees, and the overall routine of the office. People were moving about with folders in hand and pushing carts back and forth from the file cabinets to their desks. They were asking questions, examining and explaining situations about their cases; it all appeared to be very confusing and chaotic, but in an organized way.

I recalled while at the Main Campus, the number of employees assigned to an office were somewhat smaller; ten maybe fifteen at the most, compared to the twenty-five to thirty employees to most mod units in the Pickers building. However, with such large numbers of employees here, mostly everyone seemed to work in an orderly and professional manner.

I’d heard many negative stories concerning work ethics at the Pickers Building and was expecting to see a lot of mischievous behavior. But instead, I saw dedicated employees working, diligently doing their job with pride. I was impressed to see so many of the employees at the Pickers Building that were African Americans, as opposed to the Main Campus, where most of their employees were Caucasians. Most of the Blacks in the mod units worked as clerical; some were mid-level management and a few were in upper management.

Under the 14th amendment in Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, President Johnson’s executive order gave special considerations to hiring blacks, women and other minorities in federal agencies. It was called Affirmative Action, and was an attempt to rid America of its discrimination in hiring women, Blacks and other minorities. Sheen was one of many women with college degrees that were hired as managers during that time. There were others in the mod who were hired right out of high school and placed into positions like record keepers, analyst, and examiners.

Later, there was the Vietnam Era Veteran’s Readjustment Assistance Act of 1974. The Act was to enable veterans, like myself, to apply for civil service jobs without having to take the test. I felt proud to be among those veterans who were selected to work as civil servants at the Agency.

Again, Sheen returned, and apologized for her interruptions. It was no wonder that Sheen had quite a few associates; her friendly and impetus ways, along with her flirtatious personality made her popular, especially with those from the male species. She wasn’t what you would call a beauty queen, but she had a perfect shape which most older men found attractive. She also seemed attracted to them as well; and may have been because of their high positions on the job. She often exhibited a schoolgirl-like image; giggling and gossiping with her circle of female coworkers. She reminded me of a girl in high school name Samantha. Sam, as she was known, was the queen bee of our class.

Whenever she entered the room, all the girls would swarm around her as if they could smell some juicy gossip oozing from her pours. They would only hope that the gossip was not about them. Like Sheen, Sam was very popular and was always in the know about all the latest happenings in and outside of school. But then, this wasn’t high school or college. It was a place of business where we were supposed to be professionals, in an office-like environment; not running off gossiping and chit-chatting with girlfriends. But I guess there was a time and place for all of this; and it was called break and lunch time.

However, I believe that Sheen was a good manager, not only because of her knowledge of the job, but for