An Understandable Mistake

“Do you know why I hired you?” Mr. Worthington asked.

The man sitting across from him tried to maintain his dignity. He had sunk deeply into the overly cushy chair, so much so, that his knees were angled far above his hips. He squeezed his legs together, and placed his hands on his knees, as though he were making room on a crowded subway car. He considered the question.

“Well sir, I have an advanced degree in cartography–”

“You’re my wife’s cousin.” Worthington let his words sink in for a moment, then repeated. “I hired you, because you’re my wife’s cousin.”

“Well, yes sir, and I appreciate that very–”

“Do you know how much you cost this company, Mr. Curdy?”

Curdy pushed his hands against the armrests, trying to push himself higher. When he got to a comfortable position, he let his body fall, which resulted in his sitting lower than before. “You know, Mr. Worthington, I’m glad you asked me that.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, definitely. Because I was thinking, with all of the attention–”

“Don’t remind me.” Worthington warned.

“I just mean, that you can’t overvalue the publicity. It’s priceless.”

Worthington stared back at his employee. “Priceless?”

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Priceless?” Worthington asked again.

Curdy squirmed in his chair, still sinking as if he were caught in quick-sand. “Mmm yes–”

“Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. You cost this company three quarters of a million dollars, Mr. Curdy.”

“I believe twenty-five thousand of that was actually a deposit,” Curdy said. “So. We’ll be– getting some of that back.”

“When you say, we’ll be getting that back, do you say that because somewhere in your dull, deluded, addled brain, you believe, that you still work here, Mr. Curdy?”

“Well, now, lets not make any rash decisions, Mr., uh, sir.” Sweat shone through the thinning strands of hair on Curdy’s head. He adjusted his coke bottle glasses, and leaned forward. “The money was actually spent quite wisely.”

Worthington raised an eyebrow.

“Uh, that is, it was spent frugally.” Curdy said, correcting himself.

“Frugally?”


“Industrial sized backhoes, explosives, demolition and other massive excavation equipment are, uh, –well– very, very pricey.”

“You don’t say?”

Curdy began rummaging through his pockets. “Yes, uh, it’s true. In fact, I can leave the rental company’s card with you, if you like. I really got an impressive deal.”

“Do you know what we do here, at this company, Mr. Curdy?”

Curdy stopped his search for the card. “Yes. Yes, of course, as an employee–”

Worthington rolled his eyes and rested his head on his hand.

Curdy continued, “As an employee I am very familiar with the inner workings of the company. We mine and excavate rocks from the ground.”

“In Illinois.” Worthington added.

“Yes, sir. Illinois.”

“Then, tell me again, why you took a team of my employees to Albuquerque?”

“Well sir. I took the initiative to follow a lead that I had received–”

“A lead on, what exactly, Mr. Curdy?”

“Well, I believed that there was gold–”

“Gold,” Worthington said.

“Yes. And–”

“And– did you find any gold?”

“Well no,” Curdy took the forced admission of his failure in stride. “But I think you’ll agree that the reward was definitely worth the risk.”

Worthington put on a pair of glasses, and examined a yellowed piece of paper. “Tell me, why did you believe there was gold in Albuquerque?”

“Ah yes, that’s the most important part. That’s why I felt so confidant. We had a map.”

“A map.”

“Yes sir.”

“You might call it a treasure map.” Worthington said, holding up the paper.

“Yes. You can imagine my excitement when I saw that map.”

“This map.” Worthington held up the yellowed paper again. “In my hands. This map?”

“Yes–”

“The map that reads: Captain Scurvy’s Caribbean Scavenger Hunt. This map?”

“Yes sir.”

“The one with the cartoon parrot in the corner.”

“Now, I know what you’re thinking.” Curdy said, adjusting his glasses.


“Do you?”

“Yes, you’re thinking, boy, he should have known better–”

“Yes,” Worthington said, slapping the paper back onto his desk. “I suppose that’s a censored version of what I’m thinking.”

“And I just want to say that I appreciate the faith that shows, sir. To believe me to be that sharp. But–”

“At the risk of sounding rude Mr. Curdy, let me assure you that if I was ever a man of faith, you have destroyed that ability, in me, to believe.”

“Uh–”

“But please continue. This is the only part that I do not understand. Why? Why did you think that a tourist trap in the desert would have real pirate’s gold buried–” Worthington paused, and referred to the map.

Curdy jumped in helpfully. “Under the arcade, sir.”

“Yes, thank you. Under the arcade.”

“Mr. Worthington, I feel silly now. But, at the time, I thought someone had used the restaurant placemat as scrap paper.”

Worthington covered his face with his hands, consoling himself.

“I thought,” Curdy continued, “What better place to hide the directions to your gold, then on fake pirate parchment?”

Worthington massaged his gray temples. “One last question. When, exactly, did you realize there was no gold?”

“You know, it’s funny,” Curdy said, “Even after we hit the gas line, and everything exploded, I was still a little hesitant to talk to the news crews. I figured, hey, I don’t wanna tip anyone else off to this gold. But I just love Greta so much, I couldn’t believe she actually wanted to interview me, in person. So I took a chance that there was no gold.”

Silence hung in the air.

Curdy filled it. “Boy am I glad I did too. She was so nice. What a thrill. To be on TV.”

Worthington placed his head on his desk and mumbled. “That’ll be all Mr. Curdy. Please turn the lights off in here when you leave.”

Curdy walked across the room, then stopped at the door. “Oh hey, I’ve got Greta’s newscast DVR’d if you wanna see it.”