Now Hear This: Best friends — don’t trust ’em
I can truthfully say there have been just two occasions in my life when I wanted to do bodily harm to another person.
First, there was Ralph. He stole my seventh-grade sweetheart. But Ralph was big for his age, and I determined I really didn’t like her enough to engage Ralph in a physical activity that was certain to leave me bloody and scarred.
The second person happened to be my best friend at the time. Still is! But he doesn’t sleep so good most nights. His conscience bothers him. He has asked for my forgiveness over the years. But it ain’t gonna happen. Not in his lifetime. Not for what he did to me that day in June 1971.
It had taken me six long years to graduate from the University of Georgia. I had to take a two-year leave of absence, working two jobs, so I could pay my campus parking tickets. It was difficult for 20,000 students to find parking in 5,000 spaces. Parking-lot fights were common at the University of Georgia in those days.
For the past year I had spent most of my time worrying about finding a job. A wife and two children will put that kind of strain on a young college student. I had been on a number of interviews, and had resorted to handing out my r?sum? on street corners. Still nothing was happening. I was desperate. Aren’t all college graduates?
I remember it like yesterday. I was home watching the U.S. Open golf championship at about 2 in the afternoon (only unemployed college graduates were home watching the U.S. Open at 2 in the afternoon) when the phone rang.
“Hello, Hope. This is Bill Jay with channel 5 in Nashville.”
I had been to Nashville twice in the past few weeks to interview for a sports opening, and would have paid them to hire me, except I didn’t have any money.
“We would like to offer you the position of sports director here at WLAC-TV,” (now WTVF) Mr. Jay said.
I did a back-flip, landing perfectly on both feet, and said calmly, “When would you like me to start?”
I hurriedly called my best friend Chuck to tell him the good news. He was as thrilled as I was. Best friends are that way, you know.
The next morning I get a phone call. It’s a lady from the Western Union telegraph office. She says I have an urgent message from WLAC-TV in Nashville, and asks if I would like for her to read it to me. It read:
“Hope, due to internal strife we must withdraw our offer of employment. Sincerely, Bill Jay, WLAC-TV Nashville.”
I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I was a deer in the headlights. I fantasized I was having a bad dream. A really bad dream. Surely I would awaken soon. Then I cried. Bawled like a baby. How could I tell my wife? What would I say to my family and friends?
I called my wife who was at work. We both cried.
About two hours had passed since the phone call with the worst news of my young life. I was sitting on the side of the bed wondering how I would break the news to my parents when the phone rang.
“Mr. Hines, the nice lady said, “This is Miss Gardner with Western Union, and I have a second telegram from WLAC-TV in Nashville. Would you like me to read it to you?”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied, and closed my eyes thinking what now?
“GOTCHA ? Sincerely, Chuck!” she blurted, and hung up.
I cried again. This time for joy!
Chuck is still my friend, but he has developed a bad case of nerves over the years. Not knowing when his “gotcha” is coming keeps him jumpy.
Hope Hines is a television sports reporter and a Nashville personality.