Cheech & Chong - Part 2

After several months of working as Cheech and Chong’s lackey on a construction project, I was wondering how much more I could take. Then fate stepped in. The contractor informed my friend Mike and me that work was drying up, and he could only afford to keep one of us on board. Turning to me, he said, “Today’s your last day, Steve.”

Ever loyal, Mike said afterward, “That wasn’t cool. Maybe I should leave, too.”

“No, don’t do that,” I said, just to be nice at first, then with real conviction. Within seconds, the realization had taken hold that Cheech and Chong would never again require me to bear back-breaking loads or dig a trench in a filthy crawl space. Their drug-addled minds were finished conjuring up humiliating situations to place me in for their amusement. I was free.

“You stay on if you want, Mike,” I continued with a dreamy look. “I know exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna get me an office job.”

And I set out to do just that. Surely an undergrad engineering degree earned me the right to do more than make sandwiches and haul lumber. So I began scouring the want ads for a part-time job with a high-tech company. Within two weeks, I had managed to land an interview with a small environmental firm in San Rafael. Upon arriving there, I found a beautiful redwood office building nestled at the foot of a tree-studded hillside. Inside, bright offices were filled with respectable-looking scientists working away in front of glowing computer terminals. What they were doing, exactly, was unclear, but none of them was serving as a human pack animal. That much was certain.

During my interview with a woman named Rhonda, I fought to keep my Southern accent at bay and sprinkled in a few ill-defined references to the “viscous flow theory” and “orbital mechanics” I had studied in college. Unfortunately, this worked too well. Rhonda finally shook her head and said, “You’re really overqualified for the position. It’s mostly copying and filing technical reports, and I think you’ll be bored stiff within two days.”

This couldn’t be happening. Given my recent employment history, thoughts of being overqualified for a position had never occurred to me. Fighting panic, I decided that complete candor was my only shot.

“Ma’am,” I began, ratcheting the accent up a notch, “I have spent the last several months hauling debris up and down a stone staircase in the heat of the day while being taunted by two middle-aged hippies. I am eager to be bored.”

It was a joke that changed my life. I got the job, and by the time I graduated from Golden Gate, I was worked my way up to a full-time engineering position—an unexpected career that I eventually returned to after 8 years as a pastor. And to think that none of it would have happened if it weren’t for Cheech and Chong.

Thanks, guys.