CIGARETTES & ADDICTIONS (A STORY)

CIGARETTES & ADDICTION (A STORY)

James R. Fisher, Jr., Ph.D.
© September 21, 2009

The accepted reason cigarettes are addictive is their nicotine content. There is truth to this. The discussion is always about the content of cigarettes never the subtext of smoking. This is a story of subtext.

Many years ago, making one of my late evening chemical engineering service calls on an obliging industrial plant that allowed me to do so, I ran into another chemical engineer who was also making a service call.

He was a chain smoker. I noticed this as he went about reading graphs with a clipboard in his hand, but always with a lighted cigarette bouncing between his lips as he studied the glassed in charts through a haze of cigarette smoke.

This was even more pronounced when we were rapping up our work for the night, which was now past midnight. As I was putting my laboratory equipment back into my cases and he was rapping up his gear, we talked. We were both exhausted. It had been a long day and we enjoyed the break before collapsing into our automobiles and moving on. He lit a cigarette on the end of a cigarette already half smoked as we sat down on a bench and sunk into our fatigue. I offered him some coffee from my thermos. He waved it off with his torch, while I gulped a cup down.

“You smoke a lot," I said.

He smiled, “You noticed. Why, does it bother you?”

“No,” I lied, then adding, “How much do you smoke?”

“At least four packs a day.”

“Wow!” I said, “It’s probably a stupid question but why do you smoke so much?

I looked at him. He was about my age, but with sallow skin, sunken cheekbones, laughing lines around his eyes and mouth, and budding bags under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep. He also had thick black curly hair that was well groomed, as were his hands, and nails, and he didn’t dress cheap. By his easy style and demeanor, I imagined he never met a stranger.

“No, it’s not a stupid question. I travel the country and this is our biggest customer. I try to call on as many clients as I can every day. My income is based on the coverage. So, I’m kind of time sensitive if you know what I mean.” He gave me a nervous chuckle. “I’m married to these machines and instruments.” He laughed again. “The only company I have other than the noise of the machines and the squiggly lines on the graphs is my cigarette. It’s good company fills my loneliness and has for years.”

“How old were you when you started smoking?”

“Oh, I expect twelve or thirteen.”

“And you’ve smoked ever since?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Have you had any illness related to smoking?”

“No, I’m as fit as a dime.”

“That’s wonderful. You’re also as thin as one, too.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been able to put on much weight.”

“You’re, what, a couple inches shorter than I am? What do you weigh?”

“I suspect so. I’m six-one and weigh 145 dripping wet.”

“That’s pretty thin.”

“What are you?”

“Oh, about six-four and 195.”

“You’ve got me by 50 pounds.”

“Yes.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Never tried it.”

“Good for you.” Then he looked me in the eye. “How do you deal with loneliness on the road?”

“You may find this hard to believe but I cherish being alone.”

“How come?”

“It gives me a chance to think.”

“What do you do when you get down?”

“I don’t get down too often but when I do I suppose I read a book. I’m never without a book always reading something if that answers your question.”

“That’s your cigarette.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah. You read. I smoke. How many books do you read?”

“Oh, goodness, besides those relating to my work?”

”Yeah.”

“I suppose one or two a week sometimes more sometimes less.”

“There you have it. That’s your addiction.” He nimbly tapped the last cigarette out of a pack, squashed the empty in his hand, and threw it into the trashcan. “What do you read?”

“It depends. I go in periods reading only histories than mysteries than the classics. Whenever I take a break on the road, I’m likely to find myself in some bookstore.”

“Classics? You mean the kind we were force to read in school?”

“Yes.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, Dostoyesvky, Tolstoy, Chekhov, Stendhal, Hugo, Camus, Sartre, Lawrence, Joyce, then of course Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Farrell, Dos Passos, Maddox Ford, Faulkner, Lewis, Eliot, Austen and the Bronte sisters, stuff like that.”

“That’s heavy stuff. Read any dirty books?”

“Some would say ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ by Lawrence and “Ulysses’ by Joyce qualifies if that’s what you mean.”

“No, I mean really raunchy books like ‘Fanny Hill’ by John Cleland and ‘My Life and Loves’ by Frank Harris.” He looked at me. “You don’t know those authors do you?” I shook my head. He smiled. “Those will get your attention I guarantee.” He flipped ash on the floor. “You sound like a writer.”

“I’m not but I think I’d like to be one.”

“Why don’t you write a book?”

“I don’t think I have the talent. I know I don’t have the time.”

“I’ve noticed you’re always jotting into a notebook.”

“Oh, that’s my work.”

“How many notebooks do you fill?"

“At least one a week, I write down about everything that comes to mind, especially after sales calls.” A little pain came into my eyes. “No matter how bad it goes.” Then I added, “It’s surprising what an insight can register with something written down to reflect on later. Certain things stand out that you might not have noticed. It’s a gauge to go forward.”

“That’s good. I like that. Who taught you that?”

“Well, it might be back to your point about addiction. Besides always reading, I’m inclined to write when I find myself pressing. I can sit in a restaurant and lose myself writing in my notebook. I forget the time just writing away.”

“Yeah? They ever kick you out for just sitting there writing?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How do you deal with that?”

“I just go on to the next place.”

“So you see you’re as much addicted in your way as I am in my way, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t consider myself addicted.”

“Well, I certainly see that you are.”

“Em.”

“How would you describe yourself?”

“Disciplined!”

“That’s a good word. Do you think it covers the issue?”

“Probably not. But back to you, do you think good company covers your cigarette?”

“I get your point, but hey, it works for me.”

“Yes, I can see that and I think mine works for me as well.”

“Next thing you’re going to tell me you don’t drink.”

“No, I don’t. I’ve never had the inclination.”

“You’ve never tasted booze? Come on!”

“Yes, I have.”

“And?”

“It gives me a headache. I suffer from migraines as it is and don’t need an assist from booze.”

“Em, that’s interesting. Booze gives me a buzz. It’s also a pick me up. There’s nothing better when you’re dead on your feet to go into a bar order a shot of whiskey and a cold beer down them smoke a couple of cigarettes and find yourself in another country.” He laughed. “The problem is stopping there.”

“Can you?”

“Most of the time, but not always.”

“Most of the time?”

“Absolutely! You’re not going to believe this but I love my work. I love chemical engineering. I also took a degree in mechanical engineering if you can believe that.”

“I can believe it. Where?”

“Purdue. How about you?”

“Iowa.”

“Yeah, I had a double major, took me more than seven years to get them but they’ve come in handy in my work.”

“So, you’re some kind of a scientist.”

“No, I wouldn’t say that. I’m a good problem solver of automated systems and let’s leave it at that. I can read systems like you probably read books. You’re smiling, why you smiling?”

“Just a private joke.” How could I tell him I read people like an open book without offending him?

“Anyway, if God said to me, ‘Nathan, I want you to be an engineer,’ I must have heard it in my mother’s womb because I’ve always been a tinkerer since a boy. That’s about it. You get too good and they push you up into management. I’d never allowed that, see, they’ve already tried. They flattered me with this management rant to make me as stupid as the people I report to. I told them ‘no thanks.’ Keep me where I am but give me more money. They said they couldn't do that because I’m already at the top of my bracket whatever that means. Can you believe that?”

“Yes I can.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Well, not really."

"But is that when you have a few more shots and beers?”

“It might be, but I don’t need an excuse if I’m being honest. It’s part of my modus operandi. You see they don’t know it but I do. I have the best of all possible worlds. I travel the country live pretty much on my expense account and touch little of my salary. I fly and drive at the company’s expense to beautiful places. I don’t have a wife or kids to support. Hey, I don’t have any life other than work. And I love it.”

“But what if you had another friend besides the cigarette, what then?”

“I don’t think that way. Oh, I have girlfriends. Got them all over the country. Let me ask you a question: who would want to be married to a guy who is never home? As it stands now none of my girlfriends trust me.”

“Should they?”

“That’s not the point. The point is I’ve never made any of their lives more miserable for being married to me.”

“How do they feel about it?”

“They get over it.”

“Does it bother you if they have other boyfriends?”

“Hey, I encourage it. I shouldn’t tell you this but many of them have married and when I’m in town they want to see me.”

“Do you see them?”

“Now that would be telling.”

“Okay.”

He looked at me keenly blowing out a perfect smoke ring. “You may not remember me but I’ve seen you on several sites late at night like this. You sell as well as service, right?” I nodded. “So you sell chemical systems to engineers during the day?” I nodded again. “Do many people like you work late at night?”

“Well, there are 250 people like me in my division and I seriously doubt if many of them do.”

“So why do you do it?”

“Probably a lot of the same reasons you do. I like the quiet. It gives me most of the day to make sales calls rather than service calls. Service calls take up a lot of time if you do them right just as your service calls do. My sales calls are with plant managers, plant and chief engineers who are on duty during the day. I can do my service calls better in the quiet than during the day. Also, like you, I like this work because of the freedom, the independence, being my own boss to make decisions in my own way, and not have someone looking over my shoulder. My performance appraisal is satisfied customers and acquiring new business. I’m outside all the bureaucratic nonsense the same as you are, if that answers your question.”

“How about your boss?”

I laughed. “How about him! He calls every single night and when he can’t get me he waxes like a rejected Buddha. I don’t know if he doesn’t believe I’m making these late night service calls or he thinks I out doing something problematic. But that ‘s his problem.”

“What’s it like when you connect?”

“Funny you ask. There is a lot of silence. He’ll ask me how things are going. I’ll tell him and then for thirty seconds or more there is silence. I’ll ask if he’s still there and he’ll say he is. It’s maddening. Then he’ll ask me something else followed by the silence.”

“He’s checking up on you.”

“No doubt.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Let me ask you, how would you feel?”

“Boy, I’m glad I don’t have that kind of boss. Besides, the long distant calls would be out of sight and the company’s constantly in money pinching programs.”

“What’s your expense account like with you traveling so much?”

“Pretty open.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Why?”

“From what you’ve said you living off your expenses.”

“How about you?”

“It’s surprising when you don’t drink don’t smoke don’t watch TV and stay in the most inexpensive motels there are you can eat in the best restaurants in your territory and still have the most modest expense account of anyone.”

“You like that?”

“I like that.”

“How do your colleagues feel about it?” A smile creased my lips. “You don’t give a crap do you?”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it.”

“We’re not team players are we?”

“No, I don’t think that fits our description.”

“But we’re team leaders.”

“No, I don’t think that fits either. I think we’re team partners with our customers. We’ve gotten beyond company personnel chatter if you like.”

Have you heard the 80-20 Pareto theory?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think we’re the 20 percent that makes 80 percent of the difference.”

“If you like.”

“Well, let me ask you. You’re a salesman as well as an engineer. You have to sell as well as service, right?”

“Yes.”

“How do you stack up to others in selling?”

“I dwarf them. Are you surprised?”

“No. You know you’re going to be pushed into management.”

“I suspect I will.”

“Do you want that to happen?”

“I have a wife and four little kids.”

“You have four kids? How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“My company has the same problem as yours. I don’t think they’ll allow me to make more than my boss or my boss’s boss.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, they’ve changed my rate of commission to sales twice already.”

“Does that bother you?”

“It bothers me mightily. As matters now stand, I intend to work until I’m forty and then retire and write.”

“Now, that I would call a dream.”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a dream.”

“Why don’t you join another company?”

“That’s a possibility. If they cut the rate of my commissions one more time, I’ll resign. Then they'll have one of two options.”

“Which are?”

“Bump me up to management equivalent to my income or let me go. If they let me go, 90 percent of the new business of this region's sales I customarily generate will go. And I suspect turnover of my accounts will increase as well.”

“Meaning competitors will step in and take your accounts.”

“Meaning that is a possibility.”

“So what do you think will happen?”

“They’ll do what spineless corporations always do. They’ll push me upstairs.”

The smoker laughed taking a long drag on his cigarette and studied me through the haze as if seeing me for the first time. “If I were to judge you on the way you look, I’d say you were an easy mark with that open honest face that look of innocence.”

“It works in sales.”

“I’m sure it does, but I wonder if they see the steel in your eyes that I see now. There is something of the cynical bastard in you isn’t there?” He studied me some more. “I’ll bet once you land an account they’re not likely to quit you.”

“No, not likely.”

“So, you wear a mask?”

“Don’t we all?”

“Point taken.”

* * *

The rest of the story is that I was pushed up to corporate management, then retired at age thirty-six, read and wrote for two years on a self-imposed sabbatical, published a book, then went back to school for six years to earn a Ph.D., and then set out with a new set of addictions.

* * *