It's Bliss (2 page)

Carefully peeking above the shoulder of the girl seated in front of her, she studied him, realizing he was bothering her more than ever. In fact it was more than that; it had turned into a bona fide irritation. As she continued to watch him, trying to analyze why she was feeling this way, she finally realized it had something to do with the way he looked at the class. There! He was doing it again!

-

Glowering at the class, Dr. Ackerman shook his head over what he considered a wretched and irritating assortment. Twenty were enrolled, and not once had they all managed to be on time. And, he calculated, at least half of them were overweight or careless and slovenly in their dress. The rest had other problems. Several young women, who dressed neatly and seemed capable, weren’t dedicated students by any set of standards, especially his.

What irritated Ackerman the most was that he felt sorry for these ignorant, misguided young women, and he intensely disliked feeling this way. This sentiment had grown each time he had faced their collective apathy these two long weeks. He seriously wondered if anyone in the class would succeed in the way she hoped or had a burning desire to do so, if indeed, he agonized, any one of them ever had a burning desire.

Deciding he needed some feedback, he had asked the class to write down why they were taking this course and what their goals were in the business world. He watched from his desk as they struggled to fulfill this simple request.

Deep lines appeared between Ackerman’s dark brows. He wondered how many of these young women felt good about themselves. How many felt their lives were out of control? He shook his head, marveling over how difficult it would be to manage a business or a career in business if one could not manage himself—herself.

It was at this moment, an idea struck him. It couldn’t have affected him more if it had been a bolt of lightning. He jumped up from his seat as if he had been hit by it. Pacing back and forth behind his desk, he contemplated the idea, unaware that he had startled the class with his sudden movement. All heads swivelled silently side to side as they followed their eccentric professor and his unusual behavior. They watched his tall, angular, albeit well-built body moving while his head bobbed up and down as if he were agreeing with his own thoughts.

The concerted ping-pong movement in front of him finally made its way into the professor’s consciousness. He stopped abruptly, catching these assembled heads almost, as it were, in mid-movement. Realizing that it was he who had disrupted them, he promptly sat down, staring at them sternly until they bowed their heads and returned to their work.

And he returned to his deliberation on a most extraordinary concept. He needed an idea for another book. If this worked, it could be just what might help these poor fledglings, and at the same time, please the Dean, who in reality he could not care less about. Nevertheless, he leaned back in his chair, stretched out his long legs under the desk, and pondered on the idea, feeling quite pleased with himself.

-

Billie tried to analyze this puzzling performance. First, Dr. Ackerman was frowning at the class through black-rimmed glasses, as though inspecting some inferior species; now, glued to his face was a peculiar smile, and the tips of all his fingers were tapping together.

Yes! She finally understood why he irritated her; it was his pompous and demeaning attitude. It was only two weeks into the term and she realized that this attitude was annoying her more each day. In fact, she had gained five pounds while auditing Dr. Ackerman’s class in the spring and now in only two weeks of this class, she had gained three more. It was happening again! To start with, she had been fourteen pounds over her desired weight. Now, she was twenty-two pounds overweight, more than she had ever weighed.

She went over every aspect of her life since returning to the university, mentally listing each change she had made: quitting her job, moving into her own apartment, and taking a business class. Suddenly, she realized something.

There was only one common denominator to her weight issue—Dr. Ackerman!

She gazed at the blank piece of paper on which she intended to write what he had requested. Feeling more irked by the minute, she impulsively printed in big block letters:

IT’S YOUR FAULT DR. ACKERMAN!

She signed her name and immediately felt better.

Josie, a blonde, with an attractive wind-blown hair style, noticing that Dr. Ackerman was preoccupied, leaned over and whispered in Billie’s ear. “I really buttered up ol’ Dodds this time,” she said, using his middle name. “I told him my goal was to become president of this university. What did you put down for your goals, Billie?”

“
Absolutely nothing. I mean, I put something down, but not what he asked for.”

“
Oh-oh. You’ll be called into his office and that’s no fun, believe you me. He called me in a week ago and did I get a lecture.”

Billie smiled at Josie, wondering why she was in this class or in college at all. She had managed to become a sophomore, yet still had the typical high school mentality of fun and boys.

Dr. Ackerman’s low drawl boomed out. “Class is over. Please place your papers on my desk as you leave.”

While the girls got their things together and did as he asked, his mind returned to a more stimulating venue—his idea. Leaning back in his chair, he gazed into space, thinking while the fingers of his right hand drummed upon the desk to the rhythm of his thoughts.

Billie, on the verge of changing her mind about handing in such a stunning accusation, hesitated a moment; that is, until she studied her professor.

She noticed how he ignored each girl, totally absorbed in his own world.

Standing by the desk, she stared at him intently, daring him to look in her direction. Finally, frowning at his total unawareness, she shoved her paper under the pile that was already there, and breezed out of the room, a satisfied smile upon her face.

As the last student placed her paper on the desk and left, Dr. Ackerman pulled his long legs out from under the desk, stood up, and stretched.

Gathering the papers, he smiled, glad that it was Friday for more reasons than one. Friday was the night the “DeePees,” as they called themselves, met. He could hardly wait to pass his fascinating idea by them.

“
Well, Sheldon, all through dinner you’ve acted like the cat who swallowed a textbook,” Dr. Hal Ozog said, smiling. “What’s up?”

The five had just enjoyed a delicious meal in the dining room of the Maple Woods Country Club. They were now settling themselves into the comfortable chairs and sofas of the small, private lounge where they held their after-dinner discussions.

As usual, the waiter entered, carrying a tray of after-dinner coffee, transferring the cups carefully onto the glass-topped coffee table in the center.

Most of the time they were joined by their spouses, in which case Sheldon Ackerman was the odd man out, the only single one of the group. He was also the youngest, though, Doc’ Bittle, the resident psychologist of the group, said, only half in jest, “Shel’s thirty-eight years of age belies his fifty-eight-year-old persona.”

Sheldon smiled at Hal’s question, thinking as always what an odd group they were. They had known each other for three years. Belonging to the country club of this small college town, they soon became acquainted and were intellectually drawn together. Stimulated by each other’s thinking, as they agreed and disagreed on many diverse subjects, they fell into the comfortable habit of meeting every Friday night for dinner at the club.

For brevity, they decided to call themselves the “Deepees.” Classy and trim, fifty-five year old Nettie Newman, with lovely blonde hair, and her husband, Don, owners of The Diet Center, were the ‘D’ of the DeePees. Don, also a walking advertisement for fitness, was good-looking, blond, and well built.

On the quiet side, Don sat back most of the time, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he listened to the group discuss the issues of the day—unless the subject of discussion was either football or politics.

Dr. Robert Bittle, one of the ‘P’s of the DeePees, was fifty, and a practicing psychologist. He had more patients than a sane person should have, but also had a sense of humor to keep him that way. He was short, stocky with thinning light brown hair, and had a pleasant, open face that invited confidence.

Dr. Hal Ozog, a family practice physician, was the second ‘P.’ At sixtyfive, unlike Bittle, he was tall and had a full head of dark hair, peppered with silver. Newly retired, he now enjoyed his wife and fifteen grandchildren fulltime.

Sheldon Ackerman, a professor, was the last of the ‘P’s. He had successfully foiled attempts of the other three, who were happily married with children, to match him up with a once-in-a-while or permanent partner. They now reluctantly accepted him as a hopeless bachelor.

“
Yes, tell us what’s on your mind, Shel,” Nettie said, smiling, the crow’s feet at the corners of her lovely blue eyes becoming pronounced.

Sheldon grinned, his intense blue eyes alight with excitement, and blurted out, “How would you all like to help me play ‘Pygmalion?’” Immediately, the four were on the edge of their seats, intrigued. This was definitely something out of character for Sheldon Ackerman.

“
You mean,” Nettie began, “like Professor Higgins in the musical ‘My Fair Lady.’” A smile tugged at Sheldon’s lips as he contemplated her question. “Well, maybe.”

Nettie chuckled. “Oh sure,” she said in a skeptical tone. “Where’s the Eliza Doolittle you want to make over?”

“
I have a whole class full of them,” he said emphatically.

“
Come on, Sheldon, be serious,” Robert countered.

“
Okay, so I was exaggerating. Let me tell you how it is.” Sheldon told them about his all-female class and of his frustrations concerning it, especially with what he felt were the students’ personal handicaps to success in the world of business.

“
The idea came to me this afternoon. Now, mind you, it’s just an idea. If all of you find that it sounds improbable or foolhardy, I know you’ll tell me.

As I explained, most of them are overweight or careless in dress, with the loss of confidence and self-esteem that these bring; and since they are the majority, I would like to work with them. What if . . .” he began as he placed his palms together, tapping his chin with the fingers, then lowering them, “what if we have the class fill out a questionnaire, one that all of us design—one that asks pertinent and probing questions. Then, after studying the questionnaires and discussing the candidates, we’ll choose four. This is where I’ll need your help.

“
I’m sure that the financial benefactor, who has helped me out with other projects, will be interested in this one.

“
If for instance, the four young women we choose, would like to work on their weight, each of you will be able to give them valuable help in your area of expertise. As I’ve heard you say, Nettie, losing weight is difficult and complicated, and I might add, has become a national pastime for women. So, what if we offer our four candidates a reward, perhaps a compelling amount of money toward their education at the end of a specified time if they’re successful. Then they’ll also receive another amount at the end of a year if they’re still successful and self-disciplined in their weight, dress, and studies.”

He paused and searched each of their still-surprised faces. “Well, what do you all think?”

Robert Bittle responded, first with a chuckle then with a question, “Do we believe this, folks?” he asked, looking at the other three, who laughed and shook their heads. “Well, Sheldon, I see that you’re serious, so the first thing I would like to say is—it probably won’t work.”

“
Why?” Sheldon asked, unmoved by their reactions.

“
Because in some cases there are psychological reasons behind the problems you mentioned.”

“
Oh, I forgot to explain,” Sheldon said, “If it turns out that the candidates we work with happen to be overweight, I feel they should not be more than thirty pounds overweight.”

“
That’s wise, Shel,” Nettie said. “Since this is an experiment, that would be easier to work with.”

“
I agree,” Hal Ozog added. “But sometimes there are medical reasons for people gaining weight, so if we were to take on this preposterous idea, they would have to have a thorough medical exam first.”

“
Good idea, Hal, good idea,” replied Sheldon. “I think that is a must since it would be a special study. I would have to first get the approval and support of the Dean. Then if this experiment turns out to be successful, and after several such experiments, I would write a book about it. I’m hoping it will help young women everywhere who want to be successful in the business world, but who are totally naive and ignorant of the principles of success. In my mind, the first principle is that a woman must learn to manage herself.”

Nettie bristled. “Shel, you’re sounding a little callous, insensitive, and ignorant when you say overweight young women are not good managers of themselves. I know quite a few women, young and old, who are efficient in every way, and successful in the business world, and yet they’re overweight in spite of their unsuccessful efforts to lose.”

“
I agree with Nettie,” Hal said.

Robert and Don nodded their agreement and all four pair of eyes bored into him unmercifully. Sheldon shifted uncomfortably. “Okay, so we don’t quite see eye-to-eye. It’s just that we don’t know if these girls would be successful if left to their own devices. I simply believe that we can greatly enhance the odds that they will be. Now, tell me what you think of the idea.