God Saved the Best for Last, or Waterbugs Turn Into Blessings

During my second year at the bank, I began to reason that if I was going to work in an office, why not do it in an interesting place—like the desert or a mining town, or better yet, overseas! It was time for another trip out West—this time taking the train to Denver, then the bus to Boulder to stay with friends from my hometown, Cleveland, Ohio.

In the process of interviewing for a job in Boulder, it was apparent that most jobs I would be interested in were government contracts. It would be necessary to become a Colorado resident in Boulder for a year to qualify for one job I thought I’d like. Apartments were available, and I found one I liked. I was even willing to work in a store like Woolworth’s for a year in order to become a resident, then get a real job and buy that pink jeep.

As I was debating what to do, my hosts in Boulder introduced me to a woman at their church on Sunday who suggested that I look into the Foreign Service. That appealed to me, so when I got back to Evanston, I got an address for the Department of State and wrote for an application to work in embassies around the world. The application came, and it took a whole weekend to fill out—and a call home for information. This was a true introduction to government work —copious!

It was worth the wait, and after a restriction on hiring new personnel—about a year and a half, moving back home—I arrived in Washington, D.C., and reported to the Department of State July of 1967.

During the six months that followed, I had two interviews in Chicago. Later it became obvious that one of the interviews was with the CIA, to find out if I would be willing to work with an undercover agent if necessary. I was told that I might not know if one of my bosses was with the CIA, but that if that were to happen, the CIA agent would not be my only boss. Who would not be willing to help the country do its business, so I said, “Certainly.”

There were Civil Service skill tests for typing and shorthand that I had to take to qualify for the job. I qualified with flying colors. I had no problem with skills—just attitudes.

The Feltens planned to move to Grand Rapids, so our rental house went up for sale. Time went by with no word from the Department of State, so I kept working at the bank. Since it is easier to show a house when it is empty, I made plans to move into the Evanston Inn, at that time owned by Senator Percy.

My brother David borrowed a bakery Econoline, drove from Cleveland to Evanston and loaded the van. That night it was beastly hot, but he slept on the sofa, got up early in the morning and drove to Cleveland. After three months at the inn, the bank pressed me for a departure date. Finally, I picked a November date out of the air and stuck to it. Just before Thanksgiving, I left my job at the bank and went back to Cleveland to wait for a call from the Department of State.

I returned home to the guest room again. Christmas was a busy time in our family business, so I did whatever needed to be done our family business, to earn money. I waited on tables at catering functions, folded boxes, made hors d’oeurves, drew graphs for accounting, sat by cash boxes at catering events and helped in the order department.

Months went by with no word from Washington, D.C., because there was a hiring freeze at the Department of State until May 1967. About the time my dad was beginning to think he might be stuck with me at home forever, a call came from the Department of State telling my orders were on the way and instructing me to report for work on May 1, 1967. The call came too late to avoid my dad wanting me to move out on my own. I just threw myself on God and asked for His intervention to calm my dad down. But I was very sad inside, hiding it from my bakery buddies. Some more “water bugs” moved in with me at that time.

My parents did surprise me with a farewell party with some of my friends which was very nice and gave me a happier departure to Washington, D.C., than I might have had otherwise.

Bakery office employees planned a surprise farewell party for me. The staff was assembling our best canapés, hors d’oeuvres and sweets on silver platters everywhere out of sight. I returned from an errand to find a beautifully set table, silver platters of delicious food, flowers and a very fine black purse from the office staff. I was honored and humbled. Not only did it indicate that I had made a contribution to the office, but I had managed to become one of them.