President Ben: A Fiction Short Story

I’m Ben Turnoff, and I recently attended my college’s 20th year reunion. It was held in Manhattan with about 285 graduates and their spouses in attendance. My wife Suzie was with me, and we arrived a few days earlier from our home in Bozeman, Montana so that we could take a mini-vacation away from the kids.

The entrance to the hotel’s ballroom where the dinner was to be held was very festive with pictures of the school and pictures of some of the grads who had sent in their class pictures. There was the usual bar scene, and we all had colorful nametags with very large print for those who needed help in this department.

It wasn’t long after my wife and I entered the ballroom that a couple came up to us. The woman said, “Ben Turnoff, you are my hero. You saved my life.”

The dinner was fine, the speeches inspiring and not too long, and eventually we were ready to leave the ballroom. Then again another couple came up to my wife and me. I looked at her nametag and saw that it was Natalie Marker who was on my dorm floor in my first year at Middleton.

Again as with the first woman who had praised me, Natalie shook my hand and gave me a hug and kiss and exclaimed, “Ben, you are the guy I was hoping to see here this evening. If it hadn’t been for you, I would probably not be here this evening.”

When my wife and I returned to our hotel suite, she asked me to tell her why those two women had gushed over me and claimed that, if not for me, they might not have made it to the reunion. Had I loaned them money, helped them with their studies, or possibly dated them so that they knew what type of man they hoped to marry.

None of that, I told my wife, and told her to make herself comfortable on the plush red sofa and then proceeded with my story.

When I entered college all frosh students were housed in a four-story old dorm facility. There were about 1,000 frosh housed on these four floors with only one bathroom facility for the women and one bathroom facility for men on each floor.

The women’s washroom facilities were in the middle of each floor and the men’s were at one end. The housing was segregated in that the males were in one section of each floor, while the females were in the other section of each floor. I roomed with a guy from New Jersey and our room was located just opposite the women’s bathroom.

I had not done much in high school as to joining clubs such as debate or even participating in sports. So here I am in college and I want to prepare myself for the future by showing that I was a something during my four years.

The very first week in college I decided to run for class president. I know that sounds crazy but it would look good on my resume. When the ballots came out there were three candidates, myself and two other guys, no women.

Now how to get people to vote for me, especially the women?

My father worked as a salesman for an advertising specialty company. I called him to ask what I could give as a bribe, or gift if you please, to the frosh students so that they would remember me and vote for me.

What did he send you? my wife asked, interrupting my story.

A gift that I have given you, I explained. .

And how did you distribute them? she asked.

She was referring to a plastic card that attaches to the shower head. It’s a reminder for women, both young and old, to do a monthly breast self-exam with instructions that, if they notice any irregularity or change, to contact their physician. It could save a woman’s life as the irregularity might be breast cancer and early detection is important. Besides the medical info on the plastic card, I included the announcement of my class presidency campaign.

Now for the rest of the story.

How to get it to the women was easy. For the four weeks prior to the election I camped out in a lounge chair outside my room which you remember was facing the women’s washroom. I was housed on the fourth floor, and for each week prior to the vote I passed out these cards to the women who were leaving the women’s washroom.

I made arrangements with the guys having the same dorm room location on each of the three other floors to camp outside their room for a week, naturally in the evening time, and pass out these cards to all the women frosh on each of their floors.

All this campaigning made me look a little weird to some but the proof is in the results, I received 56 % of all frosh votes and got to be known as President Ben.

The two women who came up to me at the reunion had kept that plastic card after college and had done the monthly self-exam and discovered a lump. The early detection and surgery had probably saved their lives.

And me, I’m a rancher in Bozeman, Montana and, with three daughters and a wife, I have those same cards in all my bathrooms.

(Note from Al’s daughter Phyllis: My father actually distributed these self-exam plastic cards for his CPA practice in Elgin, Illinois. One of my friends, following the instructions on the card I had given her, found a lump. Her breast cancer was thus detected early with a successful outcome.)

Albert Zimbler is the 93-year-old author of six humor short story books on Amazon of which MORE DATING AND MATING SECRETS OF SENIORS AND OTHER HUMOR SHORT STORIES is the latest. He also teaches senior improv.

Click here for a video of the presentation by Al Zimbler on the inspiration for his humorous stories given to the MEL (Men Enjoying Leisure) group in Chicago to which he belongs.

Click here for an interview of Al Zimbler on “The Daily Author.”