Bee School
by
A. Hamilton Augenblecq
Illustrated by J. Lyon
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright © 2010 by A. Hamilton Augenblecq
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BEE SCHOOL
Nothing strikes fear and annoyance into the heart of an adolescent like the announcement, “Son, we need to talk about your future.”
This was certainly true in the case of a bee named Walter.
Walter had majored in philosophy in college. With a particular interest in ontology. In fact, he had written his senior thesis on Sartre’s “Being and Nothingness.” But after graduation he found that the job market for philosophers wasn’t what he thought it would be.
“You need to decide what you want to do with your life,” continued Walter’s father. “And you don’t want to waste a lot of time trying to find yourself like my generation did. In those days there were lots of bee-ins, and we were perfectly happy to sit around weaving flower chains and smoking pollen. Not a lot of work got done. And, believe me, we have paid the price. Too late we found out that we had missed the chance to be all that we could be. We had wasted a lot of time. And time is honey.”
“Let me think about it,” said Walter.
“That’s the problem. You’d rather be thinking than doing! Here’s what you should do: go talk to Uncle Pierpont.”
Uncle Pierpont was the wealthiest member of Walter’s extended family. He had made a fortune packaging and distributing honey to supermarket chains. He lived in a mansion that left even real estate brokers groping for superlatives. It was in a high-end enclave at the end of a driveway so long that no one who had not been admitted through the enormous wrought-iron gates surmounted by a large gold “P” had ever actually seen the house.
The following Tuesday afternoon a butler led Walter down a lengthy marble hallway hung with tapestries of beekeeping to the study where Uncle Pierpont was ensconced in a large leather chair. Pierpont motioned for Walter to have a seat in a smaller chair by the marble mantelpiece.
“I just want to say one word to you, Walter.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Money.”
“Honey?” said Walter, since that was what he was expecting to hear, and Uncle Pierpont had a tendency to mumble.
“No. Money!”
“Exactly how do you mean that, sir?”
“I mean that you should think about making money. Most bees think about making honey. And how far has that ever gotten them? Living in crowded hives. Slaving away from dawn till dusk. You’ve got to think out of the box.
“I understand that you’ve spent the last four years studying philosophy. Now you should study something practical. Make up for lost time. My advice: go to business school. It doesn’t take as long as law school or medical school. And you can learn how to make a lot of money.