Scott Martin

I almost got RIFed last week.

As many of us now know, RIF stands not for Riding In Front, but for Reduction In Force. As in: laid off, made redundant, downsized, given Das Boot.

About 25% of my department were RIFed, victims of the recession. The only reason I'm still employed is that the boss enjoys laughing at my helmet hair during 8 a.m. meetings.

Even so, I figured it's time to polish the ol' resume.

"Do what you love," the career-search gurus say, so I decided to look for a job in the cycling biz. I worked as a bicycle mechanic way back, so I headed to the shop for an interview.

Local Bike Shop Guy: "Scott! Thank God . . . I mean, great to see you. Need some more aero wheels? How about a couple of pairs of bib tights? Campagnolo corkscrew?"

Me: "You know, I could use another GPS unit . . .er, no. I'm here to apply for a job as a mechanic."

LBSG: "Ho-ho, good one. Seriously, how about a new carbon time trial bike? Only 17 left in stock . . . wait, you're not kidding?"

Me: "Nope. Look, I can build wheels, re-grease bottom brackets, install toe clips..."

LBSG: "Shops don't really do those things anymore. How are you on suspension? Electronic shifting?"

Me: "Um, did I mention I'm great with centerpull brakes and friction shifters?"

LBSG: "Why don't you check back in the spring? Maybe business will pick up then."

Me: "C'mon, I'll do anything -- install kiddie training wheels, clean chains, even work on mountain bikes."

LBSG: "Sorry."

Me: "Fine. Gimme one of those corkscrews. I'm gonna need it."

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