Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [35]
The missionaires could see from the look on my face that I had seen my name. This telex took on a whole different meaning now. I actually re-read the entire thing now that it affected me and was not just some random order that had come down from the glass ceiling. I was in a tricky spot. I can’t refuse a promotion. It is sort of like admitting you have skeletons in the closet, or a myriad of other things, but it boils down to the fact that you are defying their code of ethics no matter what your reason is for refusing. Just then, I thought of the policy about someone having to be replaced before they could move to another post. This was my saving grace. It would take months for another person to be recruited to fill my post, and even then, they would have to do the entry program, and then I would have to turn everything over and the IRS tax stuff would have to be completed. So I hoped everything would go okay and that I would make it through this if I was ever replaced on my post. I grinned and thanked them for coming.
I asked them what they had planned for my replacement. Technically there was a bit of a loophole on that part, because I was never officially posted as the Treasury Secretary, I did not officially have to be replaced. I was essentially free to go!
I wrote up what I did each day and handed this over to the new Cope Officer, Betty. The look on Betty’s face was priceless. I was being promoted and Betty, my watchdog, could not stand to see it happening.
Most of the people who worked on clearances were part of the Commodore’s Messenger organization. They worked on the 11th floor and were younger girls and a few guys. They had an exact system of what someone needed to do to get through clearances and proceed on to the International Base. The problem was that not many people had been getting approved for the promotion and a lot of people were held up on the security check because their dirty laundry started to air out.
I couldn’t imagine how I would get through my own sec checking when I had skipped school for a full year and was your average unruly child and caused my share of trouble.
The person in charge of the clearance unit was a girl named Claudia Olander. Claudia was from Europe but you could barely tell. She had been in the United States long enough to lose most of her accent, but she was Swiss. She had long dark hair and was slender. She was in her early twenties and I thought she was one of the hottest girls in the building. I had a hard time listening to her when she was talking to me as my mind would wander. Anyway, she was nice.
I spent the first day of my clearances doing tests and filling out “Life History” forms. They were exactly that. I had to write down my entire life up to this point. This included ANY sexual experiences I had had, with who and what dates they occurred. I had to list every friend I had, past and present, relatives names and where they lived, anything about my life had to be on the form.
My auditor—Scientology “counsellor”—was a woman named Pat Bromley. She was from the Senior Case Supervisor International Office. She was an older, slender, sort of cute blonde woman who seemed pretty happy whenever I saw her. She was someone who, even if you imagined them mad or upset, you could at the same time picture them giving you a cookie. She was seemingly incapable of anger. She was the perfect auditor for me. We started with the sec checking and she was asking me about all sorts of things that I was not expecting: