Mr. Bumly laughed nervously. “I’m sure you understand why we can’t hire you here. It’s the name; Charles Manson, the notorious leader of the Manson family.”
“I understand,” Charles said, “I’ve had to deal with that all my life.”
“Have you ever considered a name change?” Mr Bumly said.
“I’m sort of old fashion that way,” Charles said. “A man should live with the name he’s given.”
“Perhaps you could use the name of somebody else in your family,” Mr. Bumly said.
“Won’t work,” Charles said.
“Why not?” Mr. Bumly said.
“I have a grandfather named Adolf Hitler, an uncle named Jeffery Dalmer, another uncle named Lee Harvey Oswald,” Charles said.
“What is it with your family?” Mr. Bumly said. “Do you have to pick such notorious names?”
“I have an uncle named Mohandas Gandhi,” Charles said.
“There you go,” Mr. Brumly said, “now you have something to work with.”
“Are you kidding me,” Charles said, “Uncle Mohandas is the black sheep of the family; nobody likes him.”
“Why?” Mr. Bumly said.
“Do you want sit next to a guy at a family reunion who wears nothing but a sheet and sucks on his teeth all day long?”