I couldn’t picture him around kids and what I could imagine made me fear for his future wife.
“I’ll send a runner to make a selection.” The elevator shimmied open and he went on ahead while I fussed about sending more messages here and there.
I tried my best to look professional, but, in a world full of old men, it was hard being a young woman.
Tom entered a glass walled meeting room and sat at the head as he always had. I got a lot of rough looks from one of elder statesman in the room; it was easy to see he didn’t like me at all. I didn’t have the heart to ask whether it was my sex or my race that angered him the most. Racial diversity nearly seemed an afterthought in the office building.
I plucked the water carafe from the stand and poured Tom some water while he finished looking over all the papers.
“Tom, why the devil did you bring that sales mark up 3%? You’re making them nervous; it’s going to blow the whole thing!” chimed in the elder statesman.
“George, I did it because the deal wasn’t solid enough as they offered. On the will of my personal assistant I increased the price and I trust her judgement.”
“You trust her judgement,” he restated. “I wouldn’t trust her with a serving tray let alone a multi-million dollar deal. You should’ve left this one where you found her.”
My anger was tugging at me and draining what little patience I had.
“If I cared for your point-of-view I’d ask for it, Mr. Dibney. But, your opinion is worth about as much as the dirt I stepped in on the way over.”
Mr. Dibney looked obviously distraught having his opinion so carelessly negated. “Listen here, Tom. Your dad and I were running this company before you were in diapers! My opinion should be the only one that matters!”
Tom sat in his chair with his face resting in his hand and listened. “You know, you used to run this company before I bought it, Mr. Dibney. I only kept you around out of respect for my father that helped build it. And, let me emphasize that I bought it. I didn’t have it handed to me on a platter like many sons do. I didn’t spend my days doing nothing but driving fast cars and meeting loose women. I spent them studying and investing so that I could one day make something of myself.” Tom paused and grinned. “If you’d like, I would happily give you Nia’s job. She could take yours.”
Mr. Dibney sat back in his chair and didn’t pursue his thought any further. But it was obvious that he had a lot more he wanted to say.
I grew a bit more fascinated by my boss when he talked like that. He was shrewd when he needed to be and never minded using the stick instead of the carrot. His powerful words gave me a new sense of accomplishment and I wanted to live up to them.
“Mr. Dibney, you’ve given me a great idea. I’m going to add a provision that any money accrued on the 3% figure, that you so obviously hate, will be deposited in a trust for my personal assistant to do with as she pleases,” Tom said.
I quickly did the math in my head and nearly fainted thinking about the numbers. The amount of money would be nearly 1.2 million dollars.
“Now see here, Tom. Throwing money around doesn’t do any good for this company. You’re going to cost a lot of jobs if this deal doesn’t go through. Are you prepared to deal with that?” Mr. Dibney spouted.
“If a deal is to cost jobs, I should make it yours. The amount of money in bonuses you make at years end would shore up the loss quite readily. So, I should hope for your sake that this deal goes through.” Spat Tom.
I couldn’t tell if Tom was interested in this conversation or not. He had a stake in the outcome of this deal, but treating an old businessman like this felt a little harsh, even by my standards.
I leaned in and whispered in Tom’s ear. “You don’t have to keep fighting for me, if that’s what this is about. I get annoyed by racist rhetoric but I’m professional enough to deal with it.”
Tom turned and whispered back. “I like watching him squirm, he knows it’s a good deal, he just wants more money for his pet projects. Besides, you’ll need some seed money when you start your own business and I want to be an investor.”
I felt giddy again knowing that he was being serious about giving me a percentage.
It was around then that another group of people entered the meeting room. They looked like penguins lined up in a row as they sat on the opposite side of the table.
“Mr. Ellis,” began one of the men; it was Mr. Benjamin Riley a lawyer whom we’d had favorable dealings with in the past. “I see you wanted to increase the margin by 3%? I don’t think my client is able to go that high with the economy as it stands. We can go as high as 16%.”