The Conundrum

My plan was all in place. If it worked out, I would be financially stable, probably for the rest of my life. It was a solid business model, grounded on proven strategies, designed for the 21st century. Now, all I had to do was sell it to the company owner, Preston Hewitt. I had never met him in person. My rung was much too low on the ladder.

"Johnson!' my boss called me, "Where is my quarterly report? I need it NOW!"

My friend, Tammy, whispered, "Better hurry, Jake. I heard he's in a particularly foul mood."

"When isn't he?" I whispered back.

I hastened away with the report in hand. I wasn't about to step a toe out of line, or I would miss the appointment I had made with Mr. Hewitt.

My boss, Mr. Hagen, was a short man with a temper to match. I was hoping to be promoted far away from him. True to form, he griped about my perfect report for 20 minutes. I needed to get on the elevator.

I hoped I wouldn't regret it, but I said, "Gotta go, Mr. Hagen. I've got an appointment. Have a great weekend." I took off.

I heard him yelling, "Johnson, you impudent, young..." and couldn't make out the rest of his rant as the elevator door shut. I leaned on the wall and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I pushed the button for the 12th floor.

Preston Hewitt's secretary asked, "May I help you?"

"I have a 4:00 appointment. Jake Johnson."

"Yes, Mr. Johnson. One moment." She got on the phone. When she put it down, she said, "He'll give you five minutes. You're lucky to get that today."

"Why? What's today?"

"It's Friday, and Mr. Hewitt is throwing one of his fancy parties." She sighed and mumbled, "I wish I was invited." Aloud, she said, "Right through there." She pointed to the only door in sight.

Preston Hewitt's office smelled and looked like old money. Everything from the artwork, to the carpet and lighting, to his custom desk looked like the best one could get. As I entered, he stood, six-feet tall, well-groomed, in his 40's, I estimated.

I approached, "Mr. Hewitt." I held out my hand.

He shook it and said, "Please, call me Preston, and get to the point. I'm about to leave."

"I have this proposal. It would revolutionize the company and bring in a new generation of clientele." I handed him my write up and added, "I do have a powerpoint."

He said, "This is fine for now." He gave my report a cursory glance. "This looks promising. I would like to hear more. I like you, so I will give you tonight to convince me. Show up at my place in a tux. Charlotte will give you the address." He looked me over. "You do have a tux?"

"I'll be sure of it," I said with more confidence than I felt.

"Very well. See you there." He handed my papers back and waved me away.

Charlotte begrudgingly handed me an invitation. Next, I had to find a tux.

I made it back to my cubicle without encountering Mr. Hagen. I filled Tammy in. She said, "My cousin, Johnny is about your size. He still has his tux from his wedding. He owes me for baking all the cupcakes, so I'll get it for you."

"Tammy," I kissed her cheek. You're a lifesaver. If I get promoted, I'm taking you with me."

"Promises, promises," she said, playfully smacking my arm.

I added, "You'll make some woman very happy someday."

"I keep promising myself that," she chuckled.

Tammy came through, dropping the tux off at my apartment just in time. The suit itself was fine, but I substituted one of my white button-up shirts for the ruffly "blouse." Not for the first time, I wished I had a girlfriend to approve or improve my look.

I followed my GPS to a mansion big enough to fit three of my apartment buildings inside. Though valet parking was offered, I chose to personally park my serviceable Corolla far away from the Beemers, Mercedes, and Audis.

Walking to the front door, I considered that I could have been invited just to be made fun of. I squared my shoulders and told myself, My proposal has value. I have value.

I knew better than to be pushy, so I listened to the live music and looked for the bar. I told the bartender, "I'll have whatever you made for the last person." It tasted like cough syrup, but at least I would fit in.

Mingling at parties wasn't my strong suit, but I forced myself to talk with a few people on trivial topics.

Then, I saw her. She was the most entrancing girl I had ever seen. She was wearing a simple black dress - no ruffles, flowers, fringes, or slits. I couldn't keep my eyes off her beautiful eyes and red hair. Of course, she caught me staring.

She smiled and summoned me with her finger.

I said, "I'm Jake."

She said, "Dafina. You look surprisingly unpretentious. Are you with someone?"

"No, I'm..."

"Good. Let's go on the balcony where we can talk."

I hesitated. "I'm supposed to talk with Mr...."

"That can wait. Come on." She grabbed my hand.

The fact that she knew what she wanted and wouldn't take "no" for an answer intrigued me, so, of course, I went along.

We talked about normal topics like food and travel, but we also touched on some taboo issues - religion, politics, and death. We often agreed, but if we agreed to disagree, we laughed it off.

She said, "I'm going to the bathroom. Get me another martini and promise to meet me back here."

"Sure," I took the opportunity to look for Mr. Hewitt. He was at the bar. Perfect. I ordered a martini and said, "Mr., uh, Preston, I have my proposal."

"Ah, yes, James, is it?"

"Jake, sir. I'd like to run this by you."

"I'm listening."

I saw Dafina heading for the balcony. She glanced my way. Then, with downcast eyes, she shook her head.

This was a conundrum. If I stayed, I potentially realized my dream for the future. If I left, I potentially had the girl of my dreams. One way or another, my life was about to change.

The bartender set the martini in front of me. I took it as a sign. A promise is a promise.

"Preston, I believe in my work. It's all laid out here." I handed him everything. "I'd like to discuss it, but I'm meeting a girl." I walked away.

Dafina hugged me and said, "I knew you're the one."

I felt the same. We spent the whole night together, chatting until dawn.

Later in the morning, when I called her, she said, "My dad wants to talk to you. Don't be long."

"Jake," It was Preston Hewitt. "I'm delighted to see you kept Dafina happy. She usually hates my parties. Also, I'm going to need you to move up to the 12th floor on Monday. You're taking the office down the hall from mine. We're making this happen."

I said, "Yes, sir, but I'm bringing my friend, Tammy."

A promise is a promise.