What does he want from me? Praise and adoration or criticism? You can sit and wait you self-righteous bastard. You’re not getting any of that from these lips.
When he saw he would not get any verbal response from Jimmy, Allen continued, “I know you and dad were more than just employer and employee. There was a friendship between you two that transcends work and profits, but I need to level with you. That’s just not my style. I have looked at everything, and I just can’t justify what you bring to the table anymore. I mean, come on, does the company need a China sourcing agent?”
Jimmy attempted to respond, “Well if you want me to justify my worth and existence in the company I can do that. But if you are telling me that you’ve made your decision then I don’t think I need to waste your time or mine.” Jimmy’s face flushed red.
“Okay then, you’ve got five minutes. Tell me why your job is so important to my company.”
This made Jimmy’s blood pressure rise even more.
It’s not your company it was your dad’s company, the employee’s company. All you are, you little bastard, is a member of the lucky sperm club.
He calmed down enough to get his thoughts together and choked out an answer, “Allen, the biggest seller, as you know, is the new smartphone lock. It’s an extremely technical product, and we’re producing that and almost everything else in China.
“I inspect the shipments every month before they go out plus I have a good rapport with the factory owner. He knows not to bullshit me when things get in the weeds. I’m there, and I keep my finger on the pulse of our China manufacturing. This results in having a lower defect rate than anyone in our industry.
“If you take me out of the picture, then the Chinese will take short cuts. They will skimp on materials and before you know it you will have a defective rate that will embarrass you and the company. The product will be good for nothing but boat anchors.”
“Well, I believe you are exaggerating things and in my mind you haven’t made a good case for your continued employment. We can do the quality control inspections here. If things go wrong, we will just send the defectives back and demand that the manufacturer do better or lose our business. In fact, the factory you’ve been dealing with has already lost our business. I have found a plant in Vietnam that will make the product cheaper and with faster shipping times. I have placed our first order with the new factory, and I expect the first shipment to arrive sometime around the first of the year.”
Jimmy sighed and shook his head. There was no changing Allen’s mind.
“Severance?” he asked.
“Nope, no severance. Today’s your last day. Finished. Over. You’ll bounce back and pop up somewhere. I’m sure you’ll find a new job fast.” Allen looked at his watch and walked out.
The bastard didn’t even offer to pick up my check.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jimmy sat back in the booth—his whole body shook. His head felt as if it would explode, and his pulse pounded in his temples and his neck. Jimmy wanted to scream profanities, to curse the man he hated. He wanted to shatter the silence of this pub and let everyone know how he felt about Allen Ridley, but instead he took deep breaths and tried to relax. Never had he met a person as self-serving as Allen Ridley. Nothing he could imagine could describe his absolute hot hatred for this person.
The one comforting thought was an expression his dad had always said about Allen and his kind. “The sun don’t shine up the same dog’s ass all the time.”
I hope so Dad. I really hope so.
Jimmy remembered the day that Harvey Ridley had hired him and had put him on the road to success. Harvey saw talent in Jimmy and had rewarded him. Jimmy had started in the warehouse as a pull, pack, and ship clerk. Within three months, Harvey Ridley promoted him to Assistant Operations Manager. A year later he promoted Jimmy to Operations Manager. Two years later, another promotion and then the final promotion to General Manager—Jimmy had become Harvey’s right-hand man.
During the years, before Allen returned, Jimmy was a regular guest at Harvey and Myrtle Ridley’s home. When Jimmy’s father died, it was Harvey and Myrtle who came to him like surrogate parents, offering their sympathy and support.
After the funeral, Myrtle insisted that Jimmy come over every Tuesday night for dinner. Whenever he arrived, she always greeted him with a smile that went from ear to ear. Myrtle had just one rule for their weekly meals, no business discussions. And in the fifteen years that Jimmy came to the weekly dinners, they never did.
When Harvey moved the manufacturing to China, it was Jimmy that Harvey chose to oversee the Asian operations of the company. Jimmy made regular trips—South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and mainland China. Jimmy was single and getting older. He wanted to rest, not spend more time on airplanes than on the ground.
One day, after three back-to-back Asian trips in one month, Jimmy approached Harvey and asked to let him move to Asia and handle the coordination of their Asian operations there. Harvey jumped at the suggestion and agreed in less than a minute. Jimmy sold his stateside property, ended the lease on his apartment and, in less than a month, moved to China.
In China, Jimmy coordinated the factories and sourced more and more products for Harvey’s company to sell. When Harvey invented the revolutionary smartphone lock called “CereLock,” Jimmy was ready with factories and produced prototypes in thirty days. Ninety days later the manufacturer was shipping the first order of locks to Harvey.
And where was Allen Ridley through this? Big football star and loved by the local fans, big deal. During his senior year, the silver spoon became so rebellious that Harvey shipped him off to a military academy to finish his high school education. He came home long enough to attend one year of college at Valdosta State University and then off again to God knows where?
Every time he came back Harvey swelled with pride like the father of the biblical prodigal. While I worked and helped Harvey pay for everything. During his days of in-and-out Allen never concerned himself with his dad’s business, like owning a business was beneath him. So when Harvey announced that Allen had finished college and was sitting for the bar, boy was I glad. Allen was becoming a lawyer. He could make the money he wanted and leave us in peace.
I never cared about the money. What mattered was doing a good job for Harvey. He put his confidence in me, and I didn’t even have a college education. He listened to me like I had a Harvard MBA. Harvey was like a father. He was my mentor—and I believe he thought of me like a son. And now…now it’s finished.
A soft, gentle cough above his table broke Jimmy from his trance. Standing above him was a tall, portly man. He was wearing clothes from the turn of the century. Jimmy closed his eyes and rubbed them and then looked at the man again. He reminded Jimmy of the old man from the Quaker Oats’ box. Jimmy stared at him. He waited for the man to repeat the words from the old commercial, “Nothing is better for thee than me.”
Instead, the old man extended his hand and said, “Excuse me, my name is Lewis Seiffert, and I was wondering if I might take a moment of your time?”
“Sure,” he replied. In spite of his lingering anger, Jimmy welcomed the interruption.
The old man sat across the table from Jimmy. He removed his hat and placed it on the seat.
“Excuse me for being so bold. I was seated in the booth behind you. I could not help but hear your most animated conversation with the gentleman that just left.” His monotone voice was soft, but his words and speech were precise.
“Yes, sorry if we became too loud and interrupted you,” Jimmy said. He noticed the restaurant was empty.
All these empty tables and they seat someone behind me?
“No worries, young man. As I was saying, I could not help but overhear most of your conversation. I was not trying to eavesdrop, but you left me no choice.” He smiled. “If you will give me a moment of your time, I may be able to offer some help. Am I to assume that you are now out of a job?”
“Well, it kinda seems that
way.”
“And you are angry, correct?”
“I am not sure angry is the right word. I can’t express the feeling. I don’t know you sir, but I can tell you, the feelings I am having are homicidal–most people would call it ‘postal.’ If I had a gun and the backbone to do it, I would remove that ungrateful bastard from the face of the earth. So, sir, I am not sure what you mean by ‘help’ short of a gun, bullets, and intestinal fortitude. If you can help with any of that, then I’m all ears.”
The old man smiled. “What if you did not resort to homicide? What else could you wish for this object of your hatred? Is there any other resolution, short of death, which would satisfy you?”
“Ha! Well, this has just happened. I guess I have not had time to consider that. Murder seems the most satisfying but—”
“But maybe murder is not punishment enough?” Seiffert interrupted.
“Exactly.”
Seiffert snapped his fingers, reached into the air, and like a magician produced a business card. He handed the card to Jimmy. “Short of murder, I still believe I may be of service. Here’s my card. Please go home and think it over tonight. If you are interested in speaking further, please come visit me at eleven in the morning. My offices are on the seventh floor of this building.”
He walked away and placed the hat on his head. He paused for a second and returned to Jimmy’s booth. “One last thing, if I may be so bold please ponder this,” the old man said. His soft smile widened to a grin. Then in a voice identical to the man in the oatmeal commercial he said, “From this day forward, nothing is better for thee than me.”
Lewis Seiffert turned once again and walked away from the table and as he passed bartender he gave Patrick another one-finger salute.
Jimmy’s mouth froze open as he stared at Seiffert walk away. It’s like the old man was reading my mind. As he was still trying to process everything, the old man stopped and turned. He grinned and gave Jimmy a wink.
CHAPTER SIX
Lewis Seiffert left the bar through the lobby door, entered the elevator and punched the button for the seventh floor. He opened the outer door of his office, a wooden door with frosted glass stenciled with the words, “Ulciscor Investments” and underneath “Suite 701”.
Seiffert walked through the waiting area into his inner office. The room came to life as he flipped the light switch while unbuttoning the top collar of his shirt. He rubbed his neck and sat at his desk. He swiveled around to examine the computer monitors on the credenza.
Ten minutes left in the trading day. Too late to do something profitable, and too early to call China.
Seiffert sat straight in his massive leather chair and pondered the events of the day, planning his next move. He leaned back, and in a few moments, dozed off into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
Jimmy was still in the sports bar downstairs. His mind was a speeding freight train with the engineer shouting, “More coal, more coal!” He could not slow his mind. The thoughts were coming from every direction. His hate for Allen Ridley, losing his job, and the old man he just met, these thoughts came crashing together. He needed a drink, something to slow his mind before his head exploded, and the train derailed and came crashing off the tracks.
Jimmy considered calling the waitress to his table so he could settle his bill. Instead, he went to sit at the bar—the speeding freight train was calling for drinks and distractions.
He slid onto one of the barstools in the center of the bar opposite the bartender. The bartender leaned over the bar examining an inventory list.
The bartender straightened and smiled. “Patrick’s the name, what can I get ya?”
“Patrick, I will have a Crown and Coke with a splash of Amaretto.”
Cramaretto. Jimmy laughed at the thought of this.
“Comin’ right up.”
Patrick served the drink and placed it in front of Jimmy. Jimmy paused and raised his glass in a toast to Patrick. “Better days Patrick, to better days.”
“Not a good day, sir?”
“No Patrick, not a good day. Not a good month in fact. My best friend, my boss, died a few weeks back and then today, well today, his no-account son fired me. Fired me from a job I have had for over thirty years.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Condolences appreciated but not needed there Patrick. It is what it is, as they say. Hey, let me ask you a question. Did you notice the old man sitting in the booth with me a few moments ago?”
“Yes sir, I saw him,“ said Patrick. Now this is where the conversation gets interesting.
“Do you know him?” Jimmy asked and took another sip of his drink.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“And?”
“Well,“ Patrick said. He leaned in Jimmy’s direction as if to share a secret. “Well, his name is Lewis Seiffert and I work for him.”
“Wait, what?” The alcohol was slowing Jimmy’s train, and his stomach was growling—the French fries wanted company.
“Yes, I work for him. He owns the bar here. His company owns the whole building—Ulciscor Investments. He bought the building after they moved the old folks out.”
“Seiffert, Seiffert—I have lived here my whole life and I just don’t remember any Seifferts.”
“Oh, he’s not from around here,“ Patrick said. Patrick lied. “I’m not sure where he’s from.”
Another sip of the drink and Jimmy asked, “How long have you worked for him?”
“Ten years,“ Patrick said.
Jimmy’s mind was still racing, slower, but still racing. He didn’t notice that Patrick’s answer of “ten years” was longer than the bar had been opened.
“One more drink and one more question and it’ll be time for me to close my tab.”
“Sure thing,“ Patrick reached up and pulled another glass from the rack, filled it with ice and the other ingredients. He handed the glass to Jimmy.
“So here’s the last question I have for you,“ said Jimmy.
Man, he mixes these drinks strong.
“Okay.”
“You’ve worked for him. Does he seem to you to have a psychic gift, you know, like a mind reader?”
Patrick laughed. “Funny you should say that. I have often wondered this same thing, but my guess is it’s just because he’s old and wise. I believe the older you get, the more experiences you have, and the more tuned in you are to people’s thoughts and ideas. Mr. Seiffert is over seventy years old, and let me tell ya, his mind is as sharp as a tack.”
Jimmy pondered what Patrick said. “Well Patrick, it’s time for me to head to the barn. It’s been a long day. Let’s settle up and don’t forget the fries I had earlier.”
“No charge, sir.”
“What do you mean no charge?”
“I mean no charge. The bill is settled. Mr. Seiffert told me to give you anything you wanted—free of charge.”
“Well alrighty then, who am I to argue with free drinks and fries. You should’ve spoken up sooner, I might have ordered a burger or a steak.”
“Still can if ya want,“ laughed Jimmy.
“Nah, I need to go back to the hotel. I’ve got too much on my mind. Good night and thanks.”
“Good night sir.”
Jimmy slid off the bar stool and left through the front door into the November night.
Patrick picked up the phone behind the bar.
* * *
In his dreamless sleep, Seiffert heard the phone ringing. He cleared his throat. “Yes,“ he said, his voice softer than usual.
“Sorry to bother you but he just left,“ Patrick said.
“Just left? Did he belly up to the bar and have a chat with you?”
“As a matter of fact, he did.”
“And what did you discuss?”
“Not much, he asked the usual things—who you were, where you came from and—”
“And?”
“If you could read minds,“ Jimmy said and snickered.
“We
ll, how did you answer that?”
“I gave him a bullshit story. How a man of your years, with a mind as keen as yours, was so intuitive that it seemed like mind reading.”
“Well said Patrick, well said.”
“I need to run. The after-work crowd is coming in.”
“Thank you Patrick and good night.”
“Thanks, Unc, er, Mr. Seiffert.” Patrick laughed out loud.
The old man laughed in unison with Patrick. “Careful Patrick, careful.”
The wall clock showed 5:15 p.m. He turned and studied the computer screen. The trading day had ended. Information was moving like ants across the bottom of the display, nothing remarkable, just news bits and the daily closing indexes and averages. It was a few more hours before the Tokyo Exchange opened, and Seiffert could trade again.
At five thirty, he emailed his nephew, Dwain. It was five thirty in China too, but it was the morning there and not the afternoon. He knew his nephew was already awake. A minute after emailing Dwain, Seiffert’s phone rang.
“Dwain?” he asked as he answered the phone.
“Yes.”
“Hope my email didn’t wake you.”
“Of course not, I have been up since four. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“Factory town, Zhongshan, an hour south of Guangzhou. They’re making the locks here.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. The word I received today is the manufacturing has moved to Vietnam.”
“Wait a minute Unc. Does the factory here know this? I was out with the owner’s daughter this evening for drinks and karaoke, and she said her dad is elated about the business Ridley’s is giving him.”
“I’m certain the Chinese company knows nothing about this. Here’s what I need you to do. Go online now and find out what you need to do to get a Vietnam visa. Buy a ticket to Ho Chi Minh City. Get there as soon as you can. Any delays, call me. Once you get there buy a Vietnam SIM card in the airport for your phone. Send me an email and let me know where you are staying and your mobile number. I will call you again when I have more information, okay?”
Carnies and Wildcats: Ulciscor Page 4