Can Am Story

by Oliver Rill

  I explained what I wanted to do with the airline. I hadn’t put it into words before and it occurred to me that I should make a presentation. I did a quick mental scan of when I could fit it in. I asked Marie if she could be at the house the next day to let the IT man in to set up the monitors and cameras for the driveway. He had rung that morning and said he wouldn’t be able to do it until tomorrow after all. She agreed that she would be there in the morning then take a last look at the mall in the afternoon. “What did you fancy doing for your last evening tomorrow?” I asked. I had the feeling that my last connections with who I was and my home were fast disappearing. When she left, I would be alone with no-one I had formed a solid, long lasting relationship with. No wonder that I looked forward to seeing Aristo.

  “We could either go out for a meal, or we could make something here? I really like this house, even if it isn’t Santa Barbara. And not by the sea. We could invite Matt.”

  I explained that I had stressed him enough today already and he needed some time to himself. I also thought that with the impending move the next few weeks were only going to get more stressful. It would be a while before we had a peaceful and quite working atmosphere.

  We chatted for the rest of the evening and Marie asked me to keep her up to date with developments. She had found it all so exciting.

  The next morning I didn’t get into the office until 10.30. I had wanted to get there earlier, but I had overslept until nine and the traffic was horrendous. The taxi came to a standstill in the noisy suffocating jams several times on the way. I had actually slept properly for the first time since I met Ad and in the luxury of deep sleep I had hit the alarm and fallen back into my slumber.

  Matt had been there a while and had got on with things while he was waiting for me. We went into my office and drank coffee to give him a break. He looked as though he was under pressure again.

  I asked him about the gym and how he slept. He said he had been here since seven and had got a lot done. He gave me a list of airports, a list of appointments with plane manufacturers that came in and then he was going to drive over to the Venice offices. I wasn’t keen to lose him for that amount of time as I needed him to help with the presentation rather than be stuck in the L.A. traffic, but it couldn’t be helped. He promised to hurry and would check in while he was out of the office by phone. He reckoned on being back around two p.m.

  It must have been late in London, around midnight or very early hours, maybe. However, I called Risto up anyway and asked how things were moving along.

  “I can fly at the weekend, Oli.” He reported.

  “Great, I’ll email you a ticket for Saturday.” As I dialed Amanda’s number, I realized that I was reminded of the difficult conversation we had had yesterday. So my approach was more careful. I asked about the work items we had discussed and enquired whether she had been able to pick up her boy and only then could I get to the point.

  “Could you find me a flight from London to L.A.? Business or Economy Plus. One way, for Saturday.” She politely told me she was happy to do it and thanked me. Things seemed to have settled a little.

  Then I rang Mark, the sales guy, and asked him into my office. As he entered, I looked up as he walked in: blond; well-built; sunny smile and surely everybody’s darling and I just knew he wasn’t going to be one of my favorite people.

  I asked him about his job. Who he had on his books and who he was angling for. I asked him to not get into any big projects for a while as we wanted to make changes in what we were offering.

  Then I called the marketing department. Matt had already prepared them and said that I wanted to change the name of the airline and do a complete make-over. The response was less than positive. Apparently they had a lot on at JB Homes and couldn’t take on such a big project.

  “Mark! You like young girls and Universities, I presume?” Mark looked confused. He wasn’t sure whether I was pulling his leg or not. “Since you have time on your hands now, go look for a handful of students in the Arts, graphic design, and so on. We are going to do a complete relaunch. I need the people yesterday. Capisce?” Mark nodded his head. He didn’t understand anything anymore. But he agreed and turned back to his office.

  A list would help me order my thoughts and keep me on track. Logo design; cabins; uniforms; network; manufacturers; home help; Venice offices; Aristo’s ticket; my ticket; menus; presentation …

  The telephone snapped my concentration.

  “I’ve done the gate and the car is synchronized with it.” The IT guy was on the line. He was finished. I asked him if he could recommend a TV provider. We had briefly spoken about it before and he agreed to sort it out for me.

  I was getting impatient for Amanda’s answer about Aristo’s ticket. It should have taken less than five minutes. What was she doing? I tapped in the search engine myself, found a business class ticket with Norwegian Airlines for just over $1000, took a screen shot and printed it out. I went to Amanda with it, slammed it down on her desk and said that Monday next week would be too late for the ticket. Could she please book it now? I wrote the name on a piece of paper. “Five minutes!” I said icily. Then turned on my heel and went back to my office. The cheek of it!

  I looked at the list that Matt had given me. Using the data, I tried to work out which air routes we could expand into. An idea made me reach for the phone. Did we have a partner who we could work with? Someone who was a regional air company, as we were really, who flew on to smaller airports and whose passengers we could offer transport further afield. Mark. I needed Mark. I called him, but he was out of the office.

  “I am on my way to UCLA. I want to see if I can put some kind of notice up in their refectory or students union there, Mr Hoffmann.”

  “That’s good, Mark. When you are done there, can you have a think about who would be a good strategic partner for us? I’m talking about generating transfer packages for customers.”

  “Oh, I didn’t think of that, but I’ll have a look. I’ll be back in the office in a couple of hours.”

  I am sure Amanda was provoking me. It had been a half an hour and I still hadn’t received anything from her. I breathed deeply. I would give her another fifteen minutes before storming over to her desk again.

  I thought about what I was going to do about a car for Risto, when he got here. I didn’t want to give him my Jaguar, I would need that myself. I shrugged and wondered if I should buy a Mustang. Or even better, a Ford Thunderbird! I had always had a thing about those. It would have to be in good condition because they weren’t made anymore. I could take it up later and get Matt’s help on it.

  By the time the hands on the clock and moved on another 30 minutes, I had my target airports and Matt came in.

  “The first of the two companies have looked at the building. They didn’t think it was that bad and we’ll get a quote in the morning.” He sat down in front of my desk.

  “Did you also ask them to let us know how long it will take?”

  “Oh, no, I will get back to them. Sorry.”

  “Was your Dad included in that?”

  “No I’m going to go over there tonight.”

  “You could slip him the offers that we have, if you like, Matt.” I winked at him.

  Amanda announced that Alan Chambers was on the line for me.

  “Who is Alan Chambers?” I asked.

  She replied haughtily that he was the American Airlines CEO, as if I should have known that.

  “Put him on, then I want that ticket, Amanda!”

  She put him through. Mr Chambers said he would like to meet me. He expected to be in L.A. over the next couple of days and suggested we meet for dinner. Friday was the best time for me I said as I wondered what American Airlines could want to talk to me about.

  “Matt, what have you got going on?” I wanted to know.

  “Tonight I’m taking Dad over to Venice, I have a couple of telephone calls to make then I am finished. We are going to have to have a few meetings next week. I’
ll check your diary.”

  “I want to buy a car, Matt. A Thunderbird in really good condition. Where do you reckon I’ll find one?”

  Matt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “A Thunderbird? That’s a chick’s car!”

  “A beautiful, black, chick’s car. A Thunderbird. Yes, Matt! Where can I get one?”

  “There’s a load of car dealers near the airport. You could have a look there.”

  “Do you have your car with you?” I asked, itching to get going at the thought of the Thunderbird.

  “Of course I do, I didn’t’ walk to Venice.” He laughed.

  “Matt, I have been waiting for Amanda to come up with a ticket for over an hour. If she doesn’t come up with the goods in the next few minutes, I am going to blow a gasket!” I looked at the clock. It was three already. “Marie is flying home tomorrow, so I want to have a meal for her tonight on the Terrace. Are you coming?” I asked.

  “Oh I wanted to meet Dad then go to the gym. I won’t be finished till late.”

  “Don’t worry, come around when you are ready. There’s going to be plenty. You make your calls, I’m going to kick ass. Then we can go. Ok?”

  Amanda was on the phone as I came up to her desk. I was relieved to hear that someone was obviously making a change to their booking. At least she really had work to do and wasn’t just playing games. I waited patiently, pleasantly surprised to hear her deal with the matter in a friendly and competent manner.

  “I am sorry, I hope that was okay like that?” Amanda asked me with a worried smile.

  “I am really glad I heard that. I think you dealt with that customer really well. I think he went away quite happily, don’t you?”

  She smiled again and said that she thought so too.

  “We can’t ask for more than that, can we? Now let’s see if you can make me happy by giving me Mr Tsantidis’ ticket.”

  At that moment, Amanda’s telephone shrilled out. I grabbed it and answered. I said that the system was down at the moment and asked for his name and number, which I wrote on a sticky note, promising to call back in ten minutes.

  “It’s been like that all day. And then there are the emails and post …” Amanda said.

  “I am really sorry that you are so busy, Amanda. My ticket?” She began to type, but hadn’t completed more than two fields of the form before the telephone shrilled again. She reached for it, but I got there before her. I bluffed system outage again and Amanda stopped to watch me, while I took another message.

  “Amanda, at this rate we will be sitting here until midnight. How long does it take to book a ticket?” My new found patience was wearing thin. I had been waiting for over an hour and now Matt had finished for the day and was standing behind me too.

  “Looks like we’re going to have to stay the night.” I teased.

  Ten minutes later Amanda had booked the ticket and I paid with the company credit card. I quickly emailed it to Aristo. I sent Amanda home on time, snarling through gritted teeth that we should do the post in the morning and Matt and I headed off.

  Although I would feel quite comfortable in Matt’s car going to the beach with it’s cool stereo, it wasn’t the car that you’d expect an executive’s assistant to drive. It was a bit of a banger. We chatted a while as we drove. We didn’t find anything at the first dealership, but the second threw up a beautiful Ford Thunderbird from 2002. It was a shiny black hardtop and the way it roared into action when you turned the key belied its 60,000 miles on the clock. We couldn’t take it for a test drive without an appointment.

  “Great. I want to buy this car” I said.

  “Certainly, when would you like to pick it up?”

  “Now!”

  “You want to take it away with you now?” The salesman repeated dumbly.

  “Yes. This car and the Lincoln MKZ over there.” Even Matt raised his eyebrows. “And can you take this horrible Honda in part payment, please?” I carried on.

  “Hey, hang on, that’s my car!” Matt interrupted energetically.

  I asked Matt why he would need two cars. He was getting the Lincoln as company car. He would need to meet business partners or maybe fetch someone from the airport and couldn’t use that old pile of iron to do that. He wasn’t keen on the Lincoln, but I didn’t care. He was getting it now and that was that!

  We agreed that the price of the Honda that was being inspected and evaluated would be put towards the cost of my Thunderbird. It was going to cost me $1800. I transferred the money into Matt’s account and paid privately for the car. The Lincoln was paid by the company credit card and by six p.m. we had the keys for it.

  “I don’t know whether I should punch your lights out or kiss you. I loved my little Honda!”

  “And you are going to love filling the Lincoln with gas for free just as much. It’s just a car, Matt and this is your new life. You aren’t working in a surf shop now.” I patted his shoulder. Matt clarified when the right license plates would arrive and then we drove off - he to Venice and I to my new home.

  I called Marie from the gate. I had tried to enter in the Thunderbird, but of course, had not yet picked up the remote for the gate. She opened the gate, which showed the Jaguar standing blocking the driveway in front of the garage. So I had to leave the Thunderbird where it was, go into the house, pick up the Jaguar’s keys. Pull it forwards a bit to make room for the T-bird to pass into the garage. First word problems! They were so irritating!

  Marie liked the T-bird, but preferred the Mustang.

  “It’s officially mine. My own. Mine alone!”

  “Are you going to use that to drive me to the airport tomorrow?” Marie wanted to know. And then it occurred to me. I hadn’t changed my own ticket with Lufthansa!

  “Of course I will. Let’s go in. I’ve got to do something quickly!”

  I had to give a date for when I did want to return and after that I couldn’t change it. Or at least not without paying the earth. I ruminated. I should be in Berlin for Christmas and New Year.

  “Can you change it to 20th December, please?” And it was done. Now I would officially be in Los Angeles for two months and not just on a ten day trip. Would I manage it all? I almost expected something to trip me up.

  Marie had laid the table outside, where the gentle breeze did nothing to cool the warm sun. I fell into a chair.

  “My God! The ten days have flown by! You go now, then I am on my own for three days and then Aristo is coming. But we’ll see each other again at Christmas.” I said bravely to counter the sudden feeling of abandonment that swept over me.

  I told Marie about my day and how I had rail-roaded Matt into taking the Lincoln. He had said he would drive by later to say goodbye to Marie and she would be able to see it then.

  “Are you sure it’s all going to be alright?” Marie asked carefully.

  “It does depend a little on how the presentation goes down. And we haven’t really started any implementation yet because we are still dependent on companies that we have to talk to first. At the moment I can only present my ideas in this presentation.”

  “Are you going to be ok on your own?”

  “I think my biggest problem will be that I don’t have anyone here to talk to. It’s different in Berlin, where I know so many people and even more different in Greece where you have to work hard at not talking to everyone.”

  “You’ll have Matt and Aristo.”

  “I pay Matt and I don’t know how long Aristo will stay or even if he will like it here. He might run away after a week.”

  “Oh I don’t think so. There is so much to do and see here!”

  “I don’t know if he will get on with L.A. ways. We’ll see.”

  At some point Matt turned up. Marie said that she was worried about leaving me all alone.

  “Don’t worry, he is in good hands. Even if he doesn’t always want their help!”

  I understood Matt’s was reference to the massage that I had refused and grinned.

  “
Oliver, we need to get to Basticon and look at the seats. Will we get time tomorrow?”

  “I’ve got to get Marie to the airport at 11. We’ll have time afterwards to go to Basticon. Then after that, we need to concentrate on the presentation. I think Mr Bass wants to see it on Monday.” Marie cleared the table and took it to the kitchen. Matt turned to me.

  “And if we get some time alone, we will have to talk about the massage.” I grinned. “Luckily, I’ll only have to keep my defense up for three days. A friend’s coming over to give me some back up. He’s going to stay here and look after the Venice building. I need you in the office, Matt.” Matt stood behind me and massaged my neck.

  “And you need me here too.”

  As Marie returned, he didn’t stop guiltily, as I had expected. He confidently carried on, then asked Marie if she would like a neck massage, too. As he rubbed and smoothed her skin, Marie shut her eyes and groaned.

  “I really do have to get to the massage parlor in Berlin, when I get there. But you are doing it perfectly, Matt.”

  Matt stayed over in the second guest room and the next morning the three of us crammed into the Jaguar and drove to the airport to see Marie off. As Marie and I clung together, I promised to let her know how it was going. I thought of my return to Berlin in two months’ time. I didn’t know if I would have Aristo with me or if he would be going to Greece to see his family. I knew I couldn’t ask him, he was Greek after all and they simply don’t plan anything further than two hours ahead.

  At Basticon we found a couple of seats that were ok. Many were too narrow and gave you a cramped feeling. They were light, but also very expensive. I found one that was a compromise between savings on weight and space and luxurious upholstery that would do the job for economy class. Even under the multi-buy discount of 150 pieces, each one would work out at $800 each. That seemed expensive.