“May I help you sir?” Although she was clearly American, her annunciation was so proper that it gave her a slight hint of a British accent.
“Uh, yes. I have a four-thirty appointment with Mr. Niroki.”
“One moment please.”
She turned to her computer and, with robot-like proficiency, began to type in the information necessary to confirm that he was who he said he was.
“Yes. Mr. Pearson, right?” Neville nodded his head. “He is finishing up with an appointment right now. If you take the elevator to the twentieth floor, there’s a waiting room off to the right. Please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy a cup of espresso while you wait.”
Neville politely thanked the woman and went over to the elevators on the west wall of the foyer and pressed the up button. Looking at his watch, he realized with satisfaction that he was twenty minutes early for his meeting. On-time was late. He never arrived late.
The elevator opened and Neville stepped inside of the ornately decorated place. A chandelier also adorned this ceiling. It was an exact replica of the ones in the entryway, although only about one-fourth the size. The left and back walls were exquisitely painted with a mural of what looked like an Eastern European palace interior. The way the artist was able to capture the nuances of depth and perception made it feel like he had actually entered into a mansion a half a world away. Indeed, had the wall to the right been completed, he might have actually believed such a transport was possible in the enchanted elevator car. But the pale white wall to the right diminished the effect of the illusion.
The lights on the number panel to the right of the door continued to rise and eventually came to rest on the number twenty. As the doors slid open, Neville almost ran into Victoria in his haste to exit.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
But instead of accepting his apology, she practically jumped on him and pushed him back into the elevator. Her hug was enthusiastic and the high-pitched squeal was definitely an indicator of excitement.
“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had a meeting like that before. I was so poised, so professional.”
“Meeting?” It hit Neville then, harder than Victoria did when she embraced him only minutes ago. So hard, in fact, that it threatened to sweep his feet out from under him. “You just met with Niroki?”
“Yeah. And I think I hit a home run.”
Neville was in shock. He was certain that he would be the first to meet with Niroki and set the bar high for Victoria. He didn’t like being the second on stage, especially when he didn’t know what he was up against. He tried to retain some composure and try to get some information from Victoria.
“Why…Why would you say it was a home run?”
She could barely contain her excitement as she tried to answer his question. She was like a little kid who just got told they were going to Disneyland and had the entire park to themselves.
“Well…after I finished my presentation, he was so impressed that he asked me to go golfing with him tomorrow.”
Trying to sound happy for her, Neville asked, “Where? When?”
“Tomorrow, at the Siwanoy Country Club. Up in Eastchester. I think our tee time is at ten.”
“I didn’t know you played golf.”
“I don’t really, and I told him that. But he said it would be fun and we could talk more about the ad campaign. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah….it’s…uh… wonderful.”
The doors opened back at the lobby. Neville hadn’t even realized that he had ridden the elevator back down with Victoria. She kissed him and said goodbye, then skipped merrily out of sight. Still in a state of shock, Neville habitually looked down at his watch again and saw the time: three fifty-two.
“Crap.”
The doors closed and he began his ascent once again. He forewent the coffee in the waiting room and went straight for Niroki’s office. To his surprise, it was Niroki himself who answered the knock. He must have been in his sixties, although, like most Japanese men, he aged so gracefully that any attempt at accurately guessing his age was most likely a futile effort. There was no secretary, no welcome area, just the office. But it was beautifully decorated. The desk at the far end of the room was more majestic than any Neville had previously seen. As someone who took great pride in his own desk, Neville had spent months looking for the right one. As he had never come across one so ornately carved and splendidly polished, he knew that it must have been a custom design and most likely cost a small fortune.
“Please, Mr. Pearson. Come in and have a seat.” Neville sat, but Niroki did not. Instead, he went to a hot plate that was sharing shelf space with some ancient looking books.
“Would you like some tea, Mr. Pearson?”
“Uh, yes, please.”
Niroki carried himself with grace and honor, always standing tall and proud as if royalty, yet speaking with such humility as one who dedicated his life to serving others.
“Well, Mr. Pearson. What can I do for you today?”
Neville, with years of experience and training behind him, launched into his sales pitch. He effortlessly spouted out numbers and demographic statistics. He reinforced the power of PMZ in the marketplace and how using such a big company would only benefit Mr. Niroki and his amazing product. He rambled on for close to thirty minutes, but Mr. Niroki never broke his gaze. His listened as intently as if this was the first time he had ever heard a sales presentation and was completely captivated by it. Once finished, Neville sat back in his chair, confident that Victoria would not have been able to put on such an amazing spectacle of knowledge and skill.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Pearson.”
Hardly the response he was expecting, Neville didn’t move from his chair.
“I’m sorry?”
Niroki looked confused as to why Neville was having a hard time comprehending his dismissal.
“Thank you, Mr. Pearson. Your presentation was excellent. I will be in touch.”
Neville couldn’t leave it like that. If Victoria had gotten an invitation to golfing, he had to leave with something, anything.
“Did you not like my presentation, Mr. Niroki?”
“I thought it was very professional.”
“Then I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong? Say something offensive?”
“Not at all. Although your presentation was very professional, it was not very personal. I want to work with someone that can be relatable as a person.”
“I can assure you Mr. Niroki, that PMZ takes a very personal and hands-on approach to all of our clients.”
“I don’t care what PMZ does, Mr. Pearson. I care about what you do, and I didn’t feel like you were personally interested in me. Just that you were a representative of a company interested in my business. There’s a big difference for me. So, like I said, I will be in touch. Thank you for your time, Mr. Pearson.”
Neville couldn’t believe his ears. He had just been shut down. He had never been shut down. The trip to the elevator seemed to be happening as if in a dream. He didn’t remember moving his legs or pressing the buttons on the elevator. He needed to think. He needed Sammy.
14
“You idiot! How could you blow the most important sales meeting of your life? They don’t come much dumber than you, my friend.”
Neville often spoke to himself to help work things out in his own mind. Talking to himself was therapeutic, and relaxing. It helped to verbally put it all on the table and sift through things that way. It wasn’t very often, however, that he would berate himself. In fact, it had never happened before. His ego wouldn’t allow such behavior. But this was different. He didn’t know what else to do. Pacing helped some, but the insults, even though aimed at himself, seemed to help more. After all, he deserved it.
It’s a good thing the front door was unlocked. Sammy didn’t knock and if it had been locked, he would have plowed right through, leaving the door in tatters behind him. Neville had called Sammy nearly twenty m
inutes ago and was surprised that it had taken him this long to get over there. Sammy was irate at the situation. For an administrative assistant, he took every job personally, and, consequently, every failure as an affront to himself.
“I can’t believe you let this slip through your fingers like this.”
“What, no hello?”
Sammy was not amused.
“Tell me what he said. Why did he dismiss you?”
“He said I wasn’t being personal enough.”
“What? Did you act personally interested? Did you talk to him like a person, or just another client?”
“I don’t know. I just did my pitch like normal.”
“Wow, you really are dumb.”
“Hey. You still work for me, remember.”
“Not if you blow this account. We’ll both be out on our rumps if we don’t find some way to salvage this.”
“I don’t think there’s much hope of that.”
“There’s a way. There’s always a way. We just need to think.”
Both men plopped down on the couch. Each was incredibly exhausted from the emotional expenditure it took to be so mad and so dejected. Racking their brains, nothing came to them. Sammy and Neville both liked to express their thoughts verbally, but neither spoke.
Then Sammy said, “Look, you need to attack this differently than a normal sales pitch. You need to be more relatable. He didn’t come to you, you went to him. So you need to meet him on his terms.”
“Ok. Well how do I do that? Just wait for his call and beg him to hear me out? Beg him to take me back?”
“No. The damage is done now. I think we need to do something a bit more drastic than begging.”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Oh no. I’m not gonna let you do something to sabotage Victoria. I think I’m falling in love with her and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”
“But you’re gonna jeopardize your job? Come on, man. Are you really willing to risk everything for a girl?”
“Yes. Yes I am.”
They both sat in silence again, neither one knowing which way to go next. Neville wasn’t going to do anything to risk losing Victoria. He had waited so long to find someone. There was no way he was going to let an ambitious fool talk him out of his chance at love. Then Sammy sat straight like he was just struck by lightning and his body went into a state of rigor.
“I’ve got it,” he whispered.
“Got what?”
“Me.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I’m the answer to this whole stupid situation.”
“Still not with ya, buddy. Want to clarify that a bit?”
“You don’t want to lose Victoria by doing something to make her lose the account, right?”
“Right.”
“So, what if I do it?”
“Do what?”
“Anything.”
Neville was skeptical, but Sammy could tell by his expression that he was at least receptive to the idea. So he continued.
“Check it out, Neville. If I do something, say…to keep her from her appointment tomorrow at the country club, then you can take her place, claiming that you just happened to be playing a round at that particular club. She won’t have any idea that you were even there and Niroki will count it as some kind of omen that you were there.”
“I don’t know, Sammy. What if she finds out.”
“There’s no way that she will.”
“How can you guarantee that?”
“You’re just going to have to trust me. I have an idea that can’t lose.”
15
Victoria could not have been more excited if she was a ten-year-old girl on Christmas Eve who had just caught Santa in the act of leaving her the greatest presents ever and then offered her a bonus gift to forget she ever saw him. She didn’t know a thing about golf, but after looking at some great golfers on YouTube, she went down to a local pro shop and charged up a couple of items that she thought would be great. She headed over to the full-length mirror to admire her ensemble.
Her checked knickers were neatly tucked into argyle knee socks. A black polo shirt hung loosely from her torso and she finished the outfit with a tam o’shanter cap. She thought she looked a little silly, but it was what she saw in the video and she wanted to look as professional as possible for Mr. Niroki. He already knew that she wouldn’t be able to play well, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t look the part.
Satisfied that she was as put together as possible, she left her apartment and headed for the staircase at the end of the hallway. She always liked taking the stairs in lieu of the elevator. After all, it was the small things like taking the stairs that helped keep her young and stress-free. Life was too difficult to let stress pile up to the point of bursting. If a day was particularly stressful, she would run up the stairs and back down again, as many times as it took to sweat the stress right out of her. She had taken Karate a few months ago, but after getting overwhelmed at work one night, and the dojo being closed, she found the joy of the stairs. There was something almost magical about the results of thirty or forty minutes running on the stairs.
But that day, she was not running to relieve some daily stresses, she was running from shear excitement. She couldn’t wait to get to the country club and meet with Niroki. He had been such a joy to talk with in his office the previous day. He seemed almost delighted that she was talking like a bumbling idiot. After he poured her a cup of tea, he told her a charming story about his daughter. She still lived in Japan and was married to an upstanding man who ran a restaurant. His eyes got a little misty when he retold the story of her wedding day and how beautiful she had looked.
After that, she felt a kinship to Niroki, and she was sure that he saw a little of his daughter in her, the thought of which filled her with such a sense of humility and honor that she couldn’t wait to see him again and show how appreciative she was of his kindness.
Walking out the door, she turned to her right and pressed the button on her key fob. Her car made a light chirp that let her know it was unlocked and ready for her.
***
If Neville knew what he was up to, he would fire him for sure. Sammy crouched down beside the staircase that led to the front door of Victoria’s apartment. Neville had given him permission to stall Victoria, but Sammy planned to mug her. Not actually mug her, but convince her to hand over her keys and leave her stranded. She would never make it to the country club, fifteen miles away, in time to see Neville stealing Niroki out from under her. He had never committed a crime before and therefore had no idea what to wear for the occasion. Not wanting to be recognized, he donned a black ski mask. The only other all-black clothes he had were a pair of sweat pants and a spandex biking shirt. He was sure that he looked ridiculous, but he was fine with that, hoping that the silliness of his appearance would lend credence to the fact that he was a crazed maniac that should be heeded and not fought back against.
The door above him opened. He heard the faint chirp of a car unlocking on the other side of the stairs. He ventured a peek and saw what appeared to be a weird cross between Payne Stewart and a newsboy from the New York of a hundred years in the past. But it was still her.
Not wanting her to make it to her car, he ran at her as fast as he could, colliding with her a bit harder than he had intended. The force of the blow disorients her and surprises him. He backs off for a moment and then demands her purse and keys. She raised her keys, but not to give them to him. She pointed the little container of mace directly at his exposed eyes and pressed down on the top.
He had never felt so much pain. His eyes watered uncontrollably, and when he opened his mouth to scream, another stream of mace landed on his tongue. A gust of wind redirected the mace back into the face of his attacker. Sammy seized the moment and went back on the offensive. He grabbed the keys from Victoria and stood back for a moment to relish his victory. He still couldn�
��t see through the deluge of tears pouring from his eyes. Victoria was still impaired as well, but not impaired enough to miss her mark when she swung her foot up. It landed right between his thighs, doubling him over in pain.
It took everything he had to remain upright. Wincing against the pain, he could see that Victoria was leaning against the car, trying to rub the mace from her own eyes. If he was going to get away, that was the moment. Holding tightly to the keys, he hobbled off down the road. In his mind, victory had been his. But to the rest of his body, he was leaving the undisputed looser.
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