“Hello,”
the voice on the other end of the call said.
“Jim,
you old coot,” Charles said, “how you doin’?” Charles and Jim grew up in
Virginia together. While in the business world Charles maintained a
professional manner, when talking to the good old boys from home he lapsed into
the parlance of his youth.
“I’m
in recess, so I’d say I’m doin’ mighty fine,” Jim said.
“Workin’
on your golf swing.”
“Five
below par, wouldn’t you know.”
“Yeah,
we’ll see about that next time you’re near the city. By the way, thanks for
pushing that tax cut through. Thanks to that cut I was able to take Loretta to
the Burj Khalifa, even after the $500,000 contribution I promised you. She’s
been wanting to go there ever since she saw a picture of Tom Cruise sitting on
it.”
“Now,
Charlie, you know those cuts are meant to increase productivity and work force
for corporations and businesses.”
Charles
sat at his desk motionless, then he burst into laughter. Jim soon followed.
“You almost had me there, Jim.”
“I
thought you had a heart attack there for a minute.”
Tears
streamed down Charles’ face, he took a handkerchief from his trousers’ pocket
and wiped away the tears. The laughter between them slowly died down. “Hey,
Jim, I need a favor.”
“What
can I do ya for?”
“You
still oversee that food stamp committee in Congress?”
“The
House Agriculture Subcommittee on Department Operations, Oversight and
Nutrition? Yeah, why?”
“I
just found out that most of our employees can’t afford our food, and...”
“You
thinkin’ about giving them raises.”
“Enough
joking around, Jim, I’ve got business to discuss.”
“Sorry,
go on.”
“Well,
I know right now food stamps aren’t allowed to be used for fast food.”
“Across
most of the country, there are a couple states that allow it.”
“And
that ain’t enough for me. Profits are up this year, but if the employees could
buy our food I know we could get them higher.”
“That’s
going to be a hard one to push through Charles.”
“My
bonus is riding on it. I’ll tell you what, you push this through for me, and
I’ll promise you a $1.5 million contribution.”
“That
big a deal, huh?”
“Let’s
just say, if this works out, even after that contribution I could buy Devin
this custom Lamborghini Murciélago I saw while I was in Dubai for his
thirteenth birthday.”
“Nice
gift. For that contribution, though, I’ll move heaven and earth to get that
passed for you.”
“Thanks
Jim, it means a lot.”
“Hey
Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“Where’s
Devin gonna drive that thing at thirteen?”
“I
bought a racetrack last month. He doesn’t know it yet, figured I’d surprise him
with the car and track.”
“Lucky
kid, kind of wish you were my dad.”
“Get
that thing passed and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Alright
Charlie, I’ll talk at ya later.”
Charles
hung up the phone and shook his head. He wore a big smile on his face. He
picked up the budget and looked it over again before pushing the intercom.
“Ms.
Terrien, can you come in here again please.”
The
glass door to Charles’ office opened, and Stephanie walked back into the room
with her yellow legal pad.
“I
think I have a way we can help our employees have a better holiday this
season.”
“Yes
sir.”
“Write
this down, please.”
Stephanie
sat down across from Charles and readied her legal pad. “I’m ready sir.”
“At
the next managers’ meeting, which I believe is next week...”
“Next
Saturday,” she said.
“Yes,”
he said. “I want all of the managers to set up some kind of giving tree,
nothing too ornate or expensive. Come up with some wording to communicate that
this giving tree will be for employees to give to other needy employees to help
them have a better holiday season.”
Stephanie
had stopped writing before Charles finished, and she stared at him.
“Is
there something wrong Ms. Terrien?” he asked.
She
shook her head and turned her attention back to the legal pad. “No sir. So the
employees should offer to donate supplies to the other employees.”
“Exactly,
this should help foster a sense of team spirit among the franchise employees.”
“They
will definitely be united in a common cause, sir. Is there anything else I can
do for you at this moment?”
“That
will be all, Stephanie.” He smiled at her.
She
stood up and began to leave the room.
“Ms.
Terrien?”
She
turned around at the door.
“How
much do you make?”
A
puzzled look came across her face. “Currently, I am salaried at $60,000
annually. May I ask why, sir?”
“Oh,
no reason,” he said turning his attention back to the budget on the desk.
“Thank you Stephanie.”
Stephanie
left the room, and the door closed behind her.
“We
may have to find some way to rectify that,” Charles said to himself.
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