Really? by M.J. Garrett (best motivational books to read .TXT) 📖

that found it more important to save the three dollar pen. Standing close enough to remember the smell of the carpeted walls of the cubicles, listening to the conversations, listening to the stress of normalcy, I don’t smile. Finding myself close to Dee, I could smell her scented skin. In my mind’s eye, I could see her green eyes poking over the top of the cubicle wall. I could remember how her black painted finger nails covered the face of that stupid yellow smiley-face mug. Squeaking out favors from her sexy smile, she pulled me into her seductive manipulation.

Just as the memories were coming back to me, I see her little brown and blonde highlighted head pop up. As she peeked her head over the cubicle wall, I could see her little body standing on her tip-toes. Dressed in her little skirt and high heels with her perfect body stretching her arm over the top of the wall with mug in tow. There he was; the new version of me.

Dee, in all of her majesty, is finding ways to be at the top of the hierarchy of this pseudo sociological experiment. And just like the others who sat in that cursed cubicle, this new version of me, stands up with no smile and grabs the cup.

Really? This stupid smiling cup; bright yellow, black eyes, toothless smile has become the chalice of social acceptance? This ridiculous round head with a hole on top, made for coffee and hot cocoa, has become the Holy Grail? Cookie cutter douche bag after cookie cutter douche bag; being pigeon holed into the guardian of the covenant, plays into the hand of this little 25 year old kid smothered in the desirable aroma of sweet possibilities. It was fascinating to watch. If ever I was a fortune teller, today would be the day. This guy wasn’t going to make it. Not a chance in hell.


**
Sitting at the head of table, the conference room was filled with expensive suits and miniskirts. The smell of coffee filled the room, as the suit wearing business men quickly glanced over their notes with the miniskirt wearing secretaries. Each one of them confident that they had the right numbers, arguments, and swearing to their own business sense and ideology. It’s interesting how these things work. Each one of the suits is not trying to convert the room, not trying to prove they are right; but each one trying to prove the other opinions wrong. The court of public opinion is presenting its case to not do what is beneficial for the company, but instead, trying to promote themselves as the new Messiah to lead this rag tag, makeshift hierarchy.

“Really?” Rick asked, as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the glass conference table. “What do you think, Abraham?”

What do I think? Really? He’s asking me to give my opinion on matters that I have no clue about? I don’t run a business. I don’t know what the numbers mean. I don’t even know who these men or their sexy secretaries are. But, if he wants my opinion…fuck it.

“Well, this gentleman here, the one in the red tie and fake hair; he seems to be an asshole…”

“I beg your pardon!” he chimes in with the vocal disgust of suggestion.

Rick raises his hand to silence the old man, “Let him finish.”

“Really? You are suggesting that we get rid of our printers and fax machines because they don’t bring in money and possibly cost more money to maintain? What happens to our business then? Office work is then outsourced? Now, I have to pay money and I’m not even guaranteed to get the quality of work that the ones who know this business inside and out can provide? That doesn’t make sense to me. What about the jobs that will be lost because of the lack of filing and shuffling of papers? Look out of this office window and tell these people that you are not going to pay them because you want to pay some company three times the cost for sub-par work; just to save the cost of storing paper, running computers, and electricity.”

“What are you saying, Abraham?” Rick leaned back into his chair and smiled. Squinting his eyes to embrace the common knowledge of an invisible worker bee, who once fetched coffee for a potential suicide girl.

“Do you want to make money, save jobs, and lower the cost?” I began to sweat as the pressure of this moment started to climax to the point of no return. I’m on the edge of the cliff here and I just threw the boulder that was tied to my feet over it. I only had a couple of seconds to make the point before that weight of the boulder took me over.

Clearing my voice and swallowing the flem that probably resembled the size of my heart, I looked at the man in the red tie and smiled, “If you want to make money, keep your workers, give them raises, make them happy, then create jobs where they can advance. Create jobs where they don’t have to retrain, but they can already use the knowledge that you paid them to obtain.”

The man in the red tie arrogantly looked at me as he interrupted, “How do you suggest we do that, Mr….”

“Lewis.” I answered sternly with the smile disappearing and being replaced with agitation. “My name is Mr. Lewis. What is your name, sir?”

Cracking a grin worthy of my challenge, the man in the red tie responded, “Horton. You can call me Mr. Horton.”

“Well, Mr. Horton, if you interrupt me one more time, I’ll be on first name basis with you and you’ll still be calling me ‘Sir’”. A low rumble of whispers and gasps, echoed off the walls and glass table as Rick just smiled like his baby son just hit game winning homerun. “If you want to save money, raise money, and raise moral; you take this area of interest. You take this room full of people and you put them in a building across the street. You give them the same responsibilities and give them a raise. All you do is change them from being employees of this company and you put a different name on the outside of their store.”
“What do you mean?” Rick leaned forward in confusion.

“You take this portion of the company and you create a new company. They will still do the same jobs, but they will be afforded the opportunity to accept business from other companies who find it necessary to cut their printing department. Your printing will be charged at cost. Other companies who have the same idea that outsourcing their printing and filing, like Mr. Horton here, will pour business into that company just to save them the cost of electricity.”

Rick, amazed and confused, begins to simplistically regurgitate the information. “So, we cut the cost of keeping this department? Then we open up an independent printing company? They, in turn, are contracted by other businesses, possibly our competitors, to do their printing and filing; which, if I understand this correctly, the other companies are paying our company to do their work?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Who will manage this ‘company’?”

“You hire from within.” I said this to him with confidence. Hoping that the fear was not shining through my masquerade, I stood up to convey my point. Looking through the glass wall, I pointed at the little girl and her smiley face mug. “You take that girl and tell her that you are heading up a new business that will in tale all of the same jobs and functions as her job does now. You tell her that you are going to pay her a $100K a year, plus full dental and medical…life insurance and retirement included; and all you want her to do is the same job she does now. Do you think she would be interested? She’s making thirteen dollars an hour right now.”

“I’m listening.” Rick entertained my idea and stood up beside me as we looked into fast see of average Joes.

“You will save $100K a year just on electricity. Now, you put her in an office where all of these average Joes are doing not just the work for you, keep in mind that you will be paying at cost for your printing jobs, but your competitor will be saving money by cutting his department and paying her. If she contracts 10 to 15 businesses a year, you are looking at a minimum of a million dollar company. Well, a $600K a year business after you pay her and all of the hourly wage jobs that these same people will hold…just under the title of this new business.”

“Abe?” he whispered to me as we stood there with our hands in our pockets looking into the sea of average Joes, “That was amazing. If I do this, you have to promise to never eat Angela’s enchiladas ever again.”

“Really? Was it that bad?”

“Not really, not right now; but I can still taste it from before we left the office.” We both chuckled and turned to face the room full of suits and miniskirts. “Ladies and gentlemen, now do you see why I have brought Mr. Lewis in?”


Chapter 21

It was a little odd to see Angela doing so good learning how to ride the motorcycle. It was like she had the ability inside her, like she was pre-wired to rule the road with a two wheeled rocket. Her breaking was smooth and her take offs were perfect. Both me and Rick just stood there as she zoomed through the parking lot.

“You know,” Rick piped up as I stood there looking at him through the scratched visor, “she is really picking it up well. Maybe you should get her to teach you?” I hated the way he mocked me with such subtlety.

Weaving in and out of parking spaces, getting the feel of the bike, she looked so sexy! “Rick,” I pushed the visor open and looked him in the eye, “I want to thank you. It has been a blessing being your friend.” Rick smiled at me, without having to say a word, he gave his silent acknowledgement.

Hearing the rev of the her motorcycles engine, we both dropped our momentary gaze at each other and quickly looked up to see Angela’s legs flinging around like a rag doll, as she held on to the handle bars. The bike standing almost strait up on one wheel, the bike pulled her small frame across the parking lot and through the grass that separated the parking lot from the street.

Fear gripping my stomach and nerves, I stood there and watched as the bike entered the ditch and pulled her into the street. Life seemed to slowdown as she let go of the wheeling bike, sliding to a stop. As the bike keeps moving across the street, Rick and I ran over as the sound of screeching tires filled the air and my helmet with the