Big Time

Eight

John and his team were nearing completion of their quest to buy Wellco. Sometimes buying a company only took a few months; other times, up to a year. Their bid to buy the network of 12 hospitals and 3 medical centers in the Great Lakes region was now in its sixth month and the midnight oil was being burnt.

When an email came in from Thurston Howell the Third, sticking his nose into their affairs, it got John’s goat.

"John, I would like to see the valuation and discuss it with you before we lodge a formal binding offer for Wellco. I need to be comfortable with it. I am available Friday at 9 a.m. for you to present the numbers to me."

John was infuriated. Thurston seemed to be there at every turn. He’d never reported to anyone before except Rob and was really resenting the intrusion. This was John’s deal and this guy was blatantly stepping on his toes. He banged out a terse response.

As a matter of policy, I report to Rob Thomas and any request for sensitive information should come through him.Uncharacteristically, John hit “send” without taking the time to proofread it. Fear ripped through him and he hurriedly opened his sent items and re-read it. He found a typo and cringed.

Around midday, Rasha finally called him back.

“Hey, how are you?” he asked cautiously.

“Fine.” She didn’t sound it.

“So when are you free for dinner?”

There was a pause. “This is not just about sex, is it?”

“What are you talking about? I want to see you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Don’t you want to see me?” he connived.

She paused. “I don’t want you to play games with me.”

John exhaled. This was too much.

“Would you like to go out for dinner?” he asked.

“Can you stay awake?” she said matter of factly.

“I can for you.”

“Last time you could not.”

“When are you free?” he asked.

“I have the next two nights off.”

John really wanted to see her tonight but he had agreed to go to a charity event with friends. He pondered what to do.“Let’s go out tomorrow night after I’ve caught up on some sleep,” he said.

That afternoon, Rob called John into his office and relayed a conversation he’d just had with Thurston. The annoying Brit was unhappy with the way John was treating him, which was, apparently, with contempt. He’d demanded from Rob that John start showing him some respect.

John felt ready to explode. “You don’t ring up and demand respect. You earn it. That’s what he doesn’t understand.”

Rob smiled, sympathetically. “Sure. But there’s no point in making an enemy out of him. Go easy. There’s no upside to pissing off a partner.”

John finished work at seven p.m. to attend a fundraiser for Africa’s largest orphanage. Michael and his wife Sarah had invited him along, two old friends from Cornell. He’d tentatively accepted a fortnight before, subject to his workload, but decided he needed a night away from the office. Despite it being Wednesday, attending the event was an easy way for him to catch up with them for an hour or so and then run home and still get a good night’s sleep.