I arrived on the steps of the Lindberg building on Monday morning. Seeing the massive brass sign again brought back memories of my first day in Vancouver. I proceeded through the large glass revolving doors and entered the lobby. Security did not even notice me. I looked like I belonged there. I spent about thirty-five hundred dollars on a wool two-button Euro-cut suit - black with subtle pin stripes. I had on a fitted lavender shirt with an Italian silk tie and handkerchief. To top it all off, I wore gold cufflinks and polished dark-chestnut shoes. My stride matched the attire.
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator ascended rapidly, causing my stomach to churn. The fact I was about to have a meeting with one of the most powerful people in the country probably was not helping any. I had managed to get only a moment of Mr. Lindberg's time, so it was imperative that I impress him.
In the time it took for the elevator to rise to the top of the massive skyscraper, I was able to do one final rehearsal of what I was going to say. The elevator came to a stop on the top floor and the doors opened. Using the mirror in the elevator, I looked over my appearance, made some final adjustments to my suit, and then made my exit. I took a deep breath - it was show time.
The first thing I noticed when I approached the reception desk was the spectacular view. The entire city was laid out before me. I felt like I was on top of the world.
"Good morning, sir," a young attractive woman greeted me.
"Good morning. My name is Trevor Morrison and I have an appointment with Allan Lindberg."
"I'll let him know you're here. You can have a seat in our waiting area if you like."
"Would you like some coffee or water?"
"No, thank you."
I took a seat on the big leather sofa and stared out the window. I could see for miles. Floatplanes were taking off and landing on the water, people hustling around like little worker ants, and the gorgeous mountains on the North shore never looked so serene. I opened up my folder to make sure everything was in order.
"Mr. Morrison, Mr. Lindberg is ready to see you now."
Although I had never seen the inside of the building before, Mr. Lindberg's office was unmistakable. I walked right over to the two large wooden doors with the large golden 'L' etched in the centre. I pushed one of the heavy doors open and prepared myself for the possibilities that laid on the other side.
"Mr. Morrison, welcome."
"Good morning, Mr. Lindberg. Thank you so much for meeting with me today."
"Please, have a seat."
"So what can I do for you today?"
"I know your time is valuable so I'll be as brief as possible. Mr. Lindberg, I'm about to revolutionize the way people do commerce and I'm seeking investors to help launch my company," I said, keeping it brief. I reached into my briefcase, took out the prospectus, and handed it to him.
He read the first paragraph, then the next.
"Huh," he grunted. "Is this feasible?" he asked, as he continued to scrutinize every detail.
"I believe it is, sir. I spent the last year and a half working out all the details. I'm the patent holder for the technology, and have several companies already on board to facilitate. All I need is a little funding."
YOU ARE READING
The Art of the HustleMystery / Thriller
Self-made billionaire, Trevor Morrison, recounts his life from being a poor kid from a small town to creating one of the largest companies in the world, all before his 30th birthday. A true underdog tale is told in The Art of the Hustle. When Trev...