"Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you." - Matthew 7
"I was the buffet and he just couldn't resist the dessert." - Monica Lewinsky
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I - i
STAGE ME TO THEIR EYES
She was Ophelia, once. Now, she hates the stage. She hates being on display, hates being someone else. The polished scuff of the flat black stage floor flashes into her memory with painful intensity. The floodlights blind her vision. She tells herself: you are Isabella, now.
Isabella tries to push aside the memories of the high school theatre production five years ago and attempts to focus on the here and now. This time she will not be playing the female lead in a Shakespearean tragedy. This is not about her, it is about him.
Charles Escalus, Vice President and Chairman of the Board of Alpha International Incorporated—tailored suit, shoes like mirrors, grey combover—makes his entrance from stage left, and walks to the podium in front of Isabella. He is not the man they have come to see. Escalus leans into the microphone and delivers his lines:
"Ladies and Gentleman, it is my great pleasure, indeed it is my honor, to have the privilege of introducing to you a man who really needs no introduction. The man to whom we all owe a great debt. A debt of gratitude, a debt of duty, a debt of obedience, and servitude. For, my friends, it has been because of the ambition of this man that we are here today, that we are who we are, that our success and our achievements have come to fruition, and that our dreams have been fulfilled."
Isabella shifts her weight to her other foot. She should have worn black flats like the other girls on the stage, not heels. She has been standing for an hour already while the final preparations for the event were being made. One media outlet demanded that the iconic Alpha International logo be moved so that it would not distract from their shot, and a heated discussion ensued. The company eventually won. And she is still standing.
Escalus continues: "Yet, as we know, it is not through achievement alone that success is measured. If I may quote Shakespeare—and it is fitting I do so since, after all, we are here at the Geary Theatre, the finest classical stage in San Francisco—the Bard wrote: 'When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.' And that is why we are here today, my friends, to welcome a new era of stern ambition!"
The audience erupts into its scripted applause. Isabella holds back a laugh. She is flush with excitement and wants to buy into this story. It is more fun that way.
In a moment, the young, mysterious, famously single, genetically-blessed CEO of one of the world's most profitable conglomerate of companies is about to stand a few feet from her. She wonders if this over the top drama with its lofty speeches and choreographed production is like the rest of this company. A company of actors. There is that other line too, about all the world's a stage, that comes to mind.
While the hall echoes with a standing ovation, she wonders about how it is that she, Isabella Measures, Communications intern from a small town in upstate New York, is about to share the stage with one of the world's most powerful men, and on the third day of her job. She has a pretty clear idea now.
Isabella is being used as a set piece, the decorative backdrop for this media event. She wishes that they at least would have incorporated chairs into the set design, but knows this is not about her. She also understands this is not really a meeting of the shareholders of Alpha International; it is a disguise for some important corporate announcement. This staging is an opportunity to get publicity and attention, to add value to the company's stock. She has no idea what the announcement is about, but she gets the sense that everybody else does.
"The time for change is upon us," Escalus recites, "the dawn of a new age here at Alpha, and you, my friends, all have a role to play in our transformation." His arm gestures to the curtain of the beautiful, the hip and the young that is his cyclorama.
Isabella looks around at the others on the stage with her. She isn't clear about how she ended up in front of the audience, their faces hidden from her behind the lights. The whole day has been a bit of a blur. She was excited, this morning, really hoping her first trip to San Fransisco would give her a chance to snap some quick photos through the bus window as she was driven in from Mountain View. But as it turned out, the grey fog rolled in across the bay that morning, blocking her view of Alcatraz, so all she could see were the twin pinnacles of the Golden Gate Bridge, rust red and rigid, rising from the sea of grey. No one told her that San Francisco could be this cold and damp in April.
And she is overdressed. Underdressed for the damp cold, perhaps, but the sleeveless shirt dress she chose to wear that morning, black with red and white designs, like data bits scrolling across the light cotton, is far too outspoken when compared to the other girls, all so young and pretty, dressed in casual blouses, usually white, dark jeans and flats. Isabella looks down at her red open-toed pumps and feels the pang of fear that comes with being in over one's head. If only she had asked a girl what she should wear to this shareholder event. Instead, she asked her brother, Claude. What would he know? Something nice, was the extent of his description. That wasn't much help. That's why he is a software engineer, not the little sister studying Communication.
She smiles, warmed by the thought that her older brother is always within reach. Claude got her the intern position in the first place, and, because of him, she was now one of the girls invited to the event at the Geary Theatre.
A look around the stage and a quick survey of the others, and she concludes that there was more to the selection of the attendees to this launch than meets the eye. While the company is dominated by male computer geek types, the bus was stacked with the gorgeous and young—and most of them female. Where did they find these people? She was told in the email that she, and the other chosen ones, would be arranged on the stage for the media photo. Isabella gets it. She fits the profile that Alpha International wants to portray publicly. If only she had dressed like the others. She doesn't want to stand out.
"And to explain how Alpha International will usher in this new era," Escalus continues, "I give you, ladies and gentlemen, our leader and CEO, Mr. Vincent Duke!"
The place erupts in a roar of applause, whistles, screams, thumping bass, dubstep boom; lights flash, feet stomp. The young prince steps into the spotlight, hands waving, like a champion, a conquering hero, a god. Isabella feels the excitement too, she can't help it. The production is superb. Her hands sting from the force of her clapping.
Then she sees him. The tabloid photos and news releases made him look taller; in person he looks like a regular man, but with an air of confidence and style and, and now it hits her, the look of perfection. Everything about him, his dark hair, long on the top and slightly messed, the high cheekbones, the squared jaw, the nose like it was taken from the bust of a Roman emperor, everything says the perfect man.
Vincent Duke's head moves side to side as he approaches the podium. Isabella picks up the trajectory of his line of sight and her heart begins to race. The next turn will place his eyes, directly and closely, on hers. Her world slides into slow motion and the howl of the crowd is silenced in her mind. His head, slowly, turns toward her, his smile, his open mouth, his tanned skin, and now he is facing her. Their eyes lock.
Now, his back is to her. He is at the microphone. What just happened? she asks herself. The wash of sound returns and hits her hard. It's okay, she thinks, he just made eye contact and smiled, just like he does a thousand times a day to every person he encounters. Isabella forces her eyes to a point on Vincent's lower back, where his shirt is crumpled above his belt, just like a normal man. She is relieved by this imperfection. Dressed in tight-fitting black jeans, black sneakers—ratty old gym shoes, actually—a grey T-shirt over-slung by an open white and grey printed dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, Vincent Duke hardly looks like one of the world's richest men. But, then again, one can't make assumptions about success based on appearance in the Valley.
The CEO raises his right hand and the crowd falls silent. He waits for a moment before he speaks. "I ask you, my friends, what are the qualities of great leadership?" There is a stillness in the theatre.
"Those who know me, know that I love listening to my own voice and would love to go on all afternoon about this very question. But I am asking you since I know that your knowledge about this exceeds the limits of any advice I can give. You are, after all, those who the leader serves, those to whom the leader must show justice, and those upon whom the future of the company rests."
Isabella thinks about the script and wonders who wrote this nonsense. Why would Duke's opening lines sound like classic theatre? What is wrong with the corporate culture of cool that has been so successful for Alpha in the past? Perhaps there is a role for her in the communication department after all. She forces a smile and allows the theatrics to unfold. She doesn't want to judge.
Vincent Duke steps back from the stage. All Isabella has to do is reach out her left hand and it can rest on his shoulder. She can smell his cologne. It isn't a scent she can place immediately, but it does remind her of something: a forest in the fall, perhaps. He continues his speech, moving away from the podium, yet not holding a microphone, he projects his voice to the far corners of the theatre. Surely, some technical wizardry is at play, for as he walks across the stage, his voice rings true and clear. He is talking about how, deep down, he is not a man who relishes the attention that comes with his position, how he loves 'the people', and how that kind of love can sometimes be at odds with the best interests of the company's profitability.
"'Sterner stuff,' as Mr. Escalus phrased it, is what Alpha International needs in its leader. And so, my tenure at the helm is over. I have a responsibility to our shareholders, and to you, our employees, to do what is best for the company. Effective today, I will be stepping down as CEO."
There is hush. There are murmurs. Cameras click. Flashes fire. The chatter of protests begins. Vincent raises his hand and peace ensues.
"Friends, friends, please. Trust my judgement: I would never leave my child, Alpha International, if I did not believe it to be best for all. This is not a forced exit, there was no coup by the Board of Directors, I was not ousted by the Executive Committee—far from it. I had to convince the Board to allow me to leave."
"I am still young, yet I am in a position where I can do far more good on this globe than make money for our shareholders. We have a great team, we own great companies, we employ great people. They will get along fine, and Alpha will continue to make new strides in innovation and profitability. Of that, I am certain."
"I will be devoting my time and resources to my charity foundations. I will be investing in new growth, moving into areas that benefit the causes that I believe in: peace, humanitarian relief, and the environment. There is enough talent in the world devoted to making money. I will use my gifts to try to make the world a better place. "
The crowd of young, fresh faces on the stage are once again the backdrop as Vincent moves center stage. Isabella feels the burn of the spotlight on her. She knows she is the girl who will be in the background of the pictures that will soon hit social media and the papers. She attempts a smile. She misses Vincent's leadership already, yet she knows that in her role as an intern, it doesn't matter who is CEO.
Vincent Duke, now the former CEO of Alpha International, again raises his hand and announces his exit:
"And so, my friends, as decided by the Board of Directors, I leave Alpha in the hands of the only one truly worthy of the ample grace and honor of leadership, a man driven by truth, passionate in his regard for the law and unwavering in his principles. May I present to you my former deputy, and now interim CEO of Alpha International Incorporated, Mr. Angelo Lord!"