I didn't do vacations well. In fact, I was so unaccustomed to prolonged breaks that I called mine off halfway through.
The following Monday, exactly seven days since Paul put me on a two week vacation, I returned to Armstrong & Lynch. At eight o'clock sharp. I pushed open the Victorian style double doors and strolled into the firm. Marilyn, our receptionist, was quick to greet me at the entrance.
"Back already?" she teased, a knowing smile draped on her face.
A recent graduate out of UCLA, Marilyn was one of the younger staff members in the firm. Her buttery blonde hair was routinely tied up in a ponytail, and that made Marilyn look even younger than her actual age.
Maybe it was the age factor, but Marilyn seemed to possess an air of detachment. Sometimes it seemed like she was here for a vacation. That could have been misinterpreted as laziness, but tax season quickly dispelled that idea. Marilyn was firing on all cylinders during that period, working at maximum intensity day in and day out.
When the busy period passed, Marilyn reverted back to her laid back form. Her ability to keep the work atmosphere relaxed was invaluable and much appreciated. Especially in a profession like accounting, which wasn't necessarily the most exciting thing on the planet.
I returned Marilyn's enthusiasm with a polite smile. "Yeah, I did all the sightseeing I wanted so I cut my vacation short."
"Well you could have given the remainder to me," Marilyn joked.
"Next time."
A giggle from Marilyn. "I'm just teasing."
A phone call sent our receptionist hurrying back to her desk. I took that as my cue to leave. As I made my way to my office, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. Even though it had only been a week, my attachment to this building made the absence feel like months.
There was a distinct sense of urgency in the air. Everyone was in their cubicles, chipping away at the stack of files in front of them. Although the busiest stretch had passed, there was always a steady flow of work. The multitudes of folders containing pages upon pages of data acted as testament to that.
There was also an interesting paradox at the firm. The sheer complexity of accounting work meant that most project required days, even weeks on occasions, to complete. Still, that knowledge did little to deter us from our Sisyphean mindset. We were determined to complete everything at once, even though we knew it was impossible. The result: every time we thought we were nearing the end of our stack, a new stack was brought over and piled on top.
A tenacious attitude wasn't necessarily a bad thing. At least it meant that my co-workers were passionate about their work. That allowed Armstrong & Lynch to experience quite a bit of success in recent years.
I continued to walk towards my office. Along the way, as I always did each time I stepped foot into the firm, I marveled at the decor that Paul and Mark decided on. Most places in the industry took a more modern, cutting edge approach with their furnishing. Not here.
The two founders were adamant that the company explored the road less traveled. Standard cool white office lights were replaced by halogen bulbs of a warmer yellow hue. Automatic swing doors gave way to Victorian style double doors crafted from mahogany wood. Every element in the firm defied the norm.
The difference at an unit level could have easily been dismissed. The sum of these changes, however, was unmistakable. A brand new working environment was created as a result of these modifications. With its warmer and cozier appeal, the firm felt more like a cabin home than a business office.
I crossed the length of the floor to get to my office, pausing momentarily to acknowledge the sign on my door. D. Reed, Director of Accounting and Financial Operations. The silver letters sparkled against the black background like stars in the night sky.
That nameplate served as a reminder that hard work never went to waste. It might have taken five years, but I went from college intern to the partners' right hand man. Persistence did pay off.
As soon as I opened the door to my office, a sense of homecoming came over me. The office was my headquarters. If I had to estimate, the time I spent in this room was roughly equal to the time I spent at home. That allowed me to become familiar with nearly every element in here, from the rustic wall clock to the fountain pen in my top drawer and everything in between.
The one thing that I was not expecting was the cluster of files that were scattered across the surface of my desk. I had taken a week off in the least busiest month of the year and there were still numerous projects awaiting my approval.
That was the dilemma of the director. As the decorated Winston Churchill once said, "Where there is great power there is great responsibility." Being in a position of power meant that I could hardly afford any time off. That was one reason why I didn't take breaks.
Without another word, I grabbed the first folder I saw, sat down and began reading through the case. It was a simple bookkeeping assignment that one of the junior accountants handled. I was responsible for a few during my internship period. Now my role was to review the numbers and ensure the project was error free. Nothing complex, but definitely time consuming.
Unfortunate, time was a luxury I didn't have. I was still on the first page when someone knocked on my door. I closed the folder and set it on top of the pile. The case would have to wait.
Before I could tell the visitor to come in, however, the doorknob turned and the door swung open. A mildly irritated Paul walked into my office. His expression said it all. Annoyance radiated from his cognac brown eyes as Paul took a seat on the other side of my desk.
While Paul's strides still contained that authoritative confidence, the creases that underlined his slate gray hair was indicative of his age. No one knew exactly how old Paul was, since it was never explicitly stated, but conservative estimations reckoned that our employer was easily in his sixties.
Not that age meant anything. Aside from his father figure demeanor, the effects of aging hardly applied to Paul. The passion and dedication the job translated into a youthful vigor, and his assertive presence remained constant over the years.
"You're here."
It was a statement, not a question. Paul knew I would be back before the end of my break. The question was when.
"Yeah." My response was pitifully feeble. Paul might not have seemed intimidating, but he had an innate ability to instill fear in others when he needed to.
"Why?"
This was Paul's style. Short sentences conveyed his message in a clear cut manner. That put the pressure on the respondent to come with up an answer under Paul's watchful eyes. His tactics came across as an authoritative but not overbearing. I admired that quality about Paul.
The battle tested tactic proved effective once again. Even though I didn't do anything wrong - most companies would have been ecstatic if their employees took a cut in their vacation time - I felt the pressure bearing down on my shoulders.
"Uh . . . I was bored. There wasn't anything left to do. I was starting to kill time at home. Thought it might have been better spent here."
"Nothing to do, you say?" Paul echoed, appearjng to be deep in thought as he ran his fingers across his stubble.
"No?" I had a feeling that I set myself up for failure.
"Have you been to the Coit Tower? Conservatory of Flowers? Lotta's Fountain? Palace of Fine Arts? San-"
"Okay, I get it." I weathered the storm by throwing my hands up in defeat. "There's much more to do in the city. I just didn't take advantage of it."
Paul suddenly became serious. He folded his hands on top of my desk. "Listen to me, Dylan. Mark and I are very glad to have you here. You're the best employee we have here at A&L. You work harder than anyone else, and you produce better results than anyone else. Those are fact. I have managed this firm for about thirty years and I have never seen someone with your level of dedication and drive."
It didn't matter how old a person was or how long their tenure with the company was. Praise always felt good. I smiled at the wave of compliments that Paul had sailed my way.
"Thanks, Paul. I'm glad to hear that."
"You've earned it." A look of approval flashed on Paul's sturdy face, but the corner of his lips slowly curled downwards into a concerned frown. "However, I'm worried about your tunnel vision. I appreciate that you're giving A&L your undivided effort, but there should be more to your life than work.
"It's not like anyone is forcing my hand, Paul. I'm not being blackmailed to come in to work. I'm here on my own free will. I choose to come to work every single day."
Paul stared at me for a long moment. His body language generally had a calming effect, like a gentle breeze on the beach. Now, with his pupils fixated on me, the message was coming across more ominously, like the thunderclouds that signaled an impending storm.
"I know it's your choice, but I'm telling you why it's a bad one."
"I'm listening," I assured Paul.
"There's always going to be work, Dylan," Paul asserted. "Always. It doesn't matter what occupation. You could be an accountant or an engineer or a chef. There will always be more work. Numbers will need to be audited, constructions will need to be designed, and food will need to be prepared. You can never truly finish work. Work is infinite. Some other things do have a finite period though. Take family, for example. Loved ones age, and eventually, they pass away. Time with loved ones is precious. Make sure to make time for them."
Paul halted his lecture to ask a question. "Your parents are in Oakland, right?"
"That's right."
"When was the last time you were home?"
"Christmas," I admitted sheepishly.
"That's over six months ago," Paul reminded me. "You should visit them more often. It's not a difficult drive. Only takes twenty minute or so to get to Oakland. You have to know that many people don't have that luxury. For example, my parents lived out in Oklahoma before they passed away. Visiting them wasn't easy, but I made sure to do it at least once a year."
Hearing that put me to shame. My parents were on the other side of the bridge, yet I rarely made the effort to visit them. Paul's family was thousands of miles away and he still made the journey annually.
It wasn't that I had anything against my parents. There was nothing in our relationship to suggest a feud or any other conflicts. It was just my work first attitude that cost us quite a bit of family reunion time.
I wasn't accustomed to deviations from my routines. Having things in a specific linear order put my mind at ease. That was why work, especially work at the firm, was the perfect fit for me. In a condensed version of my daily schedule, I woke up, drove to A&L, went through my work tasks, went home, slept. Repeat. Some people didn't like that singular flow, but I did.
Paul was of a different breed. He excelled in multitasking and making changes on the fly. It was obviously a skill that worked well for him, considering his lofty position in the company.
Which prompted the question, "How do you juggle your firm responsibilities with other external influences?"
Paul chuckled at my question. "Delegate, Dylan. Delegate. One person can only do so much. Everyone has a limit. That's why we have co-workers. While each of them have different strengths and weaknesses, they are all hired because they are capable people. Sometimes, you just need to trust your teammates and let them handle things. Your life would be so much easier that way."
"I'll work on that."
"Good. It's an important skill for people to have, especially those like you."
Paul seemed to be hinting at an underlying message with that cryptic ending. "Those like me?"
A smile appeared on Paul's face. The facial expression caused wrinkles around his forehead and lips to become increasingly apparent.
"I'm getting old, kid. A lot older than you may imagine. Eventually, I'll have to step down. Whether retirement or death gets to me first, I can't run this company forever. And Mark is just about in the same boat. We need to pass the torch along to someone. Not just anyone either. A young, dedicated individual who is invested in the company's well-being. A young, dedicated individual who can lead the company to success. A young, dedicated individual like you."
For most people, that announcement shouldn't have come as a surprise. After all, I was the next step down from the partners on the organizational structure. Yet Paul's words took me by surprise. Paul carried an air of longevity with his presence, which made any talk about retirement sound implausible.
"You're retiring?" The astonishment couldn't be kept out of my voice.
"Not yet. There's still some gas left in this tank. I'm just planning ahead. It's not like I'm hiring a seasonal staff here, Dylan. I need time to anoint and train A&L's successor."
"A&L's successor," I repeated quietly as I understood Paul's message. Those were large boots to fill. "I'm not sure I can handle such a task."
Paul got up out of his chair and walked towards the door, chuckling along the way. "Don't worry. I have faith in you, Dylan. You're more than qualified for this position. Your skill set is exceptional and your work ethic is impeccable. After a bit of polishing up, I'm sure you'll make a terrific leader."
On that note, Paul opened my door and walked out into the hallway, undoubtedly making his way back into his own office. I remained glued to my chair. I didn't even pick up the case that I had started reading. All that I could do was mull over Paul's words, and the possibility that there might be a day when this would be my very own company to run.
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Rolling right along into the next chapter. Changed courses a little bit here. I know everyone is antsy to read about Penny again, but there's more to Dylan than the mysterious ginger haired girl! What does everyone think of Dylan's development as a character? Paul? Hit me with your thoughts. I love reading reader comments!
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