The photographer’s assistant poked her head in and told Vanessa to come to Charles’ office. She was in her well-appointed office near Du Pont Circle with a sweeping view of the District and its symbols of power. As usual, she was on her ecator responding to messages from her world-wide network of contacts. They were ready for the shoot. She was wearing her low-cut turquoise dress and her lucky pearls.
Fortune Magazine was featuring Carlisle on their next cover. The occasion, the hydrogen-powered car company they had invested in a few years ago, was producing its one millionth vehicle. No one else was prepared to invest so much money on such a risky proposition. But now the technology was mastered and the profits piled up as each automobile rolled off the assembly line. They were putting the finishing touches on everyone’s make-up when Charles said, “I know you have to touch up my bald head—but can’t you keep that powder shit out of my coffee?” Everyone laughed, except the young assistant—she blushed.
They insisted Vanessa be at the front of the picture. Not only because she was more-than photogenic, but she was the one who convinced the Investment Committee to take the chance. It was a risk many other companies had taken and failed. But Vanessa had a sixth sense about this investment. She knew the process to convert water and sunlight into a power source was near—it had been for decades. But Vanessa was instrumental in putting together a research team from top universities and the business community. The researchers found a way to make it commercially viable. When it was ready to go to market she assembled a powerful management team that got the process to market in record time. They didn’t look back.
The photographer asked Vanessa to bend forward a little more. Her tight-fitting Gucci dress highlighted her well-endowed figure. More cleavage would be good. She loved the attention.
Behind schedule, Vanessa left the shoot for her daily briefing with Jonathan and his team of financial analysts. They were critical in dissecting new investments and monitoring current positions. If they did their job well, they made her look good. Vanessa was doing her whirling dervish best—she was getting analysts’ updates in one ear while the leading venture capitalist from Brazil was in the other ear. He wanted to know if she was interested in joining him in a leveraged buyout for the largest food company in the world. “Yes, send me the data. I would like to look at it.”
The harried Vanessa sped to her next appointment. She was a Board member of the National Economic Council. It was a networking event with an opportunity to hear from a prestigious speaker. En-route she scanned the stock and commodities market, skimmed the business headlines and checked her Twitter account. Carlisle was a major sponsor of the Council. Vanessa had agreed to be their representative and attend the monthly meetings.
Today’s speaker was the Senior Economist from the White House. He talked about the new age—technology continued to be a major disruptor. Fusion was becoming economically viable and was making its way into mainstream use. This had upset the economics of the fossil fuel equation. Coal was a banished substance worldwide due to its polluting effect. Vanessa had forgotten how boring economists can be when they talk. He talked how medical discoveries were prolonging life—upsetting the economics of pension financing. She used the time to respond to messages. The speaker was getting Vanessa depressed. No wonder they call Economics the dismal science.
Vanessa sat next to Katherine Lanyard. The Chief of the Metropolitan Police Department was a full-figured, non-natural blonde. Sitting upright in her dark blue uniform she was naturally gregarious. Vanessa remarked it must be difficult to lead a predominantly male force. Kathy replied, “I’m sure it’s harder for the men than it is for me.”
“I’m glad I have a job I won’t be shot at.” Vanessa wondered why she would let her roots show so much.
“Shootings are rare these days. Street crime is down significantly. We spend more time investigating crimes on-line than on the streets. They unload stolen property on the internet. You can purchase guns, drugs, anything you want, on the web. There are secret sites like Silk Road and others do it openly. We have to follow the crime. Many of our officers are cyber detectives now.” She had a lot of pearly whites showing—even when she wasn’t smiling. “In fact, the most common offense now is distracted driving. We are cracking down on it.”
Vanessa gulped. “We spend a lot of time on internet security as well. It’s affected the companies that we have invested in, in a big way.”
“I would envy a job like yours, steady nine to five. Not getting calls in the middle of the night having to go to a crime scene.”
“I don’t do crime scenes, but my job is definitely not nine to five. I work long hours and bring work with me wherever I go. I work until my eyes close. We have investors and investees around the globe. In today’s business world you have to be always connected. I’m available to work seven days a week and usually do.” Vanessa saw that the person on the other side of the police chief had nodded off. Maybe reading economic reports would be a good way to get to sleep.
“Vanessa, what’s the biggest hurdle for you to be successful in your position?”
“Time. There’s never enough. There’s always more to do. I get over a thousand messages a day. There’s a constant stream of reports I have to read. People are always clamoring for my time. What’s yours?”
“Politics. You can’t predict which ways the winds will blow tomorrow. You never know who has your back. A large part of my job has nothing to do with crime fighting.”
As they got up to leave, Vanessa noticed her sturdy department-issued shoes. “I know that feeling. Watching your back is part of our business.”
