A man walked into his office one day and sat down at his desk. It was a usual Tuesday morning. He had woken up several minutes late, but nothing a quick shave and skipping breakfast couldn’t fix. He combed his hair in the usual fashion, one smooth section right, then a smaller section left creating a neat part in the left side of his slightly shorter than average hair. He rubbed his face with the cool water running from the tap and looked up into his mirror to see the usual stubble left over from the day before, the natural sags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, the salt-and-pepper coloring that was quickly taking over his natural hair’s color. He didn’t mind the change, of course, because with age came wisdom, with wisdom came power, and with power came money, and if there was one thing he loved in the world, it was money.
He didn’t have an unusual amount of it stored up, but what he did have he cherished beyond belief. He would often pull out his wallet in the middle of the day just to have a look at the prized possessions. When he was younger, he wished to spend of much of it as he could on trivial items, and now that he was older, he wished that his younger self hadn’t been so foolish.
He worked a nine to five job at a large oil provider, and he knew that his chances of ever receiving a promotion were slim to none, but he still toiled away at his work in his usual fashion. Every day he came in to the same cubicle, number 246, a window cubicle, and tacked away at his computer and sometimes even a calculator if he was lucky. He handled several of the smaller investments the company managed, so he truly had no importance, and he didn’t even know why he stayed at the company, there were many others where he would be put in charge of much more. However, as usual, he stayed right where he was in life, content with the monotony of office life.
On this particular Tuesday, after eating his usual lunch, a ham sandwich with one slice of American cheese, he came back to his desk to find that he had an email waiting for him. He opened the email and his heart sunk into his guts.
My office. Now.
The man quickly got up and imagined the unimaginable. What could this mean? What could be so important that his boss would call him to his office with such command? As he walked through the hall and stood at the elevator waiting for the familiar ding, his heart seemed to slow down. Every beat took an eternity to occur, and each eternity only seemed to lengthen the next. He could feel beads of perspiration on his palms, and his throat had gone dry. Could I really be getting fired? He thought. Have I done something that disastrous with the small amount I have been allotted? When the elevator bell rung, his heart dropped even farther, he couldn’t will himself to walk, but his legs moved as if commanded by some unseen force. As the elevator began to rise, the man could feel a little piece of his heart break away with each floor: 14, 15, 16, all the way up to the 17th floor where his boss resided.
As he stepped up the huge mahogany door, he felt like he was shrinking. Soon enough the door loomed over him like a skyscraper and the knob was out of reach. He somehow managed to choke down a swallow and knocked hard three times on the door. Within seconds the door opened and the menacing figure of his boss was standing in front of him. The boss invited him in and asked him to please take a seat in the chair. As the man sat down, the chair consumed his whole being and barely allowed him to see over the desk between him and his demise. The boss asked him how his day had been and somehow the man squeaked out a reply. He heard the devilish man saying something about commitment and dedication and then he heard the history of the company, but with every second ticking by, the man knew he was one second closer to being homeless.
Suddenly, without warning, another man entered the room and sat down next to the boss. This man was young, good-looking, witty, and overall looked like a replacement for the worn down old man that was his current counterpart. His shoes were made of an expensive Italian leather and looked as if they had been shined not but five minutes before, his pants had a neat crease up both legs, his shirt looked to be worth more than most men’s entire closet, and on his wrist he wore an ornate golden watch that appeared to weigh enough to rip the man’s arm off.
The old man knew this was the end. He had had a good run. Longer than most lasted in his position, but now was the time where they brought the fresh meat in, the boy who has so much potential, but will be stuck working a job he is overqualified for.
In the middle of his thoughts, for the man had not been listening to the serpent across from him hissing lies, one word suddenly jumped from the beast’s mouth that he had not been expecting: partners. The man looked up quickly, the knot in his stomach unwound, the beads of sweat at his collar subsided, and he began listening fervently. Another word quickly caught his attention and his heart dropped once again: fieldwork.
He hadn’t done fieldwork since high school when he had to wash the undersides of horses that came back to the stables after riding in the mud all day. He hated that job. He went home every day covered in both mud and bruises, swearing to never get another job that required manual labor, and ever since he has been working in cubicle 426 on floor 13. He had come into the company as an intern, fresh out of high school and ready to take on the world, but still ignorant to how the world would respond.
At the mention of fieldwork, the young man appeared piqued and seemed to listen closer. As the boss began to expound upon the extent of the work they would be doing, both men began to realize that this was a dangerous job. They would be researching major fault lines and any cracks, dents, or weaknesses in their pipes caused by the faults. The devilish man stated that there would be a significant raise in pay for both of the men, and then looked at them expectantly, waiting for their agreement.
Both men nodded and rose from their chairs at the same time to shake the hand of the monster. The younger man, who was also closer grasped the outreached palm quicker and shook it heartily. The man with salt-and-pepper hair waited patiently and then shook the hand in turn. As they were walking towards the door, the young man sped up and passed him, and right as he passed by, the older man saw for a fraction of a second something in the man’s gaze.
Jealousy?
Contempt?
Hatred?
It was nothing the older man decided, a trick of the light.
Besides, they had to work well together and such suspicions might give the wrong impressions.
They were partners.
