Through your eyes

Elliot

It's a regular Tuesday afternoon in March. March is my least favourite time of the year with the company getting ready to do its tax returns. Very time consuming and unfortunately very boring. I've had meetings with the finance department, lawyers and accountants almost everyday for the past week. Alongside my regular strategy, coding and creative team meetings, there was barely time to eat. I don't know why I'm still working so hard. I've hired competent employees, the best team leads, most meetings would be fine if I wasn't there. Echo is a big boy, it can stand on its own feet, at least for a while.

I started Echo after selling the security programme I coded at 17 for £5 million to a military contractor. My computing teacher picked up I had a knack for python (coding software). He was the only one who believed I could be someone after all the trouble I was causing at school. Growing up without a stable home put me in some dodgy places. We moved at least twice a year and were homeless at one point, we had to room with my mums work colleagues. My mum was health and social care worker so the shifts were long and the money was short. She tried her best to provide for me but sometimes the ends just didn't meet. My dad died when I was 3, he was a plumber and didn't have much either after his family disowned him for not following in his own fathers footsteps as dentist. I guess my grandparents thought he let down the family name.

Childhood was tough for me, we were always struggling and I guess that bled into my school life. Mr Dowd used to let me stay after school whilst he marked classwork. He would spend some time with me on advanced topics in the computer lab. When I was sixteen, the school was getting a reeboot and all the old computer systems were being replaced. They let us underprivileged students take the old equipment home. So I started coding in the basement of the 3 bed council house my mother and I shared with 4 other people. Now, looking out of the floor to window ceilings my office on the 42nd floor feels like a fever dream. Echo is in its 5th year and still on its way up. I can't believe how far I've come.

I've been feeling nostalgic lately. Whenever I get a free moment my mind has thrown me back into my past. I've never been spiritual, I always thought I controlled my own destiny, that everything that I've achieved has been from my decisions alone. But now if I think back on it, I never chose to take Computing as a GCSE, I wasn't given a choice because all the other classes were full. It was the only available subject in that time slot. And then I never would have met Mr Dowd. And if he was too busy or maybe if he was just like every other teacher and didn't believe in me, he wouldn't have invited my to stay after school. He would have never taught me all those coding tricks. And then if we weren't living in that specific council house at 17, I probably wouldn't have had Wi-Fi. One of the residents we lived with, Miss Grace had a boyfriend who paid for her Wi-Fi, well she had many boyfriends but one of them set her up with cable and Wifi, which she kindly let me share. So if something went differently on one of those days I probably wouldn't have been here. Everything was aligned perfectly, timed just right. There's no way I could have controlled all of that. There's got to have been a bigger plan. Someone timing all the shots, someone who knew where I was meant to be in my life.

So many people helped me, more than I can probably remember, so much was sacrificed. I've never felt more humbled in my life. That I was chosen. That this is what was set out for me. That I had this opportunity. I know so many kids I grew up with who are still in the same cycle of drugs, gambling and poverty, some of them smarter than me. It could have easily been me.

I take a deep breath, all a bit heavy for a Tuesday afternoon. My mind has been obsessively turning over these thoughts. Ever since that event over a month ago. Where someone told me they would be praying for my happiness. And it made me want to find it so bad.

I track my gaze across my desk at the mountain of paperwork I've got to tackle. It seems when I get down to the last couple of pages another pile ends up on my desk. It's partly my own fault, I'm a micromanager and love to have the final say. I find it hard to give up control, but maybe that's because of how little control I had over my childhood. I think back to my mum and look at the phone. No one's called in 5 minutes and I'm not going to waste the opportunity.

Ring ring

"Hello El honey, how are you doing?" Mums cheery voice makes me smile

"I'm good mum, how are you?"

"Same as always love, I was wondering when you would call, I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me."

I chuckle, I know she has plenty of friends, she's as busy as me these days with her books clubs, yoga classes and neighbourhood fundraisers. When I made my first million from Echo I bought her a bungalow in the suburbs. It was the least I could do after all she's done for me. It's a relatively safe area where most of the folks have settled in their retirement, but my mother at the young age of 53 gives them a run for their money. She was always a social butterfly, it was how we survived, we had to rely on the kind grace of others. Now she created her own fundraising campaign to help people in the area we grew up. She's set up a homeless shelter and food bank in our old borough, which I know keeps her as busy as me.

"You must be really lonely because I haven't heard a peep from you all week, it's not hard to call your only son you know?" I tease her. I usually am the one who ends up calling. I know it's because she doesn't want to disturb me. When I was starting Echo I wasn't as kind to my mum as I should've been and I'll always regret that. I didn't check up on her,was always tired when she called, we barely spoke. I guess I didn't make time for her and she didn't want to nag.
It been two years after she'd moved into her house when I first went to see it. And I was shocked at how much of her life I had missed, how much I missed her. I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen ever again.

"Hmm I don't know, when my son declined my lunch offer last week, I took the hint hes too busy for me" she's teasing me but I can tell she's smarting from our cancelled lunch last week.

"You know that's not true mum. I'm busy for everyone in the world but you. How's tomorrow? One?"

"I know El, your a sweet boy. Your gonna make some lucky girl really happy one day. I can't wait to tell you about this new project we're starting at the shelter..." my mum continues talking and I just think would I really be able to make someone happy? It don't think so? Sometimes I feel like I'm doing a piss-poor job at it with my mum.
"So what do you think?" I tuned back in.

"Sound great, you've got to tell me more tomorrow."

"I can't wait, how are things at the office El. How are you in general? Are you happy?"

"I'll be praying for it" those sweet whispered words run through my head again.

Am I happy? Right now, the only thing in my life that make me happy is making my mum happy.

"Im doing good, and I think I'm getting there. But we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, but lunch is on me" My mum lets me get away with my vague answer, but I know I'm getting grilled on it tomorrow.

"Whatever you say mum, I'll send a car". I smile, knowing that I deposit half of my earnings in her account monthly anyway.

"Okay, Love you hon"

"I'll catch you tomorrow, love you". I hang up feeling a moment of peace. Maybe this is what happiness feels like.

"I'll be praying for it".

The moment is fleeting as my office phone starts ringing. Better get back to work.