TGIF

Chapter 5: Time and Time Again

There were twelve steps from the elevator to Mildred's desk, eleven if I took a confident stride. Eleven steps later, I was there, and a few more and I was in Mr. Robinson's office.

"Lovely place you have here. I'm Mike," I said when I entered. Mr. Robinson rose to greet me.

"Feel free to help yourself to some whiskey," he said. I poured myself a glass and downed it in one gulp.

"That's the finest Tennessee whiskey I've ever had. I can taste the bourbon barrels."

"I bought it from a general store in Knoxville, believe it or not."

I felt his accent strengthen whenever his home state was mentioned.

"And that's a Kandinsky, right?"

"It is!"

"I heard he painted that during the Russian Revolution while sheltering in a cave. The colors are inspired by lichen patterns."

"Who would've thunk it?" he said with rare curiosity.

I didn't know that either: I ad-libbed that and the whiskey play, like all great actors did. There'd been something gnawing at me these past few Fridays, and I wasn't sure if it came from Dennis's talk of Troy Bentley or Jordan's general coolness, but I felt this strange compulsion to be assertive. That meant being friendly with Abby on the train while still respecting Dennis and his hot tips for how to make the most of oneself at the workplace, it meant greeting people with the crispest handshakes and waves known to man, and it meant saying to myself, "you've worked on this presentation for weeks, you've got this!" I liked this new Mike, and I hoped everyone else did too.

"Who's your boss, Mike?"

"Jim Ryerson."

"He's taught you well. This report is good stuff. I just had a few questions."

"Let me try my hardest, Mr. Robinson, to answer those questions for you," I said. "Come look at this view with me."

I walked to the ceiling-height windows behind Mr. Robinson's desk, and he followed me.

"I'm used to seeing our city at night, but I think it's even more beautiful during the day. Isn't it beautiful? It's a city of skyscrapers tall as redwoods. People bustle like ants below, talking of change and prosperity. Imagine this, but instead stretching out as far as the eye can see: that's Hong Kong. I know you're thinking that this proposal is too risky. I know you're thinking that Hong Kong can't escape the gravitational pull of the CCP. I know you think I'm a maverick who would rather stake my career on being the first of us to set foot in that fragrant harbor than help the company. And yet, knowing all of that, I've come to you with my reputation on the line to give you this proposal, because I believe it's going to save us."

Mr. Robinson flipped through my report again, searching for evidence that would prove me wrong.

"Here's my intuition: I always say that business, real business, isn't what you see on TV with its cocaine-fueled gambles—at least how we do it here. It's science, as precisely engineered as my vintage DeLorean. I think you make many compelling points here, and I think it's entirely true that we have a lot to gain, but we also have a lot to lose. Just like you said. As for the figures in here, they all look reasonable. As reasonable as they possibly could."

"Is that good?"

"I like you, and I like this proposal. Let me think about this and get back to you Monday. You have my word that you'll like what you hear."

He shook my hand again, and it seemed like that was that. As I left, he called out again:

"Take the whiskey bottle, as a token of my appreciation. Next time you come up here, I'll have sake."