THE CHOICE

ONE

IT WAS THE MOST TYPICAL of Friday afternoons. Jack Thompson was pounding away at yet another revenue projection spreadsheet. From within his corner office he could hear the excitement that always filled the large sales floor when it came close to end of business on Fridays. There were lots of laughs, plans being made between colleagues to meet up at On The Border later that night for drinks, and some who were planning to get takeout on the way home and crash in front of the Netflix.

There were lots of ways people reset from the stress of a week's work. Jack's favorite way to unwind was meeting up with some of the sales reps from Franklin Brokerage on Saturday morning for a few rounds of pickleball down at the country club. But that would all come later.

There were still customer emails that needed a response, employee timesheets to process for next week's payroll, not to mention this damn projection spreadsheet that seemed to be growing larger, no matter how hard he plowed through it. Sorting and reporting this much data gave Jack a migraine. And he had a sneaking suspicion that his boss, Max Donaldson-the owner/CEO/biggest pain in the ass of Maxwell Sales Solutions-more than likely didn't even pay enough attention to these spreadsheets to know if there were inconsistencies or mistakes in Jack's work.

Jack was almost convinced that right in the middle of percentages and averages, he could fill a few Excel blocks with |MAX|DONALDSON|SUCKS| and it'd never be caught. Max Donaldson had little to do with the actual running of his company, (that was all on Jack's shoulders), unless something went wrong and then he wanted to start busting heads.

While Donaldson was off on yet another Cozumel vacation on the company's dime or shooting the breeze and tequila shots on a supposed "sales trip", Jack Thompson was the guy keeping Maxwell Sales lined out and profitable. When he'd been promoted to Senior Vice President the year before, he was fully aware that he'd just become Max Donaldson's personal bitch. But the six-figure salary that came with the promotion was too good to pass up.

So, even as the uproar on the sales floor outside his office started to die out and employees exited to a glorious two days off, Jack stayed behind his desk. He heard them all pulling out of the parking lot and then there was no sound at all. The sun started to set and cast dark golden rays of light onto his office walls. And before he knew it, the sky had turned pink, then purple, then black.

It was quarter of eight that evening before Jack gathered his briefcase and laptop, (he'd never really take a day off, still answering emails and phone calls over the weekend), turned out the lights, set the security alarm, locked the double glass entry doors, got into his jet-black Lexus LC500, and went home.