He put his arm around my shoulder and spoke.

"I've seen you around here before, checking her out, looking her up and down, left and right and I know, just know, that you're the man for her.

Look at her. That soft, slow curve down the front just whispers 'fast.' Each mound stretching down to that lucious grill, just shinin' and smilin'. Move your head like this, now like that, see how the sun catches her lights, maaaaan she's a winkin' at you, boy."

Now, come here, come here, see how she goes all smooth and tight down the middle, hugging close to the insides like she'll be huggin you close once you're inside. Nope! No! Not yet, partner, not yet. Yer not ready to slip into that suede softness. Take your hand off that handle and come down here with me."

Not too fast, son, not too fast. Just walk and look at her, look at her right, now. She deserves your full attention. Follow that thin, white stripe back here. Now, let me tell you a secret, come here, come here. Most men will tell you that what's under the hood is what counts."

His eyes closed to slits and he hissed.

"They don't know nuthin', son. No-thing! That's boys' talk is all that is. But here, back here is where the power is, back here is where you're really driving. See how she flares back out, wide and sturdy. Most men, no, no,most boys'll tell ya that that little coupe over there, with the tiny trunk and spoiler, is what drivin's all about. But here, back here with luscious back and thick axle, wooooooo, when you're turning this baby out you can feel that swinging to and fro and you know, YOU KNOW what power is, baby. Man, oh man, just shimmy this baby around some tight corners and you'll never look back."

He licked the sweat off his upper lip, patted the trunk lid twice and grabbed my arm.

"I can see it in your eyes that you're ready, you're ready to take her for a ride. But I'm tellin you right now boy, you get inside, you grab that wheel and start pulling in and out of gear and you're gonna be lost, man. Lost. You're gonna fall in love, and I'm tellin you as a friend, I'm warning you, that that kinda love you can't take lightly. You can't go in there thinking you can have a quick spin and just walk away. She's not like that, you see. There's no such thing as a one-time with her, she's all or nothing."

I'm your friend, right, I'm your pal and I'm just trying to caution you, ya see. Cuz she's all open and waiting. She'll take you and she'll take you as far as you're able to go, but you gotta be ready, cuz once you're in there, once you feel that red leather mold itself around you, once you feel that first heave as you gun her hard, you ain't gonna wanna get out, boy."

Are you ready for her? She's ready for you."

He didn't jangle the keys invitingly. He didn't have to.

Bob had skill. He nodded in all the appropriate places, shook his head when needed, and made ambiguous ‘mm hmms’ of agreement at the right times. All without listening to a single word his boss was saying. He finished up today’s tirade, and left Bob’s cubicle thinking that he had finally gotten to him this time.

Bob turned back around and brought minesweeper back off the start bar and resumed his game. It was a new record time… just under ten minutes to complete the game on beginners difficulty. He clicked the face to start again. The air conditioner down the hall rumbled noisily while its draft ruffled the Dilbert comics pinned to his wall.

The new e-mail icon popped up on his computer. He considered the options. He could read it and do it, read it and not do it, or just not read it at all. The latter was the obvious choice.

“Hey Bob,” said a voice from behind him, “can I have a second?”

Bob twirled around in his office chair to face the annoyance behind him. It was just another middle manager that liked bugging Bob. Bob thought he was named Peter, but he wasn’t sure. He only remembered his managers with the numbers one through eight, one being the most annoying, eight the least. Peter was number four.

“Bob, I’ve come to warn you, not bug you about not doing your work. The company is looking to make a few more cents, and they want to figure out how to cut costs. They’re going to hire a bunch of newer kids for lower prices then the current veterans, cut back on funding certain things, and institute a bunch of stuff to maximize efficiency. Right now, you’re number one on the list of things to go. On average, out of a nine-hour workday, you spend ten minutes of that actually working. If you don’t prove them wrong pretty soon, you’re a goner.”

Bob had skill though. He didn’t hear a word of it, but acted as if he was deeply thinking on the conversation. Peter bought it.

“I’m glad we had this talk, Bob,” said Peter.

Bob swiveled back to face the computer screen and brought minesweeper back up. For an instant, he had a nagging thought in the back of his mind to do something, maybe actually get some work done. The beeping of his watch, signaling lunch break, vanquished these thoughts.

The respite from work that lunch break provided passed quickly, and Bob had to return to work. The bosses normally made rounds after lunch, so he had to at least look like he was working. As good as he was at ignoring what people said, it was even easier to look busy and avoid the trouble all together.

He decided to open up the e-mail. He went through it twice before he read a word of it. Evidently they wanted him to work on a report to give to someone about something. The research was attached. He brought up word, copied and pasted all the research, then acted like he was working on it for a while. It fooled the three managers that casually walked by to check on him, so he was free again. Back to minesweeper.

He hated beginning a game of minesweeper. It normally took him several minutes to choose just the right space to click first. There were eighty-one possibilities, ten bombs to avoid. He chose one at random and brought up a two. He hated picking the second space too, for now the chance was even higher of picking a bomb. There were two bombs in the eight spaces around the two he just pulled up. One wrong move could end it all. After a minute of consideration, he chose the top left corner. It was a one.

Peter came by again toward the end of Bob’s shift. “Bob, you’ve been fired. I’m sorry.”

“Meh,” Bob replied.

“Meh? That’s it?” Peter asked.

Bob shrugged, and thought about packing up his stuff. He settled on taking out the food he had and his briefcase. With much struggle, he rose from the chair, and moseyed out of the office.

And hearing of the blessed event, wise men from distant lands gathered in Jerusalem, that the elders among their number might journey thence to Bethlehem bearing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to bestow upon the newborn Child. And together, they acclaimed the wisest of the wise to journey to the Holy Land, and there were three, that each one might bear a single gift for the infant in swaddling clothes, each gift of wondrous value befitting the newborn King.

And thus it was that the Magi who were named Gryssowaledh and Balthasar and Melchior prepared beasts of burden such that were able to carry sustenance for the wise men throughout their long journey to Bethlehem, and they further ladened the strongest beasts with priceless gifts. And behold! For at that moment of their departure a tremendous star of magnificent brilliance did light the firmament all around, as to guide the wisest of men to their destination. Thus did the Magi travel together towards the lightness of the dawn, save for Gryssowaledh who was lately reminded of a previous engagement to dispense wisdom to an unwise mortal. And so did Gryssowaledh remove the gift of priceless myrrh from the beast of burden, and place it in the pouch of the saddle of his own steed, thence to meet with Balthasar and Melchior in Bethlehem at a later time, that they might bestow their gifts in unison.

And Balthasar and Melchoir did pass through the gates of Jerusalem together, and Gryssowaledh did stay to dispense his counsel to the simple man who sorely needed such wisdom and counsel that only a Magus might dispense. And as the day grew dark, and the counseling of the humble man did conclude, only thence did Gryssowaledh mount his steed and set off towards Bethlehem in the lee of his two fellow Wise men. Yea, though the light of the Eastern star was no longer bright and the trail was thus unlit, still did Gryssowaledh set his destination to Bethlehem.

And alas, though didst his will desire to carry Gryssowaledh forward, the darkening sky did obscure the true path, and he became lost. And it came to pass he did wander without direction for a day and a night and another day, taking no sustenance for himself and yet nourishing his noble steed instead. And as Gryssowaledh did encounter several mortal men on his errant journey, never did he ask these wayward travelers to help him find his true path to Bethlehem. Yea, and Gryssowaledh did also utter to his dumb beast as he might to a man, ‘Lo, I am lost. And yet I am proud, and my sinful pride doth prevent me from beseeching the true direction from one unknown to me.’

Verily, the pilgrimage of the other two Magi was blessed by good fortune, and after an untroubled journey of but a day and a night they arrived at the gates of Bethlehem. Yet, for two days and two nights thence did Balthasar and Melchior await the arrival of Gryssowaledh, and when at last all hope was gone, they chanced upon the wise and welcome countenance of Gaspar, he, as they, a Magus, and a wise man of great esteem. And lo, Gaspar had indeed journeyed to Jerusalem alone, his purpose to bestow a gift of myrrh upon the newborn infant, a gift that he now bore in the saddlery of his steed. And thus they did solicit the accompaniment of their vaunted colleague in their short journey to the manger, in the stead of the lost Magus who was Gryssowaledh, such that the three wise men, now Balthasar and Melchior and Gaspar, didst attend the suckling child which lay in the straw, and didst humbly offer their priceless gifts in unison to the swaddling infant in the humble manger.

Sinful pride had thus detained Gryssowaledh in his journey to the birthplace of the holy infant, and he did ever regret his folly, thenceforth beseeching the kindness of wayfarers in finding his way back to Jerusalem. And so it was that the attendant Magi became known far and wide as the Three Kings, and were named Balthasar and Melchior and Gaspar, but not Gryssowaledh.

“Hey Bobby, do you have a minute?” I hope that’s all it takes. I can’t take much more stress today.

“Sure Rich, how can I help?” Please, let this be quick. I don’t have any more blood pressure medication with me.

“I’ve finished this design, but Art thought you should have a look at it before I send it out to the shop floor. I guess he wants your blessing.” He is completely incompetent and he wants you to check this over because he can’t. Since you have him convinced that you’re the only one who knows how to do this job, you get to check everything. And it’s not ‘Rich,’ it’s ‘Rick.’ I’ve told you that a hundred times.

“Well, let’s have a look.” As usual, you need me to do your job for you. I wish someone besides me knew how to do this.

“I think this will work pretty well. I took one of your designs and made a few changes for this customer.” Maybe if you think it’s your idea already this will go quicker.

“Remind me what project this is for again?” Having to do everyone else’s work makes it a little hard to jump right into your project without a little background.

“It’s the government job that Art’s been talking about in our meetings every morning.” It’s only the most important project in the department. Are you getting senile, old man?

“I’m not sure this part is going to work, Rich. We tried that on the BFG-9000 and it failed in pre-production. I think you should stick with the one I designed. It‘s working quite well.” If you paid attention at all, you would know that won’t work. I don’t know why you young guys feel the need to re-invent the wheel on every project.

“I know the current standard is good, I just thought some changes might make it easier to produce, not to mention cheaper. You know corporate is always looking at the bottom line.” Come join us in the twenty-first century, you freaking dinosaur. We’re supposed to be improving!

“Some changes might be good, but I think we should test them before we put them into production. For a project this important, let’s stay with what we know.” Have you no brains at all? This should be obvious to anyone with any knowledge at all. If you want to make changes, at least make changes that have a chance of succeeding.

“I’ve done the analysis, Bobby. It’s on the next page. This will work.” The proof is right in front of you if you’d take the time to read it. I spent a week working on it; you could take five minutes to look at it. And why does a 60-year-old man go by ‘Bobby’ anyway?

“The numbers look good, but there’s some art to this too, it isn’t just science.” I don’t have time to find all your mistakes, but you must have screwed something up.

“Well, if you say so. I’ll make the changes. You are the artist after all.” I’ll put the training wheels back on because you are too narrow minded to even consider something you didn’t think of. And it IS all science for those of us with the proper education. I can’t help it if you finished school before they discovered gravity.

“That’s good. Let me have another look at it when you’re done.” I’m sure you’ll screw something else up as you’re correcting this and I’ll have to save your bacon again.

“Of course I will.” I’ll bring it back to you so you can nitpick something else and make more busy work for me. Do you really think I can’t follow simple instructions or do you think I would just ignore you?

“When should we go over it again?” Let me plan the next torture session so at least the interruption isn’t a surprise.

“Would later tonight work?” I’ll work until midnight if I can end this today. I’m sure your wife would be happy if you worked late.

“Actually, I’m leaving soon. Can we meet tomorrow?” If you were competent, you could get your work done in six hours a day instead of your usual ten.

“All right, we’ll get together in the morning.” We will, unless this company does what it should have done years ago and puts you out to pasture.

“Do you need anything else, Rich?” Are you done wasting my time now?

“Nope that’s it. Thanks for your help.” Thanks for throwing weeks of effort in the trash in order to feed your overinflated ego.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” If I were your boss, I would fire you tonight.

“Goodbye, Bobby.” If I were you, I would retire before the dementia starts to show.

Felix Grossman tried to ignore the sweat pooling in the small of his back while the unexpected visitor swept into his plush office as if he owned the place. There was only one possible reason why this man might be here, and Felix’s heart sank as his guest swung a briefcase onto his desk and knocked the brass nameplate onto the floor.

***

Felix Grossman was a driven man, and the tree of his ambition had frequently yielded the sweet fruit of success. He had risen up the ranks of a mediocre investment company and turned it around. By the time he became CEO, the Jewel Group was one of the top five players on Wall Street.

However, Felix’s success had come at a price. He had long been addicted, not only to his rapidly accumulating wealth and power, but to the visceral thrill that accompanied a hostile takeover. Working for Felix provided many perks and benefits, but for most employees the Jewel Group was a very high-stress environment. Turnover was high, Felix was not popular among his subordinates, and he was often at odds with the board of directors. At night, with only the darkness and his ulcer for company, Felix told himself that he held the Jewel Group together by the sheer force of his personality.

The Thursday morning had begun with the daily argument with Joel, the Chief Financial Officer. Felix had already acquired two companies so far this week, final negotiations were in progress for a third by the end of the day, and Joel was unhappy.

“Mr. Grossman, we cannot go forward with the Impala takeover.”
“Joel, how many times have you tried to hold me back from something?”
“I can’t count them, sir.”
“And how many times were you wrong? Have any of your dire predictions of the Jewel Group’s imminent demise come to pass?”
“Not yet sir. But taking over yet another company in so short a time still puts us in an untenable position.”
“It’ll pay off, Joel. Impala is an impressive company—it’ll be a perfect addition to the Jewel Group stable.”
“The board won’t stand for it, sir.”

That had been the end of the conversation.

The rest of the day had been a flurry of phone calls with Impala’s directors and the Jewel Group subsidiaries that Felix was dipping into to finance the merger. All the last-minute wheeling and dealing was completed by 2:30, and Felix retired to his office for a late lunch and to await delivery of the final paperwork.

At 3:02, Felix Grossman’s self-absorbed world fell apart, although the realization of this would not hit him until 3:27.

The trill of the telecom made Felix jump in surprise: he had made it clear to his secretary that he was not to be disturbed.

“Mr. Stanley is coming in, sir.”

The telecom went dead before Felix could even think about answering it, and his heavy oak door burst open to admit Alex Stanley, the founding partner and CEO of Stanley & Fitzgerald, the Jewel Group’s biggest rival.

***

“Good afternoon, Felix. I’m sure you have no idea why I am here,” said Mr. Stanley. He was tall and slim, but he carried himself with an easy confidence that Felix found unsettling, even menacing.

“I’m sure I’d like to know what you think you’re doing barging into my office like this,” Felix replied as he retrieved his nameplate. His tone was far more defiant than he felt.

“Tell me, Felix – do you know what a monkey trap is?” Alex asked languidly. Felix didn’t reply, so he continued.

“To catch a monkey, all a hunter needs to do is put a handful of peanuts in a bottle. A monkey will reach into the bottle to grab the peanuts, but as long as it is grasping the peanuts, it cannot withdraw its hand. The monkey’s greed is its downfall, and the hunter may collect the monkey at his leisure.”

Alex leaned forward and stared into Felix’s eyes. “You’re the monkey. Impala is part of a very large handful of peanuts. I’m the hunter, and since this afternoon’s emergency board meeting, the Jewel Group belongs to Stanley & Fitzgerald. You’re fired.”

Just because you’re identical twins doesn’t mean you’re the same. My brother, Vance, was always just a little bit better than me. Vance was born at 11:53 PM and I was born at 12:08 AM, so his birthday was before mine. Vance started crawling and walking before me. He spoke his first words before me, too. When people talked about us, it was always “Vance and Vince” – his name was always first.

This trend continued all of our lives. We were both pitchers in Little League – he was the starter and I was the closer. In high school, we were both quarterbacks on the football team. He was the starter and I was his backup. He was the team MVP our senior year.

Even outside of sports, he was always edging me out. He was Homecoming King – I was first runner-up. He was Valedictorian and I settled for Salutatorian.

Vance accepted a full scholarship to play at Florida State. I decided to play for Oklahoma. As chance would have it, we met head to head for the National Championship in our senior year. The Seminoles beat us by a field goal. Vance graduated with a 4.0 GPA as an Academic All-American. I busted my ass and barely graduated with a 3.9.

After college, Vance married Sarah Longley, the latest model to grace the cover of Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. As she was actively modeling, Vance started a software developing company that created a standard platform for medical professionals. After he had sold his design to five different hospitals in the Florida area, EDS bought out his company for over fifteen million dollars. He was given a cushy executive position in the company with a corner office that he probably has never seen. Sarah quit modeling and gave Vance a son and a daughter.

My college girlfriend, Lisa, and I married shortly after we graduated. She tried to be an actress, but only landed bit parts in horror movies as a topless scream queen. Thanks to connections through OU, I was eventually given a position with a large software-developing firm in LA. The position was very demanding and kept me in the office for 15 hours a day. A highly publicized piece of code came due before my team was ready. Needless to say, the version that was delivered was full of bugs and our stock took a big drop. I was blamed for the loss and was fired. Lisa picked this time to announce that she was leaving me for the leading man in her current film, “Swamp Specimen”.

And then I figured out how I was going to get ahead. Finally, I was going to be the Number 1 Twin. I would be the rich brother with the beautiful wife and perfect kids.

I flew to Miami and found my brothers palatial estate. I parked outside his gate and waited. I photographed him each time he came out. When I felt I had enough, I left.

My first stop was the barbershop. Armed with pictures of his current hairstyle, it was a simple procedure to ensure my hair mimicked his. I stopped at a men’s clothier and bought a suit exactly like the one he was wearing.

It took me two days of watching and following him to finally get him alone. As he stepped into the driver’s side of his brand new Hummer, I stepped into the passenger side.

“Vince? Is that you? Man, it’s great to see you!” Vance pretended that he cared. He even acted shocked when I pulled out my handgun. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much to pull the trigger.

I switched our wallets, dumped his body in the swamp and drove back into Miami. The scariest part of the plan was crashing the Hummer. It was painful, but I got out OK. I was a little miffed about having to set my beautiful car on fire.

When the ambulance arrived, I was laying on the ground.

Life is good now that I’m Vance. The doctors tell Sarah that the accident caused my memory lapse and mood swings. I think she’s figuring it out. I may have to do away with her, too.