by Peter McMillan
He appreciates order. He never fails to notice the neatly-folded towels in the large marble-tiled bathroom, the down turned tumblers on the writing desk facing the large picture window, and the unopened bottle of vintage Scotch whiskey. The room always smells the same--fresh but without the chemical odor.
He appreciates order. He never fails to notice the neatly-folded towels in the large marble-tiled bathroom, the down turned tumblers on the writing desk facing the large picture window, and the unopened bottle of vintage Scotch whiskey. The room always smells the same--fresh but without the chemical odor.
He
always stays in this room. It's his room on weekends near the end of each
quarter. He never asks for another room, and he never asks for anything out of
the ordinary. He eats in his room, he stays in his room, and he talks to no one
other than the hotel desk clerk. He lives in his room. From high above
the city, he follows the day’s progress, he mostly just hears the TV that’s
always on, he reads his daily newspapers, and he works, usually until two or
three o'clock in the morning, because he can't sleep until the bottle is
half-finished.
He
is always alone in his room. He is always alone except when he goes to
the office. He always flies in on Fridays for the Monday morning
briefings he gives to the executive management team, advising them on
efficiency improvements and redundancy elimination. He does not let
anything distract him. He insists on a private elevator and no contact
below C-level on the organization chart.
He
doesn’t seem too much one way or the other. He doesn’t smile or laugh or
frown. He doesn’t give compliments or sarcasm. He’s indifferent to what
others have to say, but they often fail to notice. He checks in as if
it’s the first time he’s ever been in the hotel. He orders the same meals
at the same times and leaves the same tip, always as if he’s doing it for the
first time.
He
is unremarkable in many other ways. But where his job is concerned he is
truly remarkable. No one is even in his league. They say that
he is really the one person responsible for the company’s 20 consecutive years
without a negative earnings report.
This
weekend is like every other weekend for the past 80 quarters … except for one
thing. The briefing is scheduled for Monday afternoon.
Just
like every previous weekend at quarter’s end, he sits at the desk, going over
his report, reviewing his calculations, and examining his assumptions. Hours
pass, and well after the city lights have lit everything from below, the bottle
empties and the papers lay undisturbed.
He’s
never opened the door to the balcony before. But tonight he carries his
glass and bottle outside to sit and watch the city that he’s only known from
these heights. It’s past three in the morning, and he’s still sitting there,
drinking, quietly.
At five-thirty on
Monday morning, sirens converge on the hotel.
© 2010 Peter McMillan. All rights reserved.
________________________________
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
