Chapter 6— Let's Get the Party Started
Frank had just hung up the phone after a conversation with Paul Riley at Citicorp. His bank had some preliminary interest in funding the bridge financing for the R&D projects, but they wanted to see the 10-Q before committing to anything. Frank was hearing that message over and over from each bank he contacted. That suited him fine because the 10-Q report would be in the hands of the SEC by the end of the week, and therefore in the public domain. Frank knew what the report said, so he was sure that after publication it would be on to the next step.
As soon as he hung up the phone Jeannette buzzed him on the intercom. "Mr. Lowell is here and insists on seeing you," she said in her normal, smooth voice. It didn't matter how her voice sounded, Frank knew there was trouble outside his closed door. When Jeannette used the word 'insist', Frank knew what it meant.
Frank could have put him off with one excuse or another and he was tempted to do it. It was eleven already, after all, and Frank would have preferred to avoid the distraction. He quickly realized that the idea was wishful thinking. In a tit-for-tat world Frank knew that Jason would quickly iced Aaron and the forecast, and that wasn't acceptable. He drew a deep breath. He was about to walk to the office door to greet Jason, but he thought better of it.
"Tell him to come in, Jeannette."
Jason Lowell was a slender man, and that gave him the appearance of being taller than he was. His wavy, reddish hair was a little longer than most, combed thoughtlessly to the side—no doubt a holdover from his days in academia. He had pale skin to go with his red hair, and the Texas sun had turned it blotchy. It all gave him a boyish look, but actually, he was a year older than Frank.
Frank remained seated as Lowell marched across the room. Jeannette closed the door behind him. He stayed silent until Jason stopped in front of his desk. He looked the intruder over; Frank couldn't see the floor just in front of his desk, but he wouldn't have been surprised if the young VP was tapping his foot.
"What's up, Jason?"
"It's that guy of yours, Fishberg; you've got to get him off my back," Lowell blurted out.
Frank didn't answer right away, and Jason looked about nervously for a chair. He found one and dumped himself into the seat.
"Let's go over to the alcove where it's more comfortable," Frank said as he rose from the chair behind his desk. Jason bounded out of his newly-won perch and followed his reluctant host.
"I'd offer you something," Frank said, "but it's too early for something hard and too close to lunch for anything else." He waited for Jason to seat himself. "Maybe we should have had this conversation over lunch."
"Maybe next time," Lowell answered.
"I could get you some water," Frank added as an afterthought. "How about some water?"
"No thanks," Jason replied.
"It's just that your throat sounds like it's a little dry," Frank observed.
Jason didn't answer this time. He sat motionless, arms crossed, in the leather chair. Frank thought that his blotchy forehead appeared slightly damp, despite the air conditioning.
"Fishman," Frank said.
"Huh?" Lowell grunted.
"His name is Aaron Fishman," Frank repeated. "It wouldn't normally be important for you to remember that, but since you'll be working so closely together over the next few days, I'd thought you'd want to know his name."
"I don't have time..." Jason began to protest.
"He won't mind if you call him Aaron," Frank said in a monotone.
"It's not up to me to do this," Lowell shouted. "It's your forecast! Put your own numbers to it. I didn't take this job to be a bean counter."
"Not a chance, Jason. We're talking about your projects and hundreds of millions of dollars. I'm beating my goddam brains out to get you the money you need. I can't do it without that forecast and I won't settle for a bag of garbage tied up with a pretty ribbon."
"We had a plan for the money," Jason reminded him. "Somehow, that all crapped out."
"That question's been asked and answered," Frank lashed back. "We're moving on. Did you meet with Blake Hart about the commercialization?"
"Well, uh..." Jason started to answer.
"No! I know you didn't because I spoke with Blake this morning. He's waiting for you and you're not even on his calendar."
Jason looked out the window and then down at the floor. "I guess I didn't know the process around here," he mumbled. "Couldn't the three of us meet around a table and..."
"No, you've got to work with Aaron on this. I'm busy arranging the financing. I should be doing that right now. It was what I was doing before you barged in here."
"Sorry," Jason uttered, averting his line of sight away from Frank. "I don't see how you can bring a guy up from the fifth floor and put him an office up here and expect us to just to be comfortable with him."
"Aw, come off it, Jason. That's uncalled for. I brought him up here to make this whole thing move faster. It was my call—and a good one. And don't think I can't read between the lines. I'm going to let it pass because nothing is more important right now than getting this forecast done."
Jason said nothing, just glaring at the floor with his arms folded across his chest.
"I'll walk you to the door," Frank said, reclaiming his calmer demeanor.
"Never mind," Jason replied. "I'll find my own way."
Frank watched him walk to the door. As he reached out to open it, Frank stopped him.
"Hey, Jason," he called to him, "come on back at five and we'll have a drink."
Lowell paused and started to speak, but then turned and left without answering.
Frank shook his head as he watched Jason leave. It was nothing that he hadn't encountered before, and scientist-types were the worst when it came to forecasting and budgeting. They whined and moaned, but in the end it was a job that had to be done.
Frank was displeased at Jason's comments about Aaron. He hadn't really expected it from Jason, having come from liberal academia and all. He hadn't come out and said the 'J' word, but the edge was there and Frank knew what it meant. That was personal, though, and could only be important if it had an effect on the forecast. Besides, Frank never thought that he could save the world.
When he was sure that Jason had departed the area he went to Jeannette's desk. "Would you find Aaron and tell him to plan to have lunch with me? And, make reservations for two in the Executive Lunchroom for twelve-fifteen."
*********
Frank was waiting for Aaron outside his office as lunchtime approached. "I'd give you that extra hour today, Jeannette, but I can't afford to be without you," Frank told her.
"Stop worrying about it," she replied. "I only think about it when you bring it up."
At that moment Aaron appeared from around the corner, looking a little nervous.
"I hope you're hungry," Frank said as he pressed the up button for the elevator. The Executive Suite was a floor below the Dining Room. Aaron didn't answer. "They always push the salads," Frank joked, "but don't let them get away with it."
"I've never been in the Executive Dining Room," Aaron pointed out as the stepped into the elevator car.
"No, I wouldn't have thought so," Frank replied. "I don't go up there much, myself. More times than not, I have them bring me a sandwich to my office."
"We could have done that," Aaron volunteered.
"No, not this time," Frank replied. The elevator door opened and they stepped out. The Head Waiter greeted them and then escorted them through the crowded dining room and showed them to a table by the window. "Charles, have you got a table in the middle of the room?" Frank asked.
"Sorry, Mr. Bennett, they're all for parties of more than two. You usually ask for the window table. Sales has a big lunch on today for..."
"It's alright, Charles," Frank said. "I just had a thought that didn't work out."
The two men sat down; Aaron was busy rubbernecking around the room and catching the view of the city from the top floor.
"Why do you think I asked you to have lunch here today?" Frank asked.
Aaron thought a moment. Frank watched him and he was sure that the young man was searching for a tactful reply. It didn't bother him. It might have been him sitting in Aaron's place a dozen years ago. That is, if any VP had ever been in the mood to treat him to lunch.
"I guess it's in lieu of overtime," Aaron guessed.
"Beats getting money, doesn't it," Frank joked. Aaron forced out a strained laugh. "That's only part of the answer," Frank said. "Let's face it; if it were just that, I could have taken you somewhere a lot more interesting."
"This is real nice," Aaron countered. "I was just going to get a bowl of soup in the downstairs lunchroom."
"I ate a lot of meals in that lunchroom. I should go down there sometime, just for old time's sake." Frank thought it over for a second. "Probably not," he recanted. "I doubt if the employees could relax over lunch with the brass at the table next to them."
"I'm sure everyone would be happy..." Aaron tried to console him.
"Don't worry about it, Aaron," Frank interrupted. "I was there once. I know the score."
Frank let the point sink in while he paused to look over the menu. He took his time, waiting for the suspense to have full effect.
"I wanted you to be seen up here with me so that everyone knows that you belong in the Executive Suite while you're on this project and that the reason that you're there is because I said so."
Aaron took a gulp of his water. "I see."
"It's not that I don't appreciate the job you're doing or that I'm not enjoying having lunch with you," Frank said. "I've got to make sure of this other thing, too. I'm short-handed with the Controller's position vacant. We can't let that be an excuse. Nothing can get in the way of getting good performance on this forecast. I'm pulling out all the stops."
