The Camp

THE TRIP THAT CHANGES LIVES

NOTE: This is a work of fiction entirely imagined by the author. Although the name of the places referenced in this story is real, the companies, people and events are pure fiction.

© Copyright whitebeard50 2023 - All rights reserved

Beginning of May

A perfect spring day in Montréal. Pure blue sky, 26°C, a nice warm day, way above normal for this time of year. PJ looks forward to his upcoming business trip to Vancouver, BC. His main client, Western Railway (WR) operates the largest and most important railway companies in the province. Everyone he deals with wants to meet the young man that works so hard for them. PJ manages most of the time to get the parts required to maintain their fleet of locomotives in a short time. He developed close relationships with most of the manufacturers which helps him fulfilling WR's requirements.

I'm discussing with Mike, one of the technical guys, the exact model of camshaft required for a particular older model of locomotive still used by WR, when Bert, my boss, puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes just a bit too much. I hate that. He does it just to irritate me.

"Sorry to interrupt, boys. PJ, follow me." He turns around and leaves without acknowledging anybody. I know right away that this is going to be unpleasant.

Bert doesn't like me and enjoys irritating me. So, I follow him to his office. He goes around his desk and sits down in his executive leather seat without inviting me to sit down. So, I just stand and wait, with my hands crossed behind my back. Bert looks at me with a smirk on his face and throws the bomb.

"I will be going alone to Vancouver. It's been decided that it isn't necessary to send two of us. Such a trip to the other end of the country costs too much. I'm sorry, PJ."

Furious, I nonetheless remain calm, stoic even. I nod, don't say a word, and leave the office and return to my desk. I take big deep breaths slowly to calm myself before I continue my discussion with Mike. We still have a problem to solve.

"Oh, christ," Mike looks at me and notices my sombre demeanour. "What the hell did that idiot do again? Damn, shithead."

"I'm not going to Vancouver, Mike. Too expensive for two, he says."

"What the fuck's wrong with him? He knows nothing. Christ. Well, PJ, that's not going to happen."

Mike jumps picks up his phone, which is always in freehand mode, and calls one of the engineers at WR, Squamish in BC.

"Hey, Mike. Don't." I'm surprised by his reaction, but Mike waves me off. I'll surely be in trouble.

"Bill, Mike here." "Hey, Mike. Everything ok?" Bill asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Actually, no I'm pissed off. You know that jerk of a boss here."

"Bert something, I think." Bill mumbles.

"Yeah, him, PJ's boss. Well, he just told PJ that he, master of nothing, will go alone to visit you guys."

"NO FUCKING WAY!" Bill's scream is heard by everyone around Mike's desk. "That's not going to happen. He's just a useless asshole who knows nothing about locomotives. We don't want him here and I promise you, Mike, that's not going to happen. Tell PJ that he's coming here, or no one from MLP will," He pauses. We can hear him breathe deeply, "I'm so fucking mad, I could hit the bastard. Give me ten minutes. I'll call you back. Thanks, Mike." He hangs up.

"Damn, I forgot to cancel my free hand mode. I think he's really pissed off. You better take cover PJ. A shit storm is coming."

Mike's phone rings less than ten minutes later.

"Bill. What's the news?" The phone is still in speaker mode.

"Well, my friend, I'm pleased to tell you that Dave Gill, the big, big boss that oversees operations, I think he's VP or something, well, he's calling the big, big boss of MLP. I called everyone expecting PJ's visit and they all expressed to Martin, the guy in purchasing, loud and clear, and that includes me, that there is no fucking way that we will deal with that turd. We want PJ, as planned. No one else. Christ, we've been preparing his visit for weeks now. There is a lot to do, and only PJ can work with us on this. He's got all the info and he's the one with the contacts. Call me back, Mike with the good news. Bye!" He quickly hangs up again. Bill isn't a fancy guy. But he's a damn good man, efficient and straightforward.

PJ's phone rings. "Bonjour, PJ here."

"PJ, good morning. I'm Linda, Mr. Maxwell's secretary. He would like to see you now if you can, of course."

"Of course. I'll be right over. Thank you, Linda."

"Pssst! PJ. Who's Linda?" Mike asks.

"Mr. Maxwell's secretary," PJ tells him.

"Woah! That's the big Boss, PJ. That didn't take long. Good luck, buddy."

"Gotta go, Mike." Needless to say, I'm a wee tad nervous.

Mr. Maxell's office is in the corporate building on Notre Dame St. Five minutes away.

"Hi, Linda. I'm..."

"Oh yes. Hi, PJ!" Linda cuts me off. She has a big smile on her face. She whispers, "Don't worry. Everything is great, PJ. Just go right in. He's expecting you."

As soon as I enter Mr. Maxwell's office, a huge man walks towards me and extends his big size hand.

"Hey! PJ. How are you, young man?" He's got a big smile and he shakes my hand vigorously. "Please come and sit over here." And he's got the voice to match his bulk. Deep, rumbling bass voice. I'm sure if that man yells, the windows all around his office will shatter.

There's a large dark green luxurious leather sofa by the corner window with four matching leather armchairs facing it. An oblong glass coffee table as long as the sofa separates the sofa from the armchairs. A pale green thick area carpet covers the marble floor.

We sit side by side in the armchairs facing the windows with a view of the river a mere 200 meters away.

"You know Dave Gill at WR?" He asks me.

"I know of him. I deal with a buyer a bit lower in their hierarchy."

"Yes, Martin Grant. He likes you. Actually, they all like you." I frown. "I know who called Squamish, PJ. I called Mike a minute ago. Officially, I chastised him. But unofficially, I laughed like hell. I told him it was the right thing to do. Poor Mike, he must have been «you know» his pants when Linda told him who was calling." He says and starts laughing.

"I think so too. I couldn't have done something like that. It was reckless."

Mr. Maxwell repositions himself to get more comfortable and to better see me. He crosses his legs and takes a second or two before continuing. I sit looking at him, an imposing man, in perfect control of his authority. A leader. He looks me straight in the eyes, and so do I.

"Many things happened in a very short time, PJ. First, and most importantly, you are flying to Vancouver as planned tomorrow morning. Linda has the tickets ready and everything else, whatever is required. Second, Bert is transferred effective immediately to another department. He will no longer cause any problems for you or the others in your department. Unfortunately, it is too late to send someone else to the railway conference, so he will go." I must have looked disappointed, but he just raised his garage door size hand, "He's not flying with you. He will be there only one night, and you'll stay in a different hotel anyway. Linda quickly asked around in your department. The reaction is unanimous. No one is allowed to treat our employees with such disrespect." Mr. Maxwell notices my relief and laughs.

"I'm told WR has been preparing for your visit for weeks now. There are a lot of people to see and a lot of work to do. So, PJ, if you need to stay longer, you do it. Just let Linda know."

He pushes himself comfortably deeper in his seat and crosses his legs the other way. He looks out the windows for a few moments then return his gaze in my direction.

"Usually, clients call me to complain about one of our reps, sales or technical, or whatever. I never had a client since I'm heading this place, for 15 years now, called me to say that they will deal with no one else than a particular person. Never. They respect you; they like you, and you've developed an exceptional work relationship. It reflects very positively on our company of course. Frankly, PJ, I've never been so proud of one of my employees. Now, young man, go do your business in BC. I know it'll be done right. I trust you. I'll be here if a problem arises, call me. When you return, we will discuss your future with us. Which I think looks promising."

The giant man gets up. I get up. I have no clue what to say.

"You should look at yourself, PJ." He says grinning. "You're way too modest or shy perhaps. Anyway, have a good trip and try and enjoy the sights out in BC."

"Thank you, Mr. Maxwell."

The shovel size hand grabs my microscopic pincer and shakes it vigorously.

Linda, all smile again. Looks at me. I'm dreaming or something.

"I told you not to worry. Turned out well, didn't it?"

"I just can't believe it. I have Mike to thank for this."

"No, PJ. Mr. Maxwell's been following your progress for quite some time now. Unfortunately, we didn't know about Bert. There were no complaints," she says with a sad look. "Your HEC professor is one of his best friends. He told him about you a while ago. Oh! Here are your tickets, a cash advance of $2000 in the envelope, and a copy of your very busy agenda for your visit out there, in the Far West. You probably have it on your phone or something. WR sent me a copy earlier today. If you need anything, anything at all, you call me. Here's my card."

Linda gets up, walks around her desk, and hugs me.

"Go get them, tiger." She says. "Have a good trip."

I'm flabbergasted. What the hell? All this is so unreal. I almost run back to my office located in the building behind headquarters, around the corner. Of course, Mike is waiting and wants to know what's happened.

"Pssst! PJ." Mike calls me. "Maxwell called me. Unbelievable, man." Mike is excited, well more than usual. He tends to be excited most of the time. Especially now, his wife is expecting within a few weeks. I don't tell him what Mr. Maxwell already told me. I don't want to ruin his pleasure.

"You know what he said?" I shake my head. "He said that he is calling to officially chastise me. So, consider yourself chastised," he said sounding very serious. "Man, I was shaking in my pants and didn't know what to say. So, he started to laugh. He laughs like a grizzly bear in heat you know. Then, he said I did the right thing, and he thanked me. I couldn't believe it, man."

Mike is a tall, thin man of thirty-something, and he is very, I mean, very expressive. The faces he makes, and the exaggerated gesture is a real show. He's such a good guy and very good at what he does. He's considered an expert on the model 251 locomotives WR is operating. Even their engineers call him to get advice or to help them identify some components or others.

"Well, Mike. I have to leave. I have to get ready, pack my luggage. If I need anything, I will call you, buddy. And, by the way, thanks for what you did. That was gutsy. You know about Bert, don't you?"

"Yeah! Everybody went crazy down here. Some say that you will be our next boss?" Mike said all excited again.

"I don't think so, Mike. I need a lot more experience, and I haven't finished my MBA yet. I'm sure, we'll get a decent guy or gal. I think Mr. Maxwell will choose the right person to manage this crazy group. Gotta go, Mike. Bye!"

Something strange happens as I say that. A damn sinking feeling in my stomach that I won't see Mike and the rest of the gang again. Nerves, just nerves, I think to myself.

***

Vancouver, BC

It's almost 11:45 PM when I pass the exit gate leading to the ground floor where a bunch of people wait for a parent, a husband or a friend now arriving from Montréal. In the crowd, someone yells my name. I see a waiving hand above all others, Martin has volunteered to pick me up at this late hour. We shake hands and he grabs the large luggage I'm pulling, leaving me with my briefcase and a small hand suitcase.

"How was your flight, PJ?" He asks while we make it outside and ahead of the taxi line.

"The flight was fine. Quiet at this time of night, and there were no kids on the plane."

Nobody is waiting now, but there's a long line of taxis waiting for clients. The hoard should be here momentarily. The ride downtown is fast at this time of night. Linda reserved a room in a nice little hotel within walking distance of the large Vancouver Hotel where the annual railway conference is being held this year. I'm in Vancouver to visit my main client, Western Railway. Thank god I don't have to go to that conference. The hotel is close to all the restaurants and shops, yet just off the main noisy streets. It's perfect.

Martin insists on bringing the large rolling luggage in. We plan to meet here at 9 AM tomorrow for breakfast. A long day is planned at their head office. I don't mind. I kind of like the intensity of a business trip like this one.

"See you tomorrow morning, PJ." I wish him a good night. He lives within a block or two away.

***

A long day of intense work. The WR people were ready and had planned the day perfectly. After a working supper, Martin's boss, Jerome Scott, tells me that Mr. Gill, who's at the conference would like to say hello. He is in the lobby and is going to wait for us. The WR offices are only a short ride from the large hotel. Luckily, Jerome finds a parking spot almost in front of the hotel. And who do I see? Yeah, Bert. He is standing with two or three men in dark suits and a lady who's holding a large man's arm. Jerome and I approach the group and the large man immediately spots Jerome. He's difficult to miss. He is maybe 6', and rather large to be polite. But he is funny and easy to talk to.

The large man is Mr. Gill and he is accompanied by his wife. An elegant woman, taller than me. That's not difficult to beat. Bert simply nods at me; I do the same and that is that. The other men continue their conversation and pay no attention to us.

"You must be PJ? I'm David Gill and this is my wife, Ann Dempsey. I take the lady's hand and kiss it softly greeting her in French. "Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Madame." To my surprise, she answers back in French with a lovely but very light accent, "Ce que vous êtes charmant, jeune homme." She smiles and her beautiful face lights up the room. Mr. Gill is all smiles; he extends his large well-manicured hand and I take it. For a brief moment, I feel a tingling that runs throughout my body. Very pleasant, almost sexual. It lasts but for a split second. Mrs. Dempsey quizzically looks at me and her husband.

"PJ, it is so nice to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you. Especially yesterday. There was quite a turmoil surrounding your visit." He says, knowing that Bert is standing within a few feet from us.

"I'm pleased to meet you, sir. I too have heard a lot about you. Don't worry, all on good terms."

The big guy laughs, and says, "Gill, PJ. Just call me Gill like everybody else." His smile is hypnotizing. Our eyes connect and again I feel, well I don't know. I can't describe it. I'm sure this time that he felt it too. I saw that tiny flicking of his piercing dark blue eyes.

Mrs. Dempsey elbows her husband on the side, breaking our eye contact, and tells him they should drive me to my hotel. He nods in agreement. He seems pleased at the suggestion. I try to tell them that it's just a couple of blocks away, but the lady insists. Outside, on the sidewalk, we say goodnight to Jerome. Driving to my hotel, Mrs. Dempsey turns around in my direction, I'm sitting in the back and asks me for dinner at their house tomorrow night. I agree, of course, since it would be quite impolite to refuse. Hey, I wouldn't miss it for anything. I can feel the intensity of Mr. Gill's stare while Mrs. Dempsey continues to talk to me. Then Mr. Gill realizes that the traffic light changed a moment ago and gets going. I'm sure he felt my stare as well. I could hardly take my eyes off him. What's the matter with me? I ask myself. My preference is for older mature hairy men, ok, but the guy's married, for god's sake. I keep telling myself.

Mr. Gill stops in front of my hotel where's a parking spot reserved for clients checking in. He turns around and extends his hand wishing me good night. I take his hand and we shake firmly. Our eyes connect again and, well I got one hell of a hard-on. Fortunately, it's dark. I shake Mrs. Dempsey's hand. She smiles at me, and she says ever so softly, "Don't forget dinner tomorrow night." Mr. Gill adds, "I'll pick you up at 6:30 tomorrow, here. Good night, PJ."

***

After a long morning work session at WR's Harbour Yards, Jerome and I stop for lunch in a local pub, in the harbour. As we walk in, the smell of fresh English-style fish'n chips hits your nostrils. I love English fish'n chips. The place is full pack. People everywhere. Suddenly, a waiter recognizes Jerome and whistles after him. "Hey, Jerome, buddy. Over here. Come on, move that big butt of yours." Jerome laughs louder than the ambient noise and pushes his way through. He's like a bulldozer. The funny part is that nobody complains. Many tap him on the back. All I have to do is follow in his wake. The waiter is cleaning a small table by the large bay window with a direct view of the bay and the harbour.

"Wow!" I say taking in this impressive view. The high mountains in the background.

Jerome taps me on the back and says to me, "Nothing's too good for our PJ." His broad smile can be nothing else than genuine. I freeze. Not knowing what to say.

"Sit down, PJ, and close your mouth. We all like you. Your hard work is appreciated. This lunch, by the way, is Mr. Gill's treat. He's very impressed by you. That, PJ, has never happened before. So, let's take full advantage of it." He says while tapping his prominent stomach.

"Oh! The next meeting is set for 2:30 and has been changed to the Pacific Coast Terminals. So, we've got plenty of time since it's just down the street from here.

"What will it be for you gentleman," the waiter asks me. "English Fish'n Chips, large portion please." And for you my beautiful ogre," he asks Jerome, who laughs out loud again.

"Same as PJ's and add two bucks of beer, blond for me," he looks at me,

"Same, please."

"Jerome," the waiter says looking at him, "hear that, he's a true gentleman, he says please." The waiter leaves giggling his way to the kitchen. I noticed the familiarity between the two men.

Jerome looks at me and says with a big smile, "he's my boyfriend, PJ."

The lunch is a riot. Jerome makes me laugh my guts out. He is hilarious. The food is the best I've had in a long time. For me, fish'n chips are my ultimate comfort food. We didn't drink. We had that single buck of blond beer, locally made. We leave at a quarter to two, the place is still full and there's a line up outside. Now, I understand why we entered by a side door.

The afternoon meeting is relaxed. Once again, the people are ready, and everything goes smoothly. I place a few calls to Mike, and to a couple of our suppliers to get some information. The meeting is over at 4:30. Nobody leaves. They all stand and drink more coffee and ask me a zillion questions. It is friendly, good-natured and above all, relaxing.

Jerome is standing next to me and says, "See, you had all the answers, no bullshit like other suppliers feed us all the time, and you get answers fast. That's why everyone likes you, PJ." I just stand there, silent. Looking stupid I suppose. I don't know how to react to compliments.

"Time to go. I've got to drop PJ at his hotel." Jerome says loudly. Everyone shakes my hand, thanks me and leave. Soon after, Jerome drops me in front of my hotel. It's 5:30. I get to my room and strip completely. Mr. Gill's eyes flash in my mind, my pecker gets hard almost instantly. I walk into the shower and try and relax. I am nervous. Why as he got such an effect on me?