Little White Lies (13 page)

A.J. is being extremely patient with me right now. He must want something.

“What I would like to know, if you’re finished with my bathroom preferences,” he continues, “is whether or not you play golf. The company is going to have an outing next week for the managers. We’ve talked about it and we think it would be a good idea to have a bull session to plan our opening meeting currently scheduled for sometime around the first of the year. You know… get some idea of what the troops would like to cover. It will be a one day thing, a meeting in the morning and grab-ass in the afternoon. There will be only four or five foursomes, so we didn’t have any trouble getting on a course. Some of the managers who have talked to you in the past would like to meet you… don’t ask me why. Anyway, one thing led to another and a few bombs were thrown. Now it’s time for a showdown. They dreamed up the idea of having two-man teams from each restaurant or operating unit, plus a few other employees who deserve a day off. It’ll be a best-ball match. If you play, we’ll be the headquarters team. If you don’t play, then I guess headquarters won’t have a team.”

“Yeah, I play… it sounds good,” I reply. “I’d like an opportunity to meet those guys… but I haven’t played since last year. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea if I hit some balls once or twice before the great event.”

“Well I should warn you, we have some real players in the group. Some of them have pretty low handicaps.”

“Are you playing handicap or scratch?”

“We play scratch… no handicap bullshit. We’re all about the same anyway, but we try to make the matches reasonable. If a team is completely out of competition, then we’ll throw them a couple of strokes, but that’s it.”

“How low are the low handicaps?”

“I don’t know… nine or ten, I think.”

This is really interesting. A.J. has become a different person talking about golf. He’s animated and squirming in his seat. I think he wants to get it on right now.

“What’s your number?” I ask.

“I’m an eighteen, but I think I can get to fifteen this year… or even lower.”

“And you want to play a nine or ten handicap… and you want to play him level? That’s interesting.”

A.J. sits up straight in his chair and shakes his fist. “We’ll kick their collective asses… I don’t lose… especially to those assholes.” Now in a belated attempt to tone it down, “Don’t get me wrong. They are all fine managers, but when they step on the first tee to take my money… then it’s different.”

I nod more in understanding than agreement. “Well said, but golf isn’t a contact sport. By the way, how long have you been playing?

“Almost five years, but only two really seriously. Haven’t gotten out much lately because of work and the new house and all.” A.J. spins sideways in his chair and shakes his head. “I absolutely hate the damn game, but I can’t stop playing it. It’s like a disease.” He bends forward and holds his head between his hands… then lets out a moan as if in serious physical distress. “If my woods are good, then my irons stink. If I get the irons going, then I can’t get off the tee. If I’m hitting it halfway decent tee to green, then I can’t putt. If I play reasonably well one day, the next day it’s as though I’ve never played before. I want to quit, but I’m afraid to for fear I’d want to play again, and then I’d have to start all over just to get to the miserable state I’m in now.” He looks up and shakes his head in dismay. “Do you know some people actually think golf is a game?”

“I know,” I reply sadly, “but they’re wrong. It’s not a game. Games are fun and that’s seldom the case with golf. I always played simply because no matter what kind of problems I had in business, golf gave me a different set of problems for a few hours and somehow it seemed to help. Bottom line… I can’t stand it either. I’m just grateful I don’t have to make a living at it. Like our esteemed former president, when he considered retiring, I’ve decided to stick it out for a while longer… and then the hell with it.” I smile with the understanding of a fellow addict. “But if it’s a game… it’s the infinite game.”

“Amen to that. By the way, what’s your number? You seem to have a very good understanding of the… sport.”

“When I was playing, I was a five… I could probably play to an eight or ten with a little work.”

“Well kiss my black ass. Take the rest of the day off, my good man, and do a little work.” He accompanies this with a flourish… truly the gesture of a magnanimous man. “There are two things at stake here. The first is a bit of money… we should clean those rascals out… send them home in a damn barrel. But the most important thing is braggin’ rights.” He holds his hands up to prevent any possible protest on my part. “Oh I know I seem shy and retiring most of the time, but man, that’s just something I have to do. It ought to be a law that’s printed in all the science books so our great nation’s children will know: A.J., in the main, is the best when it comes to making the claim… and that goes for just about anything and everything.”

A.J. sticks out his chest and closes his eyes. From where I sit, it looks like he’s already counting the money. The bragging part will be as natural as oxygen.

“I’ll make them wish they had stuck to a good black sport like basketball. ‘Course, we’d kick their asses there, too. I don’t think I ‘ve ever lost at that game. Might have to hire Charles or Michael for the headquarters’ team… nothing wrong with that. The only trouble is, those guys might have a bit of an ego problem… might not be enough room on the court for all of us.”

Tell me about it. Boy, if there were ever anyone who gets higher as his own supplier, I’d like to know who it is.

“Hot damn! A five! And all this time I thought you were just another pretty white face.”

I get up and leave the room to A.J. and his hallucinations. There’s one guy who will never have a substance abuse problem… other than natural gas maybe.

CHAPTER 10
 

Sunday’s party went well. At least I thought it did if my opinion counts for anything. It was mostly a showbiz group consisting of approximately two hundred of A.J.’s closest friends and a few acquaintances. Included were most of the local glitterati. Probably holdouts, waiting for some fantastic happening that never materialized, then finally trapped in the city for the weekend. Whatever the reason, they came to the party and that’s all that counts. The timing was good. It started around two in the afternoon with everyone back on the road by eight… apparently a lot of early calls on Monday. And it was as casual and laid back as it could be… just a nice time.

The art of the schmooz was in full force as most everyone took advantage of the time to talk and relax. As always there were a few who made it their business to do a little business, but thankfully they were in the minority.

Because of the large number of guests, I decided to have the party catered with Martha and her crew supervising. We tried that system before with a smaller affair and things worked out to everyone’s satisfaction on that occasion. In any event, the Jacksons seemed pleased, which is the bottom line on our scorecard.

Most of Monday was spent cleaning up and getting everything back to normal. Tuesday was a long day catching up on all the things we should havebeen doing on Monday. And today, Wednesday, is the big golf match. I assume there’s still a meeting, but listening to A.J., the golf match may be the item uppermost in his mind. I made arrangements with the management of the golf club to use one of their conference rooms for our meeting. It will be easier if we’re right there when we wrap things up after the morning session. If we meet anywhere else we’re good for at least an hour to get everyone in cars and on the road and then organized again at the club. Karen Adams called just as we were getting ready to leave the house. We set her meeting with the Jacksons for tomorrow morning at eleven.

As usual, A.J. has not made any preparations for the meeting. I believe there are two reasons for this type of behavior on his part. One, he has been very busy. And two, he doesn’t like preparing for meetings… preferring instead to wing it. Since the outcome was predictable, I decided to call the managers and take a straw poll regarding what they would like to cover at the meeting. Then I drew up an agenda based upon the input I had gathered from the managers. Now, seated in the limo, I hand the agenda to A.J. for his review.

A.J. quickly scans the document, arches an eyebrow and then turns to me. “Where did you get this list?”

“When you told me about today’s gathering I took the liberty of calling the managers to find out what they expected to discuss. This represents a summary of their concerns. I figured you wouldn’t have time to get to it with your travels and other activities.”

A.J. leans back and we ride in silence for a time. I don’t know what’s coming, but it probably won’t be good. He has made it abundantly clear on several occasions now… he wants no outsider involvement in his business in any substantive way, especially by yours truly. For my part, I have generally ignored the edict, my justification being that I was doing more good than harm. In my view, of course, there wasn’t any harm done, but I’m sure A.J. wouldn’t share my sentiments on the subject. It seems so infantile, if not stupid to be arguing over this matter. We’re both stubborn when it comes to this particular subject, I suppose, but it’s difficult for me to see A.J.’s side of it. He needs help and he simply refuses to accept it… at least, he refuses to accept any help from me. Maybe I should throw in the towel on this one and save my energy. What the hell, it’s his business… he should do whatever he wants with it.

Finally he breaks the silence, “Phil, you seem to know a lot about business. I mean… really, you do. You have a good sense of organization and business systems. You naturally think of ways to go about things when approaching an issue that would never occur to me. When you say it, it makes sense. So now I’m going to ask the big question: Would you mind telling me where you picked up all your experience? Let’s face it, there’s no evidence of any extensive business activity in your background as I recall.”

I was right about one thing… something is eating away at him. While I’ve never taken any pains to hide my familiarity with business issues, few of my actions are consistent with my paper background. I’m afraid my cover is about to be blown.

“I think I told you before,” I begin tentatively, “I used to work with some top executives. You can learn a lot if you listen close.” A little lie… not a big one. Also, it’s true… you do learn more if you listen. I’ve never learned a damn thing when I was talking… except, maybe, that I should have kept my mouth shut.

A.J.’s giving me the fish-eye. “I don’t know, Phil, it’s hard to believe you could pick up so much just hanging around.”

He sits quietly waiting for an answer. Since I can’t think of anything believable, or even helpful for that matter, I stay silent.

“I think you’re holding out, ol’ buddy,” he continues. “You know the old saying about don’t shit a shitter? I think that’s what you’re doing. What I can’t figure out is, why? Why does a guy like you wind up working for someone like me?” He holds up his hands defensively. “Don’t get me wrong… I’m not complaining… it’s just strange, that’s all.”

This is one of the problems with telling a lie… even a small one. Initially, I thought I had a good reason to lie, or I would not have gotten the job. I really believe that. But now I have come to like these people and I find myself in a position of trust under false pretenses. Even though innocent in its intent, the original lie has put me in a spot. I am faced with the choice of telling the truth and probably losing their trust, or continuing to lie. And I’m getting tired of the subterfuge. Perhaps it’s nature’s way of telling me it’s time to come clean, or at least sort of clean. Well… clean for me anyway.

“Look, Mr. Jackson, I haven’t been entirely clear about my past because I didn’t think it would serve any useful purpose.”

A.J. leans back in his seat, a pull-down mask of skepticism painted over his face.

“Let me begin by saying there is nothing negative or unlawful in my background. But I was a businessman for quite a while and then I retired for a time. Once I decided to get involved in something again I wanted to change occupations. I didn’t want to go back and do the same old thing, but I wanted some sort of management position that would fit my skill pattern. This sounded interesting so I applied. Although I didn’t really have the exact experience you were looking for, I knew I could do the job and I knew I could do it well. But I figured if I told you I had retired a few years ago and wanted to change careers, I would never get the position, so I wasn’t entirely forthright about my work background. I have considerable management experience and that’s probably why I keep sticking my nose into the restaurant business, it’s just force of habit. I think all businessmen are drawn to problems… I see a problem and I want to solve it. Bad habit, I guess.”

A.J. slaps his knee. “I knew it! I knew you were a fucking liar the minute I laid eyes on you. Yousonofabitch, you’ve been here all this time living a damn lie.”

A.J. is glaring, nostrils flaring… working himself into a state. What else is new?

“Well, I’m firing your ass, right now!”

It’s his show and I’m getting exactly what a liar deserves. I should have come clean long before this. I certainly had plenty of opportunities. Dammit! This was getting interesting as well as challenging, but I’m in no position to argue. He’s right and I’m wrong. I cannot bring myself to ask for any consideration and I will not. It may not be the best solution in this case, but it’s not a bad one and I have no one to blame but myself. After all, trust is the foundation upon which business relationships are built… as well as friendships. And now it’s time to pay the piper. A.J. puts his hand on my shoulder. Here comes the sympathy speech: Nothing personal, etc., etc.

“Now, I want to hire you as my manager. I mean, seeing as you’re available and everything.”

I turn and look at the biggest shit-eating grin east of the Mississippi. A.J. extends his hand to me.

“Phil, it’s a waste of time for you to continue to run things around the house. Hell, you’ve done a great job and all, but I really need you to get more involved in my business and professional stuff. Shit, I’m going down for the third time and we haven’t seen anything yet. I have plans, big plans… and I need help yesterday, if not sooner. How about it, will you help me out?”