Page 11 of My Secret Snowflake
“As a lawyer?”
“No. As a banker.”
“Dad, I’m not interested in being a banker.” The Hudson River, visible through the bare branches, is a murky green-gray-blue color today.
“You don’t have any power as a lawyer. You’re just playing with commas.”
“And you’re playing with lives. Remember, I watched you for years. Firing people when it had to be done for the bottom line. That’s not what I want to do.” I try to cushion the rejection. “And commas can be very important.”
“Just think about it,” my dad says. “Maybe you can be the finance guy who creates more jobs. You can’t do that as a lawyer. And I’m just worried that as the lawyer, you’re the service provider. You’re not the client. I built this whole company, and now Nathan will run it into the ground. Think about all those jobs being lost.”
“You need to tell Neville that,” I say. “And Annabelle will save it.”
Which is why Annabelle isn’t happy with my position.You’re just leaving it all to me to save Dad’s legacy. And to deal with Nathan, who sees the fund as his personal checkbook.
“I have thought about it. I went to law school instead of business school,” I say, frustrated. “I have to go, but I’ll see you for dinner soon.”
I hang up and rub my forehead.Why can’t he accept that I don’t want to be handed his company on a silver platter? I need to prove myself. By myself.
And now Bob wants to see me in his office. Again.
The dull throb at the back of my head intensifies.
I grab my revised draft of the presentation for our new French overlord and head out the door. Framed stills from movies produced by Dream line the hallways. Being a part of the movie business is a dream come true, even if it’s on the business side as the company lawyer.
One of the women from accounting stops me in the hallway. Her perfume reminds me of Melody’s—a citrusy scent. I step back.
“Sebastian. Are you coming to the company drinks tonight?” she asks.
“No,” I say.
She pouts. I keep my face straight. She’s way too flirtatious. She’s like a Human Resources trap, checking to see if I watched the latest harassment training video.
I quickly open the door to Bob’s office to escape.
He shoves something in a drawer and looks up, clearly flustered.
I should have knocked. His current demeanor reminds me of a guilty witness.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
He pulls out a folder and hands it to me. “Here are my revisions to the contract.”
Rubbing his chin, he furrows his brow. “Also, you need to socialize more. People need to be comfortable coming to you with questions.”
“Have people said they’re uncomfortable coming to me with questions?” I ask, shocked.
“No. Nobody’s said that. But I—and you—need to be taking the corporate temperature as part of our job. We need to be approachable so people come to us when they have questions—before they do the wrong thing and then we’re in the thick of it, cleaning it up.” He says that last part almost bitterly. “Being successful in this company is not just about solving problems in an ivory tower, but also being seen as a resource, as someone trustworthy to whom people will turn if they suddenly suspect they’re in a tight spot.”
What? I don’t give off some ivory tower vibe. Is he trying to come up with reasons to sever me so the company can save money?
“Do you think I’m not seen as a resource?” I ask.
“No,” he says quickly. “But you get what I’m saying.”
“I do. I certainly hope I come across as a resource and not as the ‘guy who says no,’ but I will socialize more. From what I’ve heard to date, everyone is expecting good bonuses this year because we’ve just been acquired by L’Etoile. People think we are expanding, despite the last two movies flopping.”
Bob winces.
