KPO, Matthew G. Cohen [motivational books for men .txt] 📗

convincing argument is needed.’ “You have known the answer to your problems all along, but I will do my best to deliver your needed advice in simple terms” Slim stated pushing his finished lite fare lunch aside.
“Real Wealth, Pure Wealth isn’t measured in material means.”
“I’m not sure I understand” Will wallowed now terribly antsy in his seat
“Simplicity breeds contentment.” Slim maintained before recalling something he had seen in a shore house bathroom, , The best things in life aren’t things he said hoping he remembered it correctly.
“Now you’ve really confused me” Will cried, all patience now lost as the server cleared away his uneaten jumbo shrimp cocktail.
“Think of it this way, Slim maintained, pausing as if in deep reverent thought. . . “Less is More” he finally announced smiling as if he had answered the correct question in class. Will simply stared at him. Not a blank glassy stare, but a discerning and contemplative stare. Silence. Nothing. A staring contest ensued between Slim and Will. Aeons seemed to pass before finally Will spoke apprehensively, “But if less is more, how can we keep score?”
Relieved, Slim smiled. “I had a feeling you were going to ask that. I’m afraid that Irony is out of answers.
“What? So that’s it huh? Will cried. That’s how you do here at Irony? Just when I’ve scratched the surface towards understanding, you leave me high and dry…once again thirsty for more? I find that also to be ironic!” Will thundered as he was now turning scarlet.
The truth in Will’s last statement seemed to have gone home and Slim became slightly defensive. “KPO isn’t a one department operation. Your elevator is waiting for you Turnwell. The good news is that you’ve only one direction to go and that is UP. I think you will find your answers there…
-


F


Following Mr. Slim’s guidance, Will exited the café in Irony with more questions than answers. Only feeling slightly better, he ambled towards the elevator doors. Bidding a swift “so long” to Tiny and Juliette, he couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for him upstairs.
“So long!” It was a pleasure meeting you!” Tiny added sarcastically.
“The pleasure was all yours…” Will added curtly as he pressed the “up” arrow.
Feeling slightly guilty, he turned to Tiny and called, “My name is Will. Thanks for your hospitality Tiny, and good luck next season.” With an affectionate wave, the elevator doors closed in front of him. Slightly puzzled, Will saw but one choice on the control panel in front of him: F “Reminds me of my Spanish grade” he chuckled.
Again his eyes were transfixed upon the photo portrait of Cynthia, her senior yearbook photo. The picture that he loved. The picture of his parents were still there, only across from them were new photos and images, pictures of his sister Michelle and brother Luke, now with their husband and wife. Additionally, there was a picture of his Mercedes Benz, the first purchase he made after his business turned a profit, the first family home, a framed picture, giving it a nostalgic-like appearance. Along side this was a Best Buy advertisement of his Blackberry. Feeling a little spooked, Will took a step back separating himself from the far too authentic images showcased on the elevator walls. Looking left, he was slightly surprised to find more on the other side. Also featured was a glossy color print of his office building, his home away from home, a familiar site, perhaps too familiar as it was where he spent perhaps 80% of his time.
Adjacent to his office building photo was a catalog advertisement of his Bretling, his first real watch. He remembered seeing this for the first time and how he had lusted after it. “God this takes me back…nearly 20 years!” He thought as he pressed the F button now illuminated. He felt some assurance now that he indeed was heading “up”. He rode. His thoughts scurried like fruit in a blender as to what his immediate future may hold.
The doors of the elevator parted on the I floor. Contrasting greatly with Irony, there wasn’t a soul in sight….no small crowd, no waitress serving shellfish, no organized chaos. Just music. Not contemporary music, but music that was familiar to Will’s ears. Billie Jean’s not my love… she’s just a girl..said that I was the one…wanna dance on the floor… Bobbing his head to the beat, Will clearly recognized this iconic tune. He smiled as this tune took him back.. way back. Nostalgia cast over him like a tubular wave as he remembered hearing this song for the first time as a teenager. He would moonwalk about his parent’s house wielding his white glittered glove. A melancholy-like sadness suddenly swept over him. Will couldn’t put his finger on why such an upbeats song sunk sadness into his spirit. Dumfounded by such a surprising turn of emotions, he sought out a seat on this floor. Although there were no occupants of F , the seating was plentiful and it was outfitted like any typical office building although extremely outdated looking. There was a board room, in desperate need of a makeover, wood paneling surrounded the level with square windows every couple of meters. The light cast upon the waiting room section was rather feeble. Wondering why, Will inspected the windows only to learn that they weren’t windows at all, but glass blocks. “This place probably was the cream of the crop in the 80’s” he chuckled to himself recognizing that it needed a facelift on all fronts.
He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to discover the waiting room sofa, covered in vinyl zipper covers. Resting his weary bones on the sofa, the crinkle on the couch was an ancient, yet familiar sound. It reminded him of his mother’s cooking. He could just smell the comfort food wafting from his mother’s kitchen, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Bleary eyed, he rested his cheek upon his hand, elbow promptly propped upon the armrest. He suddenly felt so exhausted, worn down. His body, or was it the couch that was to tempting him to nap? Eyelids fluttering, exhaustion seemed to be winning this battle. Shut-eye. That’s all he needed just a little shut-eye. What if he resisted this urge to nap? Closing his eyes, but for just a minute…. he slept…….

“Will! Dinner is ready! “ a voice echoed from the floor below
“I’ll be right down Mom” a post-pubescent voice answered.
A few minutes passed with not a sound of anyone venturing down the stairs. The sound of the chef knife echoed about the kitchen. Teary eyed from mincing onions, Mom called once again, “William! It’s on the table!”
Shuffling sounds from above turned into thunderous booms descending the stairs. Will was hurrying now, for he knew that when his mother used his full name, she meant business. Swiftly sinking into his seat, his mother seemed frustrated. “How many times must I call you?” she fumed. “Day and night, you spend all of your time playing on that computer” she continued.
“Mom, it’s not playing.” Will defended. “I’m working.”
“You call that work?” Mom thundered. “Your father is out all day bustin his hump so we can have food on this very table, and you stare at a little TV screen all day! You should be out trying to find some college to accept you!”
Will bit his tongue for he knew what was coming next. Mom just didn’t seem to pick up on this technology thing.
“You stare all day at that little TV screen, just ratting about the screen.” Will remained calm. He’d heard this speech before. His mother, a broken record, when it came to her understanding of technology. He began mixing his meatloaf with his mashed potatoes playfully when he chimed in,
“Mom, it’s actually a mouse, not a rat. I’m just lucky because not many people have them.” Will boasted
“Mouse, rat, whatever…this house ain’t got no mouse and sure as hell doesn’t’ have no damn rat, and I plan on keeping it that way! She boomed only to continue, “Pesky rodents, tryin to steal my heat…they ain’t chippin in for the bills!” Mom pressed on, clueless to the newest invention her son now possessed.
During all this time, Michelle and Luke had been relatively quiet except for the fact they kept smirking at one another. Michelle began hiding her creamed corn, she was clearly not a fan in the mashed potatoes as she listened to her older brother’s defense. Luke began eying his older brother with admiring eyes, hoping one day to be as tall as him. Dad, Mr. Turnwell, was still at work, a union man, clocking overtime making some extra dough for his family.
Once Mrs. Turnwell cooled her jets, she began her routine conversational gambit asking Michelle and Luke how their day at school was. Will was zoned out, not in tune with his brother and sister’s responses. He seemed to have something on his mind. During the next lull in conversation, Will dropped the news on everybody, shocking news that would catch everyone by surprise. “I think I am going to ask Cynthia to marry me.” Forks dropped, as silence met incredulous faces. Luke began laughing so hard that milk began pouring from his nose like a faucet. Michelle chuckled at the thought of her older brother having a wife. Mom was dumbfounded, speechless. But not for long.
“William! Again using his full name. …you haven’t got any money nor a pot to piss in!” she screamed. Luke and Michelle now giggling at their mother’s rare use of profanity, thankful it was on Will not them. Smiling, Will seemed to be prepared for such an outburst. Right now, the fact that he wasn’t college bound didn’t matter. Will’s average SAT scores were of minimal importance. His 18 year old vision for the future was all he could see and feel. Ambition and lust to succeed was what was driving his well-prepared rebuttal to his Mom’s outburst. “Mom, its 1983 and computers are being sold to more and more schools and homes” Will began. I think my familiarity with them can make me a pioneer in this new and upcoming field. Who needs college? The computer skill set isn’t even taught in college… at least not yet.” Mrs. Turnwell’s mouth was agape. She was now beyond words. All she could say in a defeated tone was, “wait til your father catches wind of this.” However, she saw and sensed a certain confidence in her son’s tone that she’d never seen before. She internally admired her son’s ambition yet still held her motherly misgivings. For this is only natural, he was her oldest, and an obvious role model to Luke and Michelle.
This computer business was foreign to her, but her son seemed to have found his niche and certainly taken a liking