Page 56 of Return Billionaire to Sender

“It’s a gilded cage,” she says. “To me, anyway. But, here’s the thing. You want to keep working as me? You understand I’m getting your paycheck, right?”

“I don’t care about the paycheck. I meant it—that’s not why I’m doing it.”

“Okay…” she says. “So I’m being paid for the work that you’re doing. Umm, why would I object to that?”

I stop at a corner. “You’re okay with it?”

“Dude, you’re working as me and I’m getting the money. I’m good with it. Just don’t let them know I know. Maybe I’m out here not giving a second thought to my life in the US. And if there’s extra money that magically gets in my bank account from them paying me for work you’re weirdly doing…it’s not like I’m even looking at my bank account, right? I don’t know anything and I’m not in on it. That’s my position.”

“Oh. Okay,” I say. “Wow, thanks.”

“Just write a letter of resignation at the end of it. Email it to HR saying you quit as of whatever the date is. They’ll never have to be the wiser.”

“Wow, thank you,” I say.

“Hey, thank you,” she says. “I mean, seriously.”

“Okay. Wait—what’s up with the per diem?”

“Blackberg gives you a hundred and fifty bucks a day for meals and incidentals. You can get shit delivered from online stores and charge it to the room if you want. A per diem is money for whatever you need to sustain your existence there.”

“I would never need that much.”

“Well, you should spend it. It’s there for you. Why not go crazy?”

“I’ll think about it,” I say diplomatically. “So you’re really okay with me doing this?”

“Let’s be clear: I don’t know you’re doing it. I have no idea. We never had this conversation. I’m just teaching English in Estonia. The risk is not mine.”

“Okay,” I say.

“I mean, how am I supposed to know you’re doing this? Who would ever do such a crazy thing?”

“Iknow,” I say. “What kind of freak?”

She snorts. “And one thought,” she says. “Maybe somewhere along the line, you figure out you should write a few lines about the progress of the client in that blank space to the right of the participation field. Did you see it? That comments field to the right of the checkbox field? Maybe not every day, but it’s common for us to say things like, one hour of relationship-building skills completed. Conversation about points of view. Positive reinforcement. I’m not officially telling you what to do, but it’s what I do. Go google soft skills and use some of that language.”

“Oh, wow. Okay,” I say.

“They won’t bother you as long as you don’t fuck up. Wow,” she says. “Good luck with saving your building. I mean it.”

“Wait—one more question. Whatdoeshappen if I give Malcolm an X?”

“That’s why it was so hilarious that you were threatening to give him an X—an X means willful non-compliance. You seriously can’t give him an X.”

“But what would happened if I did?” I ask.

“Malcolm Blackberg’s program is court-mandated, right? So if you gave him even one X, he’s basically refusing to comply with a court order. The lawyers for the party that brought the suit would see that X and they could haul him back in to court if they wanted, maybe throw him in jail. Once you hit submit, the X goes out to everyone. It’s a nuclear bomb, my friend.”

“I had no idea,” I say.

“I know, which is totally hilarious. Do you know how many times I fantasized about putting a big fat X in that square? Sometimes when the clients are being impossible, I pull out a notepad I have and I write something in, like I’m giving a bad report, but that’s the closest I ever came. I never imagined threatening them with an X. Blackberg must’ve been shitting. Seriously, Bexley Partners would never give an X. Even if there was an interruption or scheduling snafu, we let them make up the work the next day, or double up an hour if they can’t extend. I mean, if Bexley Partners’ coaches were running around giving clients Xs, the firm would never get any business.”

“What if you entered it by accident?”

“You have a few minutes to edit your grade and your comments after you hit submit. But then it goes out. And this conversation? Never happened.”

“Got it,” I say. I thank her and hang up.

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