Page 56 of Pour Decisions
Usually I can lose myself in a spreadsheet, analyzing everything until my eyes ache, but my motivation is completely gone. What’s the point of this one? Comparing two sets of numbers that won’t have a big impact if we choose one path over the other? We just have to pick one.
I rake my hands over my face and check the time. I have an hour until the founders of June, the gin company, come to the office. I kept the meeting even though Dad declined it. He hasn’t brought it up since, and I’m not going to remind him. I’m just going to take the meeting and see what happens.
I check my texts. I have one in our brothers group chat — a dumb meme from Wes that I laugh at for a tenth of a second. Then another from Katrina, a photo.
Kat: A little food porn for Bubba
She’s attached a photo of a butterfly on a bush outside of the physical therapy clinic. I smile. Bubba is awake now, gazing at me the way he often does when I’m working, so I snap a photo of him to send with my text.
Me: I’m not going to show him because he’ll lick my phone, but here he is.
Katrina sends back several heart emoji. I bite the inside of my cheek so I’m not smiling like an idiot alone in my office, and dive into the spreadsheet.
I don’t work on it for a minute longer than I have to. Instead, I go up to the front to wait for Annie and Frank, the gin company owners, to come. Bubba follows and stretches out a few feet from the door, belly exposed for immediate petting.
He gets those belly rubs the moment Annie and Frank come in. I’m glad he loves attention because petting him usually puts people in a good mood.
I hang back and look them over while they pet Bubba. Most of the other companies and vendors we work with are older men, but they’re probably around my age, dressed in a slightly bohemian style I wasn’t expecting.
“Sorry, how rude of us,” Annie says with a sheepish smile. “I’m assuming you’re JD? I’m Annie, and this is my partner, Frank.”
“I am, and it’s fine. I’m used to it. Thank you for coming in,” I say, shaking their hands. Bubba gets up too, looking up at both of them for even more attention. “Would y’all like a tour before we stop by my office?”
“We’d love that,” Frank says.
I pat my leg for Bubba to follow us as I show them around the building. The atmosphere is upbeat and positive, even though it’s Monday. I hold my breath as we approach the break room, hoping no one’s brought in a seafood boil or a rack of lamb or something absurd like that. Thankfully, someone brought cookies, which we try.
“I’m glad to see everyone seems to like being here,” Frank says as we step into my office. “Not gonna lie, we tend to be a bit wary about older companies and their work culture.”
“We try to create an environment where people like coming in to work,” I say, leaving the door open enough for people to pop in necessary, but not to stop in for any old conversation. Bubba noses the drawer where I lock his treats. “My grandfather, who took the brand from my great-grandfather bootlegging in his barn to a genuine company, wasn’t the type to stick to corporate structures and rules.”
Or anything, really, after a while. The man’s streak of luck is legendary. If he hadn’t been so lucky, I probably wouldn’t be standing here today. He’s fucking insane.
“But you’re productive,” Annie says.
“Yes, very.” I give Bubba a few treats since he wasn’t able to eat any of the cookies we got from the break room. “We’ve only been growing, especially since we launched the canned drinks.”
I give them a quick rundown on what we’ve been doing lately, before shifting into what the future might look like. They seem interested, and hopefully they’re seeing where they could fit in.
I’m not particularly talkative most of the time, but talking about ideas and the future have me chatting for longer than I probably should. The more receptive they seem to be toward my ideas, the more confident I become. And the more confident I become, the more I realize that there’s not a chance I could do all of this with my dad at the head of the company.
I keep my composure even as my stomach sinks. Like I’ve summoned him, Dad appears in the doorway. I raise an eyebrow at him, and Frank and Annie turn to look at him.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Dad says in his warm, charming voice that he uses sparingly. “Just heard there were some visitors.”
“I’m Frank, and this is my business partner, Annie,” Frank says, standing and running his hand down his pants. “We own the gin brand June.”
“John David Stryker,” Dad says, shaking his hand, then Annie’s. “The third.”
He always throws inthe third. I’ve never felt the urge to mention I’m the fourth except in situations where I have to show I’m not my father or grandfather.
“Nice to meet you.” Annie smiles and sits back down.
“We were just discussing the future of the company,” I say when Dad gives me a questioning look.
“Ah.” Dad presses his mouth into a line, half smile, half grimace. “Interesting choice.”
We stare at each other for a few beats longer than we probably should in the presence of others. Annie picks up on it first, then Frank. I clench my knee under my desk. All his doubts are coming through that gaze, undermining me without saying a word.
