Page 13 of The Boardroom: Jonathan
Samantha was the one who had kept me up all night.
Cassidy came in and very predictably took a seat next to Amy, who looked like she wasn’t even prepared to give him the time of day. He was followed by Kirk, who decided on the front row seat to the drama next to me and across from Samantha. The rest of our employees and Wordsworth’s employees filed in afterward and took their seats. One of the things you never quite get used to as a CEO is the feeling of sitting at a table first thing in the morning and having a dozen people staring at you waiting for directions, or guidance, or inspiration. But the truth is at eight a.m. I’m as unprepared to inspire as anyone else in the world is.
“Good morning everyone,” I said, looking down the table with the most optimistic and determined look I could muster. “First, I would like to thank Kirk and our team of lawyers here, as well as the phenomenal legal team at the Wordsworth Company, for their endless hard work these past few months.” I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the end of the table instead of on Samantha, who I could see looking up at me from the corner of my eye. “These legal documents,” I said, motioning to a pile of papers in front of Kirk. “…Mark the beginning of what I hope will be a legendary collaboration.” The room sprung into polite applause as I turned towards Samantha. “Any thoughts?”
Samantha smiled down the table. “I know this has been a period of adjustment for everyone, and I want to thank you for your flexibility during this difficult time.” I winced. It sounded like she was opening a funeral. “And I know you know that I am doing my very best to ensure you all have a place here at the Torver Group.” I groaned. She was already making me the villain.
I was surprised to see Samantha smile down at me for a second with genuine appreciation. “And of course, Johnathan here has been incredibly helpful and generous in our negotiations so far.” The table broke out into soft applause again.Shit,I thought. I hadn’t exactly been generous yet.
Cassidy took over the meeting from that point, laying out his plans and charts for how our current and future clients would be delegated out to the Wordsworth employees. I grimaced. This was bad. Samantha giving this kind of impression to her employees, one that signified that things would only be getting better for them, was going to pose a problem. Now when I crushed them, it would even worse. She had framed me as the villain, and after that, there was no going back.
I droned out Cassidy’s voice as I looked over towards Samantha. She looked calm and confident, strong but without the belligerence she had possessed before we had solidified our supposed friendship. I watched as she listened intently, caressing the skin of her neck as she brushed her hair back behind her ear. My mind flashed back to the image of me kissing her neck up against the wall and I shifted in my seat. Then I triedveryhard to listen to Cassidy.
The meeting was endless, but the sense of optimism that Samantha had instilled in her employees was worse. I should have known that she would take my promise toconsiderfinding an alternative solution to laying off her employees a bit too far. Just kidding, the worst part of the meeting by far was Kirk, who was engrossed in watching me try to avoid looking over towards Samantha and failing miserably at it. If he had a bag of popcorn stashed underneath his desk, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“…And that’s about it.” Cassidy said, closing his laptop. “Any questions?” The room fell silent, and he turned to me.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll break for lunch and then meet back here at one to discuss this further.” The table let out a collective sigh of relief as I watched them file out the door, headed for the long line at Chipotle or to meet a date at a cheap sandwich joint. I wish I could be that relaxed right now.
I held up my hand as I saw Samantha start to move her seat back. “Um…Samantha? A word?” I said nervously.
“Of course,” Samantha said, feigning a smile, and I think she knew what was coming.
“Was that really necessary?” I said, avoiding eye contact with her as much as possible. “I mean, when I told you I would consider finding a way for you to keep your employees, it wasn’t a guarantee. I don’t want you getting people’s hopes up.”
Samantha smiled. “Isn’t hope better for them right now?”
I sighed with exasperation. “Yeah, but now if, I mean, when,I probably lay them off, it’s going to come as a complete shock. And nowI’mthe one who is going to get blamed for it when it’syourfault.Youlet your company go bankrupt.You’rethe one who offered them false promises, Samantha. And now I’m the one who they’re going to come after with pitchforks.” I frowned and looked down at the table. “Why did you have to sacrifice me like that?” I said, my voice bordering on anger. “I mean, I thought after the other day we had made peace with each other. We made a connection! This was supposed to work!”
Samantha just looked at me smugly and smiled. “Funny you should say that,” she said. “One of Seattle’s top CEOs told me that business isn’t about making connections.” She stood up and leaned over me.
“…it’s aboutwinning,” she whispered.
***
I slammed the door behind me and sighed. I simply didn’t know how to handle the Samantha situation anymore. The woman was infuriating. She was a dangerous opponent and would destroy me if I ever got stupid enough to let my guard down. I paced around the room as I loosened my tie. I needed an evening to myself to unwind. I unpacked the Whole Foods bag on the counter and threw the bag of flour down on the kitchen island. I pulled the pasta maker out of the cabinet and cracked my knuckles. Once I got into pasta-making mode, there was no stopping me.
I poured myself a glass of my favorite Riesling and put my favorite jazz playlist on my phone. I took the little Johnathan time that I got to myselfveryseriously. And not to brag, but I’ve always been a bit of a chef. I had gotten the pasta maker as a gift from my parents when I was younger, where it had sat untouched in my closet for about five years. But ever since I had gotten it out of storage a couple of years ago, I’d been addicted. I had mastered everything from basil-infused tortellini to lasagna with mozzarella and pesto.
I swept across the kitchen, pulling plastic spice jars and measuring cups from the cabinets. The afternoon faded into an evening sunset out the window as I began to mix the dough with my hands.Samantha.Who gave her the right to speak to me like that? Without my help, she would have been bankrupt and her company a forgotten piece of history. I punched the dough with my fist. This could have been soeasy.The Wordsworth acquisition was supposed to get us new clients, not new problems. Samantha was supposed to do as she was told and be grateful that we rescued her. But she was always so….so….
The dough had gotten everywhere. But, I mean,godthat woman was a pain sometimes. Even when I wasn’t at work, at times like this when I was trying my best to relax, she would permeate my thoughts with an aggressive persistence. Samantha, Samantha, Samantha. Always making me work for things I already had, making me question things I took for granted. She had to be one of the most formidable opponents I had ever had. Not necessarily in terms of money, or status, but something else. When other people challenged me, they saw me as Johnathan Torver: wealthy businessman with an empire at his feet. But when Samantha challenged me, she saw through it all. To her, I was just Johnathan, just another guy. She saw me. She looked past the façade I put up for everyone else and she sawme.
But why did that bother me so damn much?
I began to ease the dough into the pasta maker and took a sip of wine. Since I had met Samantha that day, things had been different. My life wasn’t just a procession of work days, days where I read the financial papers and handed out orders to employees who never thought to be anything other than obedient. Now, showing up to the office was a challenge and an adventure. I craved it. The sad truth was, I realized, once you reach a certain point of success, the fighting spirit that got you there fades with disuse. When Samantha looked at me with the spark of war in her eyes, it lit up again. I sat down on one of my kitchen stools and stared out the window.
I didn’t know how the rest of the acquisition would go. I didn’t know what would happen when I laid off most of the Wordsworth employees. But what I did know was this: I was feeling more alive these days than I had in a very long time.
