Page 9 of The Boardroom: Jonathan
I sighed and tried once again to explain to Samantha. “Business isn’taboutpeople. Business is about ideas and risks and a constantly fluctuating economy. It’s aboutwinning.We don’t make friends in business. We network.”
“Business is about making connections.” Samantha said assuredly, and held her head up like a queen.
“And…” I said. “…businesses that believe that are doomed to fail…” I took a sip of wine and mumbled, gesturing towards her. “…case in point.”
“Fuck you, Torver.”
I put my glass down and sighed, determined not to let my temper get the best of me again. “Look, Samantha, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate.”
Samantha jerked her head back in anger. “You bet it was.”
“I just—”
“Do you know how old the Wordsworth Company is, Johnathan?” Samantha scolded, her eyes indignant with emotion. “Next to you, we’re ancient. We’re not some hip new start-up that can change their whole system to fit with the trends. We have men and women who have spent their entire working lives at this company, okay? We have freaking…” Samantha’s voice started wavering. “We have fucking file cabinets full of papers typed up on typewriters. We’re an institution, we’re a team, and we’re a family, and you have the nerve to just…waltzin and ruin these people’s lives without even…without even—”
Oh shit, she was crying.
Samantha was trying her best to breathe and remain professional, but it was no use. She looked as if she was about five seconds away from completely blubbering, and I recoiled in fear. I had always been uncomfortable seeing other adults cry, and seeing a professional as composed as Samantha usually was, spiral out of control, was worse.
“I’ll think about it.” I said.
“What?”
Samantha stared at me wide-eyed. “I’m sorry I got emotional, I just…” she shook her head and looked down. “This past year hasn’t been easy.”
I took a deep breath and looked at her, trying my best to sound sincere. “Look Samantha, when I say, ‘thinking about it’, it just means I won’t lay off your employees right away. I’ll look at some possible solutions, but…” I knotted my hands together. “The chances are not very good. If it ends up costing us too much money, we’ll have to—”
“Those people are worth the money,” Samantha said. “You have to trust me on that.”
I smiled. “And you won’t hate me if I have to do it?”
Samantha eyed me sideways, “No promises.”
I held out my hand to her. “Well, Ms. Doyle,” I said rather triumphantly in the poshest accent I could muster. “Shall we make this peace treaty official?”
Samantha laughed and held out her hand. “I suppose,” she said with a playful raise of her eyebrow. Black dots of mascara were smudged under her eyes from her tears.
We shared a moment of silence as we watched the majesty of Mount Rainier tower over us. The mid-afternoon sun was warm enough to make the first chilly autumn breezes feel like relief. I took another look over at Samantha, who was trying to put her hair back into place.Christ, this meeting had certainly been a lot more than I had originally bargained for. I wondered if promising to look into alternate solutions for the layoff situation was a bad move. I knew, and Samantha must have known too, that there was no way I was going to change my mind. I had seen the data on her employees—they were old, unproductive, and unequipped for the rapidly changing pace of the Seattle business world, but for some reason, they were her everything. Seeing someone as tightly-wound as Samantha come undone like that had made me want to give her and her employees a chance…and perhaps it was more because of curiosity now, than anything else. Why was this so important to her? Why did she want to keep these people who had probably dragged the Wordsworth Company into bankruptcy in the first place?
Either way, Samantha Doyle was a roller coaster of a woman, and I had a curious sort of intuition that I was strapped into my seat for good.
