Storiesonline.net ------- Service Society by Lazlo Zalezac Copyright© 2011 by Lazlo Zalezac ------- Description: Dexter James is fed up with his job. For ten years he has put in long hours, worked for jerks, and received no rewards for a job well done. Then one day he says no to a temporary promotion. The fallout of that one little action will change the world. Codes: slow ------- ------- Part 1 ------- Chapter 1: Turmoil and Progress At one time, hunter/gatherers scoured the land in search of food. Small groups of people banded together in tribes, to pool resources. They lived a nomadic lifestyle in which they followed their food sources. Life was controlled by the seasons, and the activity of the animals that were hunted. It was a subsistence lifestyle, but one that provided lots of downtime for the individuals, when game was plentiful. It did no good to take more animals than could be used immediately, because the meat would spoil and rot. If there wasn't enough food, people died. Draught, flood, blizzard, fire, or illness could wipe out an entire tribe in a season, or an instant. Starvation was just a week away. People learned to eat anything at hand – even each other in the worst of times. When times were bad, they were really bad. Before the image of 'the noble savage' comes to mind, it is important to realize that life wasn't peaceful or tranquil. Small skirmishes were fought between tribes competing for land rich in game. The loss of even one hunter, often required the tribe to retreat from battle, since each hunter lost reduced the chances of a tribe to survive. It was often necessary for a tribe to remain small, but if it grew too small, then the tribe would die. The tribe was the center of life for people living in hunter/gatherer societies. Individuals who could contribute more to the tribe were respected. They were given the first choice of food, shelter, and mates. Those who couldn't contribute as much were second-class citizens. The weak and infirm were last to receive anything. Those who harmed the ability of the tribe to survive were banished and usually died shortly thereafter. It was a time of might makes right. Life could be very brutal for the weak. The founding of Eridu in Sumer marked the beginning of the end of hunting/gathering as the primary lifestyle of the human animal. Agriculture became the driver of the economy. However, farming requires land, and people to work the land. If willing people weren't available in sufficient quantities then slaves were brought in to work the land. The establishment of communities brought civilization. Controlling people required the adoption of laws, and trade required the introduction of money. Consistent with a past in which might made right, laws were made by those with the greatest might and represented their interests. Of greatest interest was property and trade. The majority of laws were founded on property and assuring fair and equitable trade, at least from the perspective of the strongest. Of course, the effectiveness and reach of the laws were limited by the ability of the ones who made them, to enforce them. 'The law of the land' took precedence over 'might makes right.' It didn't take long for the mighty to realize that the more land one controlled, the more money one made. Wars were fought to control vast amounts of land. Large armies engaged each other to conquer little slices of neighboring land. The wars were often quite brutal, and lasted tens of years. Kingdoms and then nations emerged from the process of claiming more land. Once the boundaries of nations were basically established, and it became too expensive to fight a war that shifted a boundary only a few miles, nations seeking greater political power established colonies far distant from the centers of government. A colony gave both land and a labor force to be exploited. But, it required that the nation control the locals. Soldiers were shipped to far off lands to subdue and conquer. The pace of life in an agrarian society was dictated by the seasons, the weather, and the rising and setting of the sun. There was a time of planting and a time of harvesting. Workload was limited by how fast draft animals could pull a plow. When a person wasn't in the field his time was his own. Of course, a good percentage of that time was spent taking care of the business of providing the necessities of life, and raising children. Individuals at the lowest class had a tough life. They were the serfs, the slaves, or the peons of society. They had rights (expectations under the law), but those rights were rather limited. Rather than being a direct measure of how well a person was able to contribute to the welfare of the nation, class was measured in terms of money. Those who controlled money were very unwilling to part with it. A few were rich, while the majority of people were poor. As it always happens when social inequity exists, class warfare emerged. Those with little became willing to fight to overthrow those with lots of money. Revolutions, slave revolts, and riots became part of the political landscape. These were violent clashes in which massive numbers of people died. The invention of the steam engine in 1763 by James Watt marked the beginning of the decline of the Agricultural age. A single steam engine could replace hundreds of horses, and it only needed to be fed when in use. It also allowed the development of machines that could perform the work of many men, at much greater speed than any amount of manpower. Manufacturing rose to replace agriculture as king of the economy. A machine could produce more goods with less cost. Making a machine could be done locally, rather than in some far off colony. It became necessary to control the sources of raw material and energy, but that could be accomplished by owning the land. The need to control the locals grew less, since labor was replaced by machines. The colonies were abandoned and puppet governments put in place. People moved from working in the fields to working in factories. A new structure of power emerged – factory owners were over factory managers who were over factory workers. Greed led to a new kind of ruthlessness by owners over workers. Rather than owning slaves, they created wage slaves. It was a simple strategy of paying just enough to keep people working and not enough to cut deeply into profits. The rise of manufacturing gave rise to schedules. Machines could work twenty-four hours a day, but they had to be operated by people. The result was that people had to work in shifts, and the rising and setting of the sun was not an adequate measure of time. Initially shifts lasted twelve hours, and people worked seven days a week. Time began to be a central organizer of daily life. The clock was everywhere. At one time vendors sold from early in the morning until they ran out of goods. They now adopted fixed hours of operation. People started to wake according to the clock, and go to bed by the clock. Meals were served according to the clock. 'Time is money', became the mantra of the age. Work was performed in factories. The insulation of the workplace from the outdoors, separated man from nature. The connection to the seasons and nature ... that had, until this time, set the schedule and pace of life ... began to erode. Seasons were dictated by the calendar, rather than the climate. September 22 or 23 became the first day of fall, rather than when the harvest was brought in from the field. Life for people revolved around scheduled activities. There was a time to work, a time to eat, a time to sleep, and, if one was fortunate, some time was left over for family. Excessive work schedules did not last long, before workers rebelled. Strikes lead by labor unions, were the strategy used in the fight against factory owners, to reclaim some time for the people. Many of these strikes turned deadly, but the violence was of a different from than the slave rebellions in the past. If the owner actually died, then the business died with him. If the worker died, then a new one could be hired. Where the hunter/gathers had tribes led by chiefs and the agrarian age had nations run by landed gentry, the industrial age had companies lead by captains of industry. The concept of a monopoly arose when one company could become the sole provider of an essential product, and controlled all those who relied upon the product. A new kind of warfare broke out, one in which hostile takeovers became the chief strategy. These were basically bloodless wars, but lives and livelihoods were affected, nonetheless. More than one expanding company discovered that their victory was a pyrrhic victory. More than one hostile takeover resulted in the larger company folding up operations. The introduction of machines into the workplace had another major consequence on society. Machines displaced skilled workers. Four classes emerged: non-workers who couldn't work, those who did simple labor, those who were managers, and those who owned companies. The lowest class had nothing. Those who did simple labor had bare subsistence wages. Those who managed had wages that were somewhat higher than laborers, but only by a factor of two or three. The invention of the telegraph in 1835 by Samuel Morse was the beginning of the end of the industrial age. It took until 1851 for Western Union to become established as a communications company. It was a remarkably under-appreciated accomplishment at the time, but it was an accomplished that achieved a most remarkable purpose – the delivery of information nearly instantaneously. It would take a hundred and fifty years for the information age to supplant the industrial age. The information age saw the captains of industry being replaced by brokers. Brokers produced nothing; they shifted capital around. Rather than owning factories outright, brokers owned parts of companies through shares of stock. Suddenly the need to have factories near where the owner lived became less of an issue. Control could be established and maintained by the expedient of sending a message that shifted money from one place to another. The absence of a dedicated owner of a company led to a remarkable change in society. A new class of people was introduced: the executives. The executive ran a company on behalf of the owners in the cases where ownership of the company was distributed amongst thousands of shareholders. They controlled the company, but without the oversight of a dedicated owner. Shareholders disaffected with the management of a company, would simply trade their shares in that company for shares in what they perceived was a better company. The lack of emotional investment in ownership of companies changed the dynamics of the economy. The social structure of society changed with the changing dynamics of the economy. There were now five classes of people: the welfare class (non-workers), the blue-collar class (labor), the white-collar class (mangers), the executive class (new class), and the rich (owners). The welfare class emerged once the rich realized that the extremely poor made lousy consumers. Rather than finding ways for the poor to earn money, the expedient of shifting money from the blue-collar and white-collar classes to the poor was adopted. The distinction between the welfare, blue-collar, and white-collar classes became one of only modest economic differences, but extremely different social attitudes. The differences in the lifestyles of the various classes far exceeded the minor differences in economic income. The welfare class included the uneducated, the criminal, the unstable, and the elderly. Most owned nothing and lived from government handout to government handout in houses provided by the government or rented hovels in urban slums. The welfare class never traveled, but had the most free time of all of the classes, while lacking the money to truly appreciate it. The blue-collar class included the factory worker, the tradesman, and laborer. They earned money tied to hours worked by the clock, and lived the most regimented lives of the five classes. Most owned small houses or rented apartments. The blue-collar class might travel on a vacation, but were basically tied to the neighborhoods in which they were raised. The white-collar class included the small business owner, and salaried managers in large companies. They were salaried workers whose income was tied to the job they did rather than the hours worked. Their hours were dictated by how much work had to be performed, and there was no overtime paid. They had the least free time of all of the classes, often giving up their evenings, weekends, and holidays. Their jobs often required them to travel without the advantage of actually seeing the places to which they traveled. They owned houses, cars, and recreational items that were just a little larger and a little better than those owned by blue-collars workers. The executive class included politicians, chief executive officers, presidents of companies, and other titled corporate positions. They made many more times what a blue-collar or white-collar person earned. A yearly bonus of millions of dollars was felt to be their due. Their work and free time were integrated into a single lifestyle. An afternoon of playing golf was an opportunity to do business with another executive. Breakfasts, lunches, and dinners were business meetings that were paid for by the company rather than the person. Instead of spending their money on necessities, it was spent on luxuries. They traveled for work and for pleasure with time taken to see the sights. The rich class constituted a thousand people worldwide. These were the billionaires who could buy and sell countries. The difference in income between a member of the rich class and an executive was just as great as the difference in income between a member of the executive class and a person on welfare. There was very little difference in free time between a member of the welfare class and a member of the rich class, but the rich had the money to truly enjoy their time. They were surrounded by luxuries, and by people willing to do anything for money. With a small 'donation', they could get private showings of the greatest treasures of history. No doors were ever closed to them. True to the essential nature of humankind, warfare remained although much of the fighting was political and economic. Those who didn't have luxuries wanted what they were missing from those who did have them. As salaried workers, members of the white-collar class were not compensated for overtime and the executive class exploited that fact to an extreme. The welfare and blue-collar classes wanted more from the rich. The executive class made sure that the white-collar class was labeled the rich while protecting themselves from excessive taxes. The real members of the rich class moved monies on a global level and avoided taxes with great ease. The white-collar class was in a long slow economic decline. In some areas, janitors made nearly as much money as engineers after taxes. The upper levels of the blue-collar class and some members of the white-collar class began working to get access to the same level of social services and advantages that were being given to the welfare classes. The money to pay for those programs further eroded the economic station of white-collar workers. A new kind of economic war arose. Rather than a battle between economic classes, this was a battle within and across economic classes. Two ideological factions emerged: liberals and conservatives. The two factions had fundamental differences in their view of economics and society. The lack of common ground in the two views made the political and social battles nasty. Liberals felt that society forced individuals into classes and trapped them there. Their view was that society was at fault for all of the ills of the world. They wanted to eliminate the differences between the welfare, blue-collar, and white-collar classes with the hope that all would rise to an equal lifestyle. Conservatives felt that individuals were responsible for their own fate based on good and bad decisions. They accepted that the differences in social class would remain, but believed that programs easing movement between classes was the answer to individual woes. Anyone could rise to become president if they just worked hard enough. Those who failed to work hard enough would sink in social class. The liberals employed social engineering approaches in their war using energy, ecology, and race as the banners under which they organized. The liberals wanted to change the mindset of the masses using education to teach their kind of right thinking, leading to the realization of their social agenda. All of the ills of society were brought up, and individuals characterized by wrong thinking were blamed. Virtual classes of people (capitalists, racists, militants, and war mongers) emerged as the villains and any individual who opposed their programs was immediately labeled as a member of those classes. The actual number of people who could truly be characterized by those labels, was less than 0.1% of the population. While individuals of a liberal leaning might not believe it, the conservatives were much less organized than the liberals. Liberals had community organizations, environmental groups, and political action groups with thousands of members. These members would engage in protests, letter writing campaigns, and boycotts. With thousands of people participating, their actions were very effective at garnering attention. On the other hand, conservatives had professional organizations that paid for lobbyists to influence government officials. Part of the reason for that was a result of the conservative mindset. Conservatives were basically more concerned with working hard to improve their individual standing in society than fighting the social agenda of the liberals. The result was the appearance of greater liberal support than that which actually existed. The conservatives were stronger than they themselves understood. The impoverished and the blue-collar classes had more political power than they had believed. The economy faltered and fed fuel to the emotions of the various factions. The forces were marshaled. The rhetoric rose in volume. Crowds took to the streets carrying banners proclaiming the evil of the other side. Elections were won and lost by each side. Although very few shots had been fired, a violent civil war was about to begin. Then something changed. The economy, which had been suffering, rebounded without affecting the high unemployment. The pundits were puzzled. What no one realized, was that the Information Age had been transformed, and a Service Economy was emerging. Computer services replaced people. White-collar jobs started disappearing at an ever increasing rate. The tax base that had once fueled social programs disappeared. The impoverished became even more impoverished. What was no longer economically viable for employees to perform, the customers now did. Blue-collar jobs began to disappear. The beginnings of this trend were relatively deceptive. It started with the general stores, and food markets. At one time, a customer would tell a store clerk what item he or she wanted, and the clerk would fetch it. In the supermarket, the customer wandered through the store, picking out the items without the help of a clerk. Store clerks disappeared, to be replaced by cashiers. This marked the end of company provided services, and the beginning of consumer provided services. One day, soda fountains moved from behind the counter, to in front of the counter. Customers were now filling their own drink orders, being charged for the cup, rather than its contents. No one thought much about this simple change, but it was the beginning of an avalanche. ATMs appeared, replacing bank tellers. Self-service gas stations appeared, and gas station attendants started to disappear. Technology added fuel to the engine of change. Desktop computers replaced secretaries. Automated cash registers appeared, and suddenly customers were now the clerks, cashiers, and baggers. Check in kiosks appeared in airports, and airline ticket agents disappeared. The internet, with its discount travel services, virtually wiped out travel agents over night. Robots replaced assembly line workers. Jobs were disappearing at an incredible rate. Even in cases where technology couldn't replace a worker, advances that enabled existing workers to function more efficiently, allowed companies to shift more work to fewer individuals. CAD systems eliminated draftsmen and allowed engineers to produce more with smaller teams. Companies began exploiting workers who had managed to keep their jobs. An oft repeated mantra around the job-place was 'You should be happy you still have a job.' It was as though a person was just a placeholder, until something better came along. All of this had a rather remarkable effect on the liberal and conservative movements, although few realized it at the time. Basically, the fundamental tenants of both movements stopped being applicable to the world as it really was. Both sides would go point at some example to prove their point, only to discover that the example wasn't there anymore. Liberals, who were striving for equality among the various classes, would soon come to realize that the classes were disappearing, but not in a good way for them. There wouldn't be much of anything left to equalize. The classes became the employed, and the unemployed. With the executive class making the rules to avoid paying taxes, and the filthy rich holding money in 'offshore' banks, who was going to pay for any social programs? No one. Conservatives began to wake up to the fact that people weren't in control of their lives. It didn't matter how hard one worked, when a minor technological change could wipe out one's entire industry. After all, who, in 1980, could have imagined that a protocol to get computers talking to one another, could wipe out travel agencies? No one. The Liberal and Conservative movements continued on for a while, but they were effectively impotent. They could pass laws, but the laws were ineffectual. There weren't any villains to stop. There was no one to blame, although every politician of any stature was blamed by one group or another. There was nothing of substance that could fix the problems. In the midst of this climate of economic, social, and political upheaval, people tried to get by. It was hard because all of the rules had changed, and no one knew what the new rules were. Bewildered, people desperately hung onto what they had. They accepted abuse because the alternative was the unknown. During chaotic times, events seem to conspire to push one individual into the public consciousness. Their names are written in the book of history because of their impact on the lives of others. Galileo, who in trying to understand the natural world, came to epitomize the conflict between science and religion. Luther, who in protesting the corruption in the Catholic church, altered forever the face of the Christian religion. Rosa Parks, who refused to move to the back of a bus, altered racial politics in America. Dexter James, who got fed up with his job, redefined how people were to treat each other. Were these individuals in control? No. Did things end up as they planned? They had no plans. ------- An Interview With Dexter: Reporter: What advice have you given your children?" Dexter: I haven't given them any advice. Reporter: Why not? Dexter: I don't know what to tell them. Reporter: Surely you have some advice for them? Dexter: No. Reporter: You changed the world. Dexter: I didn't mean to ... or maybe I did. I'm still not sure what happened. Reporter: How can that be? Dexter: It's a long story. Reporter: I'm sure lots of people would love to hear it. Dexter: I wouldn't know where to begin. Reporter: How about at the beginning? Dexter: No one would believe it. ------- Chapter 2: A Typical Tuesday Dexter James reached over to swat the off button on the alarm clock. He missed, sending the damned instrument of torture to the floor, where it continued to blast its infernal noise. He reached down and grabbed the clock. He fumbled with it for a few seconds before finding the switch that turned off the offensive noise. He sat up on the edge of the bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes, thinking that he could use another half-hour of sleep. Six in the morning seemed to come too early in the day. He wasn't a morning person. The fact of the matter was that he wasn't a night person anymore, either. He was a tired person, who just wanted a full night of sleep. His wife of eighteen years, Janet, moved on the other side of the bed. He knew exactly what she was doing despite the fact that he didn't turn to watch her. She rose from the bed and headed to the bathroom. Dexter ran a hand along the back of his neck and then yawned. His wife exited the bathroom and said, "It is all yours." "Thanks, honey," Dexter replied. He looked over at the alarm clock wondering how six minutes had passed since it had gone off. He unplugged his cell phone and blackberry that had been charging on the night table. He rose from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. As had become habit forced by necessity, he carried the cell phone and blackberry with him. Seated on the toilet, he checked the emails on his blackberry that had arrived since going to bed the night before. There were a dozen of them, but only two required his immediate attention. The first was a notice that Glenn's wife had gone into labor and had been taken to the hospital. Glenn wasn't going to be in work that day. Dexter stared at the message thinking about what it meant for him. Glenn didn't actually work directly under him; he worked for Jim, but Jim didn't have the authority to approve days off for his people. He sighed and said, "Fuck." He typed out a message that Glenn should take a personal day today, but that he should check with Jim to see if he would be needed in the office tomorrow. Dexter knew that Jim's project was behind schedule. He copied the email to Jim to let him know that Glenn wouldn't be in that day. The second email informed him that one of the programmers had located a bug in the program he was supporting and had corrected it. The programmer's direct supervisor wanted to know when he could upload the modification to the production system. Shaking his head, Dexter responded with an email that the modified software had to go through system testing before being uploaded to the production machine. Everyone knew that code had to go through system testing before it could be put into production, but the company had two measures of performance for developers. One was the total number of defects reported in a year. The other was in terms of how long it took between identifying that a defect existed and getting a fix for it in place. In a strange twist of corporate logic, uploading a buggy fix looked better than taking an extra day to actually fix the problem. People had learned that they could reduce the official count of defects by putting more than one problem on the same report. As a result, uploading a buggy fix didn't increase the number of reported defects. It was impossible to hide how long it took to fix a defect. The day's delay forced by putting the patch through system test would make the numbers look bad for everyone, particularly if the defect hadn't been corrected. Dexter responded that the code had to go through system test. As a result, the programmer should double check that the defects had been fixed and then send it over to system testing. Dexter finished his physical business on the toilet. He set down his cell phone and went into the shower thinking that it was going to be a long day. He could imagine the set of emails that would be exchanged with the programmer and project led over the course of the day. His phone rang while he was washing his hair. He let it go to voice mail, wishing that just once he would get to finish his morning shower without a phone call. Getting out of the shower, he dried off with a towel. Once his hands were dried, he picked up the cell phone and listened to the voice mail. As he had expected, it was a call from his boss. While the message was playing, the blackberry chimed that it had another email. He continued to dry off while listening to the message from his boss. It was the typical morning ten-minute message in which his boss rambled from one topic to the next, while driving to the office for an early start to the day. Once he was dry, Dexter picked up the blackberry and read the email that had arrived. It was from the programmer telling him that he was going to be late to the office since he had worked through the night. While reading the message, another email arrived. Dexter replied to the first email that it was okay. He read the second email discovering it was from the programmer wondering why he hadn't responded to the first email yet. Dexter swore and said, "Give me a fucking minute, asshole." The voice mail from his boss came to a distracted end with the message to call the man back as soon as possible. Dexter muttered, "I'll call back when I've finished shaving." Picking up the electric razor, Dexter went to work removing his stubble. His phone rang about halfway through the process of shaving. He fumbled with the phone one handed and answered, "Hello." "I was expecting you to call me back," Mark said. "I just finished listening to your message," Dexter replied. This was a conversation that he had almost every morning with his boss. "I called you fifteen minutes ago," Mark said. "It was fifteen minutes long," Dexter said. He heard Mark honking his horn at another driver. Mark said, "Would you stop shaving? I can barely hear you over the razor." Irritated at not being able to finish his shave in peace, Dexter turned off his razor and said, "Okay, it is off. I wish you would wait to call until after I finish my shit, shower, and shave." "You need to get up earlier," Mark said. Dexter could hear his shout, "Stay in your lane, fuck head. Where did you get your driver's license – a cracker jack box?" "You're going to get killed if you keep using your cell phone while driving," Dexter said. Of course, he was on his cell phone through most of the drive to work. "I just wanted to remind you to give Sid a call. He has a conference call with the English group at nine," Mark said. He then proceeded to remind Dexter of all of the things that Sid needed to cover during the conference call. Of course, there was going to be a group presentation at eleven to cover what had been discussed in the conference call. Dexter was regretting his decision to have Sid make the presentation. Sid worked for Jim who worked for Dexter. Mark objected to such a low level person giving a presentation to a customer. Dexter had argued that since Sid was the person who had designed the system that it should be Sid who presented it to the customer. Mark felt Sid shouldn't been seen by the customer despite the fact that Sid had been working with the customer for six months. Instead, he believed Dexter should give the presentation to the customer with Jim present in case there were any questions that he couldn't answer. Dexter stood in the bathroom listening to a repeat of the previous call while staring in the mirror with a half shaved face. It was rapidly approaching the time when he should be calling Sid and he still hadn't finished with his shave. He pressed the mute button on his cell phone and resumed shaving. He had to pause occasionally and respond to questions. His boss finally completed the call about the same time Dexter finished his shave. He checked his blackberry and saw that another email had arrived. He brought up the email and saw that it was from Sid wanting him to call in order to discuss when they could go over the presentation. Mark had told Jim to have Sid call Dexter to go over the presentation. Dexter swore, "I wish that we could just let the engineers present the engineering without having a bunch of fuckers riding on his back. What in the hell am I supposed to do? Change the fucking drawings at the last minute?" Grabbing the blackberry and cell phone, Dexter returned to the bedroom and started getting dressed for the day. He was pulling on his pants when the cell phone started ringing. Ignoring the cell phone, he swore, "I'm already working and I haven't even finished dressing." Picking up the cell phone, he listened to the voice mail from Sid. The guy was nervous about his presentation that morning and wanted to go over it. Mark, who was three levels above Sid, had told the poor guy that he was concerned about his ability to present something technical to a customer. Sid was hoping that Dexter could come into the office early. Listening to the request, Dexter said, "I go early to the office every fucking day." Dexter unplugged the Bluetooth earpiece from the charger and stuck it into his ear. He dialed Sid and headed to the kitchen. He discussed the presentation with Sid while watching his wife prepare breakfast. She was talking to someone on her cell phone using her Bluetooth earpiece to free up her hands so that she could work in the kitchen. He was pretty sure she was talking with her contact in Ireland who was handling the billing for the company she worked for. They had three early morning conference calls a week. She nodded to him and pointed down the hallway as a reminder to make sure that the two kids were awake. Nodding his head in acknowledgement, he poured a cup of coffee. It was 0635 and his day had already begun. Still talking to Sid, Dexter walked down the hallway knocking on the kids' bedroom doors to wake them. He rattled the doors until the kid inside yelled that he or she was awake. Once the kids were awake, he returned to the kitchen. It was a typical breakfast with him talking on his cell phone to someone at work, his wife talking to the team in Ireland on her cell phone, his daughter, Sarah, talking to one of her friends on her cell phone, and his son, Will, playing a video game. He sent out a message on his blackberry to one of the people working for him requesting that they double check to make sure that a conference room had been reserved for that morning's meeting. While he had been typing the email, a new email arrived with the agenda for the late morning status meeting for one of the other projects. He forwarded that email to the members of the team. After finishing his breakfast, he looked over at his wife. She was still engaged in her conference call. He had finished his call with Sid. Sending an air kiss to his wife, he headed out the door while composing a text message to his wife telling her to have a good day. He knew that she would see it when she finished with her call. He fielded two more calls from his boss, one from a project lead, and one from another developer complaining about the project lead while driving to the office. The traffic was typical for a Monday morning: it was an eighteen-mile long metal snake, from his home to his office. In each car, people were talking to invisible listeners. At one point, he looked at the radio in the car and wondered why they bothered putting radios in cars, anymore. The office was filling with people by the time he reached the place. With his position in the company he actually had a real office with a door that closed rather than a cubicle. His office didn't have a window since he was still pretty low in the management chain. Of course, it didn't feel like he was that low. He was overseeing ten software projects that encompassed nearly sixty people along with three outsourcing contracts to firms in India and China. Seven years ago, he had been overseeing five projects until downsizing (upper management had called it 'rightsizing') had doubled his workload without a promotion or an increase in his salary. It was a lot of responsibility, but he did not have much authority. The company had taken delegating responsibility without authority to an extreme level. Every decision he made had to be approved two levels up in the company. Every decision by one of his project leads had to be approved by him and his boss. Every technical decision by one of the engineers had to be approved by the project lead and him. It added an administrative burden to a workload that was already too great. Settling into his desk, he booted up his computer. Watching it run like molasses in wintertime, he shook his head in disgust. Even with all of his responsibilities, he didn't have a secretary. Nothing irritated him more than the fact that he had to do office work in addition to the work of an engineer. The machine, he still tended to view them as glorified calculators, had entered the workplace and replaced secretaries. Despite what anyone might say, the computer was a very poor substitute for a skilled office worker. It took him nearly as long to properly format a report as it took him to write it. He spent hours a week tracking down people to get the raw data for his reports, fusing the data into a coherent form, and generating a report that probably wouldn't get read by anyone in management. When the computer finally finished booting, he opened his email program and sent out his Monday morning call for time sheets. After hitting the send button, he muttered, "I didn't go to college to do this crap." Sid knocked on the door and said, "I'm ready to go over the presentation." "Where is it?" Dexter asked. "On the shared drive," Sid answered. "Where on the shared drive?" Dexter asked thinking that it was going to be a long day. His telephone rang simultaneously with the ding on his computer letting him know that an email had arrived. One of the engineers knocked on his door. He needed a pen, and Dexter was in charge of office supplies since engineers and project leads couldn't be trusted with unlimited access to pens and paper. It wasn't Dexter's decision. It was a corporate policy. Dexter waved him over to the office supply cabinet, which took up too much room in his cramped office, and returned to working with Sid. Dexter spent the rest of the day in meetings. It was impossible for him to give his complete attention to the topic under discussion. His blackberry kept chirping with emails that absolutely positively had to be answered immediately. Of course, those critical emails were hidden amongst the nearly sixty emails generated by the time sheet program. In addition to emails, there were calls from his boss and other important people that had to be answered. Voice mail was not an option, particularly with regard to his boss. As a result, he was popping in and out of meetings like a Jack-in-the-box. The meetings would either continue on without him, or have to stop until he finished dealing with the caller. Lunch was a working meeting consisting of stale sandwiches that had been made early that morning and left to sit around until delivered to the conference room. Dexter didn't take any of the cole slaw. He'd had a bad experience with it, once, in the past. The potato chips were soft from having sat out most of the morning. The best part of lunch, had been the pickles, but they had left him with a stomachache, having aggravated the sour sensation in his stomach that had resulted from drinking too many cups of coffee. By mid-afternoon, Dexter's stomach was tied up in knots. He was popping 'pink pills' (the pill form of the pink liquid stomach stuff, to settle his stomach) and aspirins to fight off his headache. The aspirins aggravated his stomach, which required more pills. He was getting low on pink pills. The last meeting of the afternoon finished after five. He went to his office to deal with the emails that required data that wasn't available on his blackberry. He had just sat down at his desk when his boss called him on his cell phone. Confident that he knew what the call was about, he answered, "Hello, Mark." Mark said, "Dexter ... you son of bitch! He cut me off..." "What?" Dexter asked trying to disambiguate comments about the other drivers, from the business content of the call. "I wanted to remind you to call up the group in India at nine this evening to get a progress ... You damn bastard ... Get in your fucking lane, asshole..." Mark shouted. He continued, saying, "Anyway, call them about nine." "You don't need to remind me," Dexter said. This was a scheduled weekly call. He even called on his vacations. The only time he had missed the call, had been the time he'd had a bad case of food poisoning. "Sure I do. Don't you remember that time you didn't call them," Mark said. "I didn't forget. I was puking in the toilet. I had food poisoning," Dexter replied irritated by the charge that he had forgotten to call them. Every week it was the same damned thing. "They were insulted," Mark said. "You should have called them to let them know you were sick." "I was too sick to call," Dexter shouted. He could imagine how insulted they would have been listening to five minutes of him barfing in the toilet. "That kind of attitude will ... Oh you mother fucker. Fucking Asian drivers ... God damn it ... Go back to China and don't come back until you learn how to drive," Mark shouted. "One of these days you're going to die," Dexter said. There was a ding on his cell phone letting him know that he had a text message. Mark said, "I'm supposed to give a presentation to the Director on the status of all my projects. I need a fifteen minute presentation on your projects first thing in the morning." "I'll update the one that I gave you last week," Dexter said staring at the clock on his desk. "They didn't like the colors you used on the pie charts. Change them," Mark said. "How about yellow, purple, pink, and orange?" Dexter asked trying to come up with the most awful color scheme he could imagine. "That sounds okay," Mark said. "Quit riding your brakes ... oh shit!" "Did you hit him?" Dexter asked. He could hear the squealing of brakes over the phone. His blackberry chirped that he had a new email message. His desktop computer dinged letting him know that he had a new email message. There was the ding that let him know that someone had sent him a message on the chat program. He knew without looking that one of the developers was trying to get in touch with him. "The son of a bitch cut in front of me and slowed down," Mark said. Dexter could picture the man making obscene gestures at the other driver. Dexter said, "I'll get to work on the presentation. Anything else?" "Call India, tonight," Mark said. "Right," Dexter said. He checked the email on his desktop. One of the people in charge of the nightly build was complaining that some of the developers hadn't checked their code in yet. He replied that they should call the developer and get them to check the code into the source code control system. He got that message every night. Mark said, "I better call Scott and get him to work on his presentation for tomorrow." Scott was another manager at Dexter's level. Mark spent most of his time making calls to the managers under him. "I'll see you tomorrow," Dexter said. "Don't forget India!" Mark said before hanging up. Dexter hung up the phone and said, "Fuck you." He checked the text message that had come in while he had been on the phone. It was a message from his wife asking him to pick up some milk on the way home from the office. He texted back to her, that he would be working late. She texted that he should still get some milk. It was nearly seven before Dexter finally left the office. He was driving home when he got a text message from his wife letting him know that there were leftovers of Chinese takeout on the counter next to the microwave oven. He stopped at the grocery store, picked up a gallon of milk and a jar of the pink pills. He hated going to the store, ever since they had put in the self-checkout lines. He remembered when they used to have checkers and bag boys. One of his friends in high school, had had a part-time job as a bag boy. He used to tell stories about horny housewives showing their tits to him by leaning over and letting him look down their blouses. He remembered that stores used to give out S&H Green Stamps. As a kid, he used to help his mother paste them into books. She'd save up a couple of books and then cash them in for some item at the S&H Green Stamp store. He wondered when the stores stopped giving them out. Interacting with the self-checkout stations always irritated him. They had one person there, who ran from station to station whenever their was a problem. It seemed to Dexter that there was always a problem. He muttered, "I didn't go to college so that I could have a part-time job at the grocers as a checker and a bag boy. The thing that really pisses me off, is that they don't pay me for doing the work." He could imagine some asshole arguing that point with: 'They are paying you by lowering the prices.' He thought that argument was a load of bullshit. Considering the quantity of merchandise that passed through the store every day, he figured the cost per item for having a checker was a fraction of a cent. He didn't see that he was getting a discount per item by doing all the work himself. After leaving the grocery store, he stopped at the gas station. He pulled up at one of the pumps and got out of his car. He ran a credit card through the machine and then started filling the tank of his car. While standing there looking stupid, he remembered when, as a high school student, he'd had a part-time job as a gas attendant at an Esso Station. He pumped the gas, checked the air pressure in the tires, checked the oil, checked the level of washer fluid, and washed the windows. He reminded people when they needed to have an oil change and to get their car inspected. Those days of 'full service' were long gone. Even if he went to the full service island, they just pumped the gas unless he explicitly asked them to check the oil and to wash the windows. It definitely wasn't 'service with smile.' The attendants in the full service line couldn't even check the air pressure in his tires. The stations had removed the air hoses from around the pumps. If he wanted to check his tires, he would have to pull over to the air station. If his tires were low, he would have to pay fifty cents to put air in them ... and he'd have to fill the tires himself. Air used to be free. While topping the tank, he muttered, "I went to college so that I wouldn't have to work at a gas station." Upon returning home, he put the gallon of milk in the refrigerator, and the plate of Chinese food in the microwave. While the food was getting nuked, he texted his wife to find out where she was. She texted back that she was shopping with their daughter. He figured she would be home about the time he got on his conference call with India. Sitting at the table, he stared at his reheated Chinese takeout meal. He muttered, "My Dad used to get home at five thirty, and would have a hot meal waiting for him. What the fuck am I doing wrong?" ------- Chapter 3: Being a Jerk Dexter was in a bad mood. The previous evening, his anniversary dinner with his wife had been interrupted three times by Mark, and once by Janet's boss. Mark kept calling during the commercials of some television program he was watching. He wanted to get some project numbers that he believed Dexter could look up on his computer at home. He didn't seem to understand the flat declaration that Dexter was not available to go to his computer to look up things since he was in a restaurant having dinner. His wife didn't appreciate the interruptions and any chance for a romantic conclusion to the evening had disappeared by the third call. Dexter was sitting on the toilet engaged in what he liked to call 'his morning constitutional' when his cell phone rang. He didn't have to glance at the caller id to know his boss was calling. He didn't want to answer it since the last thing he wanted to do was to talk to his boss while sitting on the toilet. Of course the alternative was to listen to a ten-minute voice mail, and then talk to his boss while shaving. Grumbling, he answered and put it on speakerphone. He said, "Hello, Mark." "Oh ... Dexter ... I expected it to go to voice mail," Mark said sounding surprised to actually get him that morning. "Not this morning. I'm sitting on the crapper and have nothing better to do than to shit and talk to you," Dexter said. He pressed his lips together and blew so that it made a sound like he was passing gas. When he quit, he moaned, "Ah! I feel like I'm gonna pass a big one." "I don't need to know that kind of shit," Mark said, without realizing he had made a rather unfortunate play on words. "It is six-fifteen in the morning. I'm taking a dump. Office hours officially start at nine," Dexter said. "You're a salaried worker. You work when there is work to be done," Mark said. "What do you want?" Dexter asked. Mark said, "The Director wants me to attend some kind of talk this afternoon. I want you to go in my place." "When did he tell you about that?" Dexter asked. "Monday morning," Mark answered. "Why didn't you tell me Monday morn..." Interrupting him, Mark shouted, "You assholes drive this fucking route every fucking morning. By now you should know where the hell you're going." Dexter said, "Why didn't you tell me about this Monday morning?" "I decided last night that I could spend my time a little better by getting ready for the trip to India," Mark said. "Why are you going to India?" Dexter asked dreading the answer. The teams in India were his responsibility. He didn't need Mark going over there and screwing things up. He was going to end up having to patch relations with the folks over there. That might even require that he make an extra trip. It had taken him a year to establish a reasonable working relationship with them. "It was the Director's idea. He told me to go there after I told him that I'd never seen their facilities," Mark answered. Dexter said, "I've been there. They've got cheap PCs that connect to our machines here." "Well, I need to see that for myself," Mark said. "Besides, I've never been to India. Why not have the company pay for it?" "You could have given me a little more not..." "Use your turn signal asshole!" "I've got three project status meetings scheduled for this afternoon. What will I do about them?" Dexter asked. "Attend your meetings by phone," Mark said. "I'm going to be very popular when I start talking over the speaker," Dexter said. "You don't have to say anything in your meetings. All you have to do is listen to your underlings talk. If you have to communicate with them, use instant messaging," Mark said. Dexter could see himself trying to listen to a conversation on the phone and a lecture by some self-proclaimed expert. He said, "I doubt I would be able to give my meetings or the speaker the kind of attention required." "You've got to learn to multi-task," Mark said with a snort of derision. Dexter put a hand under his armpit and made a farting noise while saying, "I'll figure out how to listen to two conversations at once, instant message, and answer e-mails at the same time." "Jesus! What have you been eating to make those kinds of noises?" Mark asked. The sound of a horn blowing could be heard over the phone. Mark shouted, "I have to change lanes asshole. Fucker keeps riding in my blind spot." "Beans," Dexter answered finding it difficult to keep from laughing. Mark said, "I didn't call you to listen to you fart. Call me when you get off the pot." "Is there anything else that you need to tell me?" Dexter asked. "Not really," Mark said. "I'll talk to you when I get to the office," Dexter said. "I guess that would be okay. Next time, get of the pot when I call you," Mark said. Dexter disconnected and laughed. He said, "I'm gonna be on the pot every time you call, asshole." The phone rang again. Dexter answered it. "What did you forget to tell me?" "Are you off the toilet yet?" Mark asked. "No," Dexter answered. "I forgot to tell you that the talk is in the cafeteria at one thirty," Mark said. "I'll send you an e-mail with more details." "You could have sent me an e-mail with the details without talking to me," Dexter said. Mark said, "I just wanted to make sure you knew to expect an e-mail." "Anything else?" Dexter asked. "I can't think of anything," Mark said. "Great. Now I can wipe my ass," Dexter said. ------- Terrance (don't call me Terry or Ter or T) Jones stood at the front of the room as if he was the most important person in the world. Dexter wasn't impressed. The guy looked like a snake oil salesman of the worst kind. Terrance announced, "We are on the verge of transforming from an information age to a Service Economy. Does anyone want to guess what I mean by that?" Dexter, who was still in a bad mood, answered, "It means that we are going to get checkout people at stores again, people at the counters of fast food places, full service gas station attendants, and real tellers at the bank." "No," Terrance said. "That isn't service. That is having people do things for you." "I like people doing things for me. I consider that they are performing a service," Dexter said. "Those are menial positions. People don't want to do that kind of work," Terrance said. Dexter looked around the cafeteria for a second. He asked, "How many people worked in a fast food place when you were in high school or going to college?" About a third of the people raised their hands. Dexter asked, "How many of you were excited when you got that job?" All of the same people were holding up their hands. Dexter said, "It looks like people do want to do that kind of work." "That's a bogus survey. They really didn't want that job or they would still be working there," Terrance said. "Besides, we aren't talking about those kinds of services." "What kind are we talking about?" Dexter asked. "Having our cell phones and handheld computers performing services for us," Terrance answered. "So my cell phone is going to fill my gas tank?" Dexter asked. "No," Terrance answered. "It will tell you things." Dexter asked, "Like what?" "It will help you manage your time better. It will tell you if your plane is going to be late. It will make reservations for you at restaurants. It will tell you where you can buy things cheaper," Terrance answered. "I've got that plane thing already. Of course, it takes me forty-five minutes to an hour and a half to get to the airport. I've got to get there two hours early because of security. That means that I have to leave here at least three hours before my flight," Dexter said. "Now it seems like every time my flight has been delayed, I'm already at the airport when that program tells me that my flight is delayed. It is not of much use to me." "What about when it is snowing?" Terrance asked. "You know what ... they announce major weather delays at national airports on the radio. I've never been surprised," Dexter said. "You're just not using it right," Terrance said. "So exactly what kind of services are going to be performed for me in this burgeoning Service Economy that is going to save me lots of time?" Dexter asked. "Well, you use search engines to find information, don't you?" Terrance asked. "Yes, I do," Dexter answered. "That's a service," Terrance said. "What do you use it for?" "Porn," Dexter answered getting a laugh from everyone. "How about at work?" Terrance said. "I don't look at porn at work," Dexter said. "How about online stores?" Terrance asked. "I go to them. Of course, I miss the old days of looking at products before I buy them. I miss leafing through catalogs to see what's changed from year to year. I used to read magazines that compared different products," Dexter said. Pictures on websites didn't give him the same kind of confidence about the quality of a product that picking it up and holding it gave him. Cheap plastic looked the same as good plastic in a photograph. Photographs of products didn't wobble, rattle, or come apart when you jiggled them. "There are blogs for that," Terrance said. "That's a good place to get factual information," Dexter said sarcastically. "Blogs can be very useful," Terrance said. Deciding that Terrance was a total idiot, Dexter said, "I'm sure they can be very useful. I'm thinking of starting one on how not to waste time in meetings. Rule number one: Don't go." The Director who had introduced Terrance as the speaker stood up and said, "Terrance has some very interesting information to present to us. Let him present it." "Sorry," Dexter said. Dexter listened to the man talk for an hour. It was a lot of stuff about how he could do more work with less time when being supported by service programs. The gains in productivity would be tremendous. It was now just a trick of identifying what services would lead them to the greatest benefit. There was also the fact that the services could be used to direct people to behave the way the company wanted them to behave. You could have the services provide the choices you want people to make by presenting them first and by making the alternatives extremely difficult to find. It was all going to be nice and good for the bottom line. Terrance said, "Are there any comments?" "Neat. As far as I can tell, I'll get to work for my phone," Dexter said. "I've always wanted to have an inanimate boss." "You're taking this all wrong," Terrance said. Dexter said, "You see, my position in this company used to come with a secretary. She handled thousands of little details for the man who held my position before me. He didn't have to oversee every decision that she made. "As result of the introduction of office productivity software, it was decided that I didn't have a need for a secretary when I got promoted into my current position. So I get to do the work of a secretary. Unfortunately, I'm supposed to be a product manager who is overseeing ten projects. The time I spend using these wonderful Services that allow me to make my own reservations is taking away from my time being spent as project manager. So I figure that I'm losing one day a week doing stuff that a secretary should be doing." "Now all of my project leads used to have a secretary and their little engineers used to share a secretary. Now they get to do their own secretarial work. I figure they are losing about twenty percent of their time doing secretarial work. With sixty engineers working for me, I have effectively twelve very high paid individuals who could be replaced by twelve very cheap secretaries and all of my projects would be running much better." Terrance said, "That's because you're too old and don't really understand how to use information services to their best advantage." "So your Service Economy is going to cut out everyone my age or older," Dexter said in a challenging tone of voice. "Effectively," Terrance said. "How about younger people with learning problems? They'll be cut out also, won't they?" Dexter asked. "Possibly," Terrance admitted. "So in this great Service Economy you've spoken about, what in the hell are you going to do with us who can't fit in?" Dexter asked. "You won't be excluded, you'll just not reap the full benefits of this change," Terrance said. "Well, I could always take some minimum wage job. No ... That won't work. Your services are trying to get rid of minimum wage jobs. I'll be homeless," Dexter said. "You don't want that kind of job." Dexter said, "I'd rather have that type of job than no job." "You're being defeatist about this whole approach," Terrance said. Dexter said, "Let me give you some interesting statistics. While you were talking, I sent out over a dozen e-mails addressing some significant issues on my development teams. I listened in on two project status meetings and assigned work items to various individuals using an instant messenger program. I had a text conversation with my wife. As a matter of curiosity, I searched the web to find out how to have sex with my handheld computer. I got two hundred thousand responses, but none of them seems to answer my question. "My point is that I see all of the wonderful services complicating my life rather than making it better. Without them, I would have been able to give your talk one hundred percent of my attention. Instead, I missed stuff by checking my email, writing replies, and sending them out. I spent the time trying to keep track of two conversations and doing my project management work at the same time. Nothing got done well and there will be problems tomorrow that will suck up my time." The Director rose and said, "I disagree with you, Dexter. Once you adopt the proper services, you'll be able to finish your work responsibilities much earlier." Dexter wasn't very happy to discover that the Director remembered his name. He was hoping to be mistaken for someone else. "I don't find that to be the case. Every time I get done with one thing, I get something else assigned to me," Dexter said. "Well, you are being paid to work," the Director said. He frowned and added, "Don't forget the job market is pretty tough at the moment." Dexter said, "I think you would get a lot more work from us if you hired a secretary for every five of my engineers, each of my project leads, and one for me. We'd blow the doors off this place." "It is too expensive to hire people," the Director said. "That's the value of this whole service concept." "You're paying people who make six figures to do the work that could be done by someone making twenty-five thousand a year. How is that a good deal?" Dexter asked. Getting tired of arguing the point, the Director said, "Because it doesn't cost us anything to have them do more work. They are salaried employees." "You'll burn out your engineering staff and get nothing out of them," Dexter said. "Terrance has convinced me that going to information services is the only way to improve our productivity and save costs." Considering that his people wrote programs, Dexter didn't think that little cell phone applications were going to make them write faster or work cheaper. All it was going to do was take them away from their jobs. He said, "I hope this company is still around when the Service Economy goes bust." Terrance said, "It isn't going to go bust. The Luddites believed the world was going to come to an end as a result of the industrial revolution. They were wrong. You're wrong." "That's what you think," Dexter said. "I see the seeds of its destruction looming on the horizon." His cell phone beeped letting him know that he had a text message. He glanced down at it to discover a reminder that his wife had a client meeting and he was to take care of dinner for the kids. He hoped they liked pizza because that was all he could get to them by dinnertime. The Director said, "Dexter, I think you should give this subject a lot of thought. It is the future and you will help it succeed or you will be gone." "I think a Service Economy is the greatest thing since someone figured out how to slice bread," Dexter said with a completely false grin on his face. "That's the right attitude." ------- As if adding insult to injury, Dexter was asked to have dinner at a restaurant, along with Terrance and Mark. Terrance and Mark were lost in a discussion of what kinds of services would help engineers produce better products, faster, and at lower cost. Dexter was convinced that this was just another hunt for the miracle to save the world. Having taken a couple of pills for headaches, Dexter picked at his salad thinking that he was missing another night from his family. It seemed to him that it had been at least a year since he had any quality time with his wife. Interactions with the kids tended to be brief exchanges of status information about school. He didn't even know if his kids were dating anyone. ------- Chapter 4: Disaster Dexter looked over at the cell phone when it rang. He was just getting ready to get into the shower. Wishing that he would get one morning without being interrupted, he answered the phone. "Hello, Mark." "Are you on the crapper?" Mark asked. "No. I'm about to shave," Dexter answered thinking he could put the phone on mute and shave before showering. Mark said, "Shit ... It rains a little and every asshole forgets how to drive." "What do you want?" Dexter asked while picking up his electric razor. "I want you to..." There was a weird noise on the speaker, and then silence. Dexter continued to listen, but there was nothing coming over the speakerphone. He glanced over at it to see if there was a problem only to discover that the call had been disconnected. He shrugged his shoulders and started shaving. Mark would call back once he realized the call had been interrupted. Dexter finished shaving without getting a call back from Mark. He glanced at the phone wondering if something was the matter and then took a shower. There wasn't a voice mail on the phone when he finished bathing. He headed down the hall knocking on the doors of the kids to wake them. It was a little early, but he could live with their complaints. In the kitchen his wife was talking to the group from Ireland. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. He watched Janet go through the motions of preparing breakfast. It wasn't much work. She just tossed a couple frozen bagels into the toaster, and waited for them to pop up. He hadn't noticed how old she looked. She was in her late thirties, but looked more like she was fifty. Her voice had taken on a sharp edge to it. He blamed it on her job. Her hours were almost as long as his and she did the housework on top of her job. He would have helped more, but it seemed like he was always at the office or on the computer trying to get caught up on work. He answered a couple of e-mails from people who worked for him. One of the developers claimed to have worked through the night and was going to stay at home that day. He would have to check to see if the guy's claim was true. It was just as likely that he had worked a couple of hours that night and claimed an all nighter, just to have a day off. He had done it before. Dexter hated managing people. Janet put a plate of bagels slathered with creamed cheese in front of him with a grunt. He picked up one and took a bite out of it. The kids showed up and poured their typical breakfast bowls of cereal. His wife sat down, and started eating a bagel. She took small bites so she could swallow if she suddenly needed to make a comment to the party at the other end of the line. He finished his bagels. Getting up from the table, he dropped his dishes into the sink. He texted goodbye to his wife and headed out the door. He was running a little early and hoped the traffic wouldn't be too bad. Maybe he could get into the office early and get caught up. It had rained a little the night before and traffic was running a lot slower than usual. He managed to get into the office late. It wasn't really late since it was only a few minutes after eight and the working day officially started at nine. That didn't matter, since eight had become the defacto starting time. His office phone was ringing and he had a dozen e-mails waiting for him. There was a reminder to have all of his people turn in their time sheets. He forwarded the e-mail to the sixty people who worked for him knowing that a handful wouldn't get their time sheets in and he'd have to track them down later. He checked to see if the developer who was taking the day off had done any work the previous night. He pulled up the logs on the source code control program and noticed that the developer hadn't checked out any code since eight the previous day. He then recalled that the guy had worked the whole weekend when one of the production machines had core dumped. That little problem had ruined everyone's weekend. He had spent the whole weekend fielding calls from developers, production support, and management about the problem. He decided not to pursue the issue. He went back to his e-mail and noticed that he hadn't gotten anything from Mark. That was unusual. Mark was 'the great communicator.' He liked to tell people what they knew they were supposed to be doing that day four and five times in the morning, then call four or five times during the day to make sure they were doing what they were supposed to be doing, and then four or five more calls in the evening to make sure that everything was done. He should have had two e-mails reminding him to call India that night. He got an e-mail telling him that he had exceeded his quota for e-mails. He looked down and saw that he had over sixteen thousand e-mails of which two thirds of them were unread. He sorted his inbox and eliminated all of the automatically generated e-mails from the source code control program, the time sheet program, and all of the meeting invitations and reminders. That got rid of ten thousand e-mails. He archived the thousand e-mails from his boss that had collected over the past three months. He knew that a thousand e-mails sounded like a lot, but his boss tended to send him ten e-mails a day and copy him on another ten e-mails. That was a hundred e-mails a week from his boss. He then deleted the hundreds of e-mails that were company junk mail. He wondered how anyone could possibly wade through those e-mails and get any work done. He was left with a couple thousand e-mails from the people who worked for him. Sixty people generated a lot of e-mails particularly when every e-mail was addressed to two levels of management. These were the ones that he read because he had to read them. Most of them were complaints, technical issues, and requests for time off. The three firms in India and China generated nearly as many e-mails as his sixty people. He stared at his desktop, thinking that he needed a vacation. He needed a real vacation ... one that was better than his last one to Hawaii. That had been a disaster. They hadn't seen many of the sights. Between him and his wife, there wasn't a day when they hadn't been on three conference calls. The time difference had his wife on the phone at three in the morning local time. It was kind of hard to have a late evening out, sit on a conference call for two hours at three in the morning, and then go off to pursue tourist activities when the tour buses left at eight in the morning. The kids had sat around most of the day complaining about being bored. Will was irritated about not being able to play his computer game with his friends. Sarah was upset because the time difference cut out six hours a day of texting with her friends. He wasn't sure if any of the kid's friends actually existed since he had never seen any of them. About the time his wife was ready to do something, he was on a conference call. His calls to India coincided with dinner time which meant they had to eat early, missing the shows, or late, getting the bums rush when the place was ready to close. The trip had ended with a huge argument about having wasted thousands of dollars. They returned home tired and exhausted. He remembered taking camping vacations with his parents when he was a kid. They had a pop-up tent trailer that they would hitch up behind the family station wagon. They would travel from one campground to the next, spending a couple of days at each place. His job was to set up the trailer by leveling it with the jacks. Once the trailer was level, he had to put in the aluminum supports for the sleeping platforms and the tent. He had always complained about having to set up the trailer while his dad walked around stretching after having made the drive, but he'd give his left nut to have a simple vacation like that at the moment. His dad didn't get any business calls while on his vacations. They didn't have cell phones in those days. His thoughts were interrupted by his desk phone ringing. He answered it. It was the Director's secretary ordering him to come over to the Director's office. There wasn't anything he could do to get out of the meeting. When the big guy called, you went. After hanging up, he glanced at his watch and swore. "I hope this isn't any of that Service Economy crap." He called Jim, one of his project leads, to tell him to run the status meeting while he was with the Director. There was no telling how long his meeting was going to last. The Director had two moods: one where he was curt and one where he rambled on forever. Dexter hoped that the Director wasn't in the latter mood. Mr. Morris, the Director, was waiting for Dexter with a frown on his face. Dexter wondered what he had done to earn that frown. Mr. Morris gestured to a chair and grunted, "Sit down." "What can I do for you?" Dexter asked while taking a seat. "Mark was in an accident this morning on his way to work," Mr. Morris said. "Is he all right?" Dexter asked. That explained the sudden end to the telephone call that morning. "He's dead," Mr. Morris said bluntly. "That's horrible. I was talking to him and the call got cut off," Dexter said feeling sick to his stomach. He realized that weird noise at the end of the call must have been the accident that killed his boss. "Well, that puts us in a bind," Mr. Morris said. "When's the funeral?" Dexter asked. "Don't worry about that. I'll represent the company at the funeral," Mr. Morris said. "I worked for him for ages. I should show up and pay my respects," Dexter said staring at the Director. Mr. Morris said, "We can't afford to have a bunch of people leaving work to attend a funeral. I'll represent the company." "Well..." "If you want to do something, send around an envelope and collect some money for flowers," Mr. Morris said. "I'll do that," Dexter said thinking that wasn't enough. "In the mean time, I want you to take over his responsibilities until we can hire someone to take his place," Mr. Morris said. Dexter stared at Mr. Morris wondering if he had heard him correctly. He had been waiting years to get a promotion, but this didn't sound like a promotion. Wanting a little clarification, he asked, "Is this a temporary assignment?" "Yes. It is just until we can hire someone to take his place," Mr. Morris answered. "How long are we talking about?" Dexter asked. "That's kind of hard to answer. The company has a hiring freeze on and we can't bring in anyone until the freeze is lifted. You might hold that spot for a year or so," Mr. Morris said. "Why not promote me into the position?" Dexter asked. "We think it best to bring in outside people for positions of that level. We like having a new perspective brought into the management ranks," Mr. Morris answered. Dexter didn't know what to say. He had just been told that it was basically impossible for him to get a promotion. He asked, "Will I get a raise commensurate with the added responsibilities?" "No. This is just a temporary assignment," Mr. Morris answered. Dexter was shocked. He said, "I guess I'll have to identify someone to take over my position." "No. You'll have your old job responsibilities. After all, this is a temporary situation," Mr. Morris said. "For more than a year," Dexter said wanting to make sure that he understood things correctly. "Yes," Mr. Morris said. Dexter said, "That doesn't sound very temporary to me." "It is," Mr. Morris said. "No raise?" Dexter said. "Correct," Mr. Morris said. "How about a bonus?" Dexter said. "For what?" Mr. Morris asked sounding a little surprised by the suggestion that Dexter get a bonus. "For doing two jobs," Dexter said. "It is good for your career," Mr. Morris answered. Wondering how it could be good for his career, Dexter said, "And there's no possibility of getting the position permanently." "That's right," Mr. Morris said. He shifted a little uneasily realizing how it sounded. "Why not?" "We don't promote people at your level. You can't bring in the external perspective that allows the organization to grow and change. We've found that people tend to propagate the system as is," Mr. Morris answered. "I never thought about it that way," Dexter said fuming. How many times had he accepted additional tasks and special projects on the promise that he'd get promoted? Mr. Morris said, "So you'll take it?" "No thanks," Dexter said. His stomach lurched even as the words came out of his mouth. He wished he had his pink pills with him. He knew that he was probably kissing his job goodbye. He'd rather work in a shoe store than work under those conditions. "What do you mean ... no thanks?" Dexter said, "I don't want it." "You've got to take it," Mr. Morris said. He couldn't believe that Dexter was turning him down. He thought Dexter had a greater sense of responsibility than that. "Why?" Dexter asked. "Times are bad. You've got a job," Mr. Morris said. "That's right. I've got a job. I don't need two," Dexter said. He was unable to believe the words coming out of his mouth. Never in his career had he ever talked to his boss like that. He was mentally going over the severance package that he could expect if they fired him. "It's just temporary," Mr. Morris said. "For more than a year? That doesn't sound very 'temporary' to me," Dexter said. He crossed his arms and stared at Mr. Morris. "The company needs you," Mr. Morris said. Dexter replied, "The same company that is sending one person to the funeral of an employee who died while talking business over the telephone." "Mark is dead. He doesn't care how many of us go to his funeral. The company has real needs that have to be met," Mr. Morris said. "I'm sorry, but I want more than one person I work with to show up at my funeral when I die," Dexter said. Based on how his life was going, he'd have four people at his funeral – his wife, his children, and his boss. He decided that he would go to Mark's funeral anyway. "What's that got to do with anything?" Mr. Morris asked. "Everything," Dexter answered flatly. Realizing that he wasn't making any progress, Mr. Morris said, "Think about it before you do anything that can't be taken back. I'll see you tomorrow morning and I'll expect an answer then." "Okay," Dexter said. On stepping out of the Director's office, Dexter pulled out his blackberry. He deliberately turned it off. He headed for the parking lot thinking it was time that he update his resume. He pulled out is cell phone and texted his wife that he was heading home. She replied that she would be late. The traffic home was nowhere near as bad as he encountered during his normal commute. Upon reaching home, he paused to look around at the outside of his house. The yard was a mess. There weren't any flowers in the flowerbed. There were a few ragged looking bushes. There were bald patches in the lawn. It had been ages since he had edged the driveway and walkways. The siding looked old and one of the corner pieces had come loose. As bad as the front yard was, the back yard was even worse. He went into the house and looked around it. The walls should have been painted a couple years ago. The furniture looked old and worn. It wasn't that anything was dirty; it was that everything looked tired. He realized his wife hadn't waxed the wood furniture in ages. He got out an old t-shirt and started dusting the living room. For the rest of the day he cleaned house while thinking about Mr. Morris and the company. Mark is dead. He doesn't care how many people come to his funeral. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Years spent following corporate procedures and policies had been for nothing. He had swallowed shit that would have choked a French sewer. He kept thinking about how he could make a few local changes in his job that would make his life easier. Meetings? He could get stop attending three quarters of them without a problem. That would give him an extra forty hours a week, right there. ------- Chapter 5: Reacting to Pressure Dexter sat down at the conference table and studied his ten project leads. They shifted uneasily in their seats. They knew that Dexter was a man in trouble, and they didn't want any of the trouble falling in their lap. The Director made a point of belittling Dexter in every public meeting, and it was making people uneasy. The past month had been hell on everyone. Eric Samuels had been temporarily promoted into the position that had been offered to Dexter. The poor guy had been given the same terms, and was now pulling his hair out. Things had been so bad that he had shown up in Dexter's office, and screamed at Dexter for a solid thirty minutes, before realizing he was talking to the wrong person. Dexter understood what the poor man was experiencing. He had calmly waited for his temporary boss to calm down, and the proceeded to explain to him what his plans were. Eric was stunned. Today was the day for Dexter to unleash his plans on everyone else. He said, "As everyone knows, I'm not 'Mr. Popular' among upper management." "You can say that again," Jim said. Dexter rubbed his hands together and said, "I want everyone here to identify the weakest person on their development team." "I can't afford to lose anyone. I'm so far behind that I'll never catch up," Harry said knowing that was the first step in getting rid of more people. "I'm not getting rid of anyone. I'm reorganizing the work force to respond to the increased work load," Dexter said. "How?" Jim asked. "You're all getting secretaries," Dexter announced. "How did you swing that?" Harry asked nearly falling out of his chair. Dexter said, "I didn't." "What do you mean you didn't?" "I'm doing this on my own. I want you to take the weakest person on your team, and turn them into a secretary. Their job is going to be doing all that bullshit work that sucks up the time of you and your people," Dexter answered. "You can't do that," Jim said. "Maybe not ... but I'm doing it, anyway," Dexter said. "You're going to piss them off. They are engineers," Jim said. All it would take was one person heading off to personnel and they'd all get ruined. "We won't call them secretaries. We'll call them 'office engineers, '" Dexter replied with a smile. Looking skeptical, Alice asked, "Do you think they'll buy that?" Dexter said, "Don't view this as a demotion. Don't let them view this as a demotion. It isn't. It is a reorganization of job responsibilities, that's all. These folks just might be the ones that make our jobs enjoyable, again. They are going to have a lot of responsibilities. They are going to be dealing with everyone on your team, and across the teams." "It sure would be nice to get some of the Mickey Mouse shit off my back," Harry said. "The fact of the matter is, that you would have fired every one of them as deadwood years ago, if you could have found a way to do it and had been able to replace them. Now you'll be getting some work out of them that is of some value to you," Dexter said. He looked around the room. His people had a mixture of reactions to his comments. He could see that they liked the idea, but weren't quite sure of the full implications. "Here's the new game. Each of you will have a weekly project status meeting with your people. I won't be attending your project status meetings. You don't need me there, and it is sucking up ten hours of my time every week. Your office engineer will type up the meeting notes and forward them to me. We will all meet once a week for a status meeting. That's it. Any other meetings you guys go to, will be working meetings," Dexter said. "What about the individual meetings with Eric?" Jim asked. Dexter said, "Eric doesn't want individual meetings with each project. The poor bastard is overwhelmed with work. He'll meet with all of his group leaders, once a week." "Sweet," Harry said. That one meeting ate up an entire morning. "I'm taking John Coleridge to serve as my secretary," Dexter said. "Damn, I was going to use him," Jim said. John had the worst attitude of anyone working under Dexter. He was grumpy, irritable, and complained about everything. "He'll still appear under you on the org chart, but I want him answering only to me," Dexter said. "If you say so," Jim said unsure if he was pleased about that or not. "He'll be around later this week with templates for all the damned reports we have to file. Give the templates to your office engineer and have them pull the numbers and fill out out the templates. You can review them and then forward them to John. I'll review them and call you only if I have questions. He'll put together the reports that I have to give every week," Dexter said. "That will save me a whole day of work, every week," Al said. "John will also be 'the conference room Nazi.' If you need to book a conference room, you'll call him. Actually, you won't call him, your office engineer will call him. If your folks need a meeting, they should give your office engineer the attendee list, and let him figure out when and where the meeting can be held. The days of wasting engineering time trying to get a meeting set up, are over," Dexter said. Alice said, "You're making a lot of changes." He hadn't even gotten started with the changes. By the time he was done, the engineers would spend all of their time engineering, project leads would be overseeing the technical issues of their projects, and he would be spending his time making sure that projects were running as scheduled. Dexter said, "They are long overdue. If this company can't see fit to hire a secretary for thirty thousand a year, I have no problem having someone who earns a hundred thousand dollars a year doing that job. It is still cheaper than having you or me do it." "That's true," Jim said rubbing his chin. Dexter said, "Now, your people are going to have a lot more time to work on their projects. As a result, I expect to see some real progress on your projects. I also expect people to be done by five, and to go home." "I don't know if that's possible," Alice said. She sat back in her chair. She had no idea how much time people were wasting on other stuff, to know what kind of impact that would have on production. "I'm going to be turning off my Blackberry at five thirty. I'll expect you to do the same. If you call me after hours, I'm not answering my phone. Once I leave here, I'm not checking my e-mail," Dexter said. "You're kidding, aren't you?" Jim asked. Dexter answered, "No." "What if there's a problem?" Alice asked. Dexter answered, "I'm freeing you to manage your projects. If you are any good, there is no reason for last minute work assignments. Problems may arise, but they should be an exception to the rule. We are engineers. It is time for us to start acting like engineers, and to anticipate problems before they have a chance to develop." "That, is a big change," Harry said. "I want you to rotate weekend assignments among your staff, in case there are any problems with the production systems. That person is to fix the problem, and only escalate if they can't find a solution. It isn't doing anyone any good to sit on someone's back while they are trying to fix a problem," Dexter said. Al asked, "What about..." Interrupting, Dexter asked, "When was the last time you overruled one of your people when they were fixing a problem?" "I don't," Al said. Dexter asked, "When was the last time you suggested a solution to their problem?" "I never have," Harry said. Others around the table nodded their agreement to the comment. "Exactly. Why are you and I sitting there wasting his time, when he could be fixing the problem ... particularly if we aren't contributing to the solution?" Dexter asked. "That's a good question," Alice said. "Your people will only have to work one weekend a month, rather than be on call every weekend. We'll be getting weekends off," Dexter said. "That'll be nice for a change," Alice said. "Jim, Harry, and Al ... I want you to deal with the Indian companies that are supporting your projects. Assign someone on your team to be their technical contact, and to join you on the conference call. It is idiotic for you and me both to sit on the telephone at the same time, and then relay everything to one of your technical people. If there is a problem, then they should come to you. If you can't handle it, then you come to me. This passing around a hot potato is a waste of time," Dexter said. "The Indians aren't going to like that. They want to know that a real manager is on the call," Al said. "Tell them you're the boss. If they argue, then let them know they aren't the only company in India that can do the work," Dexter said. "What is Mr. Morris going to say?" Jim asked. "Fuck him," Dexter answered. There was a long moment of stunned silence around the table. Dexter said, "I told Eric what I was going to do. He's going to watch us for a couple weeks. If he likes what he sees, then he's going to do this with all of the groups under him." "Mr. Morris is going to fire you," Alice said. "Let him!" Dexter said. "Do you know that only two people in the company went to Mark's funeral? I took a personal day off to attend the funeral. Mr. Morris was pissed at me for doing it. I say, let the asshole fire me." Mark's funeral had been exceptionally depressing. Mark's wife and kids were the only family present. Two people from the office had shown up. There had been one neighbor, an elderly man, who didn't seem to have much else to do except go to funerals. Dexter sat there thinking that his funeral wouldn't be any better. "Whoa! Remind me never to piss you off," Jim said. He stared at Dexter with a lot more respect than normal. He couldn't believe what Dexter was doing. Dexter smiled and then said, "You'll know when I'm pissed at you ... I'll promote you to assistant office engineer." Everyone laughed. "We've wasted half of an hour. I can't think of any other business that has to be done. We'll have a status meeting Thursday. Jim, send John to my office when you get back to your office. I'll send John around to each of you tomorrow," Dexter said. "Are there any questions before we break up?" No one said anything although Dexter was sure they would come up with some questions later. After fifteen seconds, Dexter said, "Okay. See you Thursday." After everyone filed out of the conference room, Dexter sat back in his chair and smiled. That meeting had gone a whole lot better than anticipated. He figured that he wasn't the only one tired of playing 'phone tag' in setting up meetings, and wasting hours in generating presentations that were seen once and quickly forgotten. He returned to his office feeling as though a ton of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Fifteen minutes later, John showed up. Dexter said, "Come in, John. Shut the door, and have a seat." "You're the boss," John said not hiding his displeasure at being there. Dexter said, "I wanted to personally congratulate you on becoming the office engineer for our group." "Office engineer?" John asked looking puzzled. "Yes. I'm putting you in charge of facilitating office processes. It is a position with a lot of responsibility," Dexter said. In a way he knew that was actually true. Anyone who had much experience with large departments, knew that secretaries were critical to the smooth operation of a department. The worst thing someone could do, was make the secretary angry. "What's that mean?" John asked suspiciously. He had expected to be told that he was being let go. After thirty years as an engineer he was burnt out and just coasting. He knew it. Everyone knew it. All he wanted to do was reach retirement age. That meant he had to last five more years. "It means that you're going to be responsible for putting together all of the group briefings, scheduling, and generally getting this group to function in an effective manner," Dexter answered. "You mean I'm going to be a secretary," John said. "Basically," Dexter answered. "Is there a cut in pay?" John asked. "No," Dexter answered. "That's good. I'll be able to coast until retirement age?" John asked. "Probably." "Okay," John said. After two back-to-back years of reviews as a below average performer, he hadn't expected to make it to retirement. The last thing he wanted was to try and find a new job in his late fifties. He'd put up with a lot of garbage, just to keep his job. "With your help, we're going to change the way this entire group functions. I mean it when I say that you'll have a major role to play. Don't view this as a demotion. I'm going to be delegating the authority to you, to get things done," Dexter said. "You're serious," John said. "That's right," Dexter said. "Look ... this place is fucked up. You know it, and I know it. It took me three hours to schedule a meeting that lasted thirty minutes. I need someone to fix that. You've been dealing with this screwed up mess for years. You know what needs to be done, and I'm telling you to do it. "If you need software, buy it. I'll sign off on it. If anyone is acting like an ass, call their boss. It will be taken care of. I'll back you one hundred percent!" "Why me? I've had the lowest performance review for the past two years," John said. Dexter said, "I know that. I also know that you're tired of writing code on systems that you could care less about. I know you're fed up with the bullshit going on here. I think you'll enjoy putting an end to it." John said, "I remember when being an engineer meant something. I watched us go to the moon while I was in high school. Engineers and scientists were Gods. Engineers put a man on the moon. Now being an engineer doesn't mean a damned thing any more." "I know," Dexter said. "Did you know that I have five patents?" John asked. "I didn't know that," Dexter said. "The company made a hundred million dollars on one of them. They paid me a dollar for it, patted me on the back, and threw me in with the rest of the engineers. No raise or promotion. I kind of lost my desire to contribute to the company, after that," John said. "That would definitely do it," Dexter said. "I'll be your glorified secretary," John said. Dexter said, "You won't be a glorified secretary. I've asked each of the project leads to assign someone to serve as office engineer for their project teams. The person they identify will coordinate with you. If there's a conflict, you will decide how it is going to be. "Your engineering talents won't be wasted. If someone needs a product to help them do their job, I want you to find it. If we aren't using a product, then we shouldn't be paying for it. You'll be in charge of software licenses. You'll need to coordinate with the other office engineers, and they'll need to coordinate with the engineers on their product teams. "You and the other office engineers are going to have to dig into some of our systems, to extract meaningful measures of how we are doing. The automated reports we use now, hide our areas of incompetence, rather than identify them. That's got to come to an end." "You're right. It is more than being a glorified secretary. I think I'll enjoy working for you," John said. Dexter said, "You'll still appear under Jim on the organizational chart, but you'll be reporting directly to me." "So what is the first thing you want me to do?" John asked. "Come up with a common reporting template for all of the projects. Use Jim's latest presentation as a guide," Dexter said. "Okay," John said. They talked a little more about the job and his responsibilities before John went back to his cubicle. Dexter was actually very pleased with how John had accepted the situation. He also had a feeling that John would convince the other office engineers that it was a more important position than it might, at first, appear to be. Eric stopped by his office a little after lunch. He stuck his head in and asked, "How did it go?" "It seems to have gone well," Dexter answered. "I hope it works. I've been so damned busy that I haven't had a moment to think," Eric said. "I'm sure things will improve," Dexter said with a smile. "I'll only call you when I've got a problem that requires your involvement." "That's all I need ... more calls," Eric said. Dexter smiled and said, "You don't understand. I'll only call you if there is a problem that I can't handle. You won't be hearing from me much at all." "That sounds better," Eric said with a smile. At five Dexter made the rounds of all of the cubicles. He stuck in his head, and told whoever was inside, that it was time to go home. His project leads were right there with him. People reacted like they had been given a day off. By five thirty, the entire floor was dead quiet. Dexter left the building with a smile. It was the earliest he had headed home in ages. ------- Chapter 6: The Home Front As had happened every night since the reorganization of his group, Dexter walked into the house shortly before six in the evening. After a month of early evenings, he would have thought he'd have gotten a little closer to the family. That wasn't the case. One of the women at the firm where his wife worked, had gone on maternity leave. Management had distributed her work among the other employees, with the result that there was more work than could be done in a work day. If that wasn't bad enough, another of the people had a heart attack. His workload had been distributed around, also. The end result was that Janet was working most nights until nine. His son came home from school and locked himself in his room with his game box. He came out at six thirty searching for food. If there wasn't anything already made, he nuked a dinner in the microwave before disappearing back into his room. Nothing Dexter could do would get the boy to say anything more than to ask about dinner. Apparently his son and friends were in the middle of some grand on-line adventure game, which didn't allow even minor interruptions for such trivial things like talking to parents. His daughter had an active social life and never seemed to come home before six thirty. She would enter the house, and then ask about dinner. If there wasn't anything made, she would nuke something and then disappear into her room, while texting on her telephone. Dexter could never get her off the phone long enough to hold a conversation. As far as he could tell, his kids were pretty good compared to the kinds of stories he heard about other kids their age. They were both making good grades, and hadn't gotten into any trouble with the law. They essentially took care of themselves around the house. He assumed that after years of having an absent mother and father, they had just become self-sufficient. The net result was that he typically ate dinner alone. After dinner, he would putter around the house cleaning or fixing things. He hadn't watched evening television in so many years, that he didn't even know what programs were on. After flipping through the channels a couple of times, he gave up on television. His cell phone beeped that he had a message from his wife. He glanced at it, and found that she was going to be home late. Despite the fact that he had come to expect it, he frowned at the news. Dexter made three hamburger patties, and took them out to the gas grill on the patio. He put them on and returned to the kitchen to get out the makings for burgers. His son came out and asked, "What's for dinner?" "Hamburgers," Dexter answered. He grabbed the package of hamburger buns and tossed it on the table. Will looked around for the bag from the burger place and didn't see one. He asked, "What burgers?" "I've got them on the grill," Dexter said while he grabbed a tub of potato salad and put it on the table. "Cool," Will said. "We've got a can of pork and beans somewhere," Dexter said. "If you want to heat it, I'll check on the burgers." "Okay," his son said shrugging his shoulders. It was just as easy dumping a can into a pot and watching it as it was nuking something in the microwave. "When your sister gets here could you ask her to cut up some onion and tomatoes to go on the burgers?" Dexter asked. Will asked, "Will this take long? My friends are waiting for me to get back to the game." "It won't take long," Dexter said. "Okay," his son said. Dexter went outside and flipped the burgers over. He looked back at the house thinking about his conversation with his son. This had been the longest conversation with his son in ages. It wasn't much, but it was a start. It took a little time, but the burgers were soon cooked. He put them on the plate and carried them into the house. His daughter was there. She had sliced some tomatoes and onions. She had also remembered to put some lettuce out. Someone had set out the ketchup and mustard, too. His son set the pot of beans on the table. There was a moment of scrambling while everyone put together their burgers, and loaded their plates with beans and potato salad. The three ate without talking. His son was the first to finish. He left the table. At least he put his plate and fork in the sink before leaving the kitchen. "Were you laid off?" Sarah asked. "No," Dexter answered. "What are you doing home so early?" Dexter answered, "I reorganized my group at work. We don't work overtime any more." "I was afraid that you had been laid off, and we'd end up homeless," Sarah said. "No. I'm still bringing home a paycheck." His daughter finished her burger. She said, "I'm going to go talk to my friends." "Bye," Dexter said watching her leave the room. He sat in the kitchen thinking about the conversations with his kids. It seemed to him that he was the stranger in their lives. He wondered how much his wife knew about them. She was a lot more active in their lives: she took them to school in the morning, and she took them shopping for clothes on occasion. Discovering that his kids were basically strangers had unsettled him. He realized that his wife was just as much of a stranger. They were not not a family. They shared the same space, but they didn't share their lives. He couldn't remember the last time he and his wife had actually talked about anything personal. The majority of their communications were via texting. He would text her goodbye in the morning, and keep her informed of any late hours. She would keep him informed of when she was working late, and make any requests for him to run an errand if she was going to be too late in returning home. There were even times when she texted him 'goodnight', when he was on a conference call. He tried to remember the last time they had sex. That was something that should have been easy to recall, but it wasn't. Their last anniversary had ended with a fizzle. The last vacation had not included sex. He tried to remember what they had done on New Years and Valentine's Day, but those two occasions were a blank. He wasn't even sure that they had even celebrated Valentine's day. He wondered if he even knew anything about his wife. He tried to remember how they had settled on a trip to Hawaii last year. He recalled that he had mentioned it as a destination and she had agreed with the suggestion. There really hadn't been any planning ahead of time except to schedule the business calls. He had gone online and booked the airline and hotel. It dawned on him that he hadn't seen a travel agency in years. It used to be that he'd call up a travel agency, and they would talk to him about the kind of vacation he wanted. Sometimes they would even call his wife to get her input. Then they would give him a list of suggested vacation spots. They would find flights and hotels for him. They would make suggestions about things to see and do while there. They would purchase tickets to events and tours of the area. It might have taken more time to book a vacation, using a travel agency, but it had generated a greater sense of anticipation. Dexter got up from the table and cleaned the kitchen. There wasn't really much to do. He put the leftover potato salad back in the refrigerator, and dumped the last of the beans in the trashcan. He stored the hamburger buns in the bread basket. Once the dishes were in the dishwasher, he wondered what to do for the rest of the evening. After wandering around the house looking for something to do, and not finding it, he went out to the garage. It hadn't been cleaned in years. There were dead leaves piled in one of the corners. He didn't have any hobbies in working with wood or metal. There was an old tool box his father had given him years ago, when he was a kid. He had added a few tools to it when he bought the house. It was filled with rusted tools that were never used anymore. The only thing that got any action at all was the lawnmower. The last time he had gone to edge the driveway and sidewalk, he had discovered that the edger was broken. Old bikes that hadn't been used in ages were stacked along a wall. There had been a time when the kids were younger, that the four of them would ride around the block as a family. They'd laugh and talk while peddling along. Now the bikes were rusted, and each had at least one flat tire. He tried to remember the last time they had gone bicycling. Based on the size of the kids' bikes, it must have been ten years ago. He scrounged around and found a manual tire pump. It had a leak in the rubber hose, but a little black plastic electricians tape fixed that problem. He filled the tires on his old bike. It was an old five-speed that he had bought used, and refurbished. Feeling a little foolish, he climbed on in it, and peddled it down the length of the driveway. It was hard work, even downhill, since the front tire didn't seem to want to turn. He knew by the end of the driveway, that he needed to check the wheel bearings, and oil the gear changing mechanism. Even if he was able to get the bike into good condition, he was convinced that he stood a pretty poor chance of making it around the block without collapsing. Years spent in an office had left him out of shape. Disheartened, he put the bicycle back in the garage. He puttered around the garage without finding the lubricants needed to fix the bike. He did find a pad of paper and a pencil that managed to have a point on it. He wrote down the need for grease and chain oil. If he went to the hardware store to get a new edger then he could buy the material necessary to fix his bike. He checked over Janet's bike and saw that it was in the same condition as his. He didn't bother with the kids' bikes. He could fix them up enough to sell, and buy new ones that were large enough for the kids. He wondered if they would even want new bikes. He doubted they would, but you never knew. Sometimes people surprised you. Anything his kids did would surprise him. He stopped and looked at the garden tools. Rakes, spades, hoes, and various other tools required to create a beautiful lawn, were lined up along the back of the garage. He stared at the shovel, unable to believe that he had returned it without cleaning it first. He knew how to take better care of his tools than that. It was too late in the season to do any major planting. There were some fall flowers that could be put out, but they wouldn't last long. Visions of planting a vegetable garden in the spring flashed through his mind. It would be a lot of work and he wasn't even sure if the garden would be successful. It just seemed that he would enjoy a harvest of fresh green beans, sun ripened tomatoes, a couple of squash, and maybe even a watermelon or two. It would mean more pieces of equipment to buy, and he wasn't all that confident about his ability to hold onto his job for that much longer. Mr. Morris had become a total jerk after Derick had turned down the 'job offer.' The old man was just looking for an excuse to get rid of him, and Derrick couldn't wait. With a reasonable severance package, unemployment benefits for three years, and their savings, he figured he could get through the next few years without much of a problem, so long as his wife kept her job. He wondered how long it would take for Mr. Morris to fire him. Of course, it was getting more difficult to do that, with every day that passed. The numbers for his group were increasing dramatically, and the number of defects were going down. It appeared that engineers who were getting plenty of rest and relaxation, were a lot less prone to making errors. Productivity had climbed since his people worked without interruption, and were able to spend a little time thinking through things, before tackling tricky problems. Still, he had no doubt that Mr. Morris would fire him. He wasn't all that concerned about it. He had the worst case scenario all mapped out. With his skills with computers, he would find some way to make a little money. His wife could help with the books. With a little effort and a small stock of new computers, they could get by with a small business until the economy recovered. He dropped that line of thought, and returned to scouting around the garage. There wasn't that much of interest in it, other than a stack of boxes containing clothes the kids had once worn. He figured it was time to give them away to a charity, or sell them in a garage sale. Of course, his wife might a different opinion on that. Stepping out of the garage, he realized that it told a rather sad story. It wasn't so much what it contained, but what was missing. His Dad's garage was filled with neat stuff. There were fishing poles, snow skies, camping gear, projects in various states of completeness, an old motorcycle, and even a wing off of an airplane. Dexter had grown up thinking that all garages were like that. In comparison to his Dad's garage, his was empty. He was half tempted to find out where he could buy an airplane wing, just to be able to say he had one. The work around the house, which used to take him all weekend, was done by the middle of the Saturday afternoon. It used to take him almost an hour and a half to mow the lawn. It wasn't that the time was actually spent mowing, but there had always been business calls that interrupted him. He would stand out in the yard, looking like an idiot, talking over his cell phone while some minor crisis was resolved. Even a minor problem had required five of his people to solve. Under his new program, the person on duty handled the problem, and then reported the solution to his immediate superior. Suddenly, problems that had once taken five hours to resolve, were taken care of in fifteen minutes. The upshot was that he now only required thirty minutes to mow his lawn. It seemed strange to Dexter that he had spent so much effort to end the seventy hour work weeks, only to discover that he was now bored. Over the past ten years, small increases in workload had eaten away at this free time. The things he had done to fill in his free time were now distant memories. He had nothing other than work to occupy his time for years, now. With the hours that his wife was working, she didn't have time to deal with much of the housework. The kids took care of their laundry and cleaned their rooms. In fact, taking care of the house had become minimal. Every week the carpets were vacuumed, the furniture dusted, bedding changed, and the bathrooms cleaned. Sheets were one load of laundry, underwear and socks another, and towels a third. Everything else went to the dry cleaners. They couldn't afford for mail to accumulate, so bills were paid the day they arrived, and catalogs were dumped in the trash without a second glance. With no time to read, they had canceled all their subscriptions, so that there were no magazines or newspapers adding their clutter to the house. Repairs around the house were performed by calling in someone to do them. Usually, the calls were for the evening hours or weekends, so that someone could be there. The result was that even minor repairs cost a fortune. Appliances were replaced when they broke. Replacing them meant going to the local hardware store, picking out the cheapest item there, and scheduling installation. A third of their meals were take out. Weekday dinners were usually take-out fast food: hamburgers, tacos, pizza, or Chinese. Half of the rest of the meals, were pre-packaged microwaved meals. Janet had sometimes cooked something on the weekend, but that had come to an end when she started working Saturdays to catch up at work. He occasionally barbecued something. It was a horrible diet. For Dexter and Janet, the house had become a way station where they ate two meals a day and slept. His son spent all of his time in his room playing computer games. His daughter spent all of her time in her room chatting with her friends. In no way was the house a home. Dexter returned to the house and gathered together some cleaning supplies. It was time to tackle the bathroom of his bedroom. He planned on doing a more thorough job than usual. Once in the bedroom, he closed and locked the door, and striped out of his clothes. He always cleaned bathrooms naked. For the next two hours, Dexter scrubbed every surface in the bathroom – from ceiling to floor. He went through an entire bottle of cleanser, just cleaning the tile in the shower. By the time he finished, the room shined, and his legs were sore from squatting and then standing repeatedly. After finishing, he stepped back to appreciate a job well done. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror. He was shocked by the image reflected back at him. He was soft and pudgy. He had lost his butt and gained a belly. He was even getting a pair of 'man boobs.' His skin was a sickly pale white, and he hadn't noticed how much hair he had lost. He stared in horror at his reflection. In a soft voice, he muttered, "Fuck me." Depressed, he returned to the bedroom to dress. While dressing he realized that he didn't really own any casual clothes anymore. He did his chores around the house wearing clothes that had become too worn out to wear to work. That had been another change in his lifestyle that he hadn't noticed creep up on him. He wondered if he owned a pair of blue jeans or sweat shirt. He dug around in his dresser and finally found one pair of blue jeans. Grinning, he went to put them on, only to discover that they were at least five inches too small around his waist. He removed the jeans and tossed them onto the floor. He'd take them to the garbage can after he finished dressing. "I've become a fat old fart," Dexter said in disgust. His father had been a slender man who had kept fit, by physically working around the house. It hadn't kept him alive. He had died of a heart attack, shortly after Dexter's mother had died of breast cancer. Dexter had always felt that his father hadn't wanted to go on, after losing the love of his life. He returned to the living room to wait for his wife to arrive home. Having spent most of the evening without talking to anyone he needed some kind of conversation. She had been out on a business dinner. He hoped that she might feel up to talking about it. At the least, she could tell him about what restaurant she went to, and how the food was. It was nearly ten when his wife finally arrived home. Dexter watched her enter the living room thinking that he hadn't really looked at her in ages. She looked exhausted. There were bags under her eyes. She had gained enough weight in all of the wrong places, so that she didn't look attractive. She actually had a belly that gave her a profile like a Sneech from that old children's story. Her arms were even more pale than his, and it wasn't an attractive kind of pale. Her hair was cut short. She wore dowdy looking clothes. She looked sick. She moved like an old woman. It dawned on him that he wouldn't have recognized her in a crowd. Dexter said, "Hello. How was your evening?" Barely even looking at him, Janet said, "I'm going to take a hot shower and go to bed." "Okay," Dexter said. Without saying another word, Janet headed down the hallway, towards the bedroom. Thinking aloud, he asked, "Who was that woman?" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 7: Being an Asshole The weekly status meeting with Eric had finally been trimmed down to two hours in length. Each group manager was given fifteen minutes to report on the progress of their projects. For Dexter, his reports were now simple. He just put up a slide with each project plan along with markers on what was complete, in-progress, and pending. Anything that was in trouble was shown with a red flag. Any areas where there might be trouble was shown with a yellow flag. He had very few red flags, but quite a few yellow flags. His presentation usually took five to ten minutes. This week was promising to be different. Mr. Morris had decided to attend and he was there with an agenda. It was pretty obvious by the way he glared at Dexter what his agenda entailed. Dexter gave him an exaggerated smile and waved at him. He fiddled with his phone and set it on the table next to his papers. Eric looked around the room before getting ready to kick off the meeting. It had been his intention to tell the other group managers that it was time to reorganize their groups in the same manner that Dexter had done. He glanced at Mr. Morris and knew that his plans for the meeting had just been canceled. Eric said, "Les, I'll have you start off this week." Mr. Morris interrupted and said, "I want Dexter to report first." Eric said, "Dexter's reports are usually short. I save him to the end so that we can wrap up and get out of here." "Of course they're short. The guy doesn't do anything," Mr. Morris said while jabbing a finger in Dexter's direction. "That's not true," Eric said knowing that he was likely to be the next recipient of his boss' wrath. "Don't cover for him," Mr. Morris said with a sneer. Eric said, "I'm not covering for him. He and his people are very productive." "I walked through his area last night and no one was there." With those words, Dexter knew his job had just come to an end. Mr. Morris was there to get rid of him, in a very public fashion. He wasn't going to try to save his job, but he was going to save his dignity. He went on the offensive. "What time was that?" Dexter asked. "Five thirty," Mr. Morris answered. "The workday ends at five. So of course no one was there. They aren't supposed to be there at that time," Dexter said. "Every other group had people working," Mr. Morris said. "So?" Dexter asked. Mr. Morris said, "Clearly your people aren't working." "That's bullshit," Dexter replied. "I don't like your attitude," Mr. Morris said. "I'm not going to allow you to criticize the people who work for me, without defending them," Dexter said. "My people are doing a good job." "I'm the judge of what constitutes a good job," Mr. Morris said. "I think an impartial observer would say that you are a pretty lousy judge," Dexter said. "You had better watch what you say," Mr. Morris said. "Or what? You'll fire me?" Dexter asked. "Go ahead." Everyone around the table gasped when he said that. Mr. Morris looked like he was about to have a stroke. Dexter smiled at their reactions. Picking up a hard copy of his presentation, he said, "Oh, wait, firing me is going to be tough. For the last two months, my group has had the lowest defect rate of any group under you. Our systems have had the least amount of down time, too. We even had a project that was completed early, and under budget. I don't think that has ever happened, since you took over." "You're cooking your numbers," Mr. Morris said. Thinking about how the numbers had been fixed in the past, Dexter said, "That's a slanderous statement." "Your days are numbered," Mr. Morris said shaking a finger at him. Dexter calmly sat back in his chair. He knew the proper procedures for firing someone with cause. To be fired on the spot, required that he be caught in a criminal or unethical act. Even then, there was a procedure that was supposed to be followed. To otherwise dismiss him, they had to have a documented history of poor performance. He looked around the room at the other people there. He knew that this was likely to be his last day there. He figured that they deserved to know the truth about their career futures. He also felt that if he had to call upon them to testify, that it would help if they were aware of the lack of opportunities ahead of them, regardless of how much of a 'company person' they were. He asked, "Does anyone in this room know why Eric was only temporarily given his current position?" "Shut up," Mr. Morris barked. When no one answered, Dexter said, "That's because no one in this room is ever going to be promoted above their current levels. Right, Eric?" "Don't pull me into this," Eric said, frowning. "When Mr. Morris offered me the position, I turned it down. I didn't want to have the job, without any chance of it becoming permanent. You see, he told me straight out that there was no chance of promotion to the position," Dexter said. "I told you to shut up ... you motherfucking son of a bitch!" Mr. Morris said, his face turning red. Dexter said, "You're in here busting your asses in the hope of getting promoted. Well folks, it ain't gonna happen. No one in this room is going to get promoted, while Mr. Morris is here." His little speech went over like a lead balloon. The last thing anyone wanted to hear was that their career had reached a dead end. "You're fired," Mr. Morris said, slamming his hand down on the table as if the noise would further support his words. Les asked, "Is that true, Eric?" Eric nodded his head and said, "Yes. Mr. Morris told me the same thing when I asked why I wasn't being considered for the position permanently. They don't promote people at our level." Mr. Morris was subjected to a number of dirty looks. He glared at Eric for supporting Dexter. Deciding that enough was enough, Eric shot him the middle finger. "Mother fucker!" Les said, glaring at Mr. Morris. "Don't talk to me like that, asshole. You should be happy that you still have a job," Mr. Morris threatened. Dexter had wondered how long it would take the Director to drop the 'happy to have a job' bomb. It had actually taken a little longer than he had guessed. Dexter said, "You guys have been looking at Eric like he's lucky. He's not." "I told you that you're fired! Get the hell out of here," Mr. Morris shouted. Dexter ignored him. "I feel sorry for Eric ... the poor bastard. He's trying to hold down two jobs. You see, he's still trying to run his group, since Mr. Morris won't allow him to promote someone into his place ... nor even let someone have the position temporarily. Eric isn't getting paid for acting as the department head. There's no bonus for his extra duties." "Jesus!" Les said. "I had no fucking idea. I was pissed that I wasn't offered the job." Les looked like he was ready to quit on the spot. He had been angered about not getting Mark's old position. To discover that his career was at a dead end, only added fuel to the fire. Dexter said, "Be glad that it wasn't offered to you. He's going to have to hold that position for a year, or more. Then he's back with us, when they hire someone from outside. Talk about getting the shitty end of the stick." "I'm calling security to escort you out of here," Mr. Morris said fumbling for his cell phone. "While you're doing that, I'll just continue to explain things to the folks around here," Dexter said calmly. "What kinds of things?" Eric asked. He had a feeling that no one in that room would be with the company a year from now, if that long. Dexter said, "I looked up some things after my conversation with Mr. Morris. Did you know that there hasn't been one promotion under Mr. Morris in the last two years?" "I didn't realize that," Eric said with a frown. He noticed that Mr. Morris didn't bother to argue. Of course, Mr. Morris was too busy talking to someone on his cell phone to listen to what Dexter was saying. Dexter said, "That's right. You see, no one is getting promoted in this organization." Les said, "He promised me that I would be promoted if I handled the HR benefits project." "He lied," Eric said. Dexter asked, "How many people did you submit for promotion, only to have it turned down?" "I've been trying to get Bill promoted for years," Al said. "He'll never get promoted. Next time you think about telling him to take on an extra project, keep that in mind. You're promising him things that you can't ever deliver," Dexter said. "I'm never going to be able to look any of my guys in the eye, after this," Les said slumping down in his chair. Dexter said, "Here's another one. When was the last time someone working under Mr. Morris got a performance bonus? The last one was six years ago, except for the ones he gives himself, every year. "He's a big hero for reducing the size of his work force. He calls it normal attrition, but there's nothing 'normal' about it. Despite the horrible economy, he's had more people quit than any other division in the organization. Did you know that we've lost seven people due to death, in the last two years? Five of them died while they were at work. I'll bet you didn't know that. It makes you wonder why they are dropping dead. Overwork? That's what I think. "That award that Mr. Morris got last year was based on a lie. All of those increases in productivity are bullshit. We've got people working seventy and eighty hours a week, but Mr. Morris has reported it as if they are working forty hours a week. After all, they are salaried workers. Their overtime doesn't count, and they don't get paid extra, so there's no way to keep track. "They just keep piling more on our plates, and then they wonder why we're producing crap. Tired, overworked people make mistakes. One of these days, they're going to realize it. It won't matter to us, though, because by that time we'll be burned out." A security guard showed up in the room. Dexter rose from his seat and said, "One last thing before I go. Tell your people to turn in accurate time sheets. If they are on a conference call at nine at night, tell them to include that as reported working hours." Furious, Mr. Morris shouted, "Escort that man out of here." Picking his cell phone up off the desk, Dexter said, "We need to swing by my office for me to pick up my personal property." "Okay," the security guard said. "Don't let him do that! I want him out of this building! Right now!" Mr. Morris shouted. "Yes, Sir," the security guard said with a frown. That wasn't normal procedure, but he wasn't going to argue. For all he knew, the guy could have been doing something criminal. A few minutes later, Dexter was walking across the parking lot towards his car. He was watching the video on his cell phone. It had caught all of the expressions on Mr. Morris' face. Some of them were pretty funny. The sound was good enough to hear what everyone said. Dexter was impressed. He thought that others might enjoy watching the video as well. He wondered what he was going to do next. He wasn't ready to tell his wife that he had been fired. She was going to be surprised by that news. He doubted that she would react well to it. They hadn't really discussed his job situation, other than a few comments about the changes he had made to his group. He considered calling a lawyer. Mr. Morris had failed to follow proper procedures for firing someone, and Dexter knew it. He had all of the appropriate corporate policies for termination, on his laptop, at home. He also had copies of all of his performance reviews for the past ten years. The picture painted there was of a good hard worker. Even Mr. Morris had to admit that since he had offered the temporary position to him before offering it to Eric. He figured that he could drop by the lawyer's office tomorrow. For now, he was thinking about stopping off at a steakhouse, and getting a good sized porterhouse with a baked sweet potato. His cell phone rang when he reached his car. He noted the caller id and answered. "Hello, Eric. I'm sorry about that." "When you fart in an elevator, you really let loose," Eric said. "Mr. Morris gave me a bad case of gas," Dexter said. "Why aren't you still in your meeting?" "After Mr. Morris left, I canceled it. Everyone was muttering about updating their resumé," Eric said. Dexter imagined that it would have been tough ending the meeting with a comment to work hard for the company. He remembered how he had felt after Mr. Morris had told him that there was no chance of promotion. His company loyalty had taken a real hit that day. In fact, it had never recovered. Dexter asked, "What about you?" "I have a job offer, and I'm going to take it. I was actually thinking of turning it down, based on what you had done with your group. I felt like things could have really turned around," Eric said. "Are you getting a promotion out of it?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "It's a lateral move, and I saw the same kind of bullshit things there as here. I just can't take it here, anymore. I figure that I'll try to do what you did to improve things. I really liked that idea of an 'office engineer.'" "That was one of my more creative ideas," Dexter said. "It was a good one," Eric said. Dexter said, "I feel sorry for the folks left behind. Things are really going to get nasty, there." "I doubt anyone will be left by the end of the year," Eric said. He was silent while thinking about what had gone on in the meeting. He then said, "I couldn't believe how hard you pushed Mr. Morris. Dexter said. "I knew the minute I walked into the meeting and saw him there, that today was probably going to be my last day." "Well, you were right. I think everyone in the room knew that your days were numbered," Eric said. "What are you going to do now?" "I'm thinking that I might open a computer repair shop," Dexter answered. "Sounds nice ... I might join you," Eric said. Dexter said, "I'll keep you in mind." "Thanks," Eric said. "Are you going to sue?" "I was thinking about it," Dexter answered. "I'll testify on your behalf. As your direct supervisor, my word about your work should carry a little weight," Eric said. "Thanks. It's too bad that we can't file a class action suit for a hostile workplace," Dexter said. "I'm still pissed about learning that no matter how hard I worked, there was no chance for a promotion, even though they kept dangling it out there." "I know what you mean. I didn't know, until you told me, that you had been offered the position first. I should have turned it down, just like you did. Taking on that job was the biggest mistake of my life," Eric said. Dexter said, "I always thought that Mark was a pretty shitty boss. It makes me wonder how much of his bullshit was just passing along what Mr. Morris was telling him to do." "I believe it was mostly Mr. Morris. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things that come out of his mouth," Eric said. "God ... that man is an asshole." "He is that," Dexter said. He pressed the button on the key fob to unlock his car. Eric said, "I better go and call a man about a job. It'll take me the rest of the day to compose a suitable resignation letter." "What constitutes suitable?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "Something that insinuates enough of the truth to piss him off, but won't come back to bite me in the ass." "Have fun," Dexter said with a grin. He wondered how Mr. Morris was going to react to Eric's resignation. He didn't think that any of the group leads would want to take over the position, particularly after the stuff they had heard today. He grinned and got into his car. His cell phone beeped indicating that he had a text message. From the caller id, he figured that his wife had some errand for him to run. He opened his phone. For a full minute he sat there, behind the steering wheel. He did nothing except stare at the message. It was short. 'I WANT A DIVORCE.' "Shit! That came out of nowhere," Dexter swore. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 8: The Cabin by the Lake Dexter got up from the towel and walked over to one of the trees. It was a scrawny little thing, just barely big enough to be called a tree. It didn't matter to Dexter. It was one of the few trees surrounding his backyard on which he hadn't taken a piss, yet. He grabbed his cock and let loose with a stream of urine. He played the stream up and down the trunk. After watering the tree, he went back to the towel. He laid down to catch some more rays before it got too cold to stay outside. The past three weeks had done wonders for his tan. Fortunately, he didn't have any neighbors to complain about the fact that he was going for a 'full body' tan. He reached down and scratched his balls, thinking that he was living the life: no meetings, no pressures, and no one demanding his time. It had been years since he had been so relaxed. It was the first vacation since before he got married, that he had spent so much time alone. He picked up his glass of lemonade and took a drink of it. This was the real stuff! It was made with real lemons, sugar, water, and ice – lots of ice. It brought back memories of when he was a kid. He set down the glass and rolled over, so that his back would have a chance to get some sun. Dexter was considering his future. He expected that this was the beginning of his early retirement. In fact, he never expected to have to work another day in his life. He still didn't have any hobbies to occupy his time, but he figured that he'd find one soon enough. His cell phone rang, disturbing his enjoyment of the peace and quiet. This wasn't his old cell phone. That one was in his car. He had turned it off because of all the text messages and voice mails on it. This was a new cell phone. Only three people knew the number. He was one of the three. "I wonder if that's the lawyer, or the realtor?" He picked up the phone and looked at the caller id. "Fuck, it's the lawyer." "Hello, Mark," he said upon pushing the speakerphone capability. Mark Adams, his attorney, said, "Hello, Dexter." "What's up?" Dexter asked. "They offered three years salary," Mark said. "I'll take it," Dexter said. He was ready to move on with his life. A month of dealing with the lawsuit was too long. He knew the company was pushing for a quick end to the suit. Someone with the email address of friendsofdexter@revenge.com had captured Mr. Morris firing him on their cell phone. It had been posted it on the internet. It was an instant hit. It seemed that people really enjoyed watching someone give it to their boss! Apparently the video had caused a riot at the company. It seemed that a lot of people got angry when they discovered that all of those promises for promotions were lies. He wasn't the only one who had worked a whole lot of overtime, expecting to be rewarded for his efforts. To learn that they were being used, infuriated them. There had been a few acts of violence against some members of upper management. Those little episodes were redefining the term 'hostile workplace.' "I can get you a lot more than that," Mark said trying to talk him out of it. "Ask for half a million. If they refuse, then take their counter offer so long as it is three years worth of salary or more," Dexter said. He knew the company could expect some more bad news any day now. It appeared that there was a rather nasty reason behind all of the strange job titles, that had appeared a few years earlier. At one time the organization was of the form: directorate, division, department, and unit. The leads were called directors, division managers, department managers, and unit managers. Dexter had been a department manager. Suddenly, the organization was of the form: director, department, group, and team. The leads were now called: directors, department managers, group leaders and team leaders. No one had given a second thought about the new position labels. They should have. It turned out that a group leader, who was basically supervising ten project leaders, wasn't a manager. He or she was an 'engineer' according to the company's job title description. Team leaders, who supervised up to ten people weren't actually supervisors, they were 'engineers.' It had been done that way, so that a vice president of the company could claim to have eliminated two tiers of management. It was a paper fiction, and had no bearing on people's actual jobs or responsibilities. The fact that managers weren't actually managers, wasn't a big deal, until a small internet company (one person in size) checked a candidate's resume against the company's job description. The discrepancy was of sufficient magnitude, that the owner of the internet company asked for a copy of the official responsibilities of a 'group leader.' He had received such a copy by fax. According to the official document, a group leader was nothing more than a role model, for a group of engineers. The potential employer was going to inform the candidate, in writing, about the lies on his resumé. He would state that in no circumstance would the candidate be hired. Dexter had made sure the letter would state that, by buying the owner of the internet company a steak dinner and several beers, late one evening. They had written the letter, together. "I know you want to get on with your life, but you're passing up a lot of money," Mark said. "This is just the beginning," Dexter said. Dexter had a feeling that a lot of Group Leaders and Team Leads were going to be very upset that they weren't managers, despite having to manage people. He figured that things were going to get very nasty at his old company when he distributed an e-mail to a number of his former colleagues, there. He was hoping to own the company by the time the dust settled. "You're losing a lot of money," Mark said. "Just do as I ask," Dexter said. Mark said, "I'll offer to settle at a million. They'll jump at the chance knowing that you could get ten times as much." "I just want it resolved," Dexter said, "and soon!" In this age of information, the man who knew the most, got the most. The company had been stupid. They had been playing games with the people who controlled the corporate information systems. These people had access to data and information that the company didn't want employees to know. Dexter, having seen the writing on the wall, had decided it was time for a lot of those nasty secrets to see the light of day. For the last two months of his employment, Dexter had been a 'busy beaver.' He had gone through the corporate archives. He pulled out policies and company dictated procedures that were of questionable morality. That was when he had discovered the problems with his job description. That was when he discovered that people were not getting promoted. That was when he discovered that there really was a corporate policy against promoting people at his level, into 'management' positions. He also uncovered some items that were of questionable legality. Time sheet systems automatically rounded the hours down to forty in the reporting functions, regardless of how many they had worked, except when the company was charging a customer by the hour. Salaried people didn't see any money, but the customer was getting charged time and a half for all the overtime they worked. There were lots of ugly little secrets. Dexter had found a lot of them. He had downloaded them to his thumb drive. Lots and lots of ammunition to use against the company. "You're making a mistake, but I'll do it," Mark said. "How's the divorce coming?" Dexter asked wanting to change the subject. "She's fighting it," Mark said. "Why? It was her idea," Dexter asked, wondering if she was upset because he beat her to a lawyer. Immediately after Dexter had gotten the text message from his wife, he had headed directly to Mark's office, to set the paperwork for a divorce in motion. From the lawyers office, he had gone to the bank where he had taken half of the savings, and CD accounts. After that, he canceled every credit card with both of their names on it. He also made arrangements for all of the utilities to be canceled at the end of the month. He asked his lawyer to let Janet know that she needed to get the utilities put in her name before the end of the month. "She's pissed that you didn't even stop to talk to her," Mark said. Talking to Janet had been the last thing on Dexter's mind. He had packed up his car with his clothes, his computer, and his tool box. He had driven off without so much as a glance in the mirror. Two hours later, he was checked into a motel a hundred miles away, having dinner at a steakhouse. He had ordered the biggest steak on the menu, and ha eaten every bite of it. He had also enjoyed four beers. He was pretty sure that the kids still didn't know he had left. Even if they knew, he doubted they missed him. It was a sad commentary on his qualities as a father. He was honest enough to admit that he had failed the kids, big time. "I gave her the house, the kids, and half the money. What the fuck more does she want?" Dexter asked angrily. Mark said, "She wants to discuss it with you." "Fuck that. I don't even know her any more," Dexter said. He knew that he was acting like a jerk, but getting informed that his wife wanted to divorce by text messaging, had to be one of the most heartless things he had ever heard of anyone doing. An e-mail would have been bad enough, but at least it would probably have included a few more details. A text message? That had just pissed him off. "She's really fighting it," Mark said. "Then drop it," Dexter said. "There's no need for a divorce." "You're going back to her?" Mark asked surprised by the sudden reversal. "No. She'll never see me again." Mark asked, "What are you going to do?" "I'm buying a cabin, and living out here," Dexter said. Mark said, "You're buying a cabin?" Dexter answered, "I rented a cabin by a lake and started marking my territory by pissing on all the trees. About the time I got half of the trees marked, I decided I might as well buy the place. I figure that by the time the sale goes through, I'll have pissed on every tree on the property." Although he had asked the realtor to investigate a purchase price, he hadn't yet made an offer on the cabin. For one, he had no idea how much the owner would ask for it. At the moment, he was out of a job and living on the funds he had taken from the savings account. "Where is this cabin?" Mark asked. "Don't worry about it," Dexter said. "I don't want anyone knowing where I'm living." So far, he hadn't told anyone where he was living. His post office box was a hundred miles away. He had only been there once, to pick up some papers his lawyer had mailed him. The only people he had talked to since driving away from home, had been the lawyer and the realtor. Mark said, "All right. Is your P.O. Box still good?" "Yep. Just tell me when you're going to send me something so that I know to check it," Dexter said. "Okay. I'll call you back after talking to the company's lawyers. I should know something by the end of the week," Mark said. "Have fun," Dexter said just before closing the phone. Dexter considered his situation. He wasn't really an outdoors person. He had never been hunting and had no great desire to start now. He might have been camping and fishing as a kid, but that was with his father. The fact was, he wasn't into that anymore. He hadn't even looked in the general direction of the lake while thinking about fishing. He wasn't into boating, either. Even living there was going to be a problem. He didn't know enough about using a chainsaw in order to cut wood for the winter. He could imaging cutting down a tree and having it fall on him. He was going to have to order wood from someone else. He wasn't even sure how much wood he should have, to get himself through the winter. There was no real reason for him to be living beside a lake, surrounded by woods, other than the fact that he liked the view. He could sit out there all day long looking at the woods and watching the waves on the lake. He enjoyed getting a little sun, and walking around a bit, but the walks weren't long enough to be considered hikes. He was pretty sure that it was going to be miserable when winter came, but he didn't really care. The fall colors were amazing. There were just enough warm days left, to get a good tan. It was strange to discover at his age, that he had some nudist tendencies. He sat up and grabbed the glass of lemonade. He took a good long drink of the beverage. It was sharp, sweet, and very cold. He enjoyed the moment, but his enjoyment quickly died. He suddenly realized what was motivating him to buy the cabin. He was enjoying the moment, and wanted it to last forever. He knew that wasn't possible. "Fuck," he said. Feeling a major bout of depression on the horizon, Dexter picked up the towel, cell phone, and glass of lemonade. He headed into the cabin. He dressed and then sat down at the kitchen table to consider his options. His future was suddenly very unclear. There were two things that he felt confident about. The first was that he was going to make the company pay through the nose for its treatment of him. The second was that he was never going to see his wife again. "Why did she want a divorce, and why is she fighting it now?" he asked for the thousandth time. The only reason he could come up with was that she had been having an affair and wanted to run off with her boyfriend. He wondered when she could have had time for an affair. He guessed that it could have been on a few of those evenings when she worked late. She had as much time for an affair as he did. Then it dawned on him that she might have thought he was having an affair. He couldn't imagine why she would think that. He sat back thinking about the past few years with his wife. Their problems probably began when their companies started requiring them to work all kinds of hours. Over a period of time, they had stopping talking to each other. It wasn't that they had lost interest, it was that they didn't have the time to see each other. Even weekends had been filled with work related phone calls. For the past few years they hadn't had a marriage, except 'in name only.' Married couples knew what their spouse looked like. He would have been hard pressed to pick her out of a police line up. They hadn't had sex in at least two years, maybe longer. If he hadn't been tired all of the time, he would have been visiting hookers. Now that he was well rested, he was horny. In fact, he was waking up with morning erections. It had been a long time since that had happened. "I'm not going to buy the cabin," Dexter said coming to a decision. Thinking about how horny he was, he came to a second decision. "I think I'll take a trip to Nevada and visit a whore house." His phone rang. He picked it up and looked at the caller id. He answered, saying, "Hello, Mark." "I gave the company a counter offer and they jumped at it. I got you an even million," Mark said. "I'm impressed," Dexter said. "You'll have to come here and sign some papers," Mark said. "When?" "Tomorrow morning." "I'll be there tomorrow morning. What are the conditions on the settlement?" Dexter asked. Mark said, "You can't disclose the settlement amount, and you can't sue them." "I can't sue them?" "On this matter," Mark said. "How about future lawsuits over other matters?" Dexter asked. "They can't prevent you from suing about other matters. You can sue them on matters that are independent of your dismissal. You just can't sue them over your firing, after this," Mark said. "No other constraints on lawsuits?" Dexter asked. Suspicious, Mark asked, "Why are you asking that?" "I just got turned down for a job because my resumé, supposedly, is a lie," Dexter said. "In what way was it supposedly a lie?" Mark asked. "Despite the fact that I was overseeing sixty people, I was not a manager, according to the information the company provided one of my potential employers," Dexter answered. "Really?" Mark asked sounding very interested. Dexter answered, "According to the information provided by the company, I was just an engineer with no supervisory responsibilities whatsoever." Mark asked, "Do you have any proof of having management responsibilities?" "You better believe it," Dexter answered. "You've got sixty people who are convinced I was their boss." "That's a start," Mark said. Dexter said, "People had to get my permission to take vacations. I was responsible for signing their time sheets. I signed their performance reviews. I assigned them projects. I had to talk to them about disciplinary issues. I've got scanned copies of all of the documents dealing with those issues for the last three months of my job." Dexter could hear Mark rubbing his greedy little hands together. Like a shark, he smelled blood in the water. "Jesus," Mark said. "I'm buying a vacation home." "So do I settle this first lawsuit for a million?" Dexter asked. "You bet," Mark said. "After we get that cleared up, I want you to get me the information for the other lawsuit. I'll get that ready to go." "Great," Dexter said. "Is there any problem with letting a few people know why I didn't get the job?" "Do it before I file," Mark said. "Excellent. That's just what I wanted to hear," Dexter said. "One other thing..." "What?" "Can I be your technical adviser when you bring the class action lawsuit on behalf of hundreds of employees for ... let's say ten percent of the settlement?" Dexter asked. "On what grounds will we be suing?" Mark asked. "I think having their job responsibilities misrepresented outside the company should be a sufficient reason to sue," Dexter answered. "Five percent," Mark said. "Excellent," Dexter said. "I've got some calls to make." "I'll see you in the morning," Mark said. "I'll be there bright and early," Dexter said. After hanging up, Dexter made a call. When the man answered, Dexter said, "Harvey, this is Dexter. You up for a beer and a steak, tonight?" "Sure," Harvey said. "Can you mail out that letter we discussed?" Dexter asked. "I'll print it out right now," Harvey said. He laughed and added, "I suppose I ought to tell you that you didn't get the job as manager in the engineering division of my company because you lied on your resume." "What lies?" Dexter asked. "You'll see when you get the letter," Harvey answered. "Great. See you at the steakhouse at six," Dexter said. "Looking forward to it," Harvey said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 9: The Casino by the Lake Of all of gambling's card games, Dexter liked blackjack the most. He could sit at the table and play for hours. He had a system that seemed to work well and he usually came out a few dollars ahead. It was a simple game and he played according to the printed odds. In fact, he often verified with the dealer how he should play a hand whenever he had some doubts. He talked to the pit bosses about business and the nature of the game. Most of the time, there wasn't that much suspense. This particular afternoon, he was seated at the twenty-five dollar table with a stack of ten chips totaling two hundred and fifty dollars in play. He got a pair of eights with the dealer showing a six. He split the eights. The first card on the eight was an eight. He split it. The card on the eight was a three. He doubled down and the dealer laid a ten on it. The card on the next eight was a two. He doubled down and the dealer laid a King on it. He got another eight on the last eight. He split them. The next card was a three. He doubled down and got a ten. The card on the last eight was an ace. He now had two thousand dollars on the table. With shaking hands, he watched the dealer turn over his bottom card. It was a ten. With the six that had been showing the dealer was going to have to take a card. The dealer laid down a ten and went bust. Dexter won the biggest payout of his life – two thousand dollars. He left a thousand on the table for his next bet. He was dealt a blackjack with an immediate fifteen hundred dollar payout. He pulled a thousand off the table and added five hundred to his stack of chips. He now had a stack of sixty green chips. A crowd started gathering behind him. The next hand he had twenty against the dealers nineteen. He pulled fifteen hundred off the table while adding ten more chips to his stack. It was beginning to wobble. The dealer counted chips and replaced it with three five hundred dollar chips, two hundred dollar chips, and two twenty-five dollar chips. The next hand was a nineteen against the dealer's bust. The crowd was starting to get a lot more vocal. They cheered when the dealer went bust. There were comments about how much had been bet when the dealer made the payout. Dexter took fifteen hundred and added two hundred and fifty dollars to his bet. He was now betting two thousand dollars. He was dealt a pair of sevens. The crowd muttered looking at the cards on the table. Looking at the pit boss, he asked, "Should I split it?" "The dealer has a five showing," the pit boss said. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "The book says that you split on a pair of sevens against a dealer's five." Dexter split the sevens. He now had four thousand dollars on the table. The dealer laid a ten on the first seven. Dexter waved him off. The dealer laid a ten on the second seven. It could have been better, but it could have been a lot worse. The dealer turned over a six. With the five, the dealer now had eleven. The entire crowd groaned on seeing the hole card. A few people even walked away convinced that Dexter had lost. "No ten," Dexter mumbled. The dealer drew a five. The people behind Dexter got excited. It had looked so bad for him. They went wild when the dealer dropped a ten on top of it. Dexter had a four thousand dollar payoff. He added another five hundred to the bet and took the rest of the winnings off the table. He was now betting twenty-five hundred. The next hand was a pair of tens which beat the dealers seventeen. The crowd had grown in size although Dexter was barely aware of it by now. He was focused on the cards in front of him. Dexter took five hundred of those winnings and added it to the stack. He was now betting three thousand dollars. His heart nearly stopped when he hit a blackjack. The crowd cheered. He took four thousand and added five hundred to the stack. It was now a stack containing forty-five hundred dollars in chips. Although he wasn't paying attention to the stacks of chips that were his 'bank', the crowd was talking about the pile of money he had made in this run. There were piles of green and black chips. He hadn't yet bothered to stack them so it was much more difficult to see how much money was there. The winning streak came to an abrupt end when the dealer got a blackjack. The crowd sighed in disappointment. Dexter wanted to cry when that stack of lovely chips disappeared. His mood brightened considerably when he looked at his bank. There were a lot of chips there. He picked up one of the hundred dollar chips and tossed to the dealer. "Here's a tip." "Thanks," the dealer said. Dexter put out two twenty-five dollar chips to start his run again. Seeing the small bet, the crowd rapidly disappeared. There wasn't going to be any excitement for a while. Dexter spent a few minutes organizing the pile of chips in front of him. He was shocked by the number of hundred and five hundred dollar chips. He looked at them wondering how he was going to spend them. An idea came to mind and he smiled. He lost the next five hands and then 'colored in' his chips. The dealer gave him two five thousand dollar chips, three thousand dollar chips, and a couple smaller denomination chips. The dealer's tray which had been looking pretty empty was now loaded with chips. Dexter stuffed his winnings into his pocket and headed towards the cashier's cage. The woman looked up at him and said, "What can I do for you?" "I need to cash these chips," Dexter answered as he handed over the small stack of chips. She counted them out and said, "You'll need to fill out some tax forms, because of the amount. We have to take out twenty-eight percent for federal taxes." "I take all the risks and the government siphons off the profit," Dexter said. After Dexter finished filling out the forms, the cashier asked, "How do you want it?" "I'd like four thousand in hundreds and a check for the rest," Dexter said. "Wouldn't you prefer a debit card over a check?" the cashier asked. "Sure, that's fine," Dexter said. A few minutes later, Dexter walked away from the cashier's booth with four thousand dollars cash, and a shiny new debit card in his wallet. He headed over to the lobby. Feeling nervous and embarrassed, Dexter headed over to the bell captain wanting to get some information. A twenty dollar bill was held tightly in a sweaty hand. He didn't feel very comfortable about what he was going to be doing next. "I need some help," Dexter said nervously. He was pretty sure his face had turned beet red. "What can I do for you?" Dexter looked around to see if anyone could overhear him, in a low pitched voice that wouldn't carry far, he asked, "Where's a legal brothel?" "There's nothing in Carson City. You'll have to get on highway 50 East to a town called Mound House. It is just across the county line. You'll see signs for the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Mound House. You can't miss it." "Thank you," Dexter said. He handed the twenty over to the bell captain. "Thank you," the man said. Eight hours later, Dexter returned to the hotel three thousand dollars poorer, but a lot more relaxed. He had satisfied his curiosity about Asian, Hispanic, and red headed women. It might be strange to say, but they all had the same parts and they all basically did the same thing. It was an expensive lesson, at three thousand dollars, but he didn't care. Much to his amazement, he didn't feel any guilt about the trip to the brothel, as regards to his marriage. As far as he was concerned, his marriage had ended with her texted message. Maybe going more than two years without sex affected his thinking on the matter, but he didn't care. Exhausted by a long day at the gaming tables and an even longer night at the brothel, he went to his room and went to sleep. He slept for a solid twelve hours. Upon waking, he went down for breakfast in one of the restaurants of the casino. He ordered the breakfast despite the fact that it was four in the afternoon. This was a far cry from waking at six and rushing through his morning regime to get to work. Dexter ate while trying to plan the next few days. His principle reasons for coming to Carson City had been satisfied. He had gambled a little, and gotten his ashes hauled. The question was, what to do with his time, now. That wasn't an easy question to answer. His bank account had swelled by eight hundred thousand dollars, the previous week. His lawyer had gotten twenty percent of the original million. The company lawyers who had handed him the settlement check, had hardly been able to contain their glee at having disposed of what they considered to be a nuisance suit. He knew their glee would be short-lived. It would disappear totally, when Mark handed them the documents for the second lawsuit. Dexter wished he could watch the expressions that would cross their faces while they read the contents of the lawsuit. They weren't going to be happy when it came out that his former job was being misrepresented, after him having been improperly fired. He expected his bank account to provide him with the money to do anything he wanted, for a long time. Of course, in the near term it would take a hit at tax time. For now, his financial situation looked pretty good. The question was what was he going to do with his time. Dexter was basically an honest person. He felt that honesty had to originate with one's self. He took stock of his life. He was separated from his family. He didn't have a residence. He had no hobbies. He had no friends. He had no driving interests or desires to pursue. He had no need to work. There were not a lot of things in his life, other than a bunch of money. He used to be an engineer, but honesty forced him to admit that he hadn't done any real engineering in more than ten years. He had always wanted to be an engineer. He used to like to tinker with things and understand how they worked. His youth had been spent taking apart and putting together things like clocks and engines. He thought back to a day when he was about nine years old. He had taken apart the engine to the lawn mower. He felt like he had just discovered some important secret of the universe when he had figured out how the engine functioned. Each little part had a purpose. The form of each part was dictated by its function. That sense of wonder about the world around him had disappeared over the years. He tried to trace back to the time when it started evaporating on him and couldn't. It was just gone. He doubted he could recapture it. Too much time had passed since he had looked around in wonder at the world, wishing he could figure out how it worked. This whole nonsense about a service economy sickened him, since he felt that it somehow was part and parcel of separating people from what was important. Somehow, the principle casualty was the connection with the people around him. Even the service in restaurants had changed over the course of his lifetime. When he was young, there had been a little conversation while orders were taken. He tried to remember the last time that a waiter or waitress had offered 'bon appetite' when delivering the food. He remembered when water used to be provided without having to request it. Coffee and iced tea were refilled as many times as the customer wanted. Now, there was just one refill allowed, and the cups and glasses had shrunk in size. The concept of 'service' had changed, and he didn't like it. He realized that even the nature of engineering had changed. It used to be that requirements were written in terms of what an item allowed people to do. Cars were designed to go faster because people wanted to go faster. Then, one day, the nature of the requirements seemed to change. Now the car would start dinging to get people to fasten their seat belts, because it was better for them to have their seat belts on. What the person wanted, wasn't important. What was important was get the 'peepul' to behave in a certain way. Everything seemed to be for the greater good, but at a personal level it wasn't all that great. E-mail, which was to improve communications, had turned into a whip. When it took three days for a letter to go from one place to another, people expected to get an answer within a week or so. It gave people time to think about a response. With instant delivery of e-mail, people expected an answer within minutes. There was no pity for the poor sap who had to respond. The sender couldn't see that the recipient had e-mails from fifty different people all wanting immediate replies. The cell phone was another good idea that turned bad. He had gotten his wife a cell phone so that she could call for help if she had a problem with her car. Now it had become her work phone and she was a slave to whoever called regardless of whether it was working hours or not. For Dexter, the idea of a 'service economy' had transformed into the idea of a slave society. There weren't whips or iron shackles involved. Now, it was threats of unemployment. It wasn't work from sun up to sun down. It was work at all hours of the day ... and night. People had rebelled against twelve hour days in factories. Now people were working eighteen hours a day, and not fighting it. People had fought to have 'Blue Laws' passed so that everyone was assured of having Sunday free. Perhaps the origin of the 'Blue Laws' was religious, but the family had benefited. All of those laws had been repealed, and the great loser was the family unit. Sunday became just another business day. Now businessmen were lined up at airports on Sunday, to travel to distant business meetings so that they could come home late at night after those meetings were concluded. Spending six or eight hours traveling wasn't considered work. He could see how companies would react if their employees took a whole business day to travel to a meeting, spent the day at the meeting, and then used one to travel back. Oh, what a great loss in productivity that would be. Slaves used to revolt when conditions were too bad. He didn't know how the slaves of modern society could revolt. A work stoppage? He didn't see how that was possible. He could see how a request for workers not to answer the phone would be taken. Who could sit and listen to a phone incessantly ringing without answering it? He couldn't and he didn't know anyone who could. Although his thoughts meandered all over the place, there was a consistent theme through them all. He wanted to change the world from the cold harsh place it had become to something that was gentler and less hectic. He wanted work to take the proper role in people's lives. A job was meant to earn a living. It was not supposed to become a person's entire life. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his waiter. The man asked, "Do you want anything more?" "No," Dexter answered. The waiter dropped the bill on the table and said, "Here's the bill." "Could I ask you something?" Dexter asked. "What is it?" the waiter asked. "Do you like your job?" Dexter asked. The waiter answered, "It's a fine job. Now if you don't mind, I've got thirty other tables. I can't stand here and talk all day." "Thank you," Dexter said not wanting to interrupt the man. Dexter watched the waiter going about his business. The man carried a tray loaded with food for two tables. Without saying a word, he dropped plates in front of his customers. It took him less than a minute to set out the food at two tables. He was impatient when someone couldn't make up their mind concerning what they wanted. He made it to a table when he could, but it was still a long time between visits. In short, he wasn't providing very good service, although he was clearly hard at work. For all of that, the waiter still expected to get a fifteen percent tip. It dawned on Dexter that the man probably didn't even see the correlation between quality of service, and the tip. People just automatically added fifteen percent onto the charge slip without thinking about it. "Something has to be done," Dexter said. "If this is a service society, then this society only deserves a penny tip." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 10: A Return of Sorts The experience at the cabin affected Dexter more than he could have expected. While living at the cabin had been a great break, he knew that he had been trying to hold onto a moment that couldn't last. The trip to Carson City had been fun, but a life spent gambling and whoring wasn't exactly his ideal. With nowhere in the country calling him, Dexter decided that he might as well return to the town where he had lived for so many years. It wasn't that he felt homesick for the place. It was just that he knew where things were, and he was comfortable there. Dexter made the trip from Carson City back to his home town. He didn't try to make great time since nothing demanded him to reach his destination at a certain time. He chose to stop at any place that looked or sounded interesting. There were a lot of interesting things to see. It took him three weeks to make the trip across country. On his return, he stayed a couple of nights in a hotel, before signing a lease on a small two bedroom apartment. It was an unfurnished apartment, so he made four separate expeditions to local stores to furnish the apartment with the essentials. His first expedition focused on the bedroom. Rather than a king size bed, he went with a queen. He got a small dresser to hold his underwear and socks. He purchased a simple bedside table for an alarm clock and a lamp, and had bought an alarm clock and lamp to put on it. His second shopping expedition was to furnish the living room. He purchased a comfortable recliner, a simple loveseat, and a set of stackable TV trays. He couldn't see filling the living room with much more stuff than that, though he did want the stuff he got to be comfortable. His third trip was to furnish his 'office' ... ie: the second bedroom. He spent more on the office than the previous two rooms combined. He filled the room with a desk, book cases, computer station, and the nicest leather chair for the desk that he could find. He also spent four hours at an office supply place picking up basic office supplies. He also spent a fortune on a top of the line computer, a printer, and a wireless router. It was at the office supply place that he finally killed the debit card he had gotten from the casino. His fourth shopping expedition was to furnish the kitchen. That turned out to be: glasses, dishes, silverware, a microwave, coffee maker, and a set of pots and pans. It was a minimal kitchen, but he wasn't all that interested in cooking. He figured that most of his suppers would be microwave meals. If he wanted something a little better than that, he would go to a restaurant. Leasing and furnishing the apartment had eaten up a week of time. It was just a few days short of being three months since he had been fired. So far he had been drifting without any real goals in mind. There was the idea of trying to start some sort of worker rebellion, but it was still at the idea stage. He left the house and headed over to his lawyer's office to check up on things. He didn't make an appointment, figuring that if Mark was busy, he would just go somewhere else. Much to his surprise, Mark was out in the front office chatting with the secretary. "Hello, Mark," Dexter said. Mark said, "Hey, Dexter. What are you doing here?" "I just figured I'd swing by and see how things are going," Dexter answered. "We're making progress on the lawsuit. It looks like we're going to get millions out of it," Mark said with a grin. Mark had come to like Dexter a lot. It helped that Dexter had dropped so much business in his lap. "How soon until we see any money?" Dexter asked. "This one will take more than a year. They are going to try to wear us down," Mark answered. "That's what I figured," Dexter said. Dexter stood there in the lobby of the office looking around. Mark could see that the man was kind of at loose ends. From his past conversations with Dexter, he knew that the man didn't have any real friends. He figured Dexter had come to the office just to kill some time in conversation. Mark said, "Come on back to my office and we'll chat a little." "Okay," Dexter said. Mark gestured Dexter to go into the office. Standing behind Dexter, he flashed his hand to the secretary three times to let her know to call him in fifteen minutes. In the office, Mark settled behind his desk, after getting Dexter safely ensconced in a chair. He asked, "So, what have you been up to?" "I've been moving into an apartment," Dexter answered. "You've giving up the nomadic life, eh?" Dexter shrugged his shoulders and answered, "I guess. I was just kind of drifting around and doing nothing." "So what are you doing now?" Mark asked. "Drifting around and doing nothing," Dexter answered. Mark said, "I still hear from your wife on occasion. She wants to know how to get in touch with you." "Fuck her," Dexter replied. "You might think about talking to her," Mark said. Dexter said, "What in the hell for? She texted me that she wanted a divorce. I file for one and she changes her mind. What in the hell kind of crap is that?" "I think that might be the reason you need to talk to her," Mark said. "I don't want to talk to her," Dexter said. He knew that he sounded like a petulant child, but his feelings were still hurt. He wasn't even sure how he would react to seeing her. Part of him wanted to cry and part of him wanted to hit her. He wasn't sure what part would win. Mark said, "You need the closure." "I figure she was fucking some guy and wanted to move in with him. After she told me that she wanted the divorce, the guy backed out," Dexter said. "You don't know that," Mark said. He knew that one of the leading causes of divorce was infidelity. It was right up there with a lack of communication and growing apart. He wasn't sure, but he figured that a lack of communication had been a big part of why Janet had asked for a divorce. "You're right. I didn't hang around long enough to get proof of her cheating ass. I don't care who he was or why she was fucking around," Dexter said. "How about the kids? Have you talked to them?" Mark asked. "No. They probably haven't even noticed that I'm gone. They are fine without me," Dexter said. Mark said, "You can't be serious about that." "I'm very serious," Dexter said. The evenings at home had given Dexter ample proof that his kids were totally indifferent to his presence in the house. All attempts at communicating with them had fallen flat. At most, they asked about food. He didn't need their help in feeling like a non-entity. Mark said, "Do you mind if I go out on a limb here?" "What?" Mark said, "It's not my place to say anything, but I fear that you are exhibiting a lot of the classic symptoms of depression." "Bullshit," Dexter said. Mark had expected that reaction. Holding up his hands as if to fend off an attack, he said, "Now hear me out before you dismiss my concerns." "Okay." "You've been kicked in the gut by your wife, and it wasn't even nice the way she did it. That's a horrible thing to have happen to you. You're embroiled in the middle of a lawsuit, and that's kind of stressful. You've lost your job, and you have given up on your career. That's not an easy change in lifestyle." "That's true," Dexter said. The hardest thing to deal with was spare time. Going from having none to having too much was something he hadn't been prepared to handle. He was left just sitting around doing nothing, and unable to think of something to do. All of his failures seemed to come back to haunt him. Mark said, "You've been drifting for three months without finding anything to interest you. You're lonely, bored, and without direction. That's got to be depressing." "Maybe you're right," Dexter said surrendering a point. "That doesn't mean I'm crazy." "I didn't say you were crazy. I just said that you were exhibiting symptoms of depression," Mark said. "So what do you suggest that I do?" Dexter asked. "How about visiting a counselor who can help you put some of what's going on in your life, into a different perspective?" Mark asked. "I don't need to see a shrink," Dexter said affronted by the suggestion. He was of the mindset that seeing a counselor was something that crazy people did. He might not be feeling too happy, but he hadn't gone insane. Maybe it was his upbringing, but he couldn't help feeling that real men didn't do things like that. A real man would get drunk and then pull himself together to face life. Stretching the truth a little, Mark said, "I tell most of the folks who are going through a divorce to get a little counseling. You'd be surprised at how much it helps folks deal with changes in their lives to talk to someone who can guide them through their feelings about the matter." "I don't know," Dexter said. In a way, he felt partially emasculated from the way in his wife had dumped him. Going to counseling would only finish the job she started. "You won't be sitting on a couch telling some shrink about your childhood. You'll be telling them about what is ... or in your case, isn't ... going on with your life." Dexter said, "I'll think about it." Mark said, "You might think about talking to your kids. They might surprise you." "I don't know if that would be a good idea," Dexter said. He could just imagine a discussion with his kids. He'd ask if they missed him and they'd tell him that they hadn't even known he was gone. That would be humiliating. "Think about it," Mark said. "I'll do that," Dexter said. He jumped when the phone rang. Mark answered the phone. After a brief exchange, he put his hand over the mouthpiece and said, "I need to get this call." Dexter rose from his chair and said, "Okay. I'll talk to you later." "Great," Mark said. Dexter left the office and returned home. Once there, he sat in his recliner and thought about the advice Mark had given him. He wasn't interested in talking to his wife. He wasn't sure that talking to the kids would be of much value either. It would be horrible to discover that they hadn't even noticed he was gone. Even if they had noticed, he was sure they didn't care. Learning that for a fact, would be devastating. That left the advice to see a counselor. Instead of searching for a counselor, he decided that maybe it was time to do something about addressing his anger towards his old company. There was a lot of anger there, based on years of being exploited and used. He also knew that it wasn't just his former employer that treated employees like dirt. He figured there were a lot of others who felt the same way that he did. There had to be a way to reach out to those people, and let them know that they weren't alone. He went into his office and started trying to put together a website about the current work environment. He sat down at the computer and started typing away. He wasn't even trying to be organized. He just wanted to get some of his initial ideas down. He wrote about doing the jobs of two people. That little diatribe took up several pages and most of the afternoon. He took a break for dinner and returned to his writing. The text flowed from his fingertips in an effortless stream. He wrote about how new projects were assigned to people without relieving them from their old projects, which were already keeping them occupied full time. He wrote about how companies distributed work performed by one person among the team when that person left the company without replacing that person. He wrote about how changes in procedures added work, without achieving anything of substance. He felt a lot better after getting all of that vitriol out of his system. He laughed and said, "Counselor, smounselor! I can do this, myself." For the next few days, he worked until he was tired, and then slept the sleep of the just. There were minor breaks for meals, but not for much else. He covered a lot of topics, covering areas in which salaried workers were exploited. He had come to the conclusion that salaried professional employees were among the most exploited people in the country. Their time cost companies nothing. There were no labor unions to step in and demand better working conditions. One of his longest rants, dealt with the woes of business travel. He wrote about how travel was performed on the individual's time and not the company's time. He wrote about the hours wasted going through airport security. He described how employees were subsidizing the company with interest free loans, by having to put expenses on their personal cards, and then having to get reimbursed for the charges. He wrote about how companies required receipts for tips, and dismissed some expenses. It was as though the official approach was to require you to spend the money, and then they would decide if it was reimbursable. He described how delays in getting reimbursed, cost employees money. The shortest rant was about cell phones and data plans. He covered how companies required some managers to have cell phones with data plans so that they could receive critical e-mails when they were away from the office. He biggest gripe was that the company wouldn't pay for the plan. Employees were left sucking up hundreds of dollars a year on their cell phone plans. Of course, he pointed out that that wasn't true when you made it to the executive level. Then the company provided the phone, and covered all of the costs. He figured his phone plan had cost him five hundred dollars a year, and that did not include the extra cost of purchasing a phone capable of providing the necessary functions. All of that expense was out of his post-tax salary. He never would have spent so much on a cell phone if it hadn't been demanded by his job. He had a lot of material on the lack of support employees were given in pursuit of their work. Companies no longer bought books. They no longer reimbursed employees who went to school to get advanced degrees. Corporate training had become a joke of the highest magnitude. The time spent in 'professional development' classes focused on social issues, rather than technical issues. He wrote about harassment training, cultural diversity, and political correctness classes that were given by individuals who just automatically assumed that the employees were all guilty of atrocious behavior. He also addressed how little companies trusted employees. He described how companies required some managers to pass out office supplies, or to have upper management approval to purchase some necessary item. The processes put in place cost far more than the items that could have been stolen. Compensation either monetarily or in time, for having worked over a weekend? Not in a million years. After having covered a dozen different topics, Dexter put a little organization around the content. He spent hours checking the spelling and the grammar. He reworded a passage here and there, to give it a bit more oomph. The hardest part was taking out all of the curse words. There was no need to include "F****G BOSS" in twenty-dozen places. The end result of his efforts was a spartan website with lots of text. He didn't have any artwork, although he had been a little creative with a simple color scheme. It didn't look too bad, but it wasn't anything special. He stared at the website pages one by one, wondering if he should actually put it on the web. He decided that it would be better as a blog, rather than as a website. It took Dexter some time, but he found a site that hosted blogs. He copied and pasted his text as a blog entry, deciding that he would upload one rant a week. He posted it and then tinkered with the appearance. It was a little better than his original attempt, but in the grand scheme of things, it was rather plain. Having eaten up a week or so, Dexter sat back wondering what to do next. He had enough material to post an article every week, for a couple of months. He was stuck with nothing to do except monitor reactions to his blog. The exercise of putting together the blog helped drain off some of his anger at the company. He hadn't even realized just how angry he was, at the company. He wasn't going to drop the lawsuit, but at least he didn't feel like firebombing the place, anymore! Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 11: Sucker Punched Three. That's how many people had visited his blog that week. After three months of promoting it, his website, he'd had three visitors. Well, three visitors were better than none. One of the visitors had clicked on the link to an ad for low cost cell phone services. Dexter stared at his website wondering what he could do to increase traffic to it. He knew the site lacked that essential something that would draw people. The problem was that he didn't know what was missing. The website was basically a bitch site in which he proclaimed loudly against what he felt were the evils of corporate life in a service economy. There were a lot of complaints captured on the website, but no answers. People didn't want to visit a website to look in a mirror that showed them how unhappy they should be. They wanted to find something that would make them happier. The fact was, that Dexter had not tried to identify what he was trying to accomplish with the website. There were problems in this world and he wanted to fix them. He knew that you didn't sell by convincing people that they had a problem. You sold solutions! People saw that it solved a problem they knew they had, and they bought. "I used to be an engineer. Why am I not acting like one?" Dexter said after staring at the screen for five minutes. He let go of the mouse and picked up a pencil. It was time to think, rather than act/react. He looked around for an engineering notebook. He didn't find one. Grumbling, he turned to his computer. He realized that it wasn't the best medium for organizing one's thoughts. Sure, there were word processors and drawing programs. However, they weren't as fast or as easy to use as a sheet of paper, a pencil, and an eraser (Oh, YES!! Thank God for erasers!). He got into his car and headed for the 'super' office supply and electronics store near his old home. It was a monster of a place, with office supplies, computers, software ... anything and everything there that might appear in a regular, or home, office. Entering it he looked around, taking in the vastness of the place. He muttered, "So many toys, so little time!" He went outside and picked up a shopping cart, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to leave there without spending at least a thousand dollars. He pushed the cart over to the computer hardware accessories. There were eight rows of stuff there. Of course, printers and scanners ate up two of the rows. Home networking was another row of its own. One whole row was taken up with keyboards, mice, cameras and drawing tablets. Another row had every kind of storage medium on the market with thumb drives, network drives, hard drives, and CD/DVD drives. Dexter pushed his cart along each row picking up little items that caught his attention. One was a pen that could write on a special paper. It would record the pen motions, for storage on a computer. There were several variations of the item, and he spent ten minutes reading each box and comparing features. In the end he decided that they were all the same, and picked the cheapest one. He picked up a network and a USB drive for backing up his files. He was amazed at how cheap a terabyte of storage had become. He remembered the days when a twenty megabyte drive cost two thousand dollars. At that time he thought he would never have enough data to fill twenty megabytes of storage. Now he wondered if a five terabyte drive was big enough. He wandered over to the drawing tablets. He figured that might be a way to get the speed of using paper to capture his ideas with the persistence of a computer. There were half a dozen of them on display. He read the packages and compared the features. After standing there for ten minutes, he purchased the one with the largest drawing area. There were two aisles of software covering everything from operating systems, productivity software, and games. He headed over to see what they had over there that he might want to use. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but thought that browsing the selection would give him ideas. He slowly walked along pushing his cart, while eying the software packages. A guy standing standing him shouted, "Hey, Asshole!" Curious about what was going on behind him, Dexter turned around. The next thing he knew was that his nose had exploded in pain. He stumbled back into his cart, and then fell to the floor. His eyes were crossed. His hands were covering his bloody nose. "Get up!" Thinking this had to be a case of mistaken identity, Dexter looked up at his attacker. Shocked, he said, "Will!" "Get up, Dad!" "What the hell. Why did you do that?" Dexter asked. It sounded more like, "Wha da hell. Why'd'ya do dat?" His son glared down at him and shouted, "You fucking walked off without a word!" "I think you broke my nose," Dexter said. It sounded more like "I tink ya boke ma noze." By this time quite a crowd had gathered around them. The store manager was trying to push Will away from Dexter to prevent further violence. Will didn't want to move, but wisely didn't swing at the guy. There was a little pushing back and forth though. A big security guy arrived and that brought a quick end to the situation. Will was led away to the store office. Dexter remained on the floor holding his nose to cut off the flow of blood. It was throbbing, and it didn't seem like the blood was ever going to stop flowing. He had experienced bloody noses before and wasn't worried. He would get the bleeding stopped and then clean up his face. He looked up to find an EMT there and wondered who had called them. By that point in time, he didn't really care. He couldn't make out too many of the guy's features since he was wearing a surgical mask and gloves. All he could tell was that the guy had brown eyes and dark skin. The EMT packed his nose with cotton. He put some pressure on the bridge of Dexter's nose for two minutes. He then removed the packing and checked to see if there was any more blood. There wasn't. He felt around the nose and then declared that it wasn't broken. Dexter already knew that. After picking up the medical supplies, the EMT said that he needed to see Dexter's driving license. Wondering why the man needed it, Dexter handed it to him. About the time the EMT backed away, a police officer was there. After getting Dexter's name and contact information, he said, "I've watched the surveillance videos. You were sucker punched. Are you going to press charges?" "He's my son," Dexter said thinking that was answer enough. The police officer didn't seem to think that was an answer. "So? Are you going to press charges, or not?" "No," Dexter answered. He wondered how many parents pressed assault charges on their teenaged kids. He guessed that there must be quite a few, or else the policeman wouldn't have been so insistent on a yes or no answer. He imagined that there were households where the kids terrorized the parents. The policeman said, "Since you aren't pressing assault charges, I'll write him a ticket for disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. I guess, as his parent, you'll be responsible for making sure that he gets to court." "Oh," Dexter said. "Have a nice day," the policeman said before walking off. Dexter sat there on the floor. The EMT guy returned and handed him a couple pieces of paper along with his driver's license. Dexter asked, "What's this?" "The bill and some instructions on taking care of your nose," the EMT guy answered. "Oh," Dexter said. He looked down at the paper and saw that he had been charged seven hundred and seventy-five dollars for the call. He wondered when ambulances started charging for going out on a call. It would have been nice to know that he was getting charged for a service that he hadn't requested. He wondered if he was supposed to tip the guy. The other paper had some general advice on how to deal with a bloody nose. Effectively it said to call a doctor if problems appeared. It was still throbbing. He knew that wasn't a problem. It would be sore for a while. "You can mail in the payment or pay online," the EMT guy said. "Thanks," Dexter said numbly. He stood up from the floor using the shopping cart as a support. He folded up the sheets of paper and put them into his back pocket. His drivers license went back in his wallet as he watched the EMT guy walk off. He then looked down at his bloody shirt and pants. He was a mess. "What in the hell am I supposed to do now?" Dexter asked. One of the bystanders answered, "Go home and change your shirt. You look like shit." "Thanks," Dexter said. It had been a rhetorical question and he hadn't expected an answer. Leaving the shopping cart where it was, Dexter headed to the front of the store. His grand shopping expedition had come to an inglorious end. He made his way to his car, noticing that people avoided getting anywhere near him. It took him a minute to realize that they were more afraid of his blood, than they were of him. His son was standing outside the store, next to Dexter's car. Will said, "I want to talk to you." "I'll meet you at the International Cabana of Pancakes in an hour. I've got to get cleaned up," Dexter said, pointing to a building at the edge of the parking lot. He was rather surprised by his son's actions. He hadn't figured that the boy would feel strongly enough about his absence to get physical. Occasionally he checked his old phone to see if anyone had called him. His kids had never called, so Will's actions were really unexpected. "I could follow you to where you're staying," Will said. Dexter said, "I'd rather you didn't." "All right. I'll be there in an hour," Will said bitterly. Dexter watched Will get in a car and leave. He wondered when Will had gotten a car. It must have happened while he was traveling. He gingerly touched his nose and said, "I sure didn't see that one coming." Moving stiffly, Dexter got into his car. He had banged his back on the shopping cart, and it was starting to feel a little tender. He figured that he would have a bruise. He drove to his apartment. While driving, he tried to understand why Will was angry. It didn't make sense to him. The apartment was only fifteen minutes from the store. Upon entering his apartment, he undressed, since his shirt and pants were bloody. His threw his shirt in the trashcan after deciding that it was a total loss. He figured the dry cleaner might be able to save his pants. He took a lukewarm shower. He was careful while washing his face. He didn't want to bust anything loose in his nose. He then dressed for a visit to the Cabana of Pancakes. He stood in front of the mirror. His nose definitely looked like it had been hit. It had swelled in size. Dexter arrived at the International Cabana of Pancakes to find Will and Sarah waiting for him at a table. He wasn't expecting Sarah to be there. He looked around to make sure that Janet was nowhere to be seen, before sitting down across from them. Sarah said, "You really did bust him a good one in the nose." "I told you," Will said. "You sucker punched me," Dexter said. Will said, "Yes, I did." "Why?" Dexter asked. "Because you're an asshole," Will answered. Dexter shook his head in disgust. His wife gets a lover and asks for a divorce and he's the asshole? He wasn't going to accept that. "Look. I didn't screw around on my marriage. Your mother did. She asked me for the divorce. I gave it to her. How does that make me an asshole?" Sarah said, "She didn't screw around on you." "Why else would she ask for a divorce? Huh? Tell me that. I wasn't abusing her. I wasn't screwing around. I wasn't losing money at the race track. I didn't give her any reason to throw me away," Dexter said hotly. "She didn't tell us why she did that," Will said. Sarah said, "She expected you to talk to her." "No. She texted me that she wanted a divorce. I gave it to her," Dexter said. "How does that make me an asshole?" "You didn't tell us," Will said angrily. "You didn't notice me when I was there. I was the original invisible man. I was probably gone a month before you noticed," Dexter said. "We knew you weren't at home the next morning when you didn't wake us for school," Sarah said. "You probably figured that I was on a business trip," Dexter said. The two kids looked kind of sheepish. They hadn't really paid much attention to his absence until their mother had gotten emotional. As far as they were concerned, he was in and out according to the needs of his job. Dexter said, "You did, didn't you?" "We did assume that, until mother told us that you had filed for a divorce," Will admitted. Sarah said, "You could have told us about the divorce." "I figured that since your mother wanted it then she should have been the one to tell you," Dexter replied. He definitely would have done that if he had been seeking a divorce. He wouldn't have told his wife via a text message, either. "You could have let us know where you were," Will said. Dexter said. "I didn't think you'd care." "Sure we cared," Will said. "Really?" Dexter rolled his eyes in disbelief. The fact that neither one had called his cell phone, suggested they didn't care. He asked, "Would you have taken an afternoon away from your game for a visit?" "We don't play Saturdays and Sundays," Will said. He was a little uneasy with his father's charges only because he knew they were true. He probably wouldn't have done anything about his father leaving. It just would have been nice to know. "What do you do on the weekends?" Dexter asked. He didn't see Will or Sarah around the house on weekends. He knew they were out with their friends, but he didn't know what they did while away from home. "I go skateboarding," Will answered. "You'd have skipped that to see me?" Dexter said. "Probably," Will answered lamely. He didn't really see himself missing an afternoon skateboarding to see his father. He might have called, though. Dexter asked, "Why aren't you playing your computer game, today?" "We finished the campaign. I was in the store to buy the next release of the game," Will answered. "So you really didn't miss me at all," Dexter said. Will said, "I missed you on my birthday. I kind of expected you to be giving me the car with mom." "I guess I did miss your birthday," Dexter said. "Of course, I don't even know what month it is, much less the actual date." "Why not?" Sarah asked. "I haven't paid attention to that, since I got fired," Dexter said. "You got fired?" Sarah asked. There was a look of terror on her face. She had friends whose fathers had gone into a destructive mode while trying to deal with a divorce. They quit their jobs, disappeared, and never provided child support. Her friends had to move out of their houses and into low cost apartments. Their standard of living had dropped considerably. "I was fired ten minutes before your mother dropped her divorce bomb on me. You might say that was a bad day," Dexter said. "You're kidding?" Will said. "What is that going to mean in terms of child support?" "Now I know why you were worried," Dexter said bitterly. Dexter was giving his wife money through his lawyer to avoid any charges of being a deadbeat dad. All he needed was to end up in jail for failure to support the kids. He looked around and asked, "Where in the hell is the waitress?" "She'll be here," Sarah said. "Service economy, my ass," Dexter said muttered darkly. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 12: Getting It Together "The world is fucked up," Dexter declared. Al, the social worker Dexter had started seeing, fidgeted in his seat, in anticipation of another long session of venting. During the first two sessions with him, Dexter had talked non-stop about the indignities heaped upon him by an unfeeling corporation, and the disrespectful way in which his wife had dumped him. Al had not been able to get a word in edge-wise. Al asked, "Why do you say that?" "All of the old rules are gone, and there aren't any new rules to take their place," Dexter said. "Can you give me an example," Al asked. "If you're going to dump someone, you tell him or her to his or her face. If that isn't possible, you write a letter ... a Dear John letter ... in which you explain things. You don't leave a one line note or a text message," Dexter said. "It isn't right." "I'll admit that doesn't give you much of a chance to get closure," Al said. "Here's another. It used to be if you worked harder than everyone else and did a great job, then you'd be promoted. Now they expect you to work harder than humanly possible, and to do a great job, just to keep your job. That's not right," Dexter said. "Well, that bit about working hard and getting rewarded for it has never really been true," Al said. Shaking his head in the negative, Dexter said, "It was true when I started working. My boss would say, 'do this extra work, and do a good job, and we'll promote you.' I did the job, I did it well, and they promoted me. Now, they tell you the same thing, and you do the job, and you do it well, and they don't promote you. When you ask why they didn't promote you, they tell you that you should be happy to have a job." "That's just basic dishonesty," Al said. "Absolutely. We used to be honest, and now we aren't. That has destroyed the old rules we used to live by," Dexter said. "So what has dishonesty got to do with the old rules not applying anymore?" Al asked. Dexter said, "Because when people aren't honest, they won't live up to the agreements made under the old rules. You follow the old rules, only to discover that people are using them to take advantage of you. The new 'name of the game' is: lie, cheat, and steal. There are no rules." "You don't think you're being a little negative?" Al asked. "No. I'm being honest," Dexter said. "Look at the games they are playing on Wall Street! They promise 'granny' all kinds of return on her investments. She loses everything because they kill the stock market with junk bonds, insider trading, and Ponzi schemes. Do they lose any money? No. They make money, regardless of what happens. Those crooks are stealing grandma's pension, and they are getting praised for it. If that doesn't prove my point, then nothing does." "You're talking about a few individuals in a select industry," Al said. "The vast majority of people are still honest." "The honest ones are losing their homes. The crooks are getting rich," Dexter said. Al said, "It just looks like that. You're just looking at the worst cases and generalizing from them." "You're naive," Dexter said. "No. I just prefer to see the good side of things," Al said. "I'm an optimist." "There was a time when I was young and naïve, like you." "Are you saying you're old and jaded?" Al asked. Dexter sighed, "I remember when I was in college. Some of our professors used to talk about how we would start having thirty hour work weeks, because technology would allow us to accomplish in thirty hours, what used to take forty hours. They said our increases in productivity would lead to increases in leisure time. I actually believed that garbage. "I looked forward to working six hours a day, or four days a week. I thought the arts would really flourish. I thought that families would grow closer. "I really thought that by being an engineer, that I was going to help make that happen. I got into the area of information sciences, thinking that I could leverage computers to increase the productivity of office workers. We could generate a report in ten minutes, that used to take all day of a manager's time. That would give some manager a four day work week. "The result was just the opposite. They got rid of people, and dumped more work on those left behind. Rather than working forty hour weeks, we're working seventy hours a week. Instead of creating a utopia, we created a dystopia. "There was no escape. Technologies like cell phones and e-mail made it easier to interrupt our leisure time, made it impossible to get away from work, since work could now follow you anywhere and at all times. "Looking back at all of the seventy hour workweeks that I put in at the company, I am not happy. I helped create this modern dystopia. I don't know how many people lost jobs because of the software that I helped write. "I think the arts have suffered. I haven't seen any major new trends in art. It is just the same old stuff repackaged. It reminds me of packages of soap that now come with 'new and improved' labels put on them. There's nothing new and improved about the soap. You lather up, rinse off, and you're cleaner than before. No change. "Television as an art? Give me a break. It has successfully sunk to the lowest common denominator of society. I watched a reality show one night last week. I don't know what planet those folks were living on if they considered it to be anything at all like reality. It was horrible. "There's no such thing as family any more. Before the technical revolution, most marriages lasted a life time. Now, half of the marriages in this country end in divorce. Half of the adults in this country live alone. We've become isolated. Even when we are together, we aren't. "My wife and I never talked to each other. We were each too busy with work to talk. Texting. That's how we communicated. That's not real communication. How can you look deeply into her eyes and tell her that you love her, when you're fifteen miles away, and all you've got are one line text messages flying back and forth across the telephone network? You can't! The 'I love you' carries as much emotional impact as: 'pick up milk.' "My son plays video games all afternoon and evening. Trying to get him away from the game is impossible. He says that he's doing things with friends, but he's interacting within a fantasy world. He's killing mythical monsters with magic spells. That's not real. He's not even looking at real people, just computer generated avatars. "My daughter spends all of her time chatting with her friends online. She's holding six or seven different conversations at once. How can she share something meaningful? She can't. Thinking and expressing deep ideas can't be done by typing single lines of text back and forth. Does she do anything with her friends? No. What kind of friendship is that when you don't do anything with your friend?" Al said, "I'll admit that I see a lot of that." "Could you imagine treating me using chat, or texting?" Dexter asked. "Not really," Al said, thinking that in this case, he'd like to give it a try. "The thing is that this kind of surreal and unnatural form of interacting is going to become accepted and normal, if something isn't done to change it," Dexter said. "I have a bit more faith in people than that," Al said. "We'll find healthy ways to work within that matrix. We'll have relationships with people, but they'll be different in nature than the ones in the past." "They'll be dishonest relationships," Dexter said. "Why do you say that?" Al asked. Dexter said, "It is real easy to lie when your interaction with someone is via text on a one inch by one inch screen. I could tell some woman that I'm tall, dark, and handsome. She'd never know that I'm of average height, pale, and nothing special in the looks department ... unless we actually meet, which is becoming less and less common. Lies are easy." "I don't believe that is entirely accurate. Lies can introduce inconsistencies, and people pick up on that pretty quickly," Al said. "It is also a lot easier to be honest about things from a distance." "I don't believe it," Dexter said. "It's true. People find it easier to admit to some things, when they aren't face to face. I think the net result will be better relations among people," Al said. Dexter snorted. "When was the term 'friends with benefits' introduced into the popular culture?" "I don't know," Al said. "That term didn't exist when I was a teenager. At that time, sex was making love with the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. A man didn't experience sex with a woman, until long after everyone else knew they were a couple. Otherwise, she'd be labeled a slut. Now, it is something 'friends' do. What the fuck is that all about?" Dexter asked. Al said, "Relationships are little less formal today than they were in the past. I don't think that is a bad thing." "They are also a lot shallower. That is a bad thing," Dexter countered. "It eases the loneliness," Al said. "Where is the passion? Where is the mystery?" Al said, "I wonder if it isn't a sign that we're becoming a more mature society." "Mature? Is that a new synonym with decadent and corrupt?" Dexter asked. "No. It just means that we're growing beyond being a society governed by its passions," Al said calmly. "That's bullshit," Dexter said. "That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard." "Why do you say that?" Al asked. Dexter answered, "Human beings haven't evolved. A twenty year old kid today, needs passion in his or her life, just as much as I needed it when I was twenty years old. If they aren't finding that passion in something positive, like love, then they are going to find it in something negative, like greed or gluttony. "Think about all of those extreme sports. We didn't have 'extreme sports' when I was a kid. I used to ride a bike to get from one place to another. Now kids are performing stunts that are likely to get them killed on bikes. Why? Because there isn't any other way for them to feel the same excitement I felt when was their age." "What kind of excitement did you get that they don't?" Al asked. That was a hard question to answer. He'd had to discover the world on his own. He rode his bicycle everywhere, and learned about his surroundings. He played in a patch of woods near his house, and learned about nature. He met people and listened to stories. The television wasn't there to explain every little thing about everything. His parents weren't taking him places such that he wouldn't have the opportunity to discover what was between here and there. It seemed to him that every day was an adventure, and that he was experiencing it, first hand. "The biggest mystery of them all was women," Dexter said, "I remember when I put my hand on a woman's bare breast, for the very first time. It took nine months for me to get to that point with her. Every little obstacle was another adventure. Holding her hand. Putting my arm around her. "The first kiss was a major milestone. Then came touching her outside her clothes. Then slipping my hand under her clothes. Finally, came the night when her shirt was opened and my hand caressed her bare breast. I felt a thousand feet tall that night! "I'm pretty sure that teenagers today are having sex when they was three years younger than when I first kissed a bare nipple. Sex can't mean nearly as much to them, as kissing that nipple did to me. It comes too easy for them." "You're equating the age at which things are experienced, with the intensity of the experience. They aren't the same thing," Al said. "They are immature," Dexter said. "So you are saying that because they are engaging in adult actions while they are still young means that our society is not mature. I don't think that's true," Al said. Dexter was silent for a moment while thinking about things. He said, "I think that maturity is about focusing on living a good and proper life. As you get more mature, you get a little more cautious about things. You focus on the long-term and stop living in the moment. "I think a mature society is one that focuses on the long term. The sixties, when we put a man on the moon, is a good example of a society working in a mature fashion. The nation had a goal and worked towards achieving it. "We, as a nation, watched man first obtain a foothold in space during the Mercury missions. Each time a rocket went up, we held our breaths with excitement. We watched man explore the basics of doing things in space during the Gemini missions. "Then came the Apollo missions where we reached for the moon. Everyone sat in front of their television sets watching us obtain our goal. We cheered ... as a nation ... as a world ... when Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon. 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.' "Then it kind of unraveled. We all held our breaths when Apollo 13 had difficulties on its mission, but that was the last mission that held our collective attention. We just dropped it after that. We gave up our long term goal of going into space right after we had proved that it could be done. "Everyone remembers the name of the first man to step on the moon. Does anyone know the name of the robot that explored Mars? No. No one cares about a robot. We can't really say that we've been to Mars, until a man steps on the surface of that planet. "You say that we are progressing in maturity as a society. I have to disagree with you. I think we're regressing in terms of maturity." Al said, "We dropped the space mission to focus on the human mission. We wanted to stop war..." Dexter interrupted with a wry grunt of disgust and said, "That was a real success. Have you watched the news, lately?" "We wanted to eliminate disease," Al said. Dexter interrupted, "We stopped Smallpox in the late fifties. In the early sixties, we contained Polio so that it is a rarity today. In the seventies and eighties, we watched HIV become a world-wide epidemic, and did nothing. In terms of real improvement, we haven't dealt with HIV. Rather than addressing HIV directly, we tell people to change the way they behave so that it can't spread so easily. "What the fuck is that? That's like having a rabid dog in the room with you, and having our 'experts' advise us that we shouldn't try to pet it. That's not dealing with the problem." "HIV is a lot more difficult to eliminate than Smallpox," Al said. Dexter said, "Bullshit. HIV is a political disease. The American scientific community wouldn't accept that a laboratory in France was the first to get a picture of the virus. It affected mainly gays at first, and no one was interested in a 'gay disease'. Now, it is prevalent among drug users and poor people. You can live with it for years before it kills you. And guess what ... treating the disease is a lot more profitable than eliminating it." "I think you're being a little excessive in your description of the situation," Al said uncomfortably. "I can guarantee you that we wouldn't be able to eliminate Smallpox today. People would refuse to get vaccinated against it, because the vaccine had too many side-effects. They'd sue the manufacturers of the vaccines, and that would be the end of it," Dexter said. Al said, "I don't believe that." Dexter laughed. He asked, "Do you know what are the most commercially successful drugs on the market?" "What?" Al asked. "Drugs for fighting erectile dysfunction!" Dexter said. "We're more interested in drugs that let us fuck, than those that save lives." "Keeping an active sex life is important to a lot of people," Al said meekly. "A kid will skip work for a chance to fuck. An adult will go to work so that a greater good is achieved – like providing for a family. You say we are becoming a more mature society. I think you're wrong," Dexter said. "We'll just have to agree to disagree," Al said. Dexter shook his head. He said, "Do you know what really gets to me?" "What?" Al asked. "I don't see any way to fix things," Dexter said. "Why do you think it is your job to fix things? Wouldn't it be better to adapt to present circumstances?" Al asked. "I'm an engineer. It is my job to fix things. It would not be better for me to accept my present circumstances," Dexter replied. Al said, "A mature person seeks to fit into society rather than rebel against it. Learning how to adapt to change is much more healthy than resisting it." "A mature person tries to improve things. He doesn't just run away from difficulties," Dexter said. Al said, "There's a prayer about recognizing what you can change and accepting what you can't." "Can you repeat it?" Dexter asked. Al pointed to a poster on the wall and said, "There it is." Dexter examined the poster, quietly, then he read it aloud. "Lord grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. "I can't do that." "Why not?" Al asked. "I am not a lemming," Dexter replied pointedly. "I'm not going to run off a cliff, just because everyone else is telling me that is what I'm supposed to do!" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 13: Cherries, Kids, and Cops Dexter looked at the item and then asked, "Where's the cherry?" "We're out of cherries," the kid behind the counter said. "Are there any in the back?" Dexter asked. "Yes. We got a couple big jars of them," the kid answered. "So get some cherries out of the back, and put one on my sundae," Dexter said. "We're too busy," the kid answered. There were thirty people in line with twenty of them being kids. Only two people were working the counter. He didn't have time to go rummage around in the storage room in the back. Dexter said, "I want a cherry on my Ice Cream Sundae. It isn't a sundae without the cherry." The man standing behind Dexter said, "Forget the stupid cherry. The kid is busy and you're holding up the line." Dexter turned around to face the man standing behind him. He wasn't upset with the man. In fact, he probably would have said the same thing if their positions had been reversed. However, he wasn't going to back down. He said, "How about if he runs out of ice cream? Will you be happy with an ice cream sundae without ice cream in it?" "He's not out of ice cream," the man argued. Dexter held up a hand with four fingers extended. He said, "A basic ice cream sundae has four parts. The ice cream, the chocolate topping, the whipped cream, and the cherry. If you leave off one of those ingredients, then you don't have an ice cream sundae. I ordered an ice cream sundae and I expect to get one." "It's just a cherry!" The kid said, "I'll get some cherries when things slow down." "That's not going to get a cherry on my ice cream sundae," Dexter said. A guy at the rear of the line shouted, "Hey! What's the hold up?" "We've got a jerk here making a big deal out of not getting a cherry!" "Well, give him a cherry." The kid behind the counter shouted, "We're out of cherries." Dexter shouted, "They aren't out. They have them in back, and he won't go get them. Nobody is going to get a cherry." A kid shouted, "I want a cherry on my ice cream." "See,? I'm not the only one who wants a cherry," Dexter said. The man behind him had been waiting in line for a long time. He was beginning to lose patience. Irritated, he said, "Just pay for your ice cream, and get out of here." "I'm not paying for an incomplete ice cream sundae," Dexter said. "It is just a stupid cherry," the man argued back. "No it isn't. It is a principle," Dexter said. "It's supposed to have a cherry on it." A kid shouted, "I want a cherry!" "Mister, are you going to pay for this or not?" the kid behind the counter asked while holding out the ice cream sundae for Dexter to take. "Not until you put a cherry on top of it," Dexter said. "Come on! Let's get a move on," one of the customers shouted. Another customer said, "At this rate, we'll never get any ice cream." One of the kids started crying and shouting, "I want my ice cream." The kid's mother said, "Stop crying. You'll get an ice cream." "Mister, I don't have time to get a cherry," the kid said. "It'll take you thirty seconds," Dexter said. "Jesus! What an asshole!" "Mommy! That man is swearing," one of the kids said. The other kid behind the counter shouted, "No swearing. There are kids present." "I wouldn't swear if that jerk would just pay for his stupid ice cream and get out of here," the man shouted. One of the mothers was at the end of her patience. Looking down at her young kids, she said, "Let's go kids. We'll get ice cream some other time." Her youngest kid started jumping up and down while shouting, "I want my ice cream. You promised me an ice cream with sprinkles on it. I want my ice cream." Half of the people started rubbing their foreheads in an attempt to keep from getting a headache. The other kids started making noises about wanting their ice creams. The volume of noise in the ice cream parlor tripled. Dexter shouted, "I'm not paying for something that I didn't order." "You ordered an ice cream sundae!" the kid behind the counter shouted. "That's right. I'm not paying for anything less than an ice cream sundae," Dexter shouted. He turned to the kid behind the counter and said, "Can't you get that though your thick head?" A deep voice interrupted, "We got a call of a disturbance here." Dexter turned to look at the door. A very large policeman filled the entrance to the ice cream parlor. The man was standing with his right hand on the grip of his pistol. Dexter had visions of getting handcuffed and led off to jail. He could just imagine the headlines, "Man Arrested in Cherry Riot at Ice Cream Parlor." "I called you," one of the men shouted. "That jerk won't pay for his ice cream." All of the kids who had been screaming, stopped upon seeing the very large policeman. With very wide eyes, they watched him walk to the front of the store. The sudden silence in the place was appreciated by the adult patrons. The police officer walked up to stand behind Dexter. He asked, "What's the problem?" The kid behind the counter said, "He won't pay for his ice cream sundae." "Pay the kid," the police officer said. Dexter asked, "Do you notice anything missing on that ice cream sundae?" The police officer looked at it and shrugged. He said, "There's not a cherry." "Right!. I'm not paying for it until he puts a cherry on top," Dexter said. "It's just a cherry," the policeman said. Not backing down, Dexter said, "A basic ice cream sundae has four parts: the ice cream, the chocolate topping, the whipped cream, and the cherry. If you leave off one of those ingredients, then you don't have an ice cream sundae. I ordered an ice cream sundae, and I expect to get one." The man behind Dexter groaned, "Not with the ingredients list, again." "I don't need any comments," the police officer said to the man. "If I had ordered an ice cream sundae without a cherry, then I would pay for it and be happy. However, I didn't do that," Dexter said. "Have you got cherries?" the policeman asked. "In the back," the kid behind the counter said. "Well, get them," the police officer said. "I don't have time to get them. I've got a line of people waiting to be served," the kid said. "Then he doesn't have to pay for it," the policeman said. The kid held up the ice cream sundae and asked, "What am I supposed to do with this?" "You either put a cherry on it, or you throw it away," the police office answered. "If you put a cherry on it, then he has to pay. If you don't, I'll ask him to leave." The kid tossed the ice cream sundae in the trash and said, "There." "Okay," Dexter said. "I'm going." "Thank you," the police officer said. Several people cheered his leaving. The cheering was not in support of his position on getting what he ordered. They were glad to have him gone, and for the line to start moving again. Dexter stepped out the ice cream parlor and shook his head. He had really wanted an ice cream sundae. He didn't really care about the cherry other than the principle involved. That wasn't quite true. Eating the cherry off the ice cream sundae was just an intrinsic part of enjoying the sundae. Still, he was tired of paying for things, and getting less than what he ordered. He didn't think that businesses should get away with that kind of stuff. Almost as irritating as not getting what he ordered, was not being able to order what he wanted. He thought it was stupid that he had to accept a particular brand of soda because there were exclusivity clauses for the small retailer that prevented it from selling the kind he wanted. He liked the burgers and fries at once place but couldn't get the kind of soft drink he liked. He could get the soft drink he liked at a place that served good burgers, but had french fries that he couldn't stand. In a way he felt sorry for the kids behind the counter. They were basically trying to deal with too much to do, and not enough time to do it in. It wasn't their fault that there weren't enough people scheduled to work that night. The police officer stepped out of the ice cream parlor and said, "I totally understand where you're coming from." "Really?" Dexter asked not having expected the policeman to take his position. He had really expected to be told to pay for it or else. "Last week I took the kids to an ice cream parlor close to our house. They were out of sprinkles. My kids really wanted sprinkles, and threw a fit. They had some in the back and wouldn't get them until I showed my badge," the police officer said. "It must be nice to have a badge," Dexter said with a grin. "Yes, it is." The police officer looked in the ice cream parlor and said, "They should have two more people working there. It is Friday night and it was hot today. I bet my wife took the kids out for ice cream." Dexter said, "It's a simple case of mismanagement. The manager only puts two people on duty because he doesn't want to pay for three. So what if things get out of control. The kids are just supposed to keep dishing out ice cream until the line goes away. He doesn't care that he might be losing customers." "You're probably right," the police officer said. They could hear a kid screaming, "I want a cherry!" "He should have gotten the cherries for you," the police officer said shaking his head. Dexter said, "I bet there are two kids within a stones throw of here who would love to be working here. They won't get the job because the owner won't hire enough people to adequately staff the store." "I know what you mean. I get to pick up the kids who get into trouble because they haven't got anything better to do," the police officer said. "I guess I'll go over to the grocery store and buy the makings for an ice cream sundae," Dexter said. "Good idea," the police officer said. He added, "One more thing..." "What?" Dexter asked. "Next time, just pay for the ice cream sundae," the police office said. Dexter said, "Don't worry. I'm never coming back here." "It's kind of stupid to lose a customer over a cherry," the police officer said. "I agree," Dexter said. Dexter walked towards the grocery store. Once Dexter was gone, the police officer got into his car and drove off. He figured that he'd have a story to tell back at the station about the cherry riot at the ice cream parlor. At the grocery store, Dexter purchased the makings for an ice cream sundae. He got the premium brand of ice cream. While he was there, he also picked up a set of Ice Cream Sundae glasses. It cost him a lot more than what he would have spent, but he had enough ingredients for fifteen ice cream sundaes and they would be in real glasse containers, instead of waxedstyrofoam cups. After returning to where his car was parked, Dexter watched a car drive by the ice cream parlor. He could see the person inside checking out the length of the line. It was just as long as when he had been in the place. The car drove on without stopping. A few minutes later, a second car did the same thing. Dexter wondered how much business the ice cream parlor lost, because of the length of the line inside. Upon reaching home, he made an ice cream sundae. It was complete, with a cherry. He carried it over to his recliner and sat down to enjoy it. The first thing he did was to eat the cherry on the top. The cherry had been atop the sundae for less than fifteen seconds. He smiled and said, "It just isn't an ice cream sundae without the cherry." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 14: Popularity Dexter had redesigned his website to provide answers to pressing problems faced by employees. He stated unequivocally that people who followed his advice were likely to get fired. He had that statement in large letters across the top of each page. He also mentioned that many of those who were fired would have legal recourse against the companies that fired them. His first article dealt with how companies were floating millions of dollars worth of loans on the backs of their employees. Not only were employees loaning money to the company, but they were paying interest on that money at credit card rates. That was often a substantial amount, particularly for individuals who traveled frequently. He used his own history as an example. He described how he had effectively loaned ten thousand dollars to his old company, to pay for two overseas trips to India. It had taken the company two months to reimburse him. He'd had to pay interest on that ten thousand dollars, for both months. With continuing monthly travel, he was always carrying a balance on his credit card. The credit card company put his payment against new charges while continuing to charge interest on the balance. Dexter's advice was to first request, in writing, a corporate credit card for use on business travel. If the company refused, then the employee should arrange for a new credit card with a zero balance. They should use that credit card for business expenses only. When interest was charged on that credit card, the employee should submit an expense voucher for the amount of the interest using the bill from the credit card company as proof of charges. If the company refused to pay the interest, then the employee should take the company to small claims court. They should do that every month if necessary. That first article generated a ton of email arguing that his scheme wouldn't work. After several rounds of emails with some of the more vocal folks, Dexter updated the article with the email exchanges. He had to edit some of the nasty language out of the emails, but he tried to be fair. His second article dealt with companies requiring employees to have cell phones and data plans, without reimbursing them for the costs of carrying the plan under their own name. He suggested submitting expense vouchers on a monthly basis. If the company refused to pay the vouchers, then he recommended changing telephone numbers and turning off data plans until the company agreed to pay the charges. The company either paid for it or the employee didn't have it. It was that simple. This article generated even more emails than the first. Mostly it was about how people wouldn't be able to do their jobs and would get fired because of that. Dexter replied to the emails patiently. He argued that companies reimbursed you when you used your private automobile on company business. Asking for reimbursement of cellular plans was no different. It was also about this time that Dexter started receiving emails from corporate lawyers suggesting that he cease and desist his website. He posted those emails. Dexter moved his website to Canada just in case they wanted to sue him. He figured that they'd have to take it up in the Canadian courts first. He didn't realize that his vulnerability was based on where the company was based rather than where the servers were located. By this time, his website was getting lots of attention. The automated advertising link service had started including links to law offices dealing in discrimination and workplace lawsuits. Those links were getting lots of hits. The third article dealt with travel. He titled that article 'Traveling on Company Time.' He argued that since people were making their own travel arrangements using online travel services, that there was no reason for them to book flights that were inconvenient to them. They could fly out Monday morning just as easily as Sunday with the advantage that they would have one more afternoon and night with their family. If the meeting they were attending ended late in the afternoon, then they should fly back the next day. There was no need to take a flight that got them home at midnight or later with the expectation that they would tiredly drag into work early the next morning. He pointed out that a three hour flight, often took six hours of travel time. He had a table that showed the time spent from leaving the house to arriving at the destination. It took into account the trip to the airport, time spent going through security, the flight, renting a car, driving to the hotel, and checking into a hotel. A round trip was basically twelve hours of uncompensated time that the employee was donating to the company. It was even longer if there was a connection in the middle of the flight. He admitted in that article that there was no legal basis to force the company to accept those kind of travel arrangements. Of course, most companies didn't have a specific policy requiring employees to travel on their own time. Until a company wrote such a policy, they couldn't force employees to travel outside of work hours. If they did, the policy could be tested in court. He admitted that he wasn't a lawyer and might be completely wrong. Dexter received a ton of email about how companies required people to find the lowest fares possible and those were usually outside of work hours. Dexter freely admitted it, but suggested they find the lowest fares during work hours. About this time, Dexter started getting emails from folks who had gotten fired for following his advice. Although he felt bad he wasn't apologetic. He posted their emails on the website along with a second reminder that following his advice could end up costing someone their job. He was being honest and wasn't going to hide that bad things happened. He then got deluged with emails accusing him of taking pleasure in the misery that he was causing others. Without apologizing, he added those emails on the website. He wanted the reader to know that he was getting criticized for his words and that it was up to them to decide how they were going to act. Dexter added a new page to his website that he called the 'Hall of Shame.' Here he posted all of the letters from companies telling him to stop his posts. He thought it was rather ironic that the advertising system added advertising links to those companies on that web page. His readers must have found it ironic as well since the number of hits on those links went through the roof. Traffic on his website had increased to the point where he had to increase the service contract with the hosting company. The advertising revenue more than covered the added cost. At this point in time, Dexter wrote a little editorial on the front page of his website. He stated that he wasn't out to break companies. His goal was to get companies to pay their employees for the time and money employees were unwillingly donating to the company. He argued that for many employees that this would represent a raise of several thousand dollars a year, particularly since it was costing employees post-tax dollars. After all, a hundred post-tax dollars, was a hundred and thirty-eight pre-tax dollars. He stated that the extra time with family was priceless. A person who traveled twice a month for a company could get twenty-four extra days a year to spend with his or her family. That might not have sounded like much, but it was more than the amount of vacation time an employee typically had. That editorial seemed to launch his website into the big-time. The number of hits rose dramatically. It made the national news. Then the news reported that this was the same Dexter who had been in the viral video that had been so popular, just six months previously. It was then learned that the company had settled a lawsuit with him under terms that remained sealed. Details of his second lawsuit were leaked, and that made the news ... big time. It was a week after the editorial had been posted when his lawyer called. Dexter answered, the phone, "Hello, Mark. What's up?" "The company wants to settle for twenty million," Mark explained. "And?" Dexter asked hearing that there was a condition on it. "They want you to shut down the website," Mark said. "No," Dexter said. "It's twenty million dollars," Mark said. Dexter said, "It will cost them a hundred million for me to shut down that website." "You can't be serious," Mark said. Dexter said, "I'm generating fifty thousand a month with that website." "We've still got the class action suit," Mark said. "How's that going?" Dexter asked. "Not so good," Mark answered. "Why?" Mark said, "We can't show that any current employee had their careers hurt. Other employees who left and found jobs can't complain that it hurt their careers." "Shit." "I agree," Mark said. "Of course, I'm still going to pursue it." Dexter said, "I have a couple of memos that might be of some help for the class action suit." "Get them to me," Mark said. "In the mean time, I'll continue pressuring them on your lawsuit." Dexter said, "Hold out for more money, and I'm not shutting down the website." "I'll do that. You can't drag this out too long," Mark said. Dexter asked, "What would happen if I put my legal battles on the website?" "You'd blow it all," Mark said. "Okay. I won't do that," Dexter said. Mark said, "I'll be talking with you later." "Good to hear from you," Dexter said. Dexter had just hung up the phone when another call came through. He looked at the caller id surprised at the identity of his caller. "Hello, Eric. How goes it?" he answered. Eric said, "Hey, Dexter, it looks like you made the news again." "Yes, I did," Dexter replied. "Have I got a funny story for you," Eric said. Expecting to get material for a future article, Dexter said, "I want to hear it." Eric said, "You know I took that new job after you were fired." "You told me about that. How's that working out?" Dexter asked. "Well, I put into place that program with office engineers that you trialed. I got exactly the same results as you did. My people produced more in less time. They even got to go home evenings at closing time," Eric said. "That's great," Dexter said. Eric said, "It sure was, until my bosses learned about what I did. Let me just put it this way ... they were not happy. We had a big assed meeting, with everyone from my boss all of the way up to the vice-president involved. They were looking to fire me." "So what happened?" Dexter asked. "I laid out everything. I showed how the number of defects went down, how the system availability went up, and how more functionality was being added in less time. I even had two surveys which showed that employee job satisfaction rose significantly because of the changes," Eric said. Dexter asked, "Then what?" "They fired me," Eric said with a laugh. "They said that I had re-organized without getting the Human Resources Department to approve the new job responsibilities." "Oh, sorry about that," Dexter said. Eric said, "That's not the funny part. After I was fired, one of the assholes asked me where I got the idea that I could get away with doing that. I answered that I got it from Dexter." "Oh, my," Dexter said imagining the reactions Eric got from the executives. "The room went dead quiet. Half of their faces turned white from fright. Half of their faces turned red in anger. Finally, one of them asked me which Dexter I was talking about," Eric said. "I'm sure they were happy to learn it was me," Dexter said with a chuckle. Eric said, "Oh, yes. You'd have thought I had shit in their cereal bowl. I was immediately escorted out of the building." "I take it you are on your way to a lawyer," Dexter said. "Can you put me in touch with your lawyer?" Eric asked. "I sure can," Dexter said thinking that Mark was going to owe him one for the referral. "Do you happen to have the data about the impact that your changes made?" "You bet," Eric said. "Do you need a job?" Dexter asked. "Sure," Eric answered. "You're hired. After you stop by the lawyer's place, why don't you come over to my apartment. We'll add your data to mine and publish another page on my website," Dexter said. "I'll be happy do that," Eric said. Dexter said, "I'll text you my address and the contact information for the lawyer. Just let him know that I sent you to him. He's a little irritated that I just turned down twenty million. I figure this might cheer him up a little." "You turned down twenty million? Are you crazy?" Eric asked. "They wanted me to shut down the website," Dexter answered. "I hope you asked for a hundred million," Eric said. Dexter laughed and replied, "That's exactly what I asked for." "To tell the truth, I wouldn't be surprised if they accepted that offer," Eric said. "Why?" Dexter asked surprised by the Eric's comment. Eric said, "There are a lot of companies that would love to see you shut down that website. You're costing some big companies a lot of money. I'm sure they'd chip in a million or two each, to see your site get closed down." "I didn't think of that," Dexter said. Eric said, "I heard that a rather large aircraft manufacturing company got hit with almost a thousand small claims court cases for interest owed employees." "I know all about that. It's true. Someone down there organized everyone in one of the work sites," Dexter said. "The company sent out a couple of big corporate lawyer types. They are losing case after case. Everyone shows up with the exactly same documentation, and they keep winning. It appears the judge in that district isn't cooperating with the company." "You are not very popular with the corporate crowd right now," Eric said. Dexter said, "I haven't started yet." Eric said, "I'm going to enjoy working with you." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 15: Real Life Kicks In Dexter and Eric had just finished posting a new article on the website. It was titled, 'Taking Back Your Vacation.' It was a simple article in the sense that it said a company didn't have any right to know where an employee took his or her vacation and that it couldn't require them to remain in contact with the company. It wasn't all that controversial except for one statement: "Any day of vacation spent working is not a day of vacation." They wrote that a vacation was a break from working and not working from a different location. Employers who didn't understand that distinction needed to have it taught forcefully to them. After posting it, Eric said, "I wish I had thought about this back when I was working at the old company. I lost at least two vacations by sitting in my hotel room putting out fires back at the company. They even called on the weekends. It was like I wasn't on vacation." "It sure ruined my trip to Hawaii," Dexter said. Eric said, "I remember you complaining about that." "At first I was pissed at everyone about that vacation. I mean, I felt like you and the other guys at our level should have stepped in to cover those calls for me. I guess it was when I was staying in the cabin after I was fired that I really thought about it logically. It wasn't your job to fill in for me. All of those calls had been unnecessary," Dexter said. "What do you mean?" Eric asked. "It was the policies that were at fault. Why was it necessary for me to sit in on every technical discussion during a crisis? It wasn't necessary. Hell, most of the time it wasn't even necessary for the project lead to sit in on the discussions. The technical folks could have fixed the problem without me and then forwarded what they had done to their project lead. I could have reviewed it when I returned home," Dexter said. "It was all about 'Cover Your Ass'," Eric said. "Yeah," Dexter said. "When did engineering change from fixing problems, to covering asses?" "I don't know. Even Mark didn't get a vacation when you look at it this way," Eric said. "No one did," Dexter said. "I took a lot of time off, after I was fired. I was tired -- physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Thinking about it now, I was dying. I really don't think I could lived for another three years, if I had stayed at the company." Eric was looking thoughtful. He was still too close to those days, to have a perspective on what that lifestyle had been doing to him. He knew that he had been miserable. Changing companies hadn't fixed that problem, though. He now knew that the problems were endemic across all of society. Every company was doing the same kinds of things to their employees. Dexter was quiet for a moment and then said, "It was killing me." "I know what you mean," Eric said. "Things are better now," Dexter said. "We're only putting in about four hours of work a day. I feel like I'm on vacation," Eric said. Dexter said, "Wait until that article has been on the web for a day. We'll be so busy answering e-mail and updating the webpage that you won't believe it." "So you're saying that the work load is a little sporadic," Eric said. "We have a little control over the busy times, based on when we post articles," Dexter said. He reached over and hit the refresh on his e-mail program. He pointed, "It's been up for about five minutes and we've already got feedback." "Jesus," Eric said. The telephone rang. There was a number on the caller id that he didn't recognize. Dexter answered it, "Hello." "Dexter, this is Mark." "What's up?" Dexter asked wondering why Mark was using a strange telephone. He hoped this was an update on the lawsuit. The only reason Mark had to call was if he had made any progress on his lawsuit. "I got a call from your son," Mark answered. "Whoopee," Dexter said sarcastically. Mark said, "Don't be an asshole." "Why not?" Dexter asked. "My wonderful son and daughter are only worried about the child support." Eric had been staring at the wall trying to ignore the conversation. He knew enough about the divorce to understand the hostility in Dexter's voice. It was obvious that Dexter was not happy about the call. "Don't be an asshole," Mark growled. "Okay. So what did my son want?" Dexter asked. "Janet is in the hospital," Mark said. Dexter's first reaction was a sense of panic. He felt that he had to rush over to the hospital to see how she was doing. He then imagined running into her boyfriend, there. It didn't take much imagination to know how that meeting would go. He'd end up in jail. He decided there was no overwhelming reason for him to go to the hospital, and quite a few reasons not to go. "Thanks for telling me," Dexter said. He was curious why she was in the hospital, but he didn't want to ask. Asking would be admitting that he cared about her. After being told in a text message that she wanted a divorce, he wasn't going to let himself care about what happened to her. "Aren't you concerned?" Mark asked. "No," Dexter answered harshly. "Aren't you even curious why she's in the hospital?" Mark asked. "No," Dexter answered. Too many more questions like that then he'd really start to feel guilty. Wanting to end the conversation, he said, "Thanks for calling. I'll talk to you later." "God damn it! Don't hang up. Do you want to go to jail?" Mark asked. "Jail? What in the hell for?" Dexter asked. He looked over at the door as if expecting the police to come barging in. He wondered if his wife had been a victim of violence and he was the leading suspect. He mentally went over the past twenty-four hours trying to see if he had any kind of alibi. Eric turned to look at Dexter wondering who was in jail. From what he heard, he assumed that Dexter's son had been arrested for something. "How about child endangerment for one?" Mark asked. "What are you talking about?" Dexter asked. "Your children are minors. With your wife in the hospital, they are without adult supervision. You might be separated from your wife, but you are still legally responsible for their safety. If anything happens to them..." Mark said letting the consequences go unstated. "Shit," Dexter said bitterly. He sat there with a frown on his face wondering what he was supposed to do. He didn't want to move back to the house. He had left that behind him. Unfortunately, he didn't have room for the kids in his apartment. "I don't have room here for them," Dexter said. "You'll have to move back to your old house, until your wife gets out of the hospital," Mark said. Dexter could imagine waltzing into the house only to discover that his wife's boyfriend was living there. He figured that he would end up in jail for sure if that was to happen. Dexter asked, "What about her boyfriend? Is he living there?" "I don't know," Mark answered. "Shit," Dexter said. Mark said, "I don't even know if she has a boyfriend." "So how long is she going to be in the hospital?" Dexter asked. Mark answered, "Appendicitis is usually a two or three day stay, considering how they want to push people in and out of rooms." "I guess I can rent a hotel suite for a couple or three days," Dexter said. "Why rent a hotel suite?" Mark asked. "I sure as hell don't want to live in her house with her boyfriend, and I don't have the room here for two kids," Dexter said. Eric shook his head. Irritated, Dexter said, "Don't shake your head at me. Wait until you get a text message from your wife, saying that she wants a divorce." Eric said, "Sorry." "Are you talking to me?" Mark asked. Dexter said, "No. I'm talking to Eric. He's here." "Okay," Mark said. "I guess I better get around to making arrangements," Dexter said. "I'll talk to you later," Mark said. Dexter hung up without answering. Mentally, he was working through all that had to be done in the next few hours. He had to make reservations at a hotel, call the kids, and pack up an overnight bag. He grunted, "Shit." "Bad news, huh?" Eric said. "I'm going to have to spend a couple days in a hotel," Dexter said. "I'll take care of the website," Eric said. Dexter said, "I'll be here during the days while the kids are in school." "Today is Friday. No school tomorrow," Eric said. "Shit," Dexter said. "I'm going to be stuck in a fucking hotel room for a whole weekend with kids that could care less if I'm dead or alive. Isn't that fucking wonderful?" "I'm sure they care," Eric said. "No, they don't," Dexter said. He sighed while shaking his head in disgust. He said, "They are my greatest failure as a human being, and now I get to have my nose rubbed in it." "What's that?" Eric asked. "My kids. I went off to work thinking I was providing for the family. I became a wage slave, working ever longer hours without reward. You know how that goes." "Yeah." "My wages weren't keeping up with inflation. Our standard of living was dropping and I couldn't afford to get the kids computers for school," Dexter said. When he had been a kid, school supplies consisted of paper and pens. Parents who really wanted their kids to succeed bought a set of encyclopedias to help their children get better grades in school. Now it was computers with printers. A pen cost a dollar, but the ink for a printer cost thirty dollars. It seemed to him that the kids didn't learn half as much despite the increased costs of sending them to school. When he had been a kid, playing required a baseball, a glove and a bat. A glove lasted a couple of seasons. Now children played computer games and got new ones every other month or so. They couldn't even use their school computers to play their games. They had to get game boxes. All that play and the kids weren't as healthy today as when he was a kid. "I've been there and done that," Eric said. "Then my wife went off to work thinking she was going to make things even better for the family. That was a joke. In the end, the kids got forgotten ... and they, in turn, forgot us," Dexter said. "You can fix that," Eric said. "No, I can't. Janet fixed that by throwing me away. I'm the bad guy," Dexter said. Eric said, "You've got a weekend alone with them. Maybe you can reconnect with them." "I had a couple of months with them. My reorganization at work gave me evenings and weekends free. Do you know what we talked about?" Dexter asked. "No." "What's for dinner? That was it," Dexter said. "Questions about school were answered with a shrug. In fact, questions of any kind were answered with a shrug." Common courtesy conversations, in which greetings were exchanged, inquiries about the day made, and comments about the weather were traded; had died, unnoticed. It was impossible to build a relationship with someone when there wasn't even a polite base from which further exchanges of dialog could be launched. "Damn," Eric said. "So what is a person supposed to do?" Dexter asked. "I don't know," Eric answered. Staring at the floor, Dexter said, "I don't know either. I was the stranger in the house. I was the misfit ... the odd man out." Things had never gotten that bad for Eric. Things had been a little rough once the kids became teenagers. They were developing lives outside of the house. Eric and his wife had worked hard to make sure that Sundays remained family days. No matter what happened, they set aside as much of Sunday as possible to spend as a family. His business trips often cut out half of the day, but he made the effort to take the latest flight available. Still staring at the floor, Dexter said, "The day I got the text message from my wife, I just gave up. I saw my place in the family and it wasn't with them. So I said, 'Fuck them.' and headed out on my own." "Do you still love your kids?" Eric asked unable to imagine walking away from his family like that. "I don't know. I honestly don't know," Dexter said. He glanced up at Eric to see his reaction knowing how his answer sounded. Eric didn't know what to say, and his face showed it. Thinking that further explanation might put himself in a better light, Dexter said, "Do I love the kids I remember? Yes. Do I love the strangers in that house? I don't know. Based on how little I know about them, I'd be hard pressed to know for sure that they are even my kids." "That's fucked up," Eric said. Seeing the look on Dexter's face, he quickly added, "I mean ... I understand what you're saying. It's just the ... situation ... I guess ... is fucked up." "Yes, it is," Dexter said thinking that was the best description of the situation. "What now?" Eric asked. "I'll make hotel reservations and pick up the kids," Dexter answered. Eric looked at the e-mail program and said, "We're getting all kinds of e-mails." "Answer them as best you can. I'll look them over tomorrow, sometime," Dexter said. Eric said, "People really want their vacations back." "People want their lives back," Dexter said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 16: Hotels and Hospitals Breaking the silence that had held reign since leaving the house, Will asked, "What are we doing here?" "We'll be staying here until your mother gets out of the hospital," Dexter answered thinking he had told them they would be staying in a hotel suite with him. He was stopped at a light waiting for it to change so that he could make the turn into parking lot of the business suite hotel. The place was a little distant from the house, but he had chosen it because it had a set of long stay suites arranged like townhouses. It was also the only one he had found with a three bedroom unit. Sarah looked up from her phone, glanced at the sign of the hotel, and said, "I'd have thought you'd be living in an apartment by now." "I am," Dexter said. "So why are we at a hotel?" Will asked. "Because my apartment is small," Dexter answered defensively. "You're a dumb ass," Sarah said. "Excuse me?" Dexter said. "All divorced fathers get an apartment big enough for the kids to visit," Sarah said. Based on the experiences of her friends, there was a natural progression to a divorce. It all started when the father moved out of the house to live in some low cost motel for a couple of weeks. Then he got an apartment close to the family that was of a size sufficient for the children to stay in. There were a few months while the father tried to remain in the kid's lives. Of course, that became hopeless after a while. The father then married some young bimbo, and started a new family, after having successfully destroyed the old family. Dexter said, "That's if they expect their kids to come for visits." "Unless they've moved in with their girlfriend," Sarah said turning her attention back to her cell phone. "I don't have a girlfriend," Dexter said angrily hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. It infuriated him to be accused of having stepped out of the marriage when he was the innocent one in this whole mess. Will shook his head at the exchange. He couldn't see why they had to stay in a hotel when they had room enough at home. He said, "We could have stayed at home, where I'd have my computer." "I'm not stepping foot inside that house," Dexter flatly declared. "Why not?" Will asked. "Your mother's boyfriend is there," Dexter said. "There's no guy there," Will said. Sarah said, "Mom has never brought another man home with her." Dexter said, "At least she's being discreet." He found it ironic that her discretion was making him look like the bad guy. With texting there weren't conversations to overhear. Cell phones made it possible to step out of the house and make calls in relative privacy that a landline didn't provide. All his wife had to do was point the finger at him and he was automatically assumed guilty. Sarah said, "She doesn't have a boyfriend." "If she's telling you that, then she's lying," Dexter said. The light changed. Driving a little faster than was appropriate, Dexter pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. He had checked in earlier so he knew where to park. He had also filled the kitchenette with soft drinks and microwave meals. "She wanted you to talk to her," Sarah said without looking up from her phone. Her fingers were flying over the keyboard. Dexter replied, "If she wanted to talk to me she would have texted that. Instead, she texted that she wanted a divorce. She was probably in bed with her asshole boyfriend recovering from a dozen orgasms when she texted me." Surprised, Sarah looked up from her phone and said, "Jane agrees with you." "Who is Jane?" Dexter asked. "My friend. I'm texting with her," Sarah said. Stunned, Dexter looked in the mirror at his daughter. He couldn't believe that she was sharing details of this conversation with her friends even while it was happening. He shook his head in disgust. "Lisa says that the first one who asks for the divorce is the one who is cheating unless the spouse catches them doing it," Sarah said. "So Lisa is an expert," Dexter said. He wondered if Sarah was busy texting Lisa as well. "Her mother has been divorced twice," Sarah said. "So I guess that makes her an expert," Dexter said sarcastically. Sarah replied, "She says it is always the guy who cheats first." Not bothering to reply, Dexter pulled the car into a parking space close to the suite he had rented. He wanted to get this conversation over as soon as he could. "We're here," Dexter said. Neither kid bothered to reply. Will got out of the car and went to the trunk to get his suitcase. Dexter hit the trunk release. Sarah remained in her seat texting her friends. "Sarah, we're here," Dexter said. "I heard you," Sarah said. "Well, get out of the car," Dexter said. "I'm in the middle of a conversation," Sarah said. Dexter rubbed his forehead trying to stave off a headache. Giving up, he got out of the car. Will was waiting for him with a suitcase in his hand. Dexter looked in the car at Sarah. She was still busy texting her friends. He headed up the walk to the suite. Will followed him. "Home suite home," Dexter said, opening the door and wondering if Will would pick up on the pun. "Which room is mine?" Will asked. Pointing to a door, Dexter answered, "That one." Without saying a word, Will went into the room. Dexter waited for him to emerge. After a minute of waiting, he went outside to see what was keeping Sarah. The car was empty, but the trunk was still open. He went over and found that Sarah's luggage still occupied the trunk. He looked around wondering what had happened to her. "Damn it," he swore while wondering where she had gone. He grabbed her bags and closed the trunk. Irritated, he carried the bags to the suite and deposited them in the last bedroom. He sat down on the sofa in the living room and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt like he was herding cats. The door opened and his daughter entered the suite. He asked, "Where did you go?" "I went to the office," Sarah answered. She held up the key to the front door and said, "You walked off without me." "You were sitting there like a lump on a log," he countered. "I was in the middle of a conversation," she said. Dexter exhaled loudly. This weekend was going exactly like he had thought it would. Will finally emerged from the room and asked, "So when are we leaving?" "Leaving? We just got here," Dexter said. "I know," Will said. Dexter said, "We're staying here the whole weekend." "Aren't you going to the hospital?" Sarah asked. "What hospital?" Dexter asked. Sarah shouted, "The one where mother is!" "Oh, shit," Dexter said. He hadn't even given a thought to taking the kids over to the hospital. He rubbed his eyes. "God, what an asshole," Will said in disgust. "Hey! Let's get something straight here. I don't want to see that cheating bitch," Dexter said. "She's not a cheating bitch," Sarah said. "I don't want to hear about her. I don't want to talk about her. I don't want anything to do with her," Dexter said. Will muttered, "Asshole." "That's my mother you are talking about," Sarah said. "Our mother," Will corrected. "Our mother," Sarah said. "I'm not the bad guy, here," Dexter said defensively. He had heard about men who didn't bash their ex-wives in front of the children, but he didn't know how they could do that. Maybe it was the mature thing to do, but he was incapable of it. All he knew was that he was so angry that he wanted to kill someone. "Are you going to take us to the hospital or not?" Will asked. "I should have stayed in the cabin," Dexter muttered. For a second, he imagined himself back at the cabin laying out in the sun getting a full body tan. He wished that moment could have lasted, but it wouldn't have. At least he was smart enough to know that was a fantasy. Sarah said, "Just because you're pissed at mom, is no reason to act like an asshole with us." "I'll take you there," Dexter said. "Jesus." "When?" Will asked. "Now, damn it," Dexter swore. Thirty minutes later they reached the hospital. They entered the lobby and went to the information desk to find out what room Janet was in. Dexter let the kids do all of the talking. Dexter said, "I'm going for a cup of coffee. When you're done visiting your mother, come on down to the cafeteria, and I'll take you home." "Aren't you going to see her?" Sarah asked. "No," Dexter shouted. The woman at the information desk said, "Be quiet. This is a hospital." "Where's the cafeteria?" Dexter asked. "Follow the green line on the floor. It runs past the cafeteria," the woman answered. Dexter stormed off to get a cup of coffee leaving the two kids watching him go. It was obvious to both of them that he didn't want to be there. It was just as obvious that he didn't want to be around them. "I don't think he likes us," Sarah said with tears in her eyes. "He's an asshole," Will said dismissively. Dexter sat down in the cafeteria with the largest cup of coffee they sold. It tasted vile, but he drank it anyway. He was not a happy camper. He was angry at his wife. He was irritated at the kids. More than anything, he hated the way he was behaving. The kids didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. With nothing to do, his thoughts turned to his life and how much it sucked. The only thing that was going well was his website. It was finally starting to draw a lot of people. The ad revenue was increasing to the point where he was easily able to cover Eric's salary. Now that it was started, he realized that he could have run it from anywhere in the world. Not for the first time, he wondered why he had moved back to this city. He sat there for three hours wondering how long the kids were going to visit their mother. There was nothing for him to do in the hospital cafeteria except drink coffee. So he sat there drinking coffee and then occasionally going to the men's room to piss it away. The vile stuff was killing his stomach. He had gotten out of the habit of carrying the pink pills with him. "I'm going to have to visit the social worker, and try to get my head screwed on straight," he mumbled to himself. A man passed by and then stopped. He stared at Dexter for what seemed like a long time. Finally, the man said, "You're him." "I'm who?" Dexter asked confused by the statement. "You're Dexter." "That's my name," Dexter said thinking he had never seen this man before. "You're the communist who's trying to bring down corporate America," the man said. "Communist?" "Yeah. I recognize you from the internet." "I'm not a communist," Dexter said stunned by the man's charge. The man said, "So why are you trying to destroy this country by screwing up capitalism?" "I'm not trying to screw up capitalism. I'm trying to get corporations to stop taking advantage of their employees," Dexter said wondering how anyone could see his website and think he was a communist. "No, you're not. You're a leftist who wants to destroy corporate America," the man said. "I'm not a leftist. I'm a Republican," Dexter said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 17: Conversation with a Stranger Dexter looked down at his watch. He had taken the kids to the hospital at five thirty. It was now nine thirty and the kids were still visiting their mother. He figured that hunger should have driven them down to the cafeteria by now. It had now closed and he was left drinking vending machine coffee it was even worse than the cafeteria coffee. A young man stood by the vending machine feeding money into it for a cup of coffee. He pressed a couple of buttons and stood back. The cup fell into place at an angle and half of the coffee was dispensed onto the floor. He fumbled with getting the cup straightened. He looked around the empty room and spotted Dexter. He headed over to where Dexter was seated. He sat down at the table next to Dexter and said, "I hate hospitals." "I don't think I've ever met someone who loves hospitals," Dexter said. Bored, he was more than willing to pass the time with idle conversation with a total stranger. He asked, "Why you visiting the hospital tonight?" "My Dad was brought in earlier for his heart," the man said. "Sorry to hear that," Dexter said. "I blame the company he worked for," the man said. "Why?" Dexter asked. "He's been working twelve hour days and seven days a week for years," the man said. Dexter said, "I know how that is." "For a long time, I thought it was because he had more loyalty to his company than to his family. Boy was I wrong," the young man said. He took a sip of the coffee and then said, "That's awful." "Why do you say that you were wrong?" Dexter asked. The young man answered, "I got a job and they wanted me to work the same kind of hours. It was do it or not have a job." "I know how that is," Dexter said. The young man's cell phone rang. He spent ten minutes talking on it. It was pretty obvious to Dexter that it was a work related call. Dexter looked at his empty coffee cup. Another cup would keep him awake the whole night. As it was, he figured it would be two or three in the morning before he'd be able to fall asleep. He decided that he'd try to get a caffeine free soda later. The young man closed his cell phone. He grumbled, "I'm not going in to work." "Are you expecting any calls from family or friends?" Dexter asked. "No." "Turn off your cell phone," Dexter said. "Why?" the young man asked. Dexter said, "They can't call you if your phone is off. You're in a hospital. If your boss gives you a rasher of shit about not answering your phone, then explain that they don't allow cell phones in a hospital." "That's a good idea," the young man said. He fiddled a moment with his cell phone, and then said, "It's off." "Don't you feel better?" Dexter asked. "I do," the young man said. Dexter asked, "Are you married?" "No," the young man said. He shook his head and added, "I doubt that I'll ever have a chance to get married. My job keeps me too busy to spend much time searching for Mrs. Right." "You'll find someone," Dexter said. "I don't know. My boss dropped in my office at five and said that I had to give a presentation to a customer Monday morning. It's going to take me all weekend to put it together. It seems like every week it's something like that," the young man said. Dexter pulled out his wallet and removed a business card from it. He handed it to the young man and said, "You might want to visit my website." The young man looked down at the card. His eyebrows rose. He said, "I've heard of this website. A lot of the old guys at the office talk about it over lunch." "It deals with a lot of situations like yours," Dexter said. He was going to talk to Eric and see if they couldn't put together something about how young folks could get weekends free to search for a spouse. He remembered having to pay his dues, but it wasn't anything like what they expected of young employees today. He didn't think this young man was the only one who was having to put his career above dating. "My name is Ken." "Nice to meet you Ken. I'm Dexter." "So why are you sitting around in the hospital?" Ken asked. "My kids are visiting their mother. She had appendicitis," Dexter answered. "Their mother? You're divorced?" Ken asked. "Separated," Dexter answered. Ken asked, "Your fault or hers?" "Hers. She texted me that she wanted a divorce," Dexter said. Ken said, "I've had a lot of women text me with similar kinds of news." "It's cold," Dexter said. "Not really. Everyone is too busy to waste time breaking up face to face any more. A text message is short and sweet," Ken said shrugging his shoulders. "You don't end a marriage with a text message," Dexter said. "That's more of an e-mail kind of breakup," Ken said. Dexter stared at Ken. "You aren't serious, are you?" "Sure I am," Ken said. "Who has time for drama any more? You cut loose and go on your way." "That's wrong," Dexter said. "That's life in the modern world," Ken said. "That's wrong on so many levels that I don't even know what to say," Dexter said. Ken said, "I've been out of college for four years. I've had three girlfriends in that whole time. One I got to see for about three hours every other week. We always seemed to have scheduling conflicts. By the time we were getting around to having sex, she got transferred to another town. She broke it to me in a text message." "That's not much of a relationship," Dexter said. In a way, it reminded him of the last few years of his marriage. He saw his wife in passing more often than not. They even had to exchange text messages to arrange to meet for a meal on occasion. It hadn't been much of a relationship. No wonder that she turned to some other guy. He just wondered when she had the time for it. "It still hurt. She might have been the one, but we never really had the chance to find out," Ken said. "You need to press for a little more time away from work," Dexter said. "I need the job. I've got student loans out the ass," Ken said. "I'm trapped." 'Just wait until you have a family. Then you'll really be trapped, ' Dexter thought. Instead, he said, "You're kind of young to be trapped in a job." "Tell me about it," Ken said. "I had such dreams." "You're only in your late twenties," Dexter said. He figured that was awful young for Ken to be giving up on his dreams. "Sometimes I feel like I was sold a bill of goods. I mean ... well I don't know what I mean ... it's just that it wasn't supposed to be this way," Ken said tiredly. Dexter asked, "How was it supposed to be?" Ken snorted. "I was supposed to graduate college and get a good high paying job. Then I'd meet a girl, we'd live together for a bit, get married, buy a house, and then have kids." "Do you have a good high paying job?" Dexter asked. "Yeah, but no one said anything about graduating with a shitload of debt. I'll have to work for ten years to pay it off. I don't have the time to meet a girl and I can't afford to get married and have kids even if I do find one," Ken said. "That sucks," Dexter said. Ken took a sip of his coffee. The flavor hadn't improve any and now it was starting to get tepid. He said, "My Dad tried to pay my way through college, but it was expensive. Student aid was a joke. They looked at his salary and said that he should be able to afford forty thousand a year. That was almost his entire take home pay. What kind of idiot thinks you can afford to give away almost your whole net income for four years? You can't." Dexter shook his head. Ken said, "So he got a second mortgage on the house and cleaned out his savings accounts. It still wasn't enough. The more desperate the situation was, the more the company dumped on him. It was like they knew they had him by the balls. I think that is why he's upstairs having his heart repaired. "I took loans to cover the difference. You can't do anything with only half a college degree. You either finish it or you've wasted a bunch of money. Of course you do it thinking that there's going to be a great payday when you've graduated. "So now I'm stuck in a good paying job and giving a huge percentage of my income to pay for my loans. I'm paying nearly as much to live in an apartment as a mortgage would cost. My rent money is just going down the toilet. I can't buy house because I don't have any money for a down payment. I haven't been able to save a dime in the entire time I've been working." Dexter said, "College was a lot cheaper in my day." Ken said, "Here's the best part. My high school friend is an electrician. As an apprentice, he got paid to learn and got his ticket about the same time that I graduated. He makes almost as much as I do and he doesn't have any student loans to pay off. He gets his weekends off; I don't. He's got a house; I don't and I won't have one for at least another six years. In fact, I may never get one. He's married to a nice young woman and has two kids. I can't show up to two dates in a row." "Your lifetime earnings will be greater than his," Dexter said. "Really? I don't believe that. He gets cost of living raises. I get cost of living raises. Everything that I buy is going to cost more than what he paid for the same thing because by the time I can afford to buy it the price has gone up. So maybe I'll make more, but I'll have to spend more to be equal to him," Ken said. Dexter shook his head and said, "I guess things are different today." Ken said, "I really didn't like my Dad when I was growing up. I was jealous of all the hours he spent at work rather than with me. After all ... aren't I more important than his dumb job? It got even worse when I went college. I thought he should have been able to pay for my entire college education and I was pissed that he couldn't. I figured that he had frittered away all of that great money he made while ignoring me. "Now ... I know better. I've got to thank him for how much he really struggled to do what he did. I'm not going to be able to do as much for my kids as my Dad did for me," Ken said. "I've got my kid's education covered now," Dexter said. That hadn't been the case until he had gotten fired and won the lawsuit. Until then, he might have been able to cover half the cost of college. Ten years from now, his son could have been telling exactly the same story as Ken. "How did you manage that?" Ken asked. "I sued the company I worked for when they fired me," Dexter answered. "What did you do to get fired?" Ken asked. "I told the truth," Dexter answered. "Even I know you're not supposed to do that," Ken said. Dexter said, "Now I run a website. It is covering my living expenses and sending money to my ex-wife to support the kids. I still have the money left from the lawsuit to cover the kid's tuition." "Your kids are lucky," Ken said. Dexter said, "My kids don't give a damn about me. They don't know who I am. For ten years I was just a face at the breakfast table. Hell, I don't know who they are. My daughter is texting all of the time and my son plays video games. I'm nobody." Ken laughed bitterly. "I can understand them. I didn't know or like my Dad when I was a teenager. Now it is too late to get to know him. I'm too busy to talk to the man. I respect him a lot more now than I did then. I didn't respect him at all back when I was a teenager." "I'm sure that your father wasn't all that pleased with you, either," Dexter said. "He told me that on more than one occasion," Ken said. He looked a little embarrassed about that admission. Dexter said, "I liked my Dad. He came home from work every night at five thirty. We would all eat at the dinner table and talk about current events as a family. I'd work with him out in the garage or around the house. He would tell me stories about things that had happened to him throughout his life. Some of his stories were funny and others were serious. He would give me these little gems of wisdom that I still remember to this day. "When I finally got my work schedule under control, I walked around the house and took stock of life. I realized that I hadn't done any of that stuff with my son. He's gotten nothing from me and he isn't interested in hearing what I have to say," Dexter said. "What would you tell him?" Ken asked. Dexter thought about it for a couple of seconds and then answered, "I don't know. I could tell him stories about working, but he'd be bored out of his mind." "I remember they used to have this commercial on television about wanting to grow up to be a middle manager. God, it made it sound like a fate worse than death. Now ... I'd be surprised if I get that far," Ken said. "I could have probably used a few stories from my father about navigating the politics of corporate America." Dexter snorted. "Everything I know about being an asshole was learned sitting in meetings at work. That's the last thing I'd want my kid to learn from me." "Aah," Ken said. Dexter said, "My Dad used to talk about the importance of having pride in your work. He had a lot of pride in his work. Towards the end of my career, I didn't. The company was shipping out stuff before it was fully engineered and I was never in a position to stop it. Everything I worked on ended up being shoddy. I couldn't take pride in that. "My Dad had friends. I don't. Getting and keeping friends takes time. I never ended up with the time required to develop lasting friendships. All I had were coworkers and acquaintances. That's not the same as friends." "You never had friends?" Ken asked. Dexter answered, "I did have friends in high school, but we all drifted apart. I had a few in college ... like my roommate ... but I haven't talked to him in years. I don't even know the names of my neighbors. Now, that is a sad commentary on a man's life." "You can say that again," Ken said. Dexter asked, "Have you made any friends since you started working?" "No," Ken answered. "Have you kept up with your friends from college?" "No." Dexter said, "I guess if I had to give some advice to my son, I'd tell him to put his friends and family above everything else. Maybe he'll never reach middle management. Maybe he'll end up being a plumber. There are lots of plumbers who are happy with their lot in life. Sometimes I think there are more happy plumbers than happy engineers." "You could be right," Ken said. "My high school buddy is a lot happier than I am." "You see him much?" Dexter asked. "A couple times every year," Ken answered. Dexter said, "You should be seeing him every week." "I'll try to make the time," Ken said. "Who knows ... he just might introduce you to your future wife," Dexter said with a grin. "You might be right," Ken said. He stared at his empty coffee cup for a moment and then said, "I guess I better go upstairs and see how my Dad is doing." "I hope everything turns out okay for him," Dexter said. "Thanks," Ken said. He left the cafeteria. Will and Sarah had entered the cafeteria through a secondary entrance located behind Dexter. They had overheard almost the entire conversation between Ken and their father. It was strange listening to their father talk about them to a perfect stranger. More than that, it was the first time that they had ever heard him talk about himself. The impression he gave others was far different than the one they had of him. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 18: A Real Office Dexter dropped the kids off in front of the hospital so that they could visit their mother. They had instructions to send him an e-mail when they were ready to be picked up. He gave them the e-mail address for the website since he was going to swing by the apartment to check up on it and try to start another article. He wasn't ready to give them his cell phone number. He was sure that they would give it to Janet and she'd be calling all of the time to rub his nose in her affair. He still had his old phone. It was filled with calls, text messages, and e-mails from Janet. He ignored them. Of course, there hadn't been any calls from the kids. That was just another reminder of his relative importance or, more accurately, the lack of importance that he had in their lives. While driving to his apartment he thought about what might be a suitable topic for his next article. He wasn't sure what business woe to address next, but his conversation with Sam the previous evening had given him some ideas. Like everyone else, he had abused more than one new-hire to meet the demands of the overwhelming pile of work that was dumped on him. Shit rolled downhill and pity the poor person at the bottom. Thoughts about Sam reminded him of the later events of that evening. The drive home from the hospital had been quiet. He assumed that the kids were tired from their day in school and evening at the hospital. It dawned on him that they might be worried about their mother. He decided that he could make some generalized comments about recovering after appendectomy without having to talk about Janet explicitly. Their reaction had been lukewarm at best. Sarah had continued to text her friends while Will stared out the window. Breakfast was at a chain restaurant that morning so there hadn't really been much of a chance for conversation. The public environment made conversation about any topic of substance impossible ... a fact of which Dexter was most appreciative. It was crowded. The tables were packed together so that there wasn't much room to sit in the seat. His knees were hitting Will's knees under the table. He wondered if tables had shrunk. He didn't remember people not being able to sit comfortably in diners in the past. The service there had been lousy, but Dexter didn't expect otherwise. The waitress had never offered him a refill on his coffee. No one delivered water to the table. The orders had been taken, the food delivered, and the bill dropped off on the table. Dexter didn't leave a tip. He finally arrived at the apartment. He was surprised to find Eric in the study working on the computer. As he walked in, he said, "Hello Eric." "Hi, Dexter. Everything work out all right yesterday?" Eric asked. "Yep," Dexter answered. "What are you doing here?" "Just answering a couple of the e-mails," Eric answered. "It's Saturday. You don't have to be here," Dexter said. "I figured you'd be busy with the kids and all, so I came in to clear out some of the e-mails," Eric answered. "Why not just do it from home?" Dexter asked. It seemed to be a waste of time to drive to his apartment just for a few e-mails. Eric grinned upon hearing the question. He asked, "Are you giving me a 'home office' stipend?" "Huh?" "Are you going to help defray the cost of having a 'home office'?" Eric asked. "I hadn't thought about it," Dexter said. "Well, think about it. Until you pay me to maintain a 'home office', I'm not working at home," Eric said. Dexter grinned when he realized what Eric was saying. It had always irritated him that he had to pay out of his own pocket to get a machine loaded with his office's software, in order to be able to work from home. "I think we have the topic for our next article," Dexter said. "You bet!" Eric said. "You know. I was spending a shitload of money for that damned company," Dexter said. "Same here," Eric said. "It dawned on me last night when I went to boot up my computer, that I had gotten it for work. I don't keep my home budget on it. In fact, there is nothing of a personal nature on that machine. All my personal stuff is on an older computer that I had gotten for work." "Same here," Dexter said. "I also figure that you should rent an office and work there rather than at home," Eric said. "Why?" Dexter asked. He was surprised that Eric was trying to tell him how to run his business. Eric said, "Your website is always harping on how you have to separate your work life from your private life. You should eat your own dog food before you start selling it to others." Dexter shook his head as he asked, "Where do you get those witty sayings?" "If you hang with an enough mangy dogs, you're bound to pick up a few fleas," Eric answered with a grin. "So what do you suggest?" Eric said, "I noticed an office building on my way over here with an advertisement for offices starting at three hundred a month. You should look into it." "I'll do that," Dexter said. "Also, we need to establish scheduled work hours," Eric said. "What do you suggest?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "I'll work Tuesday through Saturday if you'll work Sunday through Thursday." "Sounds reasonable to me," Dexter said. "You'll be able to keep your family day that way." "That was my thinking on the matter," Eric said. "It still gives me a day off on the weekend," Dexter said, thinking that it wasn't a bad arrangement. He thought about it for a moment more, and then asked, "What would you think of four day workweeks?" "That's even better," Eric said. "Wednesday through Saturday for you and Sunday through Wednesday for me," Dexter said. He could use the overlapping day to run errands out of the office. They could hold a meeting that day to sort out any issues that might have arisen. He figured that Eric was smart enough to give him a call if there was something really important that had to be addressed. "Ten hour work days?" Eric asked. "No. We'll stay with eight unless there's a problem," Dexter said. "I'll post the article on Tuesday. That way the majority of replies will be on the day we both work." "Sounds good to me," Eric said. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "Of course, some people might not be happy about not getting an immediate answer to their e-mail." "Fuck 'em," Dexter said. "Fuck 'em?" Dexter said, "This is a website about keeping work and life separate. We just put a notice that we have fixed working hours ... just like they should ... and let them know that we'll answer things during our operating hours." "When you eat your own dog food, you take really big bites!" Eric said. "Where am I wrong?" Dexter asked. "You aren't wrong, though the visitors to our website might disagree," Eric said. "The internet is twenty-four/seven, but that doesn't mean that we have to be twenty-four/seven. We've got our lives to live. I'm not hiring six more people so that Joe Shmoe can get an answer to his e-mail at three o'clock in the morning," Dexter said feeling the rightness of his words. "It's your business," Eric said. Dexter said, "I met a young man at the hospital last night. He's in his late twenties. We were talking and I feel like he's got a real issue that should be addressed on our website." "What issue?" Eric asked. "The poor guy can't get time off to meet women. He's single and wants to find a wife, but he's working God awfully long hours, because he's the low man on the totem pole where he works," Dexter said. "You're right. We should address that issue. Of course, that problem is more organizational than anything," Eric said. "We might want to start addressing some of the organizational issues. You know ... hiring secretaries, realistic time reporting, rational scheduling, meetings management ... all that crap. So far, all I've done is write about how companies are using their employees as a source of interest free loans and off-loading some of the operational costs onto them," Dexter said. "Right," Eric said. Derrick was silent for a minute while considering his current circumstances. He had all that business with Janet in hospital and the kids at the hotel to take up his time. According to the new work schedule, he was supposed to work all day tomorrow. He knew that things were slow enough that he could get by with working only a couple of hours. Dexter said, "Here's what I'm going to suggest. Wednesday, you and I talk about what we want to post the next week. You work on the article during your work hours and answer any e-mails that come in. I'll pick up the article and finalize it on my work days. I'll post it mid-day Tuesday. "We'll start the new schedule beginning tomorrow. I'll work most of the day, but I've still got that garbage dealing with Janet and the kids. I should be able to get away with a partial day tomorrow." Eric said, "You're the owner. You can work when you damned well please." "I keep forgetting that," Dexter said with a grin. He still tended to view it as a job. A lifetime of work habits kept drawing him into working. "Right," Eric said. "I'll finish up here and head home. I'll see you Wednesday." "Great," Dexter said. "Put some of your ideas down for the article." "I've already been working on it," Eric said. "Excellent. I'm going to see about renting an office," Dexter said. "Okay," Eric said. "If an e-mail comes in from my son or daughter, give me a call," Dexter said. "Why don't they call you directly?" Eric asked. "I don't want them to have my cell phone number," Dexter answered. It dawned on him, then, that he could have told them to call his old phone. Of course, it probably needed charging. "Why not?" Eric asked. "They'd give the number of my former wife. I don't want her to have it," Dexter answered. Frowning, Eric said, "I guess that makes sense." Dexter headed out of the apartment in search of a location for his new office. He liked the idea of separating his business life and private life. For one, he wasn't very comfortable with having Eric working in his apartment. It would get worse if he hired another person, although he didn't see that happening anytime soon. The fact of the matter was that he had gotten into the habit of walking around the apartment naked. Maybe it was a little personal rebellion against the constraints of society, but he liked doing it. It bothered him that he had to dress first thing in the morning, because Eric was coming in to work. He came across the small office building that Eric had mentioned about three blocks from his apartment. There was a sign in the front advertising office space for three hundred dollars a month. He was pretty sure that it would be a single office with minimal services for the price. Of course, he didn't need much more than that. Dexter went inside the building not expecting to find anyone there. Much to his surprise, a woman was seated at a receptionist desk. She was working on a computer. He went over to her and said, "I'm interested in renting an office." The woman looked irritated for a second at the interruption. She looked up at him and asked, "How many people will be working in the office?" "Two." "Do you need telephone service?" she asked. "No." "Internet?" "Yes." "I've got a two person office available for five hundred a month," she said. "I'll take it," Dexter said. Raising an eyebrow at him, she asked, "Don't you want to see it first?" "Sure," Dexter answered thinking he wasn't making a very good impression as a businessman. The office was large enough for two desks with a little room left over for a chair or two for visitors. It would be tight, but with their staggered schedules it wouldn't be that bad. After years of working in cubicle hell, Dexter knew good working conditions from bad. He didn't see any problems with the office. "My employee and I work staggered schedules so that we can cover the whole week. That means we'll be in on weekends. Is there any problem with that?" Dexter asked. "I don't care when you work. We have a key pad on the front door for twenty-four hour access. You'll have a key for your office," she answered. He whipped out his checkbook and asked, "How much do you want?" "A deposit of three hundred and two months rent," she answered. He started writing a check for the full amount. Feeling like she was dealing with an amateur, she said, "We have a conference room that you can schedule for twenty dollars an hour. It has a conference phone and computer projector. You'll have to pay the long distance charges at the end of the month." "How difficult is it to schedule?" Dexter asked thinking he couldn't see a reason for them to need a conference room. He and Eric would talk in the office on Wednesdays. The website didn't require them to have customers dropping by. If he needed any professional services, it would be he who would go to their offices. "It is available most of the time. You can access the calendar showing when it is scheduled, on the internet. I'll give you the website," she answered. "That's great," Dexter said. "I'm also available to provide secretarial services. I charge by the task," she said. Dexter said, "I'll keep that in mind." He looked around the office feeling pleased with it. He would have to get two desks, but that wouldn't take more than a few minutes online, or he could stop by the office supply store and purchase two desks there with a credit card. They went through the process of filling out a lease. It was a typical short-term agreement, in which the office was rented month to month, with a thirty day notice before leaving. Once a year the terms of the lease were reviewed. Dexter didn't have any problems with the lease. He had just finished with the lease and gotten the keys when his cell phone rang. It was Eric telling him that the kids were ready for him to get them. They would be waiting in the hospital cafeteria for him. He headed for the hospital, wishing that the weekend would come to an end. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 19: The Waltz and Other Dances Dexter managed to get his office moved to the new office space, Sunday, while the kids were visiting their mother. He was pleased with the progress he had made in establishing his website as a real business. He sat behind the cheap desk ... a really cheap desk ... thinking that it wouldn't last a year. The difference was two hundred dollars for a desk versus a two thousand dollars for a desk. He doubted the website would last five years. It was one of those temporary businesses: like pagers, CB radios, and local video stores. They thrived for a couple years and then died when the market changed. There was nothing wrong with that kind of business, as long as one recognized it for what it was. Invest too much in it, too late in the business cycle, and you'd never recover your investment. He wasn't going to make that kind of mistake. He set up the computer and checked the e-mails. A dozen had arrived since he had grabbed the computer earlier that morning. Most of the e-mails had similar comments about the last article. One of the e-mails had a threatening tone, suggesting that he drop the website and retire someplace, before things got out of hand. Dexter shook his head as he muttered, "Nothing like telling the truth, to upset people." It puzzled him how people took things so seriously, that they were willing to make threats to stop them. He was just publishing hints on how to get control over the work relation between employee and company. He put the e-mail into the folder marked 'threats'. It wasn't the first of its kind and he didn't think it would be the last. There was another e-mail that demanded his attention. It was from a guy who said that he lost his job as a result of following the advice on his webpage. He was threatening to sue the website. Dexter replied that every page carried the warning that individuals might lose their jobs if they did the things suggested in the webpage. He added that the individual would stand a much better chance of winning a lawsuit against the company that had fired him. He then dragged the e-mail into the 'lawsuit threats' folder. He wondered how long it would be before someone actually filed a lawsuit against him. He doubted that it would be more than a year. He jotted a note to call his lawyer and find out what more he could do to protect himself. He checked his watch. It was almost time for him to go pick up the kids from the hospital. He wondered how often they would visit him, if he were the one who was ill. It wasn't a very pleasant thought. He mumbled, "I could die, and no one would miss me." He took the time before leaving to set up Eric's computer. He put the printer on a small table between the two desks. He stood back and looked over the office feeling pleased with it. The walls were bare, but it looked like a real business. He still found it hard to believe that he was now a businessman. He drove over to the hospital and went to the cafeteria. After a quick glance around the large room, he bought a cup of their foul coffee and settled down to wait for the kids. He realized that he should have brought something to read. He'd fix that before coming the next time. The cafeteria was sparsely populated with hospital staff and visitors. Outside of the clothes worn by the people, it wasn't easy to tell the difference between the two groups. The hospital staff looked bored and tired. The visitors looked worried and tired. He watched the various groups trying to guess a little about their background. All in all, it was a depressing room. He hadn't taken more than two sips of his beverage when the kids showed up. It startled him when Will and Sarah sat down at the table. He was almost glad that he wouldn't have to finish the coffee. They looked at each other as if trying to decide who would initiate a conversation. Will finally gestured to his sister. Sarah said, "We need to talk." "Those are frightening words," Dexter said lightly, leaving the 'particularly coming from a woman', unsaid. Will said, "We're serious." "Okay, so talk," Dexter said. He looked at the cup of coffee, thinking he was going to have to drink the whole thing at this rate. "Who are you?" Will asked after a long uneasy pause. That was not exactly the question Dexter was expecting. He sat for for a second, considering how to answer it, and realized there wasn't a good answer. He said, "I'm a guy trying to make his way through life in a large uncaring world. I am drifting without purpose or direction. "I used to think I had a purpose. I was trying to support a family, but a text message stole that from me. I woke to realize that in pursuing my ambition to provide the most that I could for my family that I had actually lost that family. In essence, I failed in the one thing I was trying to achieve. So now, I'm nothing but an angry, bitter old man." Dexter wiped a tear from his cheek. He was silent for a moment, and then added, "That's what I am. I don't know who I am, anymore." The two kids were staring at him wide-eyed. It was not the kind of answer they were expecting. "Are you satisfied?" Dexter asked tiredly. "I don't know," Will answered uncertainly. He had been expecting an answer along the lines that he was their father. "That's sad," Sarah said. "Yes, it is," Dexter said. He took a sip of his coffee. Compared to the bile in his stomach the coffee was sweet. "I kind of expected you to say that you were our father," Will said. "Am I? Do you think I'm your father?" Dexter asked. "Yes," Will said. Dexter rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. He said, "You're wrong. I'm your sperm donor. I haven't been your father for at least ten years. Fathers do things with their kids. They spend time with them. They support them when they do things. They listen to their problems and try to help. They guide their children into life. That's what fathers do. "I haven't done any of that." To hear their father call himself their sperm donor, was emotionally devastating to the kids. They didn't know how to react. The problem was, that they could see that he was right. He hadn't been a father to them. "What about us?" Sarah asked meekly. "That is 'the eight hundred pound gorilla' in the room," Dexter said with a sigh. "We'd still like an answer," Will said. Dexter said, "I'll continue to support you as best that I can. I've got money set aside to put you both through college if that is what you want." "What if we don't want to go to college?" Will asked. "The money for your college would make a hell of a good down payment on a house," Dexter said. Sarah asked, "Don't you want to be our father?" Dexter answered, "Sure, I do. But let's be honest about the situation. I don't live with you, and you don't have room in your lives for me. I know that, and you know that. "I spent three months in that house, trying to establish some kind of rapport with the two of you. Will has his computer games that occupy all of his time. You have have your circle of friends who you are in constant contact with. Where do I fit into that picture?" Will licked his lips. It was a very good question, and the only answer he could find was that his father didn't fit into the picture. He looked down at the table top. Dexter said, "I'm not in the picture. I know that ... and, as much as it hurts, I've accepted it." The three of them sat around the table not saying anything. For the most part, there wasn't much more that could be said. Dexter felt drained. Emotion did not come easily for him. Will continued to stare at the table top. Sarah was sniffling. "I want to go home," Sarah said. "Okay. We can leave for the hotel, now," Dexter said. "No! I want to go home!" Sarah said forcefully. Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Dexter said, "Okay." He looked down at his cup of coffee, wondering when he had finished drinking it. His stomach rebelled at the presence of the bitter liquid. He wished he had some of those pink pills with him. Looking at the expressions on the faces of his kids, he figured they would appreciate a couple of the pink pills as well. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to the front of the house. It had been a quiet trip. He parked at the curb rather than pull into the driveway. Dexter sat there waiting for the kids to get out of the car. He'd stay until they were safely in the house. He said, "I'll come back in two hours to pick you up." "Aren't you coming in?" Will asked. "Go into that monument to my failure? No, thank you. I'll swing by and pick you up, later," Dexter answered. Will said, "I can drive us to the hotel." "That's right. I keep forgetting that you can drive, now," Dexter said, thinking that his constant failure to remember that Will could drive, was another indicator of the distance between him and the kids. "Okay, I'll see you there." The two kids got out of the car and headed to the house. Will opened the front door, and then turned to watch his father. Dexter waved and drove off, wanting to put as much distance between him and the house as possible. He remembered when he and Janet had bought the house. It had taken every dime they had to get through closing. They had less than thirty dollars left in the checking account, when everything was said and done. It didn't matter. They were so excited about having a place of their own that nothing could have brought them down. It wasn't just a house: it was a home. Those first few years in the house had been tough. Money was always tight. They had the kids and that put greater financial pressures on them. Still, he knew he was trying to build something important – a family. He and Janet were pursuing a dream, and that made everything easier. Now that dream was dead. The home had once again become simply a house. The family had devolved to four strangers sharing a space. No new dreams had replaced the old dream. There was no hope for a brighter future. At the hotel, Dexter went into his room and took a nap. He fell asleep almost upon reaching the bed. The room was dark when he finally woke. He could hear the murmur of a quiet conversation taking place outside his bedroom door. He sat up and listened. Will said, "Mom really did a number on his head." "She just wanted to talk to him," Sarah said. "I know that's what she says, but that isn't what she said to him," Will said. "I know. She knows she blew it," Sarah said. Will said, "She says that she didn't have a boyfriend, but I'm not sure that I believe her." "Don't be a jerk. You heard what she said, when you told her what Dad said about her having a boyfriend," Sarah said. "I couldn't understand half of what she was saying. She was crying too much to make out her words," Will said. There was a noise that sounded like someone dropping into the couch. "She couldn't believe that he would believe that of her. She says that she's never looked at another man," Sarah said. "That's easy to say, but impossible to prove," Will said. "Why should she have to prove it?" Sarah asked. "Because she told him to fuck off," Will said. Sarah said, "She didn't tell him to fuck off. She thought he would drop everything to talk to her. I mean, that's what you're supposed to do when someone asks you for a divorce." Dexter couldn't hear Will's reply. He imagined it was along the lines of not having anything to talk about. "She didn't want a divorce. She wanted him to come talk to her," Sarah said a little louder, obviously frustrated by whatever Will had said. "Instead of telling him that she wanted a divorce maybe she should have asked him if he wanted a divorce," Will said. "It's the same thing," Sarah said. Will said, "No, it's not. Telling someone you want a divorce doesn't leave much room for discussion. What's he supposed to say: 'No you don't'?" "He's supposed to ask why," Sarah said. "Why ask when your heart has been torn out of your chest?" Will asked. "She's lucky he didn't kill her." "She was hurt by what he said about her," Sarah said. That little comment puzzled Dexter. He wasn't aware that he had said anything to his wife or even about her. "It wasn't that big of a deal," Will said. "She's his wife. You'd think he would know who she was," Sarah said. "I'm not so sure about that," Will said. Sarah said, "They are never going to get back together. He's not interested in even talking to her." "I'd be the same way if a girlfriend of mine blew me off like that," Will said. "You don't understand women," Sarah said. "Sometimes we say things to get attention." "Sometimes women are really stupid," Will said. "Jerk," Sarah said. Will said, "Hey, I'm just calling it like it is." There was the slamming of a door. Dexter figured that Sarah had retreated to her bedroom. Rubbing his temples to relieve his headache, he wished his wife's stay in the hospital would come to an end. It couldn't be over fast enough to suit him. Dexter opened the door and stepped out. He asked, "What time is it?" "It is nearly eight," Will answered. "Did you eat?" Dexter asked. "We had burgers," Will answered. Dexter said, "I guess I'll nuke something." "I'm going to bed," Will said. "It's kind of early," Dexter said. Will said, "I'm kind of tired. Tomorrow is a school day." "Good night," Dexter said. "Yeah, right," Will said shaking his head. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 20: Blindsided It was late Monday afternoon, and the kids had finished school. Dexter had finished answering e-mails. He had worked a bit on an article about recouping the costs of operating a home office. Will had taken off on his own, presumably to play games on his computer. This left Dexter with the task of taking Sarah to the hospital, to visit her mother. She sat in the front seat while he navigated through the after-school traffic. He was stopped at a traffic light staring up at the camera mounted next to it. That was another nice little service of modern times – cameras to enforce traffic laws even when there wasn't an officer around. It was another product to enforce 'safe' behavior. He thought about the number of times that he had sat at a red light at night when there was not another car around. When he was younger, he would have gone through the intersection, after assuring that there wasn't another car around. The traffic light was to improve safety. Now the traffic light was 'law' and 'law enforcer.' It was like everyone had forgotten its original purpose. "So what are you going to do while waiting for me?" Sarah asked interrupting his thoughts. "I'll drink some more of that foul coffee they serve there," Dexter answered. He patted his pocket as he added, "I brought my pink pills with me." "You have stomach problems?" Sarah asked. "I have a weak stomach. Bad coffee tends to upset it," Dexter answered. "It used to be worse." "Why don't you come up to visit mom?" Sarah asked. "I don't want to talk to her," Dexter said. "You're going to have to talk to her sometime," Sarah said. "Why?" Dexter asked thinking that Sarah had sounded just like her mother. Sarah said, "Family events." "Such as?" "Graduations, weddings, and birthdays," Sarah answered. The only event that actually required his wife and him to be near each other was a wedding. He figured that would be years from now. To make his point, Dexter asked, "Are you planning on getting married, soon?" "No. I'm only sixteen," Sarah said surprised that he would even ask the question. "Is Will planning on getting married, soon?" "No," Sarah answered. Dexter said, "We'll cross those 'family events' bridges when we get to them. For now, I'm going to stick with the status quo." "There's no bend in you, is there?" Sarah asked. "Nope," Dexter answered. "I'm an inflexible bastard." Sarah shook her head. She smirked thinking that there was more than one way to skin a cat. She asked, "Will you give me your cell phone number?" "No." "Why not?" Sarah asked once again surprised by his answer. "Because you'll give it to your mother. She'll call me from some number that I won't recognize. I'll answer it, anyway. She'll say something, and I'll throw the phone against the wall. Then I'll have to replace the cell phone. She'll keep calling and I'll keep breaking cell phones. I can't afford to replace too many cell phones," Dexter answered. "How can I get in touch with you?" Sarah asked. "You've got my old phone number. I still check it for messages once a week. If you need me in case of an emergency, you've got my e-mail address. Just don't mention your mother's name in it. The spam filter will put it in the junk folder," Dexter said. There were already a number of e-mails in it. He hadn't bothered to check who they were actually from. "God, I don't believe you," Sarah said. She crossed her arms and stared at her father as if he was some sort of slime. "It's true. I wrote the spam filter rules myself," Dexter said. "That's not what I meant," Sarah said. "Oh," Dexter said. Sarah looked around the front seat of the car. She noticed his Droid touch pad. She asked, "What's this?" "That's my new touch pad. I just bought it. I'm going to read while you're chatting with ... you know..." "You can't even say her name," Sarah said incredulously. "So?" "You're hopeless," Sarah said. Dexter said, "No. We already agreed that I'm an inflexible bastard." Upon their arrival at the hospital, Dexter grabbed a coffee and took a seat in the cafeteria. He popped a pink pill and chewed it, then chased away the chalky taste with a swig of the vile coffee. He opened his touch pad and looked over the applications that came with it. There wasn't much there. He went online, via the hospital's wifi, to the app download store and browsed the applications. He noticed that a copy of the U.S. Army Survival Book was available for download. It was free. Satisfied with the price, he downloaded a copy, and dug into it. After the second page, he muttered, "This is great. I should write a survival guide for the workplace." He took a sip of his coffee and returned to reading. The coffee irritated his stomach. He set down the touch pad and dug out another of the pink pills. He popped one in his mouth and started chewing. He was reaching for his touch pad when, much to his surprise, Sarah sat on his lap. "Wh..." "Still eating the pink pills, I see," a familiar voice said from behind him. "Go away," Dexter said finding that he couldn't get up with Sarah on his lap. "No," Janet replied. "Shit." Janet said, "Don't swear like that in front of your daughter." "Fu..." His words were cut off when Sarah put her hand over his mouth. Looking over his shoulder at her mother, Sarah said, "He drops the f-bomb a lot. Particularly when talking about you." "That's being a real good role model," Janet said sarcastically. "Go away," Dexter said in a low growl. He was half tempted to dump his daughter to the floor, and storm off. Janet said, "I need a ride home." "Take a cab," Dexter said. "He's hopeless," Sarah said. In a whiny voice, Janet said, "Poor little boy. The other kids won't play nice so you're gonna grab your bat and go home." "Shut up," Dexter said while staring fixedly at the floor. "You can't abandon her here," Sarah said. Dexter said, "Get off my lap." "No," Sarah said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tightly. "Uck!" "Let your father breathe," Janet said. Sarah eased her hold on her father's neck. Dexter said, "Fucking ambush me like that. Shit. What did I do to deserve this?" "See. He drops the f-bomb a lot," Sarah said. "Watch your language, we're in a public place," Janet said. Dexter growled. "We're not married any more." "Yes, we are," Janet said. "We're separated. Sep ah ray ted ... Do you know what that means? It means we're not together. You've got no right to tell me shit. Got it?" Dexter said. "I didn't really want a divorce," Janet said lamely. With anger evident in his voice, Dexter said, "I got that all figured out. The ass wipe that you were sleeping with wasn't all that interested in being with you, after you kicked me to the curb. He dumped your ass, and then you wanted me back. Well ... I don't play that game. So fuck you, and the horse you rode in on. Leave ... me ... alone." "There was no other man," Janet protested. She knew he was about to blow a fuse and any chance of talking to him had flown out the window. Barely able to control his anger, Dexter said, "If you don't get off of me Sarah, I swear I'll throw you across the room." "Just listen to her, Daddy," Sarah begged. "I'm gonna count to three," Dexter said. "One ... Two..." Sarah could see that he was serious. She stood up. Dexter got out of his chair and stormed off, without looking backwards. "That didn't go as planned," Janet said. He had never even turned to look at her. Sarah said, "He left his touch pad here. Do you think he'll be back for it?" "No," Janet said. "You're probably right," Sarah said staring down at the touch pad. "Army Survival Guide. Jesus, I hope he doesn't go postal." Janet sighed. "You better call your brother. We need a ride home." "I'll push you up to your room," Sarah said grabbing hold of the handles on the wheelchair. Dexter drove off in a blind rage. He wanted to hurt someone, or break something. After several blocks he pulled over to the side of the road, and got out of the car. He spotted a trash can sitting by the curb. He went over to it and kicked it. It fell over. It felt good so he kicked it again. He wished that it was an old fashioned metal trashcan that would dent when he kicked it. It wasn't. "Hey! What in the hell are you doing?" a man shouted from a nearby house. Dexter kicked the trashcan again and again. By this time, one of the plastic bags inside the trashcan had fallen out. He kicked the plastic bag, tearing it. Trash scattered over the whole area. There was an empty can on the ground. He stomped on it and flattened it. That felt real good. He looked around for more cans to flatten. "You're going to pick up all that trash," the man shouted. Dexter ignored him. He kicked the trashcan sending it down the street. It made an odd hollow sound that was disappointing. A plastic bag fell out without breaking. Dexter searched for more things to flatten. "I'm going to call the police," the man shouted. The man hadn't needed to call the police. A cop car pulled up to the curb, even while he had been making the threat. Two officers got out of the car. They exchanged a glance that spoke volumes about their impression of Dexter' sanity, as they slowly approached him. "Calm down, fella," one of the cops said. "Can't a guy stomp on some trash?" Dexter asked. It seemed to him that people weren't allowed to express any kind of strong emotions any more. You couldn't vent your anger on an inanimate object without the police showing up. It was like people weren't supposed to feel things anymore. He hauled off and kicked a bottle down the street. "How much have you had to drink?" Dexter stopped upon hearing the accusation, and looked at the police. He answered, "I haven't had anything to drink." After taking and passing a 'field sobriety test', Dexter was left standing at the curb with two tickets in hand. One ticket was for disturbing the peace and the other was for littering. He looked down at the tickets wondering how much they were going to cost him. He mumbled, "I'm a real desperado." "Are you going to pick up all that trash?" the man who had been yelling at him asked. "You got a rake?" Dexter asked. "Yeah," the man answered. The man headed off to one of the houses. While he was gone, Dexter walked down the street and picked up the trashcan. He grabbed the plastic bag that had fallen out, and stuffed it in the trashcan. The man returned a couple of minutes later with a rake and a plastic trash bag. While Dexter raked up the trash, the man asked, "Why in the hell did you do that?" "You ever been so angry that you wanted to kill someone?" Dexter asked. "More times than I can count," the man answered. "Well, I kicked the trashcan, rather than killing a person," Dexter said. The man laughed. "That's what dogs are for. You're supposed to kick the dog." "I don't have a dog," Dexter said. He knew that he'd probably get a life sentence for kicking a dog. You could kill a person and get ten years; but harm an animal, and God help you. The man asked, "So what got your panties in a bind?" "The wife ... well ... she's not really my wife any more ... well ... I guess she is. We're separated," Dexter said. He didn't know how to categorize his wife in terms of being separated. She wasn't his ex-wife and she wasn't his wife. She was something in between. "I know what you're feeling. I kicked my first wife to the curb. She was a cheating bitch," the man said. He spat on the ground. Dexter found he liked the idea of referring to Janet as his first wife. It suggested they weren't together without actually saying they were divorced. He said, "My ... first wife ... told me she wanted a divorce. Then she didn't want one. Now she's got the kids trying to talk me into going back to her." "You're handling it better than I did. I got drunk, decided that I needed some more whiskey, and drove my car through the back of the garage," the man said while making a gesture suggesting a car going forwards. He added, "Cost three grand to fix the car, and two grand to fix the garage." "That was an expensive drunk," Dexter said. The man said, "At least no one called the cops so I didn't get a DWI. I did end up sleeping in the car all night, with the front half of it sticking out the back of the garage." "I'm glad you didn't get a DWI," Dexter said. "You've got to look for the silver lining." "Yeah." By this time, Dexter had all of the garbage collected and in the plastic bag. He put the bag into the trashcan. He looked down at his hands. They were filthy. He asked, "You got a hose I can use to wash my hands?" "Sure," the man said. While Dexter washed his hands, the man said, "You ever consider a Nevada divorce? The bitch doesn't even have to agree to it. You just live there for a bit, and get rid of her cheating ass." "I hadn't ever heard of that," Dexter said. "Look into it, if she's fighting you on the divorce. You might be surprised at how easy it is to get rid of her." Dexter wiped off his hands on his pants. The man shut off the water. "I'll look into it. In the worst case, I'll visit a cathouse or two while I'm there," Dexter said. "I'd be afraid of going to a Nevada whorehouse. My first wife is probably working in one of them by now," the man said. Thinking he was joking, Dexter laughed. "I'm not kidding," the man said. "She was a round heeled bitch." "Sorry to hear that," Dexter said. Edited By TeNderLoin I don't think you want him too apologetic, yet. He was apologetic enuf, just by cleaning up the garbage! ------- Chapter 21: Storm Clouds Several months had passed since Janet had had her appendix removed. Dexter had not had any contact with his family since that horrible Monday night. He was still angry at Sarah. He hadn't appreciated being ambushed like that. The website continued to gain visitors. Business programs on the cable news stations started talking about the increased number of lawsuits filed by employees against the companies. The employees were winning their lawsuits, and the executives were stunned. Companies were swamped by demands for corporate credit cards for use when traveling. A lot of companies stuck to their policy that only people above a certain level in the company got company credit cards. Then came the expense vouchers for interest charges. Then came the lawsuits. Having expensive lawyers defend the company in small claims court was costing a fortune. Not being able to float loans on the backs of their employees started costing companies a lot of money, also. All of a sudden, the travel budgets of companies were hurting. Reimbursements for cell phones and home offices poured in. One success in a company was followed by hundreds of additional requests by other employees of the company. Often times, a quick trip to small claims court forced the company to revise its corporate policies. It simply wasn't cost effective to fight it. People stopped answering work related calls on their cell phones after working hours were over. Executives and a few managers stood in empty office buildings on weekends waiting for people to show up for work. Few people showed up. Managers at all levels started demanding secretaries. Executives rejected the demands. Tensions mounted inside offices across the country. Business leaders turned to academics for advice on how to deal with the situation. Arguments over the economic benefits of support staff arose in business schools around the country. Those arguing for support staff pointed to the data on Dexter's website. Those arguing against it claimed Dexter lacked the credentials to collect data of quality. Dexter's articles on delegating responsibility and authority downwards, were met with the same level of resistance. He argued that while delegating responsibility downwards was a long standing tradition, failure to give the authority to the responsible individual cost companies millions of dollars. Dexter maintained that it all came down to a matter of trust, and the companies didn't trust their employees. Dexter's website was often blamed for cases of extreme violence between employee and employer. Several knockoff websites suddenly appeared. There were radical websites that promoted destruction of company property. When something horrible happened, his website was often blamed. This was unfair, since his website promoted a passive aggressive approach to dealing with things. There was a measurable effect on a lot businesses, and not all of it was negative. Theaters, which had been sitting empty because of online movie services, suddenly found lines at the ticket counters. People now had time to take in a movie, and they wanted the full theater experience, complete with overpriced popcorn and soda. High end restaurants saw an increase in business as well. Young couples without children, and older couples whose children had left home, were taking the time to have a nice evening out. They wanted good food, outstanding service, and to enjoy a leisurely intimate conversation. They were willing pay for it. Complaints about bad food and poor service forced restaurants to increase staff and improve cuisine. With all of the conflict boiling in companies across the country, some of that anger was bound to get directed at Dexter. It happened on a Wednesday when Dexter entered the office to find Eric sitting at his desk looking worried. Actually, Eric looked afraid. Concerned, Dexter asked, "What's wrong, Eric?" "I'm getting worried about the threats being made against you. You've made a lot of enemies. There's one guy who looks like he's really serious about hurting you," Eric said. "I wouldn't worry about it. I've been getting threatening e-mails ever since I started the website," Dexter said. He dismissed the concern out of hand. He had basically stopped reading the threatening e-mails. "This is a little different," Eric said. "Why?" Dexter asked. Eric pulled up an e-mail and said, "This guy is threatening to kill you. He says that he wants to see your corpse lying in the street in a puddle of blood. He actually knows where we are. I think he's serious." "I guess we'd better call the police," Dexter said. He had never expected to be the subject of real death threats. Those were for politicians and other public figures. He was just a guy running a little website. It was making money, but it wasn't making that much money. Eric frowned and said, "I'm thinking we need to do more than that." "Like what?" Dexter asked. "I think we need to stop coming into the office. Maybe we should move from place to place for a while," Eric said. "You think it's that serious?" Dexter asked, surprised by the suggestion. Eric clicked on the e-mail to open an attachment as he said, "This guy included a photo of you coming into the office building." "Oh, shit!" "Yeah. 'Oh shit' is right," Eric said. "We better call the police, right now," Dexter said. "Once they are finished here, I'm leaving the office. I won't be coming to the office for a couple of months. I figure that guy doesn't know that I work for you, and I'm not going to let the bastard learn that I do. I'll work from home, from now on. I don't want my wife to become a widow," Eric said. "I can understand that. Truthfully, I don't blame you," Dexter said. "I think I'll do the same thing, despite the fact that no one would miss me." "I'd miss you! You're the best damned boss I've ever had," Eric said. "I'm not that great of a boss," Dexter said. "Four day work weeks? No supervision? No phone calls after hours? I've got a debit card for office supplies? I don't waste time on bullshit, anymore? I can't tell you how much I like this." "That's the way it should be," Dexter said. It had never made sense to Dexter to hire people to do a job and then get in the way of them doing the work they were hired to do. To have two levels of management sitting in every meeting was absurd. If you didn't trust someone to manage their staff, you shouldn't put them in that position. He didn't see why a company would pay someone more than eighty thousand a year and not trust them to spend a hundred dollars a year on office supplies. It was insane to think it was cost effective to have someone who made over a hundred thousand a year dispense pens and pads of paper to sixty people working for him. The lunacy didn't stop there. It first required a vice-president's approval, for that individual to purchase the office supplies that he was going to hand out. "So you would be missed," Eric said. "Now call the police, and then lets get the hell out of here." "Good plan," Dexter said, in total agreement. It was two hours before a policeman, Detective Kingsley, showed up at the office. He browsed through the e-mails without demonstrating much concern, until he saw the one with the photo attached. Suddenly, he started taking the threat a whole more more seriously. Even his body language changed. Detective Kingsley said, "This looks serious." "That's what we thought," Dexter said. He really wasn't very pleased to hear the detective say that. He'd rather have heard that they were worried about nothing. Eric nodded his head in agreement with the detective. "The problem is, I don't know much about the internet. I mean, we don't have an internet crimes division," Detective Kingsley said. "That doesn't sound very encouraging," Dexter said, as the only clue they had was the e-mail. "I don't think we'll be able to find this guy from these e-mails. Maybe when we catch him, we'll find copies on his machine to support a conviction. At least we know he was physically in the area and we can work from there," Detective Kingsley said. Dexter didn't like the sound of that. It almost sounded like the e-mail would only be of value after he had killed. He asked, "What does that mean?" Detective Kingsley answered, "It means that we are going to have to do some good old fashioned police work." "That's good, isn't it?" Dexter asked. "Yes and no," Detective Kingsley answered. "We're a little short staffed." "Oh, great," Dexter said. Detective Kingsley said, "You guys know a bit about the internet. Maybe you can find out who this guy is, and let me know." Eric and Dexter exchanged a look. Dexter was not happy. He said, "I don't think we know enough to do that." Detective Kingsley said, "If you know someone who is really good at this internet stuff, you might ask them to see if they can track this person down." "You mean, we should hire a private cyber-detective," Dexter said not even knowing if such a thing existed. "Basically," Detective Kingsley said. "So what happens next?" Dexter asked. "We'll have a patrol car drive by occasionally to see if they spot something out of the ordinary. You never know." "Okay," Dexter said. "You two should keep your eyes open. If you spot anything suspicious, give me a call," Detective Kingsley said. "We'll be sure to call 911, and then you," Eric said. "Only call 911 if you really feel threatened," Detective Kingsley said. "Believe me, if I see anything suspicious, I'll feel threatened," Eric said. Dexter pointed to Eric and said, "I agree with him." The detective left after getting a copy of the e-mails. He left behind a very disheartened Dexter, and a very worried Eric. "It started with them moving the soda fountains at fast food places from behind the counter, to in front of the counter," Dexter said. "What started?" Dexter said, "It continued with ATMs." "ATMs?" Dexter said, "Then self-service gas stations popped up everywhere." "What are you talking about?" "Then we got self-service lines at the grocery and department stores." "Sure. That's about the right order. I don't get the point." Dexter said, "Now we have self-service criminal investigation." "Oh. Yeah. That's what it sounded like to me, too," Eric said. Dexter asked, "Do you feel safer now that we've met with the police?" "No, not at all," Eric said. He slumped down in his chair and added, "I'm gonna go home." "Don't go directly home. Make sure no one is following you," Dexter said. Eric slumped even farther down in his chair and asked, "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to call a private detective, and then make myself scarce," Dexter said. "Good idea," Eric said. Right after Eric left, Dexter headed over to a private detective agency. He met with a private detective by the name of Jeff Mertzer, and showed him the e-mails he had received. Jeff suggested installing motion activated video surveillance equipment in the office in case anyone entered. Using the internet connection in the office, he would store the video off the premises. Dexter agreed to the plan and gave the detective a key to use for when he went over to the office that afternoon to install the cameras. Dexter left the private detective agency in his car. Rather than heading home, he got on the highway headed towards Nevada. He figured that it was about time for him to make himself scarce. A long session in a casino and a short visit to a brothel might be a nice way to relax and waste a little time. Feeling a little paranoid, Dexter drove for an hour checking his rear view mirror frequently. Still not convinced that he wasn't being followed, he pulled off the highway and stopped in a little gas station. He got out his cell phone and took pictures of the cars in the area. After putting a gallon of gas in the car, he got back on the highway. An hour later, he pulled into a truck stop, and took more pictures. He went inside the truck stop restaurant and spent a little time comparing the cars in the first set of pictures with the cars in the second set of pictures. He didn't see any evidence that he was being followed. Dexter drove for a couple of hours and then stopped at a small motel that was located well off the highway. It was an older place, and didn't provide internet connectivity. It would be a good place to sleep, but he wouldn't be able to work there. He checked in, and considered his next move. He had a little work to do on the website, and he needed some clothes. Searching for place that provided an internet connection, he drove back towards the highway. He found a truck stop that had wifi 'hotspot'. He stopped and checked on his website. There were a bunch of e-mails that had to be answered. He worked for a couple of hours, answering e-mails and posting some of the more interesting ones on the website. He drank too much coffee, and ate a couple of the pink pills. After finishing his work, he purchased a pair of pants, underwear, socks, and shirt at the truck stop's store. The clothes weren't anything great. He ended up looking like a truck driver. However, the clothes did fit, and wouldn't get him kicked out of a restaurant. He headed back towards the motel, stopping at a steakhouse he had spotted, earlier. He had a good porterhouse steak, cooked just the way he liked it. He took his time to enjoy the meal. Satisfied, he returned to the motel, but it was too early to head to bed. He wondered how Eric was making out, and decided to call him. When Eric answered, he said, "Hey, Eric! This is Dexter." "What's the matter?" Eric asked, concerned by the after hours call. "I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay," Dexter answered. "I'm fine," Eric said shocked that Dexter was concerned about him. Dexter said, "Well, I know you were kind of worried, because of the threats and all." "I really appreciate you calling. How are you doing?" Eric said. Eric was quite touched that Dexter had actually called him, just to make sure that he was all right. He hadn't even thought to call Dexter to find out if he was okay, and Dexter was the individual who was threatened. "I'm about four hours out of town. I'll keep heading out for the next day or two until I find a good place to hide out for a spell," Dexter answered. "I'm glad to hear that. I've got a bad feeling about this threat," Eric said. "You take of yourself. If you would feel better about leaving town for a few days, I'll cover your expenses. Just pack up your family and go," Dexter said. "I'm fine right here," Eric said stunned by the offer. "Give me a call if anything happens. I'll come right back if you've got a problem," Dexter said. "Will do," Eric said. After the call had ended, Dexter considered his situation. He hoped that nothing bad happened to Eric. He didn't know what he would do if the guy got killed. For the past few months, the only person he had talked with was Eric. After Eric had pointed out the photograph, he had gone through the past few months worth of threatening e-mails. They had truly escalated in tone, but the last one had sent chills down his back. He could just imagine stepping out of his office and getting shot. Dexter had never served in the military. He didn't have any kind of training that would help him cope with this kind of situation. He was the type of person who trusted the police to take care of things like this. Unfortunately, he didn't feel very confident that the police would get a handle on it, until he after he was dead. That thought terrified him. Trying to distract himself, he watched a little television, but just couldn't get interested in any of the programs. He went to bed, but his fertile imagination kept him awake for most of the night. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 22: Boom Dexter climbed out of bed and walked over to the window of his Reno, Nevada's casino hotel room. He yawned and opened the curtains enough to look out the window without exposing his naked body to the world. There was nothing to see except the rooftop of part of the hotel. He rubbed his stomach, wishing it would settle down. He'd had a lot of coffee the night before, but it shouldn't have been bothering him by this point in time. "I'm getting old," Dexter said. His bladder demanded attention. He went over to the bathroom and relieved the pressure on his bladder while checking his reflection in the mirror. He looked at his naked body with a critical eye. Not pleased with what he saw, he said, "I need to lose about forty pounds. I'm getting fat." He looked down at his cock and muttered, "Another couple of pounds and I won't be able to see my cock." He needed to start an exercise program. He had never liked exercising. To him it had always been a waste of time. All of that jumping, lifting things, and running around without going anywhere seemed rather pointless. Life in an office had really done a number on his fitness. He doubted that he could run a hundred yards, now. He tried to remember the last time he had a day filled with balanced meals. He couldn't remember. There had been a time when he had a half a grapefruit, and a slice of toast for breakfast. Lately it had been toaster bagels with cream cheese, toaster waffles with maple syrup, or sugar laden cereals. His lunches were fast food burgers, fries, and sodas. He tried to remember when he had last eaten a chicken salad sandwich on white bread with a glass of milk. Dinners were either prepackaged food, nuked in the microwave, or restaurant fare. With that kind of diet it was a miracle he wasn't a hundred pounds overweight, but it wasn't going to be possible to change his diet while living in a hotel. He called room service, and ordered a continental breakfast, with a large pot of coffee. He put on a robe and went over to his computer. He checked the website, and answered a few e-mails via the hotel's free wifi. He put one of the more interesting emails on the website. There was a knock on the door. He opened the door to find a guy from room service holding his breakfast on a tray. Dexter stepped back and said, "Come in, and set it on the table." The man set the tray on the table before handing Dexter the bill. Dexter charged it to his room, after adding a nice tip. He didn't notice that the bill already contained a tip, a delivery charge, sales tax, and hotel tax. He had been fairly lucky at cards the previous night ... he had won enough to cover the cost of the room for at least a week. After pouring a cup of coffee, he returned to the computer. He was about to do a little more work, when his cell phone rang. Surprised, he picked it up and looked at the caller id. It was Eric. Concerned, he answered, "Hello, Eric." "Thank God you answered," Eric said. "Why?" Dexter asked taken aback by the Eric's greeting. "There was an explosion at the office, just a few minutes ago. It's all over the television, here," Eric said. "Jesus," Dexter said feeling his stomach drop to the floor. While reaching for his pink pills, he asked, "Was anyone hurt?" "They haven't said," Eric answered. "Oh my God," Dexter said finding that his hands were shaking so hard that it was difficult to hold onto the package of pink pills. He didn't know what to think. Eric said, "Channel 11 has got a traffic helicopter over the building, now. Smoke is coming out of it." "Sweet Jesus," Dexter said. His imagination was providing details that probably weren't there: hundreds of dead bodies, wailing children, and fire spreading to neighboring structures. "There are police and fire trucks all over the place," Eric said. "This is horrible," Dexter said. "You weren't anywhere near there, were you?" "No," Eric answered. "Thank God. Don't go anywhere near there," Dexter said. "Just ... stay ... stay safe." "Don't worry about that," Eric said. "I'm packing up the family and getting the hell out of Dodge." "Good thinking," Dexter said. "Interested in coming to Nevada?" "I hadn't given it a thought," Eric said. "I'm in Nevada. I can get you a room here in the hotel," Dexter said. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I kinda wanna keep my distance from you, until that madman is captured," Eric said. "I don't blame you a bit," Dexter said. In fact, he would stay away from himself, if he could manage that. He said, "Jesus. I can't believe someone blew up our office." "Anyway, I thought I'd let you know what happened, here," Eric said. "Thanks. You take your wife and kids to someplace nice like ... uh ... Rat World," Dexter said grasping for a location that the whole family would enjoy. "That's a good idea," Eric said. Dexter said, "Charge anything you need, to the company. Use the debit card that I gave you for office supplies. I'll transfer a couple thousand dollars to it. Get a nice room and take your kids to the amusement parks." "Thanks," Eric said. "Take care of your family," Dexter said. "I will," Eric said. "You'd better get going," Dexter said. "I'll call you when I get there." "Call anytime," Dexter said relieved to know that Eric was going to take his family somewhere safe. Eric disconnected. Dexter closed his phone trying to get his thoughts organized. Intellectually, he had known that there was someone out there that wanted to harm him. He had never come to grips with the idea emotionally. Now that a real attempt on his life had been made, he was totally freaked. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when his cell phone rang again. He checked the caller id. It was the detective agency. He hoped that it was better news than what Eric had delivered. He answered, "Hello, this is Dexter." "This is Jeff Mertzer from the detective agency." "I just got a call that my office blew up," Dexter said. "I called to tell you that, and to let you know that we've got video of a man going into your office, last night. We're going to forward it to the police," Jeff said. "Talk to Detective ... oh ... what's his name ... uh ... Detective Klingon? ... Kingston? ... Kinsey? ... something like that," Dexter said finding that his memory wasn't working all that well. "I've got his card, somewhere." "Detective Kingsley?" Jeff asked. "That's the guy," Dexter said. "I'll get in touch with him right away," Jeff said. "Are you somewhere safe?" "I'm in Nevada," Dexter answered. "That should be safe enough. Just avoid pissing off the mob," Jeff said. "The mob?" Dexter asked, looking anxiously around the room. He couldn't understand why the mob might be involved, unless some of the petty criminals were suing their bosses. "That was a joke," Jeff said. "Sorry," Dexter said. "I'm not used to having my business blown up." "Not many people are," Jeff said wryly. "It is not an everyday thing," Dexter said. "I'll get the video over to Detective Kingsley. I'm sure he'll want to check it out. I'll call you if I learn anything new." "Thanks," Dexter said. As soon as that call was disconnected, his cell phone rang again. He looked at the caller id. It was the police. He answered, "Hello. This is Dexter." "This is Detective Kingsley. Your office was destroyed by a bomb about fifteen minutes ago." "Eric and the private detective that I hired, have already called me," Dexter said. "You hired a private detective?" Detective Kingsley asked. "Yes, I did. I hired Jeff Mertzer." "I know, Jeff. We've worked together in the past." Dexter said, "He seemed to know who you were, when I talked to him about giving you the video from the office." Detective Kingsley asked, "What video?" "He says he has video of a guy entering my office, last night. He's probably trying to get in touch with you right now," Dexter said. "Good. Where are you?" Detective Kingsley asked. "I'm in Nevada," Dexter answered. He wasn't going to say exactly where he was in the state. "I'll want to talk to you," Detective Kingsley said. "I'll be back there, right after you arrest that madman," Dexter said. He was going to avoid heading home anytime soon. "I'll need to talk to you sooner than that," Detective Kingsley said. "Come on out to Nevada. I'll be glad to talk to you here," Dexter said. "If you don't want to come here, we can talk over the telephone." Detective Kingsley said, "I'll talk to Jeff and see what he has." "You do that," Dexter said. After hanging up, Dexter swore, "Fucking self-service criminal investigation. It's a fucked up world when the police tell you to find the guy who is trying to kill you. Then after the asshole tries to kill you, they tell you, 'come down to the office, and we'll talk about it.' Bull shit. He should be out trying to catch the bastard." He glanced over at the tray with his breakfast. His appetite was long gone. He grabbed his cup of coffee and drank it down. It had cooled off while he had been talking on the phone. He grabbed his packet of pink pills while saying, "Fucking French Roast coffee. Tastes like it is burnt, even when it's cold!" He sat down on the edge of the bed thinking about things. He thought about his boss's funeral and how only a handful of people attended. It had been him, Mr. Morris, a neighbor, and the immediate family. The guy had been a jerk, but there was something wrong with having a life that impacted so few people, that there weren't more people than that who were willing to come to his funeral. He looked over at the television. Hoping that the explosion wouldn't be on one of the national cable news programs, he turned it on. One never knew what would take the attention of those vultures, especially on a 'slow news day.' On hitting one of the national cable news stations, he saw an image of his office building burning. The commentator mentioned that explosion had been in the home office of Dexter's Website. He knew that wasn't going to be good for him. He groaned, "Shit!" He could just imagine everyone and his dog trying to hunt him down. There had to be reporters running around his home town on a search and destroy mission. Now he knew how a fox felt, in a British fox hunt. His picture was then shown. "Shit, shit, shit!" His cell phone rang. He stared at it in horror, thinking they had already found him. He checked the caller id, and found it was his lawyer. He answered, "Hello, Mark." "I guess you heard the news about your office," Mark said. "Yes," Dexter answered. Mark said, "Your wife called me." "Why?" Dexter asked. "Well, your office was blown up," Mark answered as if that should be obvious. Dexter said, "I guess she wanted to find out if I was dead, so she could get on with her life." "Don't be an asshole," Mark said. "Maybe the ass-wipe she's been sleeping with is the one who put the bomb in my office. Should we tell the police?" Dexter asked. "Don't tell the police wild speculations," Mark said. "You'll just make the investigation messier." "Okay," Dexter said. Mark said, "She wants to know that you're all right." "Why?" Dexter asked. "She's worried about you," Mark said. Dexter said, "Tell her that I haven't changed my will, so she has nothing to worry about." "You really need to talk to her," Mark said. "We talked. She bitched at me. She called me a lousy role model for the kids. Tried to make me look like a jerk," Dexter said. "The only reason she'd come to my funeral, is to piss on my grave." "Are you seeing a counselor?" Mark asked. "Every week. It's not helping," Dexter said. Mark said, "Your wife..." "Call her my first wife. It sounds better," Dexter said. Mark sighed. "Your first wife and your children..." "Damned daughter is traitor. She set me up to be ambushed by that woman," Dexter said. "They have gone into hiding. Your house..." "You mean my apartment?" Dexter asked. "Your first wife's house is surrounded by news reporters," Mark said. This continued bashing of Dexter's wife was getting old. He liked Dexter, but he didn't like the way the man was denigrating Janet. He felt there needed to be a little give, there, somewhere. "I'll bet that makes it tough for her to meet her lover," Dexter said. Getting angry, Mark said, "Look. Your wife and kids are scared." "You think they're scared? They should be in my position. It was my place of work that blew up. The bastard is trying to kill me, not them," Dexter said. "Okay," Mark said. "I don't want to talk about them any more," Dexter said. Mark said, "Okay." Dexter asked, "How's the lawsuit coming?" "They're squirming. The court date is approaching and their last attempt to postpone it failed. They know that they don't stand a chance, particularly if you end up in front of a jury. I've got sixty people subpoenaed to testify that you were their manager. You're going to walk out of this with at least fifty million," Mark said. "That's good news. Is there any chance of using this attempt on my life to stir things up?" Dexter asked. "We're going to play it straight," Mark said. "The news services will be putting more than enough pressure on the company." Actually, he figured that in light of the attempted murder, that the news services would dig up the details of the lawsuit and put it on the air. Rumor and innuendo would serve Dexter well. The company would react by wanting to settle and seal the records. He figured they would finish this thing in just a few days. Happy that this conversation was ending on a positive note, Dexter said, "Handle it the way you see fit." "By the way, where are you?" Mark asked. Dexter answered, "I'm in Nevada." "What are you doing there?" Dexter said, "When I learned that someone was trying to kill me, I decided to do the smart thing." "What's the smart thing?" Mark asked. Knowing how Dexter tended to go overboard on things, he wanted to make sure his client didn't get into more trouble by doing something stupid. "Run and hide. I have run, and now I'm hiding." "Smart," Mark said. "Getting a death threat tends to sharpen the wits," Dexter said lightly, he only wished it were true. "I'll call you if anything happens, here," Mark said. "Thanks," Dexter said. After the call ended, Dexter sat on the edge of the bed staring at the television. His picture was all over the news. He sighed and said, "It's probably not a good time to visit a whorehouse." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 23: Bang Bang Mark had been right about the company wanting to settle before the news services got all of the details about the lawsuit. One of the news channels had gone into great lengths about the court sealing the settlement of the previous lawsuit. There was a lot of speculation about the the current lawsuit, and its relation to the previous one. Pundits were having a field day with the topic. Things really started to move fast. For a quick fifty million, they would settle with Dexter, as long as the records were immediately sealed. Dexter had no problems with settling the lawsuit for that much money. He was bothered by the fact that they wanted to settle before the madman trying to kill him was captured. His problem was that the papers had to be signed in the courthouse where the lawsuit had been filed. Thinking he could slip in and out without anyone noticing, he agreed to return back home. However, getting from Reno, Nevada to the courthouse ... in time to sign the papers ... was not as easy as it sounded. It was too far to drive, and all of the airlines were sold out of seats. Mark had to arrange for a chartered jet to fly him home. In order to avoid attention, Dexter snuck out of the hotel at three in the morning. It was necessary to sneak out, since someone had leaked to the press that he was staying in the hotel. He figured it was one of the room service people, or a bellman. He had remained hidden in his room, living on room service, and had relied on hotel security to keep the reporters away from his door. They were mostly successful. It didn't stop the reporters from camping out in the lobby, though. Five hours after leaving his hotel, having crossed two time zones, Dexter walked into the courthouse with his lawyer by his side. He had not thought to disguise himself, since he figured the press believed he was still in Reno. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to him that there were reporters everywhere. He was spotted by a couple of local reporters, who covered events at the courthouse. While he was inside signing the papers settling the lawsuit, word spread that Dexter was there. The deal was pretty simple. In exchange for fifty million dollars, Dexter agreed not to talk about the terms and conditions of the settlement. He figured he could keep quiet for that much money. He felt like it was a huge amount of money. From the company's perspective it was only about the same amount of money that one of the top executives had received as a bonus, the previous year. Not talking about the deal wasn't that hard. The website was still tackling a number of the problems that had infuriated him, while he had worked for the company. He knew the company would have to deal with those issues, too, even though it would be other employees making the company suffer. The whole proceeding only took fifteen minutes. After the hassles of the trip it was almost anticlimactic. Dexter was exhausted from leaving so early in the morning, the flight, and the drive across the city. He hadn't eaten a real meal yet that day, and his stomach hurt. He ate a couple of pink pills. After it was over, the corporate lawyers left. Dexter and Mark sat and relaxed in a small room within the courthouse. Still trying to wrap his mind around the amount of money he had received in the settlement. Dexter said, "I kind of expected a check." "For fifty million dollars?" Mark asked. "Yeah," Dexter said. He kind of pictured getting a huge check like the magazine publishing company used when handing out millions of dollars. Of course, that was a little ridiculous. Real checks weren't that large. It just would have been nice to actually touch a check worth that much money. He had held the check for a million and that had been pretty thrilling. Mark said, "A bank transfer is a whole lot easier." "I guess," Dexter said. "So what now?" "We'll have to set up a bank account, and transfer thirty million over to you," Mark answered. The rushed nature of the settlement had not given Dexter a chance to set up an account for that kind of money. Mark used his legal account to accept the funds. "When should we do that?" "How about now?" "Okay." While closing his briefcase, Mark said, "Let's get out of here." Getting out of the courthouse was a whole lot easier said than done. There was a crowd of newspeople waiting for Dexter on the steps of the courthouse. Feeling like he was the main attraction in front of a firing squad, Dexter froze upon seeing so many news cameras aimed in his direction. It was pure chaos. Reporters were shouting things at him. Microphones were shoved in his face. He was getting jostled by a couple of people. Dexter couldn't understand a word anyone was saying. He caught small bits of questions, but not enough of one to actually know what was being asked. Unprepared for the onslaught, he just stood there looking around in desperation. Mark was trying to get the press to step back. He didn't have any more experience handing a zoo like this than Dexter. The press, assuming he was just a bystander, rolled over him like he wasn't even there. Before he knew it, he was standing ten feet away from Dexter. There was a loud noise, and part of the column behind Dexter exploded. A little debris hit him in the back of his head. He turned around to look at it. As an engineer, he knew that stone columns weren't supposed to fail in that manner. Puzzled, he said, "What the hell?" There was another loud noise. Someone shouted, "He's got a gun!" Dexter turned around to see who had shouted. Everyone was running in every direction. He looked around trying to make sense out of the confusion. He spotted a guy holding a revolver. What followed might seem humorous, but it was actually quite human. That Dexter panicked and others mistook his actions for something greater, was understandable. On seeing the gun, Dexter shouted, "Oh, Shit!" The human mind is an interesting thing. Under pressure it manages to dredge up some of the most inane, insane, and bizarre thoughts possible. Sometimes, though, the thoughts actually apply to the situation. All Dexter could think of, was a scene in a movie, where two men were getting shot at. One of the characters kept shouting, "Serpentine!" while they were running back and forth. Dexter took off running in a serpentine fashion. He zigzagged across the front lawn of the courthouse without a real destination in mind. The whole time he was running, he kept thinking that the movie had been comedy. He felt that he had to be the most stupid looking man in the world at that moment. Those thoughts didn't slow him down at all! He heard another shot fired behind him. He changed direction and ran on. There was a person lying on the ground in his path. In jumping over the person, he tripped and fell. He rolled and stood up. It almost looked graceful. Without pause, he resumed running. By this time, he was having a hard time breathing. Years of sitting at a desk had taken its toll on his stamina. Each time he was about to collapse, he would hear another gunshot. He'd charge forward focused on running just a little longer. He kept thinking, 'At least I'm not screaming.' He suddenly realized that he had somehow turned around, so that he was charging the man with the gun. Rather than doing the smart thing and fleeing, he just continued charging. He kept thinking that this was the most stupid thing he had ever done. A cameraman was following the action through the lens of his camera. The reporter, halfway hidden behind a column, started giving a running commentary of what was happening. The broadcast was going out live even while happened. While Dexter was feeling like a total fool, observers had a totally different reaction. During the first few seconds of the event, everyone gathered on the steps had run except for Dexter. It left him standing there as an obvious target. Before the gunman was able to fire another shot, Dexter was off and running. While everyone else was hiding, he was running around with no one around him. The gunman was chasing him in an attempt to get close enough for a good shot. The reporter announced, "I can not believe what I'm watching. I've never seen anything so brave in my life. Dexter has drawn the gunman away from the rest of the crowd." "You can see what he's doing. He's running in a random fashion to keep from getting hit while drawing the gunman's fire. This is incredible. Unarmed, Dexter is going mano-a-mano with the gunman." There was another loud bang and the reporter shouted, "Oh, my! The gunman just fired another shot at Dexter. Dexter appears to be okay. He's still drawing the man away from the crowd." "Another shot. Dexter is still going strong. This is amazing. I've never seen anything like this." There was a short pause in commentary, but the camera continued to capture the action. Excited, the reporter announced, "What's Dexter doing now? It looks like ... yes ... it looks like Dexter is charging the gunman. What incredible bravery." "The gunman looks like he's taking a shot! He's out of bullets. I can't believe it. Dexter must have counted how many shots the guy fired before turning to charge him. This is amazing. I don't know how anyone can keep their cool like that." Dexter collided with the gunman at full speed. They ended up on the ground, with Dexter lying atop the other man. Trying to catch his breath, Dexter could barely move. The man was struggling to get out from under Dexter. To the rest of the world, it looked like they were wrestling. "Dexter has tackled the gunman! He's got the gunman subdued!" the reporter shouted into his microphone. The cameraman zoomed in on the action. A crowd gathered around Dexter, took care of the gunman, and helped Dexter sit up. Dexter sat on the ground, breathing heavily. He was gasping for air. His side hurt. He couldn't feel his legs. His left arm was numb. His stomach hurt ... He could do something about his stomach. He reached into his shirt pocket searching for the packet of pink pills. His pocket was empty. "I can't catch my breath," Dexter panted just before he fell over sideways. ------- Dexter woke feeling like an elephant was sitting on his chest. A woman in a uniform was looking down at him, fussing with some stuff on his chest. He didn't have the strength to lift his head off the gurney to see what she was doing. It felt like she was randomly poking him. Confused, he asked, "What? Where am I?' "Ahh! The hero awakens," the woman said, as she continued attaching things to his chest. "Hero?" Dexter asked. The last thing he remembered clearly was running around like a chicken with its head cut off. "We'll be at the hospital soon," the woman said. She reached over and pushed a button. Suddenly, there was a beeping noise from behind him. "Hospital?" Dexter asked. The woman said, "Yes. We're in an ambulance and you're going to the hospital." "What happened?" Dexter asked. "You kind of overdid it out there. Someone your size shouldn't do all of that running around like that," Mark answered. "Was I shot?" Dexter asked. He was wondering what Mark was doing in the ambulance with him. The odd thought crossed his mind that Mark was a lawyer, and was redefining what it meant to 'chase an ambulance.' He hadn't ever thought it actually included riding in the ambulance. "No," Mark answered. Dexter said, "Good. I didn't want to get shot." Mark chuckled. ------- Dexter woke up to the sound of a machine making a beeping noise. He looked around wondering where he was. It took a few minutes for him to realize that it was the emergency room of a hospital. An Asian man in green surgical garb came up to Dexter and started talking. Dexter was so confused that he couldn't follow a single word the man was saying. He just grunted polite agreement to the man whenever he paused. He got worried when the man mentioned something about surgery. ------- Dexter woke to the sound of beeping. His chest hurt, his throat was dry, his stomach hurt, and his eyes felt like someone had rubbed sand in them. It hurt to inhale. It hurt to exhale. He wondered how long he could live without doing either. A man stopped by his bed and looked down at him. He asked, "How are you feeling?" "Shitty," Dexter answered in a slurred raspy voice. "That's normal," the man said. "Maybe for you," Dexter mumbled. The man fiddled around with some things that Dexter couldn't see. The man said, "You'll be up and around by this time, tomorrow." "No way," Dexter mumbled. ------- Dexter woke up and looked around. He wondered how it was that each time he opened eyes he was in a different place. He noticed that Mark was sitting in a chair next to his bed. Mark asked, "How are you feeling?" "Shitty," Dexter answered. "That's normal," Mark said. "Maybe for you," Dexter mumbled feeling like he had been through all of this, before. "The surgery went well. They say you'll be up and walking around tomorrow," Mark said. Mark tried to look down at his chest, but he couldn't see it. He asked, "Do I have a horrible scar?" "No. You've got a little bitty bandage. It wasn't a major invasive procedure, but you were in there for eight hours," Mark said. "A little bandage?" Dexter asked. He remembered seeing heart operation scars on other people. They were huge jagged things. "Yes," Mark said. Dexter asked, "Where's the doctor?" "He'll be around in a while. The nurse just left to deal with another patient," Mark answered. Holding his hands over his stomach, Dexter said, "My stomach hurts. Can you get me a pink pill?" "You'll have to ask the nurse," Mark said, looking worried as Dexter had suddenly lost his color. "I really need a pink pill," Dexter said. "I'll get the nurse," Mark said, slipping out of the room. ------- Dexter woke up. He was in a different room. He looked around wondering if he had stepped into the Twilight Zone. It wasn't normal to find you were in a different room every time you woke up. He wasn't awake for more than three minutes before a doctor showed up, and started prodding him. The doctor said, "You are a very lucky man." "Why?" Dexter asked. "You got both your heart and stomach fixed in one trip to the hospital," the doctor said. "My stomach?" Dexter asked. "You were working on quite an nice little ulcer there," the doctor said. He gently patted Dexter on the belly. Dexter said, "I just thought all the coffee I drank was giving me a sour stomach." "I bet you've been medicating yourself with the pink stuff," the doctor said. "Yes," Dexter said. "It didn't really help, did it?" the doctor asked. "Not really," Dexter said. "I've had patients who come in who've been drinking one or two bottles of it a day. You'd think they would figure out they have a problem, eventually." Dexter said, "You can blame it all on stupidity." "Are you talking about yourself?" "Sure. Why not?" The doctor said, "I watched you on television. That was a pretty brave thing you did." "You want to know the truth?" Dexter said not quite sure what the doctor had seen. "Sure," the doctor said. "I was scared out of my mind," Dexter said. The doctor said, "I've been there and done that. I was in the First Gulf War." "Oh," Dexter said. "I felt stupid." "I know the feeling," the doctor said. "I mean, I really felt stupid," Dexter said. The doctor said, "There were a few moments during the war, when I sat there thinking to myself, that I had to be the stupidest man in the world. It didn't stop me from doing what had to be done." "I didn't know what I was doing," Dexter said. "Neither did I," the doctor said with a laugh. "Just don't tell anyone." Dexter said, "No one would believe me." The doctor said, "Your throat is going to be sore for a day or two. I had to take a look around, and see what was the matter with your stomach. We stopped the bleeding. I've got you on some heavy duty antibiotics. With your recent heart surgery, you probably would have been on them, anyway." "That's good," Dexter said. "You should get a complete physical. You're lucky to be alive," the doctor said. "I'll do that," Dexter said. "Well, the cardiologist will have you walking around, soon. Just don't do any heavy lifting for a day or two." "No heavy lifting," Dexter said. "And stay away from the pink stuff for a while." "Right." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 24: Misery and Company Dexter decided that it was time to watch the television mounted on his hospital room's wall. He found the control and turned it on. He hoped that something interesting had happened to draw attention away from his situation. To his dismay and horror, that wasn't the case. Even though the shooting had happened the previous day, they were still replaying it. He turned up the volume wondering what they were saying about him. Dexter watched incredulous. He couldn't believe the things they said about his behavior. He watched the broadcast of the shooting, fascinated by the difference in his recollection of the events, and what the reporter had said about them. One of the commentators compared his actions to a modern day version of David versus Goliath. He almost tore his stitches out, he was laughing so hard. In addition to the segments about the events at the courthouse, there were segments about his website. Dexter listened to the television totally baffled by what he was hearing. He couldn't believe the kinds of things they were saying about him. He wondered if anyone had talked to anyone who actually knew him. Pundits called him a communist, socialist, and anti-corporate activist. Other pundits asserted that he was the defender of the working man. A university professor type had declared that he had single-handedly turned business practices upside down with the consequence that the long term economic impact would not be known for one or more years. Whether it was the result of the news broadcasts or not, people at the hospital treated him strangely. It was as if they didn't know quite how to deal with him. He didn't understand it. He wondered how celebrities dealt with the looks and stares. Mark entered the room and walked over to Dexter. He asked, "How are you doing?" "I'm bored. They won't let me use my cell phone so I can't call Eric and find out what is happening with the website," Dexter said. "I'm worried about it." "I talked to Eric. He's on top of things," Mark said. "That's good to know," Dexter said. Mark said, "I've got some good news." "What?" Dexter asked. "Your visit here is covered under your insurance policy. Anything not covered by your policy should be picked up by your wife's insurance," Mark said. "I've got the money to pay for it," Dexter said. Mark picked up the nurse call button and examined it. Shaking his head, he said, "It is just insurance." "No," Dexter said stubbornly. Mark twirled the nurse call button around by its cord. He said, "Look at me. I'm a cowboy with a lariat." "Put that down," Dexter said. Mark put the nurse call button down just out of Dexter's reach. He said, "The papers are already signed. Don't worry about it." "I'm not taking anything from her," Dexter said crossing his arms. Mark shrugged his shoulders and said, "I'll look into what we can do." "Do that," Dexter said. Mark walked out of the room while Dexter muttered, "I'm not taking a damned thing from her." A couple of minutes later, Janet stepped into the room. She closed the door, and stood there looking at Dexter. "Get out of here," Dexter shouted. "Now that I've got you where you can't run off ... there's no way I'm leaving!" Janet said with a smug little smile. Dexter looked around for the nurse call button. He spotted it and reached for it. It was just out of his reach. "God damn it! I'm gonna kill Mark!" Janet pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. She sat down and studied him. Dexter crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head away from her. Janet shook her head and then said, "Look at what we've become. Do you realize that we've been married for nineteen years?" "We've been married for eighteen years and separated for one," Dexter said. "You missed our last anniversary," Janet said. "I didn't miss it. I ignored it," Dexter said. For a long time Janet didn't say anything hoping that he would say something. Finally, she said, "I've had a lot of bad days in my life." "Join the club," Dexter said. Janet said, "One of the worst days of my life started at six in the morning. I had a conference call with the group in Ireland. It was first thing in the morning, and I hadn't even had a cup of coffee before it started. It lasted until I dropped the kids off at school. "I drove into work and found a pile of work on my desk that hadn't been there the day before. There was a note on it that I had to finish it before the end of the day. "To make matters worse, someone had shoved a cattle prod up my bosses butt, and he was doing everything he could to make all of us suffer. I worked through lunch eating a stale sandwich from the shop around the corner. The afternoon was more work, and more meetings. I had so much work that I knew I was going to have to stay late, just to only stay a little behind. "I still had three hours worth of work on my desk when I found out that I had to attend a dinner engagement with my boss and one of our customers. My boss wanted me to be there with the them. "This customer is a real jerk. He thinks he is God's gift to women. I couldn't believe it when he bragged about his ten inch cock to the waitress. He kept hitting on her throughout the whole dinner. My boss laughed it off like it was some sort of joke. I wanted to disembowel both of them with my dessert spoon so badly that I could taste it. "My boss and the asshole decided that they wanted to check out one of the local strip clubs. I had to listen to a half hour of comments about lap dances. Fortunately, my boss didn't require me to go there with them. They left for the strip club leaving me to pay the damned two hundred dollar dinner bill. I had to put it on my credit card. "I finally escaped and made my way home. I nearly had an accident on the way there. I was so tired that I basically fell asleep for a second. I woke up to a horn blaring from the car next to me. I had drifted out of my lane. "I stepped through the door thinking that I was finally home. I had reached my sanctuary from the harsh cruel world. I could relax, knowing that I was safe and sound. "I was so tired that I could barely walk. All I wanted to do was take a hot shower, and then crawl into bed to sleep. I'm marching down the hall dreaming of hot water cascading over my tired muscles when I heard you say, 'Who was that woman?' "I was so shocked that I almost tripped and fell. With that one question, you had destroyed my sanctuary. Instead of being nurtured by my loving husband, I had become a stranger in my own home. If I hadn't been so tired I would have turned around and let you have it. I staggered on to the bathroom, wondering how my husband could possibly ask that question. You have no idea how much that hurt." Unimpressed by her story, Dexter shrugged his shoulders and said, "Who were you?" "I was your wife, damn it!" she shouted. "Were you?" Dexter asked. "We were married for eighteen years!" Finally looking at Janet, Dexter asked, "Do you really believe that?" "Yes." Dexter said, "I've thought about it a lot since I got your wonderful text message, kicking me to the curb." She started to interrupt, but he held up a hand. He said, "I figure we were a married couple for about eight years. Those first eight years were great. We were man and wife. We were intimate. I'm not talking about making love although we did make a lot of love during that time. No. I'm talking about talking and sharing our dreams. I knew you and you knew me. We could finish each others sentences. "The next ten years we cohabited. Somehow, making love turned into sex which turned into doing nothing. We went months and years at a time without sex. We started communicating through phone calls rather than the face to face sessions in bed on Sunday mornings like we used to do. The phone calls turned into text messages. Oh, we exchanged some great messages. Goodbye. Working Late. Pick Up Milk. Feed Kids." Dexter gave a bitter laugh. "That night you're describing, I looked at you and realized I didn't know who you were. For over two years, I hadn't had a single conversation with you about anything that wasn't superficial. What were our conversations? Your turn to use the bathroom. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. There were days when we didn't even exchange that much. "I saw you for an average of ten or fifteen minutes in the morning and ten minutes at night. We shared the same bed, but our eyes weren't open." Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Dexter said, "So I ask you again. Were you really my wife?" "I truly believed I was," Janet said with a quaver in her voice. Dexter said, "Your text message ripped my heart out. That was the day everything fell into place. You got tired of cohabiting with me and found some guy who would whisper all of the right things into your ear." "No," she protested. "He told you that he loved you." "No." "He told you that he shared your dreams." "There was no 'he'!" "You figured that you deserved more than half a life," Dexter said. "That's not true." "All you had to do was get rid of me and move in with him." "No! That's not right." Dexter waved a hand to cut off her protests. He said, "Maybe there wasn't a guy. There could have been. There probably should have been." "No." "I won't insist," Dexter said. "I guess you just fucked me over for no real reason. That makes me feel better." "I didn't..." Dexter said, "How do you end ten years of cohabitation? You send a text message." "No!" "It's like dumping a room mate," Dexter said. Janet cried, "You've got it all wrong." Dexter asked, "Did you miss me over the past year?" "Yes," Janet said. "What did you miss? Did you miss texting me? Did you miss looking at me in the morning while chatting on the phone and dropping bagels in the toaster? Let's be honest, there was nothing for you to miss," Dexter said. Janet said, "I missed you." "You missed the 'me' that lived ten years ago, when we intimate," Dexter said. "That 'me' is dead. He slowly wasted away over the past ten years. He is dead and buried. Nobody even attended the funeral." "Jesus," Janet said feeling like her heart had just been ripped out. Dexter said, "Would you leave me alone so that this corpse can rot in peace?" Janet left the room without saying another word. Five minutes later, Mark returned. Dexter said, "File the divorce papers. She'll sign them now." "Okay," Mark said. "Put two million in a trust fund for each of the kids. Make it an annuity that kicks in when they are twenty-eight," Dexter said. He figured that would give them a nice middle-class income for the rest of their lives. It would also give them a chance to experience life without getting drowned by work. "Two million total, or two million each?" Mark asked. "Each," Dexter answered. "I'll set it up," Mark said. "Split the rest of the money between Janet and me," Dexter said. She'd get it in the divorce, anyway. He didn't see a reason to make her wait for it. "Are you sure?" "Yes," Dexter said, "Find someone who can shelter as much of that money as possible." Having faced that problem himself, Mark said, "I've already found someone." "Get to it," Dexter said. Mark asked, "Are you okay?" "Yes," Dexter said softly. It was strange. He had just had heart surgery. It didn't hurt nearly as much as talking to Janet had. The physical therapist would be coming by later to get him to walk around. There wasn't any therapist who could help get him to be emotionally vulnerable with others, again. He looked over at the nurses call button and added, "Put that damned nurse's call button where I can reach it." Mark moved the button onto the bed. Without saying another word, he left the room. Alone in the room, Dexter said, "I wonder when hospitals will become 'self-service'?" This is the end of Part 1. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Part 2 ------- Chapter 1: An Odd Animal Human beings are social animals. For thousands of years, people have banded together for protection. In prehistoric times, people formed nomadic tribes and crossed savannahs in groups facing sudden death from lions and other predators. There was nothing worse than being banished from the tribe. It was essentially a death sentence for the individual. Even in modern times, the worst punishment, short of death, is solitary confinement. If a hundred people are put in an enclosed area the size of a football field, within minutes they will start to form groups. People will move around until they find others who share their same interests. It doesn't take long for one person to reach out to another. Primates are social animals as well. They travel in troops. Touch is a key form of bonding. They spend hours grooming each other. One primate will spend a significant amount of time picking vermin and parasites out of the fur of the other. It is not just to eliminate unpleasant pests, but grooming is way for a troop of primates to bond. Grooming is not to be mistaken for a sexual advance. Sexual advances, among the less cultured primates, are a lot less subtle than that. Humans, like other primates, need to be touched. An infant that isn't held will grow up with problems socializing with others. Premature babies physically develop faster and will be healthier when held. There are health benefits to being touched. Adults need to be touched as well. Failure to be touched often enough even has a name – touch starvation. Like a starving person will aggressively seek food, a touch starved person will aggressively seek to touch and be touched. It can result in pushing, shoving, hitting, kicking, and rape. An individual who has experienced touch starvation for too long will become dull and listless. Touching is an intrinsic deep emotional need for adults. Touch is an intimate form of communication. Intimacy is not to be confused with sexual desire. A father who walks away from a lost game with his hand on his son's back is reassuring the son. He is saying that he still cares for the son despite the loss. He is saying that he understands how the son feels for having lost. He is reminding the son that he is there. A little shake of the hand tells the son to buck up and know that tomorrow he'll have another chance at winning the game. On nice spring days, lovers walk down the street holding hands. Young lovers do more than just hold hands. They brush against each other. They bump hips. There are little exchanges of jostles. It is a subtle means of communicating and reminding the other that they are there. It is not necessarily a sexual advance, but a ploy to increase emotional bonding as part of establishing a long-term commitment. Young children, when frightened or shy, run to a trusted adult and hold them around the leg. It is a move that announces trust, and a need for protection. The adult will drop a hand down to touch the child on the shoulder or neck, as if to announce their presence and their willingness to protect the child. It is a simple exchange that is basically innate to humans, as it appears across all cultures. Some touching gestures are formally established. A handshake is one form of touch that is formally defined within a social context. Some organizations have 'secret' handshakes which are used to allow members to identify each other without having to exchange a word. There are occasions when a handshake is appropriate and other situations when it is not. People shake hands on greeting, on parting, and on sealing a deal. The handshake which was once the providence of men only has transitioned to a gender neutral exchange. Kissing the back of a woman's hand is another formally defined gesture. The relationship of man and woman can dictate the way the hand is held, if the kiss is given, and the manner in which the kiss is bestowed. This particular touch gesture has declined in usage. The 'air hug' is a modern touch gesture. It is almost a parody of a full body hug. An air hug emulates an intimate form of contact without the intimacy. It is exchanged with a woman on greeting, parting, and sharing of good news. In some cultures, men greet each other with a hug and kisses on the cheeks. It is not a sexual greeting, but denotes and announces that a certain level of friendship exists between the two men. It can also be a touch gesture with political implications. Few areas of formally established touch gestures are as diverse in nature and style as those found in dance. Some dances, such as the minuet and square dances, involve making and breaking physical contact with dance partners. These dances may also involve changing in partners throughout the dance making it more of party dance than a mating dance. It is a social activity that encompasses all who participate. The waltz utilizes specific holds while limiting partners to a single couple. The man holds the woman in a certain way, often in very close contact, and he leads her through the dance motions. Hands hover near, but not on, erogenous zones. In this kind of dancing, a pair will be independent of all others. It is intimate. Many modern dances, such as a country and western line dances and the Twist, do not including touching or holding partners. Dancers may face each other as in the case of the Twist or face in a common direction as in a line dance. A line dance is an interesting form of dance in which the dance partner is effectively at the same level with all other dancers on the floor. The key thing here is the absence of touch. Dancing within a mosh pit involves making aggressive contact with and among other dancers. People bounce up and down before throwing themselves at nearby dancers. It is violent. It is also a modern phenomenon. This is not the only form of dance with aggression at its roots. The Maori war dance, a very choreographed set of moves, is directed at an enemy. While the Maori may engage in a dance to convoy strength and aggression, the dance itself does not threaten the other dancers in the manner of a mosh pit. Cultures, particularly subcultures, often have characteristic dances that help define the group. In a way, the form of dance and touch gestures taken by a culture tells much about the level of intimacy among its members. It is a good measure of the sociability of the culture. A square dance culture enjoys physical touching while maintaining inhibitions against public displays of affection. A waltz culture enjoys physical touch without inhibitions against public displays of affection. A line dance culture is inhibited with touch and display of affection. A mosh pit culture is violent. Societies can be characterized as high touch and low touch. In a high touch society, people touch hundreds of times per hour. The touches include pats, laying a hand on the person, holding hands, little brushes of body against body, and hugs. Touching even occurs between casual contacts. High touch societies have low rates of suicide. In a low touch society, people only touch tens of times per hour. These are usually more formal gestures such as shaking hands and the targets are limited by social constraints – families and close friends. Societies that have a low touch culture have high rates of suicide. In many primitive societies, infants are in physical contact with adults almost continuously. Mothers carry their infants in a sling while performing almost all of their daily activities. Slings for carrying infants keep them in constant contact with their mother. Held in a sling, an infant can experience its mother with all five senses. The infant can taste the difference between fear and pleasure in the woman's sweat and milk. It can smell her scent. It can feel her skin. It can hear her voice and learn how a voice can change to communicate different moods. It can learn the meaning of some words. An infant in a sling can hear the reassuring heartbeat of the mother. When the infant's heart and the mother's heart are entrained, their brain structures become synchronized. This balanced state is when bonding between mother and infant occurs. This kind of bonding can deepen and strengthen the relationship between mother and child for a lifetime. In technological societies, infants are separated from their mother most of the time. They sleep in cribs with baby monitors that allow the mother to be in another room. They are transported in strollers and baby carriers. The stroller separates parent and infant at a very important stage in a child's social development. The child is left alone in the stroller in front of the parent. From what the infant can see, it is as if it was abandoned. The parent stands back from the child at a distance of three to four feet. They can see the baby, but not the expression on its face. It is no wonder that babies get grumpy after being in a baby carriage for too long. Modern society frowns upon touching. In the world of political correctness, it isn't society that determines if a touch is inappropriate, but whether the individual touched is offended or feels threatened by the touch. The result of this lack of societal standard is that it is safer not to touch than to touch. Concerns about inappropriate touching have led to adults backing away from hugging children or even helping children who have been injured. Even touching among children is viewed with suspicion. There are often major repercussions when men and women touch in the workplace. A hand on a back of a member of the opposite sex can be mistaken for an aggressive pursuit for sexual purposes. Suspicion of touch as a sexual advance is not limited across genders, but within a gender as well. Jobs can be lost and careers ruined. Outside the workplace, concerns about touching between genders are not as great and have fewer repercussions. Men and women will greet with loose hugs and air kisses. Men shake hands and may clap a hand upon a shoulder if the situation is appropriate. Very close male friends might hug, but it is often awkward and performed with a sense of unease. Fears of being labeled a homosexual is often enough to prevent gestures that might be viewed as too intimate. At one time, human interaction was taken as a given. Neighbors socialized in the evenings and on weekends. People stood in lines at businesses chatting about the weather, politics, and sports. People, even those without children, went to local high school sporting events. People hung out in local taverns patronized by individuals within a single neighborhood. A weekly trip to the barbershop was a major means for men to learn about things happening in the community. People gossiped over the fence. That was a time when service implied a very special kind of human interaction. Employees in stores made it a practice to learn the name and interests of customers. Customers knew the names of clerks. Who can forget Mr. Whipple of toilet paper fame? The butcher knew what cut of meat a particular customer preferred and would set aside a good piece knowing that the customer would be coming into the store that day. Clerks in small town stores talked with customers. Conversation often drifted from business to topics of general interest. Some businesses, like hardware stores, feed stores, and barbershops, kept coffee and chairs for customers to sit in and talk. Customers might visit for hours even though the need that brought them to the store was satisfied in minutes. Even in large urban areas, there were neighborhoods that had all of the characteristics of a small town. Everyone knew everyone. People greeted each other on the street. Men tipped hats. Women nodded heads in return. If a child fell, the nearest adult helped him or her up. That is not to say that older times were utopian or that everyone was a nice person. It just meant that people touched and talked to each other. One knew who was nice and who was an asshole. With people knowing each other and knowing that they would have to deal with them frequently, there was a need to maintain a certain level of decorum. It was worth taking the time to talk with others. Technology, for all of its other benefits, has undermined the need for social expression. Young men and women will walk beside each other texting on their cell phones. Both hands are occupied by the ever present device. There are few spontaneous touches. Although it hasn't completely disappeared, seeing a young man and woman holding hands while walking is becoming rare, compared with three decades ago. Body language has become more tentative. More disconcerting than a lack of touch is the increasing lack of face to face communication. People go to an ATM to perform their banking. It might be a little faster than dealing with a bank teller, but there is no interaction with another person. There is not the exchange of greetings, questions about the transactions, and expressions of parting. The machine is inanimate and impersonal. The same can be said of interactions with other businesses that have transitioned to self-service models. Gas stations, groceries stores, theaters, and even a few hotels have dropped the human face to their business and replaced it with a kiosk. Robot voices have replaced human operators in customer support organizations. One can now go into a place of business, make purchases, and leave without exchanging a single word with an employee of the business. Humans interacting with humans is being replaced by humans interacting with machines. Humans in isolated little metal boxes on wheels travel from one place to the next while talking to their car. It is now commonplace for humans to interact with other humans through technical devices. The urge to meet with others like ourselves drives people to social networking through computer programs. For all one truly knows, the entity on the other end of a computer network might be a machine. BRB ;-) is not nearly as nice as hearing a woman say she'll be right back with her words accompanied by a suggestive wink promising that there is more to come. In real life, there might be a saucy wiggle of the hips. Online, there is a carriage return. LOL does not communicate the timber of a laugh. Is it a deep laugh, a little twitter of a laugh, or a guffaw? One doesn't know. You'll never see someone type back that the other has a nice LOL. What a shallow imitation of real conversation that is. Isn't it interesting that suggestions to meet in real life, are met with suspicion? If texting, instant messaging, chatrooms, and computerized social networking lead to deep meaningful friendships, wouldn't a face to face meeting be desired? There is something lacking in the technological solution to the isolation what has occurred over time. It is sensed, but never overtly stated. Humans are social animals with an innate need to touch and be touched. Yet modern society is demanding that people ignore this fundamental aspect of being human. Modern society is isolating people from each other and, as a result of the isolation, society is breaking down. What is a society if it is not a collection of people with shared ideals, customs, and traditions? ------- Interview with Dexter Reporter: You are a Luddite, are you not? Dexter: No. Reporter: You argue against machines in your writings. Dexter: I argue that people should have interactions with people and not machines. Reporter: Isn't that the same thing? Dexter: No. One is about people. The other is about machines. Reporter: There have been some who claim you want a resurrection of a serf class. Dexter: They are wrong. Reporter: You keep arguing to have people in what are basically menial positions. Dexter: If I hire someone to wash my clothes, I'm more than happy for them to use a washing machine. I don't want someone to have to wash clothes by pounding them against a rock. Reporter: Why hire someone to do it when you can have a machine do it? Dexter: My time is precious to me. I don't want to spend all of my spare time running errands or operating machines. I prefer, at times, to hire someone to do that for me. Reporter: Why does it have to be a person? Dexter: I want to give my laundry to a person who I know and to have them give it back to me cleaned. I want to deal with a person and not a mail drop. Reporter: But what is the point if all the person does operate a machine on your behalf? Dexter: When I tell something to a person face to face, I can see him or her nod his or her head and know that he or she understands what I'm saying. I can point to a shirt and say that it has a stain. Reporter: Machines can be programmed for special instructions. Dexter: The machine doesn't listen to my needs unless I can talk machine. I have to learn how to interact with each and every machine in my life because no two kinds of machines talk the same language. I've already learned how to talk human as have the humans with whom I talk. Reporter: You've been harsh in your criticism of many service industries, such as restaurants. Dexter: When I eat in a restaurant, I want a waiter or waitress who provides excellent service. I don't want an order taker or a kiosk with a runner who throws a plate of food at me. Reporter: Why all that emphasis on quality of service? Dexter: If all I wanted to do was to eat, I'd have a ready to eat meal. It is cheaper and faster. Reporter: You're paying for quality of food. Dexter: Not all of my money is going for quality of food. I can get meatloaf, complete with sides, at the store for eight dollars. I get the same meal at a diner for fourteen. They are the same meal. Reporter: I haven't done a price comparison, but that does sound about right. Dexter: Can you imagine what a twenty dollar ready to eat meal would be like? I'm sure it would be better than a twenty dollar meal at a restaurant. Reporter: I don't believe that. Dexter: Okay. Don't believe it. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 2: Healing Alone Dexter was pushed out the door of the hospital in a wheelchair to where a taxi was waiting for him. He wasn't too pleased about being alone. At least there wasn't a crowd of reporters waiting for him. The President had said something stupid, again., and the attention of the press had turned from Dexter back to Washington. He was pleased that he was no longer the center of national attention. He climbed from the wheelchair into the taxi. The driver appeared to be in his late forties to early fifties. The man didn't even bother to look towards Dexter. "Where to?" Dexter told the taxi driver the address of his apartment. He was looking forward to returning home. He still felt weak, but he figured he would feel a lot better after a day or two around the apartment. Truthfully, he couldn't wait to get undressed and lounge around the house. Once the taxi had left the hospital, Dexter asked, "Have you been driving a taxi long?" "Yeah." "Do you like driving a taxi?" Dexter asked after waiting to see if the driver would add a few more details to his answer. "I guess." Wondering if he could get the man to reply with more than two words, Dexter asked, "Did you ever have any unusual passengers?" "No." Dexter asked, "What's it like being a taxi driver?" "It's a job." Giving up on getting the taxi driver to talk, Dexter stared out the window. There were cars galore on the road and no one on the sidewalks. He wondered why they even bothered to put in sidewalks if there was no one that used them. He asked, "Why do they have sidewalks if no one uses them?" The taxi cab driver glanced in his mirror and didn't bother to answer. Dexter looked over at the man wondering why he wouldn't chat at all. Lots of taxi drivers talked almost the whole trip. One or two leading questions and they were off to the races. It was just his luck to get the sullen quiet driver. Dexter's cell phone rang. He checked the caller id and answered, "Hello, Mark. What's up?" "Where are you?" Mark asked. "I'm on my way home," Dexter answered surprised to be asked the question. Sounding a little exasperated, Mark said, "I'm at the hospital to pick you up." "I didn't know you were going to do that. I just called a cab and left," Dexter said. Mark said, "I just assumed..." "Sorry about that," Dexter said. The fact was that Mark had never said anything about picking him up at the hospital. It didn't seem reasonable to ask his attorney to start acting like a chauffeur. "Are we still on for tomorrow?" Dexter asked. Mark answered, "Sure. We'll hit the bank, and set up the account. I'd like to take you to lunch, afterwards." "All right," Dexter said. "I'll see you tomorrow," Mark said. "Sure thing," Dexter said. He closed his phone and then looked over at the driver. He wished he had known that Mark intended to take him home. Mark would have been a lot better company than the driver. When they pulled up to the apartment complex, he wondered about the tip for the driver. The driver wasn't very friendly. On the other hand, Dexter wasn't sure that he was supposed to be friendly although it would have been nice. His job was to drive him from one point to another and he did exactly that in reasonable time. In the end, Dexter tipped the driver the normal fifteen percent. Dexter entered his apartment and looked around. It was exactly as he had left it the morning he had high tailed it out of town as a result of the threatening e-mail. It didn't look like anyone had broken in. That was a great relief. He had imagined that some less honorable member of the press might have skirted the law a little. The apartment smelled musty, as all places did after standing unoccupied for a while. The living room was a little messy and dusty, but he had left it that way. He was afraid to face the refrigerator. He couldn't remember what he had left in it, but whatever had been left, was probably worthy of burial in a toxic waste dump. He decided that he'd tackle that the next day. Although he felt like he should immediately visit the website, he just wanted to relax for a few minutes. He was still feeling weak. It was strange how he felt worse after getting his heart fixed than he had before. Of course, he was still healing. He stripped out of his clothes and sat in his lounge chair. He was glad to get out of his clothes. Although he had worn nothing but hospital gowns during his stay at the hospital, his clothes from the day of shooting had a slight smell reminiscent of a high school locker room. He assumed that it was from running around while getting shot at. That tended to make one sweat. His cell phone rang. Out of habit, he checked the caller id. "Hello, Eric." "Hey, Dexter! How are you doing?" Eric said. "I'm doin' fine," Dexter answered. Eric said, "We just got back in town. Mark told me that you were getting released from the hospital today. Do you need a ride home?" "I'm already at home," Dexter said. "Oh. Okay," Eric said. Dexter asked, "How did the kids like Rat World?" "They had a good time. We only spent two days there. You got shot the day after we arrived there. I spent that day and the next dealing with the website. Boy, that was a mess," Eric answered. "You should have stayed another couple of days," Dexter said. "I wanted to get back to see you, but I had to spend so much time taking care of the website," Eric said apologetically. He felt that he should have flown back to visit Dexter in the hospital, but circumstances had kept him very busy. The hospital had blocked all calls to Dexter's room. "How is the website?" Dexter asked. "The day you got shot, we received over fifty thousand e-mails..." "What!" Dexter declared. He was shocked. That was more than the number of hits the website got on Tuesdays when they posted new articles. He could just imagine the amount of traffic to the website necessary to generate that many hits. "The next day the number climbed to nearly a quarter of a million. Our internet provider went into panic mode when he saw the traffic and threatened to shut down the website. I had to dial in through a backdoor modem to get on the machine to update the webpage asking people not to send an e-mail," Eric said. "A quarter of a million e-mails! I can't believe it," Dexter said. Eric said, "The provider and I worked together to set up the automatic vacation reply with updates about your health. I think he's going to want to increase your service rates again." "I would think so," Dexter said. "The traffic into the website was monstrous. The server went down a couple of times before he was able to set up a couple of machines to take over some of the load," Eric said. "That's incredible," Dexter said. "I thought the big internet providers cached high traffic pages." Eric said, "They do. Because of that, it took nearly six hours for the cached versions at some of the key internet providers to get updated. The traffic to the website finally slowed down the third day." "My God." "Once the traffic eased back a bit, I packed the wife and kids in the car and we headed home. I only drove about four hours a day so that I could take care of the website," Eric said. "I had no idea," Dexter said. "Why didn't you call me?" "The hospital wouldn't put any calls through to your room. I called Mark a dozen times a day to get updates on your condition. I didn't want to bother you with the website. I know you would have worried about it," Eric said. "You bet I would have worried." "It is all under control, now," Eric said. "I'm glad to hear that," Dexter said. "I'm sorry your vacation got ruined." "My vacation?" Eric asked. "Don't you remember that I was hiding out there? It wasn't a vacation." "Well ... still ... you were at Rat World with your kids. You should have had a little time to spend with them," Dexter said. "It was an usual circumstance," Eric said. Dexter said, "I'm really kind of disturbed that our machines went down. I need to talk to our provider and see how our website should have been configured to avoid any problems. We should have had contingency plans in place in case anything like this happened." Eric laughed. "Contingency plans? Let's see, our office got blowed up ... you got shot at on national television ... then you had a heart attack which made the national news. I really don't see how we could have anticipated something like that." "I guess when you put it that way..." Dexter said. Eric had a feeling that Dexter wasn't even aware of the kind of impact his website had on the people. Salaried workers, in every industry, were looking at the articles on his website. There were a lot of low-level managers who looked upon Dexter as a kind of corporate 'underdog hero.' He said, "You managed to attract a lot of attention. Not only in this country, but around the world." "I just can't picture that," Dexter said. Eric said, "There's one more thing you might want to know." "What?" "The e-mails we got were overwhelmingly supportive of you. A lot of people said that you were brave when facing the gunman, and they hoped that you'd be all right," Eric said. Dexter, knowing the truth about how he had felt when facing the gunman, said, "That's nice to know." "Do you want me to stop by the apartment?" Eric asked. "No. I'm going to rest a little and then check out the website," Dexter said. The two men talked a minute more and then ended the call. Dexter was left in his chair thinking about all of the emails. He realized that all of the people who were likely to call him had called. The contrast between the number of emails from strangers and the number of calls from friends and family was rather glaring. He didn't know what to make of it. Outside of the one visit by his wife and the frequent visits by his attorney, Dexter hadn't had any visitors while in the hospital. In his normal honest appraisal of the situation, he couldn't imagine anyone else wanting to visit him with the exception of the kids. He didn't know if their absence was a result of his wife warning them away or their own decision based on not caring. The reasons didn't matter. He considered the schedule for the next day. He'd go to the bank with Mark and then to lunch. He hoped that it wouldn't be too much activity considering his health. Just the trip home from the hospital had been tiring. That reminded him to take his pills. The trip to and from the kitchen wore him out. He sat in his easy chair while the room darkened with the setting of the sun. After the hustle and bustle of the hospital, he really and truly felt alone. He dropped off to sleep. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 3: Banks "I still don't see why you don't want to use your old bank," Mark said while walking up to the door of a major bank. "I didn't like the service there," Dexter said. Patiently, Mark held the glass door open for Dexter. The man wasn't moving all that quickly. In fact, he was rather grumpy. Dexter stepped into the bank and looked around. There were three desks, only one of which had a person sitting in it, that he assumed were for loan officers and new accounts people. There was a row of ATMs inside the bank. Next to the ATMs was a rack of brochures that described the services provided by the bank. There was a teller's booth that hid behind a glass partition. There was only enough space for a single teller. Dexter picked up one of the brochures advertising financial services. He glanced over it noticing that more details were available at the bank's website. He looked up at the person seated at the desk and then back down at the brochure. "Is this the main office?" Dexter asked. "It is the main branch in this city," Mark answered. "I don't want to do business here," Dexter said. Surprised, Mark asked, "Why? This is a major bank." "So what?" Dexter asked. "You need to do business with a major bank," Mark said. "I don't want to give this place my business," Dexter said stubbornly. "I don't understand," Mark said. Pointing around the room. Dexter said, "Look at this place." "I'm looking," Mark said. "Where are the people? They've got more ATMs than they have tellers. They've got one person over there to deal with customers. One of those desks looks like it isn't even being used," Dexter said. "Most banking is automated," Mark said bewildered by Dexter's criticisms. "When I deal with a bank, I want to interact with a person," Dexter said. "I don't understand," Mark said. Dexter said, "When I go into a bank, I want to see a teller, not a machine. I want them to say hello, talk to me, and to tell me to come back in the future once my transaction is complete. I don't want to talk to him or her through a little slit in a glass partition." "It is just a bank," Mark said. Dexter said, "It is a business, and I am a customer. I want the business to acknowledge me as a customer. A little brochure saying that I'm important, ain't gonna cut it!" "I guess I see your point," Mark said wondering if Dexter's sudden wealth was going to his head. Dexter could see that Mark didn't understand. He said, "Look at this bank. There are probably a dozen banks just like it." "There are basically three major banks," Mark said. "Point taken. However, if I'm standing in front of a machine, then what is the difference between this bank and the others. There isn't one. If some other idiot is standing in front of the machine, what is the difference, to this bank, between me and that idiot. There isn't one. So tell me, what makes this bank the bank that should get my business?" Dexter asked. "There isn't anything," Mark said. "Exactly," Dexter said. "I want to do business where there is a reason for me to prefer to be a customer there." "I guess that makes sense," Mark said nodding his head in slow agreement. Dexter asked, "Would you rather be treated special, or as one of a herd?" "Special," Mark said. "Same here. That isn't going to happen at this bank," Dexter said with a snort of disgust. Mark said, "We can try someplace else." The two men returned to Mark's car. Mark drove to a nearby bank. Before he even managed to park, Dexter said, "Not here." "Why not?" Mark asked. "It is just like the other bank," Dexter said. "You haven't even seen the inside of it. How can you say that?" Mark asked. "The drive-thru has ATMs," Dexter answered. Although a distance separated the customer from the teller at banks with drive-thru banking that used the tubes to convey the paperwork for transactions from car to teller, that didn't bother Dexter. The customer still knew that there was a person at the other end of the tube. "I didn't notice that," Mark said. Mark and Dexter drove around for an hour, stopping at one bank, and then another and another. Each time, Dexter said that he didn't want an account at it. Mark was getting irritated, and began to believe that they would never find a bank that would satisfy Dexter. They were driving down a residential area, when Dexter pointed to a little building. He said, "Let's try there." "What's so special about it?" Mark asked. "They've only got one drive-thru, and it has a window to a real person on the other side," Dexter said. For the first time since leaving the apartment, Dexter actually showed a little energy and enthusiasm. Mark followed him into the bank. It was immediately obvious that this bank was different than the other banks they had visited. For one, there was only a single ATM, and it was on the outside the bank, for after hours use. There were three desks, each of which was occupied. One desk at the back of the room was behind a half glass enclosure with a door. There was a sign on the glass giving the name of a person and position as bank manager. The other two desks had nameplates that gave the person's name and their position. Sally Markum was the accounts manager and Johanna Castle was the loan officer. There were two tellers at the counter and a third at the drive-thru window. Each position had a nameplate with the name of the teller. Everyone in the bank looked over at Dexter when he entered the room. They all smiled at him. Sally Markum, seated at the desk nearest the door, said, "Hello." "Hello," Dexter said. "You're just the person I want to see." Mark muttered, "Finally." Seeing that Mark was just standing behind Dexter, Johanna walked over to him and then asked, "Can I help you?" "I'm with him," Mark said gesturing over at Dexter. "Okay," Johanna said before returning to her desk. "Why don't you both have a seat," Sally said gesturing to the pair of chairs at her desk. Dexter said, "I'd like to open a new account." "What kind of account?" Sally asked. "A savings account, a checking account, and an investment account," Dexter answered. "Excellent," Sally said. While digging through the drawer of her desk, she asked, "Are you new to the area?" "Not really. I'm just not pleased with my current bank, and want to transfer my business to one with better service," Dexter answered. "We pride ourselves on our service, here," Sally said. "I can tell," Dexter said. The bank manager noticed that Sally was digging through her desk. Usually if there was a problem with an existing account, she would be at her terminal. She left her desk and walked over to Sally's desk. She gave both men a smile. "Hello. I'm Maria Gonzales, and I'm the branch manager. Are you opening a new account?" "Yes," Dexter answered. He rose from his chair and extended his hand. "I'm Dexter James. It is a pleasure to meet you." "Thank you, Mr. James," Maria said while shaking his hand. "Please call me Dexter." Handing both men one of her cards, she said, "Sally will take good care of you. However, if you ever have any questions or problems, please feel free to give me a call." Mark looked down at the card. Dexter hadn't even told them the amount of money he was depositing and they were already treating him like a king. He couldn't remember the last time that a bank manager had introduced himself to him. "I'll be sure to do that," Dexter said. Sally went through the paperwork to create the accounts. When everything had been filled in, she said, "Finally, the big question. How much are you depositing in each account?" Mark handed over a piece of paper and said, "The amounts are on here. We'll need to do an electronic transfer of the funds, from my bank, to here." Sally frowned upon hearing Mark mention electronically transferring funds. She glanced down at the piece of paper. Her eyebrows shot up. "Is this amount correct?" "Yes, it is," Mark answered. "That's a lot of money," Sally said. "Yes, it is," Mark said finding that he rather enjoyed her reaction. Dexter said, "I'd like two hundred thousand in the checking account, and the same in the savings account. The rest should go in the investment account." Sally said, "Let me get Maria over here. She's going to have to help me on this." "No problem," Dexter said smiling. Sally turned to Johanna. "Johanna, would you get Maria out here. Right now. Immediately. Post haste." Concerned by how flustered Sally looked, Johanna said, "All right." It took just a few seconds for Maria to appear at the desk. After a minute of discussion, Maria said, "Sally, open the three accounts, with a one dollar deposit in each one. We can perform the electronic transfer in my office, once the accounts are established." "Okay," Sally said. Dexter reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. Holding it up, he said, "We can deposit this." Maria said, "Don't worry about it." "Okay," Dexter said. "Will you need me for the electronic transfer?" "Is the money coming from one your existing accounts?" Maria asked. "The money is coming from my business account," Mark answered. "I just need you," Maria said. "That's good. I'll just sit here and talk with Sally," Dexter said. Sally said, "Let me go over to the counter and set up the accounts." "Okay," Dexter said. Sally went off and created the accounts. Dexter chatted a little with Maria and Mark while she was doing her thing. The conversation was about the weather, and other topics that were current in the news. Dexter also noticed that a number of patrons entered the bank, performed their transaction, and then left. Each customer was greeted with a friendly hello when they reached the counter. People did not have to wait long to get service at the counter, even when several customers arrived simultaneously. There were little exchanges of conversations about the weather, a few jokes that provoked a little laughter, and questions asked with answers forthcoming. Some customers were even greeted by name. Dexter enjoyed watching the interplay between the bank tellers and customers tremendously. When Sally returned, Maria and Mark headed into the manger's office. Sally sat down and looked at Dexter. She said, "It will just take them a few minutes." "I'm in no hurry," Dexter said. He thought for a second and asked, "I'm not wasting your time, am I?" "Not at all," Sally said. "I'm glad to hear that. We must have been by two dozen banks before we picked this one," Dexter said. Sally had been afraid that Dexter was going to say something inappropriate to her when he had mentioned staying there to chat with her. His opening line took her by surprise. "Why did you pick this one?" Sally asked. Dexter answered, "When we drove by, I could see that you had a real drive-thru with a window, so that the customer could see who they were talking to. Then we came in here, and everyone was so friendly. I knew right then that I was going to have my accounts here." "We try to be friendly," Sally said. Dexter said, "If I have my way, all banks will become like this one." "How would you manage that?" Sally asked. "I'll use the internet," Dexter said. Sally said, "The internet has really changed the banking industry." "I know, but not in a good way," Dexter said. Mark returned from Maria's office. He held out the deposit slips for Dexter. "You have three very nice accounts," he said. "Thank you," Dexter said. He glanced down at the papers, unable to believe how much money he had deposited. The men said farewell to Sally and headed out the door. While walking to the car, Mark said, "I like that bank." "I do, too," Dexter said smugly. "They were treating you nice before they even found out how much money you were depositing. I haven't been treated like that since I opened my first savings account as a kid. I don't think I've talked to anyone in my current bank since I opened my accounts," Mark said. "Same here," Dexter said. "I think I may move my accounts over here," Mark said pausing to look back at the bank. "Why?" Mark answered, "I had forgotten what it was like to get service like that." "As have we all," Dexter said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 4: The Creep The trip to the bank the previous day had completely wiped Dexter out. He had to beg off from lunch with Mark, because he was feeling extremely weak. When he arrived at the apartment, he had gone straight to bed and had taken a six hour nap. Upon waking, he realized that he should probably follow the doctor's orders. He was to take two short walks a day, gradually increasing the distance walked each day. Apparently going to the bank was a little more stressful on his heart, than taking a short walk around the block. He was supposed to take his medicine as instructed. Unfortunately, Dexter was not in the habit of taking medicine, and had forgotten to take some of his pills. He was to eat well balanced meals. The previous night, he had been too tired to eat. His first task of the morning was breakfast. That meant he needed to tackle the refrigerator. He had put it off out of fear of what he would find. There was a half-quart of milk that had gone bad, a head of lettuce that had spoiled, and some lunch meat that had turned green. He threw the spoiled items away. He grabbed a tub of margarine and a bottle of syrup for his toaster waffles. Maybe it wasn't a well balanced meal, but it was food. His first walk of the day was to carry his trash out to the dumpster. It wasn't that long of a walk, and he didn't have much trash to take out there. He made the trip without much effort. The hard part was getting the bag of trash over the rim. Dexter discovered that raising his arms pulled on his stitches. Dexter returned to his apartment, thinking it was time to get back to work. It couldn't be too strenuous, he thought, since he would just be sitting at his desk reading and typing occasionally. He worked on a 'return to work' article. The article wasn't about the workplace. It was about the attempt on his life, and his subsequent heart attack. He still didn't know many of the details about his assailant. All he knew was that Brian Gaines had placed and detonated a bomb in his office before attempting to kill him in front of the courthouse. He still didn't know why the man wanted to kill him. Dexter gave a simple time sequence of events as he had experienced them, as well as a few comments about his reactions to what had been happening. In the article, he avoided naming the individual, although it was already public knowledge. He could just imagine getting sued, even though a film of the man attempting to shoot him had aired on national television. It was a screwed up world when a criminal could sue the victim ... and win. Dexter knew he wasn't going to fix the absurdities of the legal system all by himself. Concerning the email death-threats, he described the incredulity he felt when initially reading them. His first reaction was to assume that they couldn't be real. He began to fear for his life, when it became obvious that one man was very serious about killing him. He described how he had fled town, after having evidence that his assailant was stalking him. He didn't say where he had gone, despite the fact that news reports had placed him in Nevada. He made minor mention of the shooting outside the courthouse, without getting into the vast difference in his version of events and the version that had been broadcast. All he said about the episode, was that it was the most frightening thing he had ever experienced in his life. With regards to his heart problem, he discussed how important it was to have an annual checkup. While a company might not want to give an employee time off for activities like that, the company should understand that it is better to give an employee time off, than losing an employee to death. An hour spent at a doctor's office could add years to one's life. Dexter wrote about being completely unaware of his high cholesterol. A simple medication, a minor change in diet, and a little exercise could have prevented his stay in the hospital. He added that he had suffered from an ulcer. Knowing that there were others out there like him, he suggested that anyone drinking the pink stuff by the bottle should visit a doctor as soon as possible. He gave testimony concerning how too many of his fellow employees at his old company had died young. He mentioned that they had left behind widows and children whose futures were significantly impacted by their deaths. Threats of unemployment had to be weighed against the loss that a family would suffer if the person died. In the long term, one could always find a new job, but resurrection from the dead was impossible. Dexter concluded his article with a paragraph about how he appreciated all of the emails wishing him a speedy recovery. He mentioned that being in the hospital had made it impossible for him even to read the emails. The amount of emails would provide him with a year's worth of reading material. He gave a rough calculation that it would take roughly one hundred days working twelve hours a day, to read and reply to all of the emails he had received, just on the day after he had been taken to the hospital. Dexter finished his doctor ordered walk for the second time that day. This time, he attempted to go around the block. It hadn't been as bad as he thought it would be. He still had some energy left. Walking around the block had proved interesting, as well. He had been surprised to see how many people actually slowed down their cars to stare at him. If he had been jogging, then no one would have thought twice. But to see a man walking on a sidewalk appeared odd enough to arouse curiosity. In the entire time that Dexter had been living in the apartment, he had never seen anyone sit outside of their front door. He dragged a kitchen chair through his front door, and placed it on the building's small porch, next to the door. Taking a seat, he watched people returning to the apartment from their various jobs. There was a short period of time in which a lot of people returned home from work. He watched the influx with interest, wondering what kinds of jobs these people had that allowed them to come home at a reasonable time. There were a few who wore uniforms that announced their occupation. A young man in his late twenties shuffled tiredly up the walk to Dexter's apartment. His head was down while he was walking. When he stepped onto the porch, he was startled to see Dexter seated there watching him. Holding out his hand, Dexter said, "Hello. It appears we are neighbors." The man stared at Dexter's hand without offering his hand. After an uncomfortable pause, Dexter ended his offer of a handshake. "I'm Dexter." The man frowned and looked at his apartment door as though wondering if he could make it inside without having to deal with this strange man. He hoped that he wouldn't get harassed like this every time he left or arrived at his apartment. "I've been living here a couple of months. I thought it was kind of odd that I never met any of my neighbors," Dexter said. The man said, "All I want to do is get in my apartment." "Sorry. I didn't mean to hold you up," Dexter said. The man sidled to his apartment door, keeping as much distance as possible from Dexter. He awkwardly unlocked the door, while trying not to turn his back to the strange man seated on the patio. Once it was unlocked, he quickly disappeared inside. Dexter could hear the deadbolt being thrown. Dexter had watched the young man make his escape with a frown, and a wrinkled brow. It wasn't so much that the man acted afraid, but more like distrustful. After all, the man was younger than he, and was certainly in better physical shape. A few minutes later, the door to the apartment opened. The man stuck his head out and said, "You're Dexter." "Yes," Dexter said. "You're the guy who was on television a couple of weeks ago," the man said. It was more like a week earlier, but Dexter wasn't going to correct the young man. He nodded his head in agreement. "That wasn't one of my better days." "Do you mind not sitting out here like this?" "Why?" Dexter asked. "It isn't a natural," the young man answered. "I beg to differ. People have been sitting in front of their homes greeting neighbors and passersby for thousands of years," Dexter said. The young man closed the door. Dexter heard the deadbolt click into place. He snorted at the man's reaction. A while later, a woman briskly strode up the sidewalk. She constantly looked around at her surroundings. She slowed upon spotting Dexter. Her hand went inside her purse. Waving at her, Dexter said, "Hello." "Stay away from me, creep," the woman said. She pulled something out of her purse and added, "I've got mace." "I didn't mean to frighten you, young lady," Dexter said wide-eyed. Of all of the reactions that he might have expected, that was the last one Dexter had foreseen. He wondered when saying hello had become seen as a threatening action. He viewed himself as a non-threatening type, since he was basically out of shape and not particularly macho looking. The woman went over to the stairs keeping her can of mace pointed at Dexter the entire time. She ran up the stairs. While she unlocked her door to the apartment above, Dexter could hear her mutter, "I'm going to complain to the manager about this." 'At least she isn't going to call the police, ' Dexter thought. For a moment, he actually wondered if greeting people was against the law. It was clear that greeting people was against the rules at the apartment complex. The reaction of his neighbors only pointed out how alone in this world he was. The only people with whom he occasionally talked, were his lawyer and his employee. It seemed to him that he wouldn't be able to establish a network of acquaintances at the rate he was going. At least, he wouldn't be able to make any friends there at the apartment. Dexter dragged his chair back into the house. His energy was flagging, but not so bad that he needed a nap. He went into the study and read over the latest article for his website. After reviewing the article, Dexter felt it was good enough to post. He uploaded it to the website and sat back in his chair. He yawned, realizing that once again he had overdone it. He nuked a 'lean ready to eat' frozen meal and ate it while seated in his easy chair. At least this evening, he didn't fall asleep in the chair. Dexter woke late the next morning. He rummaged through the refrigerator looking for something to eat. His stash of frozen meals had dwindled down to a single burrito. He had to get some food in the house or starve. He didn't even have a car to take him to the store since his car was still parked in Nevada. Going to get his car was just another thing he had to do. He waited in the living room for the call from the taxi that would let him know that it had arrived. In a way, waiting for a cab was extremely depressing. It pointed out just how badly his personal life was going. He was alone, without a car, living in a small apartment, and trying to recover from surgery, without anyone to nurse him. He was also hungry. After a half-hour of waiting, his cell phone rang to let him know the taxi had arrived. Depressed, he headed towards the door. When reaching for the door knob, he came to a decision not to let his situation get him down. He forced a smile on his face and opened the door. Stepping outside his apartment, he said, "Good morning, world!" After closing the door, he turned to find that he was suddenly blind. A woman was screaming, "Rape! Rape!" Dexter couldn't see who was shouting. His eyes were burning. The pain was so horrible that he wanted to cut them out. He couldn't imagine anything so painful. It just never seemed to end. He heard a noise like a cat with its tail caught in a door, and realized he was the one screaming. While rolling on the ground, Dexter could hear a conversation taking place next to him. It appeared the cabby was pissed about his fare being ambushed like that. The woman and he, were in a screaming match. Dexter didn't really care, he was in too much pain. Dexter became aware of more voices talking around him. He yelled, "Help! Would somebody help me?" He had no idea how much time passed before someone started pouring water into his eyes. The relief, was almost immediate, but it was not complete. The sensation that his eyes were burning had toned down to where it felt like they were smoldering. Nobody would ever say that having his or her eyes washed was a pleasant experience. Dexter's suffering had eased but not ended. "He came out of his apartment, and then she maced him. He didn't even have a chance to know she was even there. Now I'm stuck here for half a damned hour, not making a living, because of her," the cabbie said to the arriving policeman. The woman screeched, "He was trying to rape me." "Ma'am, I know this man. He just had heart surgery a week ago. He's not raping anyone," the policeman said. "I don't care what you say. He's a creep. Yesterday he was lurking over there, and tried to get me to come closer to him so that he could grab me. This morning he leapt out of his apartment," the woman said. The cabbie said, "He stepped out, turned around to close the door, and then turned around to leave. There was no leaping." "You're in this with him," the woman said. "You're crazy, lady!" the cabbie said. "He wasn't threatening you." "You didn't see what he tried to do last night," the woman said. "What did he do?" the policeman asked. "He talked to me," the woman answered. "What did he say?" the policeman asked. "Well ... he said ... hello," the woman answered. "Hello? He said ... hello," the policeman said. The cabbie said, "She's crazy. You better lock her up before she kills someone." "It wasn't so much what he said, but how he said it," the woman said. "How did he say it?" the policeman asked. "With a leer," the woman answered. "Someone is going to have to pay me for wasting so much time, here," the cabbie said. Dexter could finally see without his eyes tearing up. His eyes still stung at bit, but it was a whole lot better now. His eyelids had swollen, and he was seeing the world through narrow slits. He could see a policeman standing behind the medic. The medic said, "I need to see some id," as he repacked his bag from washing Dexter's eyes. Dexter dug his driver's license out of his wallet and handed it to the medic. The man filled out some papers, and then returned the license along with a bill. "Let me guess, it's $725," Dexter said. "That's right," the medic said. "You can mail it in, or pay it on-line." Dexter said, "That's great." The policeman said, "I need to see some identification, Dexter." Dexter handed his license over to the policeman. "Can you tell me what happened?" the policeman asked. "I locked my apartment, turned around, and then I was maced," Dexter answered. "That agrees with what the taxi cab driver said," the policeman said. "Is this 'Kill Dexter Month', and no one told me?" Dexter asked. The policeman laughed. "I'm sure it seems that way to you." "I've been shot at, and now maced. What's next?" The policeman said, "She'll be charged with assault." "Assault!" the woman screamed. "I was in fear for my life, and you're going to charge me with assault for defending myself? Are you crazy?" Dexter reached into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. After taking two hundred dollars out of it, he gestured to the cabbie. While holding the money out, he said, "Go to the grocery store and buy some lunch meat, bread, eggs, milk, apples, cereal, and some frozen dinners. I don't care what you get, just get it and come back here." "Sure thing," the cabbie said. "You want breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Right?" "Right," Dexter said. "And some eyewash." "I'll be right back," the cabbie said. While one of the policemen led the woman away, she looked over her shoulder at Dexter and shouted, "You creep." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 5: The 'Wife' "Are you Dexter?" "Yes." "I'm Amber." Dexter looked the young woman over. She was attractive in a 'the girl next door' manner. Brown hair that came to her shoulders, brown eyes, and a pleasant build. He stepped back and said, "Come in." Amber entered the apartment and looked around. Not impressed with what she saw, she said, "The agency said you want me for a week." "That's right," Dexter said. "That'll be fourteen thousand," Amber said. "Here's the debit card. Call it in," Dexter said holding out his debit card. "You're sure?" she asked skeptically. "Yes," Dexter answered. "I'll charge five grand on it, but I'd rather have cash for the rest," she said. Seeing the look on his face, she said, "The five grand is the agency's commission. I'd rather not pay taxes on the tip." "Ah. You'll have to take me to the bank," Dexter said. "You don't have a car?" she asked. Dexter said, "I left it in ... well I left at an airport. I have to go back for it when I'm feeling better." "Why don't you rent one?" she asked. "Why should I rent one when you have one?" Dexter asked. Somewhat embarrassed by her old car, she answered, "My car is small." "So?" "Just figured ... you'd want something better," she said. Dexter said, "Small is fine." "Let me call in the card to the agency," Amber said. "Go ahead," Dexter said. Amber made the call. She talked for a few minutes and then hung up. She turned to Dexter and asked, "Are you ready to go to the bank?" "Sure," Dexter said. Dexter and Amber left the apartment. She had a little Kia Forte that was filled with junk. It took her a minute to clear some space for Dexter to sit. Based on how much stuff was in her car he wondered if she lived out of it. The trip to the bank didn't take long. She drove and he rode shotgun. The service at the bank was excellent, and actually impressed Amber, who was unaware that it was the normal level of service at the bank. She had assumed he rated some sort of VIP service. She left with nine thousand dollars in her pocket, and he left with a thousand. They returned to the apartment. Amber walked around the place, and noticed that he had only one bed. She hadn't expected otherwise. Looking over at him, she asked, "Now what?" "I've got a shopping list. If you could run to the store, it would be great," Dexter said. "Clothes?" "Food." "Food?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "You know ... that stuff we eat," Dexter said. "All right," she said."I was just thinking it was kind of kinky." "Nothing kinky for me," Dexter said with a shrug of his shoulders. She looked down at the shopping list he handed her. She said, "I like yogurt for breakfast." "Get some," Dexter said. "This is all frozen dinners," she said. "Would you rather cook?" he asked. She said, "I can if you want." "That would be fine," Dexter said. "Buy whatever you need." "Okay," she said. After spending five minutes in the kitchen, she came out. "You've got nothing in your kitchen." "I don't cook," Dexter said. "I nuke." "I don't nuke. I cook," she said. "Feel free," Dexter said. When Amber left to do the shopping, Dexter took a seat in his easy chair, wanting to rest a little. He didn't seem to have much stamina, and he didn't feel like he was making any gains in that area. He hoped by having Amber around, he could concentrate on recovering from his surgery. When Amber returned, she carried a bag of groceries into the kitchen. Coming out, she asked, "Are you going to help me?" "I'm not supposed to life anything heavy," Dexter said. "Why not?" Amber asked. Dexter said, "I had heart surgery last week." "You're kidding," she said. "No," Dexter said. "Can you get it up?" Amber asked starting at him. "I don't know," Dexter said. Amber asked, "Why did you hire me?" "I need someone to take care of me," Dexter said. "There are nurses for that," Amber said. "They won't run errands, and they won't stay here full time," Dexter said. Amber said, "I'm an escort." Dexter asked, "Who else could I call to come live here for a week, run errands, and generally take care of me?" "Normally taking care of a guy involves ... well ... having sex with him," Amber said. "I need someone to remind me to take my pills. I need someone to drive me around," Dexter said. "I charge extra for scat," Amber said. "What?" "You know, enemas and wiping a guys ass," Amber said. Dexter was shocked. "I don't need that." "Good. I don't really like that kind of action," Amber said. "I don't blame you," Dexter said as he sat there looking at her. "I'd better get the rest of the groceries." Dexter went into the study to work on the website, while Amber took care of the groceries. He had been in there for an hour when a wonderful smell permeated the air. He went into the kitchen and asked, "What smells so good?" "Spaghetti sauce," Amber answered. "My mother's recipe." "It smells good," Dexter said. Amber said, "I made enough so that you can freeze the leftovers." "Great," Dexter said. She glanced at the clock. "It's time you took your pills." "Thanks," Dexter said. "I get caught up in work, and forget." "What do you do?" "I have an internet site," Dexter answered. Amber said, "I had one of you internet millionaires for a weekend. He hired me and Cindi. He mostly wanted to watch us have sex. He only got off a couple times. It was a strange weekend." "I can imagine," Dexter said. "You're kind of odd," Amber said. "In what way?" Amber said, "You buy into that whole whore as an angel of mercy crap." "No I don't," Dexter said rather surprised by that charge. "Why else would you hire a prostitute to take care of you?" Amber said. Dexter asked, "I've only got one bed. I figure you won't have a problem sharing it with me. When I walk around naked, I know you won't freak out ... I'm pretty sure that you've seen it all, bigger and smaller. You won't make a big deal out of my cock hanging out. In the mean time, you'll get paid for doing stuff you'd be doing at home. I figure it's easy money for you." "That makes sense, in a way," Amber said. Dexter said, "I've had two bad days in row. I figure having you around might make it a little better, today." "Well, I'm not going to argue with you on that," Amber said. "I'm going to go back to work," Dexter said. "Your pill," Amber said. Dexter said, "Thanks." He took his pill and then headed back to his study. He was working on an article that covered his experiences in the bank, as an example of how service should be performed. He stated that it was up to the customer to decide with whom he or she would do business. By having a large number of customers who insisted upon receiving a certain standard of service, businesses would have to adopt practices that attracted customers. There was a knock on the apartment's front door. Amber answered it, and then stuck her head in the study. "There's some guy named Eric, here." "Let him in," Dexter said. Eric came into the study. He was almost stumbling, while trying to check out Amber. He paused, looked at Dexter, and then looked back at Amber. Finally, he said, "Who's she?" "My caretaker," Dexter answered. "Oh," Eric said. Dexter said, "It turns out that it is 'Kill Dexter Month'. I don't want to leave the house without an escort." Amber giggled at that. Dexter gave her one of those looks that suggested it hadn't been meant that way. "'Kill Dexter Month?'" Eric asked. Dexter shook his head in disgust. "I got maced, stepping out of the apartment, yesterday." "You got maced?" Eric asked. "A crazy woman from upstairs decided that saying hello to her is the same as attempting to rape her," Dexter said. "That's crazy," Eric said. "I agree. I want someone around to call 911, the next time I'm attacked." "Smart," Eric said. Dexter said, "I've got to say that you did a great job with the website while I was indisposed." "I liked the article you posted two days ago about the threats against your life," Eric said. Dexter said, "I noticed that you added a comment that 'all threats, in the future, would be treated seriously.'" "You bet," Eric said. "I guess it needed to be said," Dexter said sadly. "It's strange, but he may have actually saved my life. I had no idea that my heart was in such bad shape. Did you know that if I hadn't had my ulcer treated, it could have killed me?" "No," Eric said. Dexter said, "You might want to swing by your doctor and have your health checked." "That's a good idea. I don't remember when I last had a physical," Eric said. "Why don't you make the call, today? In the mean time, our schedule has really gotten out of whack," Dexter said. "You can say that again," Eric said. "Today is Friday. I'll work until next Wednesday. Why don't you take some time off?" Dexter asked. "Sounds great to me," Eric said. "I'm putting together an article that I'm titling 'It Pays To Pay.' It is all about the benefits of paying for better service. I think it is time that we start to demand better service from our service industries," Dexter said. "How's that help the workplace?" Eric asked. Dexter said, "You don't get extraordinary service by overworking the staff. It means that management has to employ enough people to do the job well. It means that you take a little time to train your people on how to do their jobs. It means that the employees have to be treated well enough to want to go that little extra distance." "That sounds reasonable," Eric said. "From a customer's perspective, it means that you leave a tip that is commensurate with the quality of service. If they just dump the plate in front of you, you leave little or no tip. If they really are outstanding, you leave a twenty percent tip. As customers, we've gotten used to paying for shitty service. That's not right," Dexter said. "I like it," Eric said. Dexter said, "We've focused too much on middle management. I think everyone is getting hosed in the workplace. It is time we broaden the scope of the website." "You're trying to change the world," Eric said. "Not really," Dexter said. "I'm just tired of being treated like shit." "It's not that bad." "You think so until you actually get real service from someone. All of a sudden it is like a light goes on! You wonder why you haven't been getting treated that way every day." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 6: The Biker Dexter and Amber left the apartment to head off to a sporting goods store. It appeared that the people living in the neighborhood within which the apartment was located, did not think it was appropriate for a man to walk around the block. It was 'suspicious behavior', at least that is what the policeman who questioned them said. In short, Dexter wasn't dressed in an appropriate attire for walking around the block. He should have been wearing walking shoes, and some sort of exercise outfit. Dexter did not own a pair of walking shoes, nor an exercise outfit. He was surprised to learn that one had to wear the appropriate fashions in order to engage in exercise. As a kid, he had played baseball, walked, and run in his bluejeans. It appeared that those days were long gone. Following the doctor's orders to take a short walk every day, now required him to go to the mall and buy an outfit. As Amber and Dexter approached the parking lot, a guy on a motorcycle pulled up to a spot in front of them. Amber came to a complete stop on seeing the leather clad motorcyclist. Dexter walked over to examine the bike. The guy got off the bike, taking note in Dexter's interest in his ride. "Nice bike," Dexter said. "It gets to work and back on nice days. It sucks when it rains," the guy said while removing his helmet. "I imagine that it isn't fun in the rain," Dexter said. "You're Dexter," the guy said. "Yes, I am." "I'm Calvin Masters. I live above you." Dexter extended a hand and said, "Nice to meet you Calvin." "I heard that Mary hit you with her pepper spray," Calvin said. "Yes. That was not pleasant," Dexter said. Grinning, Calvin said, "She tried that on me, once. Fortunately, I was still wearing my helmet. She's actually pretty nice once she gets to trust you." "Like that is ever going to happen," Dexter said with a snort. Calvin said, "You've got to understand. She got gang raped a couple years back, in her previous apartment complex. It really did a number on her head." "Well, getting hit with pepper spray did a number on my eyes that I'm not going to forget," Dexter said. Calvin said, "I'll introduce you to her and vouch for you." "You'll vouch for me?" Dexter said incredulous. The guy was wearing leathers, and looked like he belonged to a motorcycle gang. "She trusts me," Calvin said. "You don't know me," Dexter said. Calvin said, "You're 'Dexter.' You're the guy with the website that's made my life a whole lot better." "It did?" Dexter asked. "Man, your article on making the company pay for data plans saved me a bundle of money. Your suggestion of submitting expense vouchers to pay for a home office was like a gift from God. The company I work for adopted a monthly stipend for home offices. All I had to do was fill out a form. I get a hundred dollars a month extra for my office at home! I don't even have to pay taxes on that, since it is reimbursement for expenses. 'You the man, '" Calvin said. "What do you do?" Dexter asked. "I'm a systems administrator. When the computer crashes, they call me. It doesn't matter what time of day or night," Calvin said. Dexter said, "I guess that means you're on call twenty-four hours a day." "That's my job. Now, at least, I do get comp time. Last night I worked until midnight. Now I've got the rest of the day off," Calvin said. "It didn't used to be like that." "I'm glad to hear that," Dexter said. "I gotta tell you, my life is a thousand times better since you put up that website," Calvin said. Dexter said, "I get a lot of emails telling me that, but I very seldom meet anyone who tells me about that." Calvin looked over at Amber. "Who's the young lady with you?" "That's Amber. She's my caretaker. I needed a little help around the house after the heart attack," Dexter said. "I thought she was your daughter or something," Calvin said. He brushed his hair back and gave her the eye. Amber rolled her eyes. She was unimpressed and wasn't afraid to let him know it. "No," Dexter said. Calvin said, "Nice to meet you, Amber." "I carry pepper spray, too," Amber said with a smile reminiscent of a shark. "Spunky. I like you," Calvin said with a laugh. Frosty, Amber said, "I don't like bikers." "Hey, don't knock my bike or the fact that I ride it. I bought it for two grand six years ago. It gets me to work and back. Although the insurance is high, the gas is nothing. I can do all my own maintenance on it. In two more years, I'll be out from under my college debt. Then you'll see me in a pony power car," Calvin said. "You don't look like you went to college," Amber said. "I bet there are tats under your leathers." Calvin replied, "Looks can be deceiving. I'm tattoo-free." "I'm so impressed. Not," Amber said. "Now you're going to give me some cheesy line about how you were just saving a spot on your arm for my name." "Are you kidding?" Calvin said. "That's reserved for Mom." Amber said, "Let's get out of here, Dexter." "We're off to the sporting goods store," Dexter said. "See ya later, Dexter." "It's been nice meeting you. Maybe one of these days we'll sit around and have a beer," Dexter said. "Lookin' forward to it," Calvin said. In the car, Dexter said, "You didn't like him." "It was that obvious, huh?" Amber said. "Yes," Dexter said. Amber said, "It was falling for an asshole like him that got me into the escort business." "Oh," Dexter said. "I got pregnant ... then dropped out of school. He went to college and makes fucking big bucks. Me, I'm stuck fucking for bucks," Amber said bitterly. "You've got a kid?" Dexter asked. "SIDS got my baby," Amber said. "I went to wake up the baby one morning and it was dead. I cried for six months." "Sorry," Dexter said. "It's not your fault. It was God fucking with me," Amber said. Dexter said, "I'm really sorry for you. That's a horrible thing to have happen to you." "Like they say, it's water under the bridge," Amber said. She pulled the car out of the parking lot and headed towards the local mall. "You know, you ought to join a gym." "Why?" Amber said, "You've got a bit of a gut there. If you expect to have any luck with the ladies, you're going to have to get rid of it. Walking around a block isn't going to do it," Amber said. "I don't like exercise," Dexter said. "Duh!" "It's that obvious, huh?" Amber poked him in the belly and said, "'Jelly roll baby.'" "Aren't you supposed to make me feel good?" Dexter asked. "In my profession, I do that by falling to my knees and praising your cock. If you want someone to make you feel good, go to a shrink ... or better yet, a bartender," Amber said, and shot him a smile. Dexter said, "My mistake." When they reached the mall, they headed immediately for a sporting goods store. It was a huge store. It carried every possible brand under the sun. Dexter found himself in the middle of the shoe department. There were row after row of shoes, for all kinds of sports. There were racks of clothes. He looked around, feeling lost and overwhelmed. "What are you looking for?" Amber asked. "Someone to help me," Dexter said. Gesturing to all of the shoes, he said, "I've got no idea what to buy." "Let me see if I can find someone," Amber said. Dexter watched her walk off. With her looks, she'd get every salesman in the store following her. After fifteen minutes, Amber returned alone. She didn't look very happy. "There are only two people in the store, and they are working the cash register." "Let's find another store," Dexter said. "We can help ourselves," Amber said. Dexter said, "No. I've got no idea what I need. They've got shoes here with descriptions that I don't understand." Dexter's last pair of sneakers were what used to be called tennis shoes. They were basically flat soled shoes with a canvas top that laced up the center. There was a high top version of them, but the regular ones served for every purpose. He ran, walked, played basketball, and lived in those shoes. He didn't see a pair of them anywhere. Half the shoes were described as high performance. He didn't know what that meant. Playing games outdoors was for fun. Now it seemed to be a big business. "I won't do any business here. Somewhere in this city is a sporting goods store or a shoe store that has friendly salespeople. I'll find them," Dexter said. "It's just shoes," Amber said. Dexter said, "No. This store is part of a big chain. They've got people thinking that they really don't have a choice other than to shop here. As a result, they couldn't give a shit about the customer. Well, we do have a choice. One day, this chain is going to wake up and discover that it doesn't have any customers." "There really aren't many other places," Amber said doubtfully. It took two hours, but Dexter and Amber found a sporting goods store that was fully staffed. Amber was nearly at her wits end. She couldn't believe that Dexter wouldn't just pick out a shoe off the rack, and try it out. Despite the distraction that Amber's presence might have caused, the man took excellent care of Dexter. After finding out what kind of exercise program Dexter was considering, he came out with an all sport shoe that could function for walks and minor exercise sessions in a gym. It wasn't the best shoe for jogging, which suited Dexter just fine. A simple gym outfit with sweat pants and a reasonable sweatshirt completed his shopping expedition. He was satisfied with what he had purchased. While they were leaving the store, Amber said, "You were right." "About?" "About finding the right store. That guy really knew his stuff and he really helped you. I couldn't believe it," Amber said. Dexter said, "When I'm ready to take up golf, I'll come back to this store. It is going to get all of my business from now on." "I don't blame you," Amber said. She was silent for a minute. The fact was, that Amber had never experienced that kind of service. She was used to going to the big chain stores, and putting up with the lackadaisical service they provided. The idea of a salesperson spending more than two minutes to answer some question before rushing off on some other errand, was foreign to her. She could see why Dexter had pushed to find that store. "I'll come here and I'll recommend it to others. My business might not be much in the grand scheme of things, but maybe I'll be the customer that keeps this place afloat. Maybe, just maybe, my recommendations to others will make the business thrive. You never know. "That big chain store will last for a while, but then it will fail. The only one telling customers that it is a good place to get sporting goods, is a Wall Street advertising firm. It won't last forever. People will get fed up with going into that monster store, that has equipment that they don't understand for sale, and no help in cutting through the bullshit. "You see that with all kinds of stores. The chain grows and then gets too large. They stop caring about customers. All it takes is discovering that you wasted a hundred dollars to get burned on the store. The next thing you know, they are filing for bankruptcy." "Another bookstore chain just went bust," Amber said. "That's right," Dexter said. Amber said, "Let's find a gym." "Let's find the right gym for me," Dexter said. "Why do I have a feeling that we're going to be driving around for a while," Amber said. "Because, I'm very particular about who I give my money to," Dexter said. "So, should we start looking for a place near the apartment?" Amber asked. Dexter said, "I'm tired. I think I need to take a nap." "Okay," Amber said. "We'll try to find a gym, tomorrow." "You can chat with Calvin while I'm napping," Dexter said with a grin. "I carry pepper spray, too," Amber said. "Never mind." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 7: The Muscle Babe Jim Liggett pointed to the row of shiny equipment and proudly said, "We have all of the best equipment on the market." "What does it all do?" Dexter asked. "Each piece of equipment is designed to work an individual muscle group. If you sign up, we'll have you looking buff in no time," Jim said. "Buff?" Jim pointed to a man who was admiring his chest in a mirror. He said, "That guy used to look a lot like you. Now look at him! He could compete for Mr. America." Dexter looked over at the man. He was flexing his chest muscles and preening in front of the mirror. The guy had shaved his head. Dexter figured that it was probably to hide the fact that he was balding. The thought of him doing the same thing nearly caused him to laugh out loud. With her arms crossed over chest, Amber said, "I bet his dick shrank from all of the steroids he's been taking." Jim chuckled and said, "We don't promote the use of steroids." "Who would I talk to if I wanted some?" Dexter asked. "We can talk about that, after you've been in the program for a while," Jim said. Jim turned to Amber and examined her body. He shook his head as if disappointed with what he saw. Pointing to a woman across the room, he said, "I can put together a program for you, that will turn you into a real hard-body like her. We'll get all of that fat off of you in no time." The woman, wearing skin tight spandex, was seated on a bench working some weights with her left arm. Dexter couldn't tell how much weigh she was lifting. She was watching her arm muscles flex. There was an intense look of concentration on her face. It was hard to tell if she was satisfied with the results, or not. Dexter could see that there wasn't an ounce of fat on her, anywhere. "She's got no tits," Dexter said earning a grateful look from Amber. "She's sexy, unlike this fat cow," Jim said gesturing at Amber. Dexter said, "I wouldn't fuck her with your dick, much less mine. On the other hand, I'd do Amber in a minute." "She's probably got a dick," Amber said. Amber did not like being called a 'fat cow.' She also appreciated Dexter's support. "I guarantee that if you sign up now, that in a year's time you'll have muscles on top of muscles. Women will be coming up to you with desire in the hearts. Men will be intimidated by your presence," Jim said. "Really?" Dexter said. Jim said, "We're a national chain. If you get a membership here, then you can visit any of our locations. That allows you to remain in top physical condition even if your job requires you to travel. Our trainers are all experts at body sculpting. Every one of our locations has a trainer who has won, at least at the state level, a body building competition." "I'm impressed," Dexter said. "You are?" Amber asked. "I thought you would be," Jim said. Dexter said, "If I wanted to be a muscle man, this is definitely the place where I would come." "Excellent. So can I sign you up for a membership?" "No," Dexter said. "Why not?" Jim asked surprised by Dexter's answer. "I want to be fit, not muscle bound," Dexter said. Turning to Amber, he said, "Let's go. This is not the place for me." "Good decision," Amber said. Jim said, "Wait a minute. You won't find any finer examples of fit people than here." "I'm sorry, but this isn't the place for me," Dexter said. "You'll be a fat little man for the rest of your life," Jim said. Dismissively, Amber said, "At least his dick will work." Jim continued trying to sell Dexter on a membership while the pair exited the building. Outside, Amber said, "I'm glad you chose not to join." "There was no chance of joining. When I told him that I had recently had heart surgery, he didn't even ask any questions about what I could do," Dexter said. "He's selling just one kind of exercise program. That's not for me." They went to another gym. This was a little hole in the wall place tucked away in the corner of a strip mall. There was a sign on the window announcing that one of its customers had lost thirty-four pounds that month. Dexter looked in the window. It had a dozen pieces of equipment, but only one of each kind. There was a man seated at a desk watching a television. "This looks promising," Amber said. Dexter frowned and shook his head. They entered. The man at the desk stood up and said, "Hello." "Hi," Dexter replied looking around. "Are you thinking of joining?" the man asked. "Maybe," Dexter said. "I recently had heart surgery and need to get fit." "We focus more on weight loss although you'll get fit at the same time," the man said. "Oh," Dexter replied. The man said, "We put together a tailored program for each person, based on their weight and general physical body type. We combine diet and exercise in the program. Our clients work individually or together as a couple with a trainer. You'll come here at a scheduled time, three times a week." "That's interesting," Dexter said. "I take it you are one of the trainers." "That's right," the man said. Dexter asked, "What kind of training does one need to be a personal trainer?" "There aren't any special guidelines," the man answered. Dexter asked, "What are your credentials?" "I've been doing this for ten years," the man answered. "So what do you suggest as a program for me?" Dexter asked. The man said, "For you, we'd put you on a low carb diet. That will help get rid of your belly. In terms of exercise, I'd put you on the treadmill to build up your cardiovascular system." "That sounds reasonable," Dexter said. The man pointed to a poster on the wall. There was a list of names with how much weight each one had lost over the past month. He said, "As you can see, our results speak for themselves. Our clients lose weight." Surprising Amber, Dexter said, "I'd like to think about it." "Okay," the man said. Dexter and Amber left the little place. He looked back into the facility. The man was back at his desk watching television. Amber asked, "What was wrong with that place?" "I don't know," Dexter said. "He says that they tailor the program to each person, but what he said sounded like a generic weight-loss program to me." "You aren't all that special," Amber said. "I know," Dexter said with a frown. Amber shrugged her shoulders and headed to her car. It seemed to her that Dexter was pretty finicky. At the third gym, Dexter was met at the door by a perky young lady. She was short with blond hair that was held back in a pony-tail. Even standing in place, she exuded energy. "Hello, I haven't seen you here before. I'm Samantha. You can call me Sam." "Hello Samantha. I'm Dexter. I'm looking to join a gym." Sam studied Dexter for a moment. His skin was pale, almost gray in color. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He didn't look like he could survive a workout. She asked, "What made you decide to join a gym?" "I recently had heart surgery, and I need a place to do some exercising," Dexter answered. "Why don't you have a seat right over there? I'll be right back," Samantha said. Dexter looked over at Amber and shrugged his shoulders. He would have been perfectly happy to have her take him around the gym. He sat down on the chair. "I wonder what that's about," Dexter said. Now that he was seated, he kind of sagged down. It had been a busier morning than he had anticipated. Suddenly, he felt very tired. "I don't know," Amber said. Sam returned after a minute with a glass of orange juice. She held it out to him and said, "Drink this." "What is it?" "Orange juice," Sam answered. "What does it look like?" "It looks like orange juice," Dexter said. "Drink it up," Sam said. "Why?" Samantha said, "You don't look good. In fact, you look like you're about to pass out." "I am a little tired," Dexter said as he took a sip of the juice. "Let me guess. Your doctor told you to get plenty of rest. He gave you a diet to follow, and told you to take a couple of short walks a day, slowly increasing the distance with each walk," Sam said. "That's right," Dexter said. Sam stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. She did not look pleased with him. "You've been running around all day trying to find a gym," Sam said. "This is the third gym we've been to," Dexter said. "Do you call that getting plenty of rest?" Sam asked. "Not really." Turning to face Amber, Sam asked, "Are you with him?" "Yes," Amber answered. "Are you supposed to be taking care of him?" "Uh, yes." Sam glowered at Amber and asked, "Why did let him overdo it?" "I didn't think ... well ... I don't know," Amber answered. She hadn't expected to get that kind of attitude. Sam said, "He's your father. You shouldn't let him overdo it." "He's not my father," Amber said. "Oh. Sorry," Sam said. "I hired her to be my caretaker," Dexter explained. Sam exploded, "What kind of caretaker are you? Don't you care if your patient dies?" "I'm not really trained to be a caretaker," Amber said defensively. "This is ridiculous," Sam said. "Did he just pick you up off the street or something?" "He called my service," Amber said. Dexter said, "Hey, she's doing the best she can." "I want you to take him home and put him in bed. He's not to get out of bed until the morning. I don't care if you have to tie him there, but you are to keep him in bed. After he's had a good night's sleep, and a healthy breakfast, I want you to back here. We'll put him on the treadmill for twenty minutes, and then send him home," Samantha said. Amber said, "I'll do that." "Good," Sam said. Pointing at Dexter, she said, "Finish your orange juice." "Yes, Ma'am," Dexter said. He drank down the rest of the juice. Samantha watched him finish the juice. She took the glass from him. "Go. Be here in the morning." "Okay," Dexter said. With a little help from Samantha, he got out of the chair. She stood there watching them leave, shaking her head. All she needed was someone dropping dead in her gym. That would be real good for business. Once they were in the car, Amber said, "I guess she told us." "Quite plainly and clearly," Dexter said looking a little sheepish. "I think you found your gym," Amber said. "I like her," Dexter said. Amber said, "For some reason, that doesn't surprise me." "She was a little hard on you," Dexter said. "I think she owes you an apology." "No, she doesn't. She was right. To tell the truth, I was getting tired of running around. I should have thought a little more about how you were feeling," Amber said. "I guess I'll go home and work a little," Dexter said. "No. You're going to bed," Amber said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 8: The Escort Amber stood at the door looking at Dexter. She tried not to let her tears show, but it was a hopeless cause. Sniffling, she said, "It's hard to believe the week is over." "I know," Dexter said. He was standing two paces away from her shifting uneasily from one leg to the other. "I'm going to miss you," Amber said. Dexter said, "Me, too. It's going to be awful quiet around here, without you." "I think you'll manage all right now," Amber said. "I hope so," Dexter said. "Do you need me to stay another week?" Amber asked. "No. You've got a life to go to and ... well ... I'm just ... I'll be fine," Dexter said somewhat at a loss for words. Amber asked, "Are you sure?" "Yeah." "You've got my number?" Amber asked, although she knew he did. She had programmed it into his cell phone, herself. "Yes," Dexter said. "You'll give me a call if you have a problem?" Amber asked. "I will," Dexter said. "I guess I better go," Amber said. Dexter said, "Okay." For a moment, she stood there looking at him. Then she turned and beat a hasty retreat from the apartment. The door slammed shut behind her. Dexter stood there staring at the door, and then down at the floor. He was going to miss her. He went to the study, to work, hoping that would take his mind off of her absence. He found that he couldn't concentrate. In the one week Amber had spent with him, she had become an integral part of his life. She had cooked, cleaned, run errands, chauffeured, and generally taken care of him. She had shared his bed at night. She had talked to him when things were quiet. She had rubbed his shoulders when he had worked too long at the computer. She nagged him to take his pills, and reminded him of things that he had to do. Except for never having had sex with him, she had been a perfect wife. She had even left him well provided for, for the next few weeks. There was a ton of frozen leftovers in the freezer, packaged in individual servings. She had taken him to the airport to pick up a rental car, so he wasn't stuck without transportation. All of his clothes had been cleaned. Living with her had been easy. She hadn't batted an eye when he walked around the apartment without clothes. She didn't intrude or disturb his concentration when he was working on an article. She quietly listened to music using earphones, so that he didn't have to listen to her music. She hadn't even filled his bathroom with feminine products. The alarm on his cell phone went off. He picked it up and read the message. It was the alarm letting him know it was time to head over to the gym. That was another thing she had done. She had programmed a number of different alarms on his cell phone, to remind him to take his pills, eat, and go to the gym. Dexter changed into his gym outfit. He grabbed the keys to the rental car, and headed out to the parking lot. He ran into Calvin who was kneeling down by his bike fiddling with something. "Hey, Dexter. How's it goin'?" "I'm feeling much better," Dexter answered. Calvin said, "I noticed Amber leaving." "Today was her last day," Dexter said. "Bummer. You're going to miss her," Calvin said. "I know, but like I said ... I'm feeling better," Dexter said. "If you talk to her, let her know I'm still interested," Calvin said. Dexter said, "I'll tell her." Calvin said, "You're wearing gym clothes. Going to work out?" "Yes," Dexter said. "Where do you go?" Calvin asked. Dexter answered, "I go to Sam's Fitness Center." "Is it nice?" Calvin asked. "Samantha, the woman who owns the place, is amazing. She's got a degree in physical therapy, with a double minor in coaching and nutrition," Dexter answered. "I didn't know you could minor in coaching," Calvin said. "Apparently you can," Dexter said. "I might check it out," Calvin said, grunting while loosening a nut. Dexter said, "You seem to be in pretty good shape, already." "I was reading your article about taking care of yourself. It got me to thinking that I've been getting a lot less active, lately. I might not be getting fat, but I've gained about fifteen pounds since I left college. It just kind of crept up on me," Calvin said. "It does that," Dexter said. Calvin said, "Don't let me hold you up. I'll talk to you later, I'm sure." "Take it easy," Dexter said. "I always do." Dexter got into his car and drove over to the gym. He pulled into the parking lot thinking it would be kind of strange to work out without having Amber to look at, on her stationary bike. He headed into the gym. "Hello, Dexter." "Hello, Samantha." "You can call me 'Sam'." "I like 'Samantha', better. It's perky, like you," Dexter said. Samantha laughed. She noticed that he was there without Amber. "Where's Amber?" "Today was her last day," Dexter answered. "We kind of got off on a bad foot, but I really liked her," Samantha said. "She liked you, too," Dexter said. "She said that she might join the gym." "That would be great. I can always use the customers," Samantha said. "One of the guys from my apartment might come by," Dexter said. "He looks a little rough, but he's really nice guy. He works with computers." "The more the merrier," Samantha said. She looked puzzled for a second. "Amber never told me what service she was with." "It's a small one," Dexter said. There was no way that Dexter was going to tell Samantha that he had turned to an escort service to hire someone to take care of him for a week. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing one told others. "What's the name of it?" Samantha said. Dexter said, "I don't recall off the top of my head." "Let me know what it is when you remember it. I can maybe steer a little business their way," Samantha said. "I'll do that," Dexter said. "I probably ought to start working out now." Samantha said, "Okay. I've got the third treadmill ready for you. I upped the resistance so it will be a little harder going. Just keep to thirty minutes at a comfortable pace." "Will do," Dexter said. Dexter went over to the third treadmill and climbed on. He started walking and immediately felt the increased resistance. It was like walking up a slight incline, but it wasn't too bad. He kept glancing over at the empty stationary bike, expecting to see Amber riding on it. About twenty minutes into the walk, he was beginning to really feel the increased resistance. He slowed his pace a little. The problem was that with nothing to distract him from his walking, he was aware of every step he took. He kept glancing down at the timer thinking that he should have been finished, but only a minute had passed since the last time he had looked. After the longest thirty minutes of his life, Dexter completed his walk. He stepped off the treadmill knowing that he had exercised. His legs had a slight burning sensation. Samantha came over and examined the statistics which included the total time walked, the speed, and the distance covered. She frowned upon seeing the numbers. "You didn't do as well as I expected." "It just wasn't all that great, today. I don't know why," Dexter said shrugging his shoulders. Samantha smirked and added, "Next time, I'll try to find someone for you to watch while you're walking." "What?" Dexter said. "You usually watched Amber riding the stationary bike. She wasn't here today, and you didn't have fun exercising. I think there's a correlation there," Samantha said. Dexter sagged. "You're saying I'm a dirty old man." Samantha sniffed. "Well, you do smell a little ripe after the exercise, but you aren't really dirty. You're not quite old. I guess that makes you a man." "You're too kind," Dexter said. Samantha said, "On a more serious note, a lot of people listen to music while exercising. They find that it takes their mind off the exercise while giving them a tempo to their movements." "Kind of like marching to a band," Dexter said. "Exactly," Samantha said. Dexter said, "I guess I can stop by an electronics store." Samantha said, "Just don't overdo the shopping." "I'll buy something at the first store I find," Dexter said with a sigh. "What do you mean?" Samantha asked. The only time she didn't buy something at the first store she tried was if they didn't have what she wanted. She could see no reason to go from store to store unless it was to compare prices and she could do that online. "I tend to look around for stores that have the kind of service I want, before I buy something. It is kind of a personal crusade," Dexter said. "That's interesting," Samantha said. Dexter said, "It is kind of like how I came to be here. You were the only one who listened when I said that I had heart surgery. One guy wanted me to become a bodybuilder and didn't care at all that I had a heart attack. At the other gym it was all about weight-loss. If people don't listen to me, then I end up getting what I don't want or need. I've gotten tired of it." "You aren't the only one," Samantha said. "Do you know what gets me?" "What?" Samantha said, "When they try to steer you away from what you want to what they want you to buy." "That's because they're not listening to you." "Not always. Sometimes, at the grocery store, I find that I can locate all of the salt-free and dietary versions of a product easily. I don't like the taste of that stuff. However, getting the original version of the product, requires me to get down on the floor to search the bottom shelf," Samantha said. Dexter nodded his head in understanding. "I feel like I'm being manipulated." "That's it, exactly," Samantha. "I'm tired of it." "Same here." Dexter sighed. "I'm going to miss Amber." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 9: The Advisor It was a typical small conference room, intended for use by less than a half dozen people. The conference table was ovoid, rather than rectangular. The chairs were more comfortable than those which were usually found in a conference room. The room was basically designed so that the principals involved in negotiation, could be close or distant as fitted the situation. After the secretary had led Dexter into the room, she offered to get him coffee, tea, or a soda. Dexter went with the coffee and she disappeared. After a minute, she returned with a silver tray containing a small carafe of coffee, and real china coffee cups. She fussed around while preparing a cup of coffee. He could tell it was one of those rich 'dark roast' coffees that always tasted burnt, to him. Sipping the coffee, Dexter sat back to study the room. The decor was understated. It spoke of money without boasting. The artwork hanging on the walls, basic meaningless abstracts, were originals, but not by any particularly famous artists. They gave color without a subject. Dexter studied the paintings thinking they accurately reflected the times: a presence without meaning or depth. Rather than give him confidence that his money would be well managed, the room made him uneasy. It was as though everything was facade and not real. He would have preferred a room that looked as if people actually worked in it. He wanted the image of men with shirt sleeves rolled up, while they read financial reports. Instead, he had the image of pretenders in suits, talking good stories. He wondered how long he would have to wait for his financial advisor to arrive. It seemed to him that having him wait was a calculated ploy to make him feel that his financial advisor was an important and busy person. He hoped that he wouldn't get too tired out by this meeting; but he had to take care of his money, now, before the IRS got it all. A man about Dexter's age entered the room in a negligent shuffle. His shirt was wrinkled with a couple of brownish stains on the front. It was little large for his body. Actually, it fit around the waist, but was large at the shoulders and long at the arms. He exhaled loudly when he sat down in one of the seats at the table. "I'm Charlie Crause. I apologize for being late. I had an accident with a soda. It exploded when I opened it." "No problem," Dexter said. "So you're the famous Dexter," Charlie said. "I guess so." Charlie said, "Mark told me a little about you, when he set up this meeting. He said you're a plain spoken person." "I don't know about that. I never really gave it much thought," Dexter said. He hadn't ever thought about how someone might describe him to others. "He also said that you're sharp as a tack," Charlie said. "I wouldn't say that. Of course, I tend to remember my moments of stupidity longer than my moments of brilliance, if only because there are more of the former than the latter," Dexter said. Charlie laughed and said, "That's true for more people than would like to admit it." "I guess," Dexter said. "While we're waiting for Mary to bring in your paperwork, let me tell you a little about myself," Charlie said. "That's fine." Charlie leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table with his hands clasped in front of him. "I'm a graduate of a no name school, with a degree in business. As one of my professors once told me, you can get a first rate education in a third rate school. It isn't the school that matters, it is the student. I took that message to heart. I worked my ass off in school, did very well, and then got a job with a Wall Street brokerage firm. "After a couple of years on the job, I became the manager of a large investment fund. It was one of the highest rated funds on the market while I was managing it. The hours were horrible, the work miserable, and the pay obscenely high. Despite the money, I hated every minute of it. "After suffering through fifteen years in that hell hole, I left and joined this firm. I like managing money. I like knowing the customer. I enjoy spending an hour shooting the shit with someone, and getting to know them. I prefer to do that, over having to deal with some faceless mob ... particularly a mob that is only interested in instantaneous results. "I have three research assistants who study investment opportunities. They are all graduates of no name schools. Each of them is very good at what he or she does. I'd rather hire someone who is good, than some affordable idiot who graduated from a big name school. Let's face it. Those big name schools have produced some pretty thick-headed people. "I have a simple investment strategy. I look for companies headed by competent, smart, forward looking and ethical people. I believe that folks like that will make better business decisions. They will look at the future as it is, and not follow some 'fashion trend' in the business world. Fast money comes and goes. Serious money is in it for the long haul. Bankers, who make sound loans, don't have to worry about getting their money back. Manufacturers, who maintain quality and produce a superior product, will thrive in good times and survive the bad times. "Not one of the companies in which I've invested was affected by your little website. In a perverse way, I take some little pride in that. It tells me that my strategy is the correct one. My accounts made money while everyone else lost, big time. "When other people learn about how much money you have, there will be snake oil salesmen, flim-flam artists, and outright thieves trying to get their hands on it. Relatives you have never met will appear from the woodwork wanting a share of your money. It happens ... believe me, it happens a lot. "I'll do my best to steer you away from those kinds of situations. Of course, you can always insist on making an investment in whatever scheme grabs your fancy. It is your money after all. My point is that it's not in my best interests, to watch your money disappear through bad investment. I earn my money as a percentage of the net gains of your wealth, over a year long period. I do not earn a commission on each transaction. "Are there any questions so far?" Dexter answered, "None so far." Charlie said, "With this much money at stake, trust is probably the most important element that has to exist between the two of us. I'm not going to tell you to trust me. If you want, you can hire a private detective and have me investigated. I have no problems with that. You can ask others in the industry about me. I have no problem with that. My life is an open book. "I'll also have to trust you to make wise decisions. I'll present investment opportunities to you. I'll expect you to listen and to consider them carefully. You should do your own investigation. I need you to feel free to ask any questions you wish. We are a partnership in this endeavor. I can't do my job without some guidance from you. "Any questions?" Dexter said, "You mentioned that I would have to do my own investigation. What exactly do you mean by that?" Charlie answered, saying, "Let's take a simple example. Suppose that I suggest that we buy stocks in gold related industries. I will give you a reasoned brief on why I think it is a good investment. For example, it is announced that the Chinese government is planning to open the gold market for Chinese citizens and I believe that will lead to an increased demand for gold. Businesses that produce gold will increase in value. "You should check that the Chinese government is actually planning to do that. You should try to estimate for yourself what happens when a billion people start buying gold. Then you'll need to consider whether buying gold or stocks in companies that produce gold represents a better investment. You need to satisfy yourself that what I'm suggesting is reasonable." "I can see that," Dexter said. "A simple search on the internet will probably net a dozen articles giving pros and cons to that suggestion." Dexter knew that he would probably do that anyway. He wasn't all that comfortable with dealing with that much money. The last thing he wanted was to have it stolen from him. There was no way that he'd blindly accept recommendations without giving them significant thought. "Exactly," Charlie said. "You see, I don't want you coming back to me when something doesn't turn out as I predicted, with the accusation that I misled you. The decision to make an investment is yours, not mine. I suggest, you decide." "I can agree to that," Dexter said. Charlie shifted nervously in his seat for a second. "There is one little problem." "What's that?" Dexter asked. Charlie answered, "One of my research assistants recently got into trouble with the law. She was arrested two weeks ago for assault. The legal process has just begun and there's no telling how it will turn out. It is kind of an ethical dilemma for me. I won't fire her until after the matter has been resolved one way or another. On the other hand, I am not willing to give her access to confidential customer information. As a result, I'm using her for basic background research, and as an office 'gofer'." "Why are you telling me this?" Dexter said. Charlie said, "I want to be forthright in my dealings. How would you feel if you were to learn from another source, that one of my employees was in trouble with the law?" "I'd be suspicious," Dexter said. "As I said, trust is extremely important. I won't hide things just because they may give you a negative impression of me. In the long run, hiding things doesn't work," Charlie said. Dexter said, "I can respect that." Charlie looked at his watch. Irritated, he said, "Where is that woman?" Dexter knew it was a rhetorical question. Charlie picked up the telephone and dialed the receptionist. When she answered, he said, "Denise, tell Mary to get her ass in here, now, with the paperwork I asked her to bring. Also tell her to bring a real coffee cup. You know I hate drinking coffee out of those damned little tea cups." He didn't wait for Denise to answer. He hung up the phone. "While we're waiting for Mary, let me answer any questions that you might have." "I don't know if you are aware of how I got my money, but it was from a settlement with a former employer," Dexter said. Charlie said, "Mark explained that to me when he set up this appointment. He also told me about the steps that you've already taken with regards to the money – setting aside some money for the kids and sharing the remainder with your estranged wife. He's working with me and my tax attorney, to establish a good investment for the money you've given the children. You should know that he's dealing with me in his role as your lawyer. You should have the full proposal from him in a week." "I would like to shelter as much of my settlement money from taxes as possible. What does that involve?" Dexter asked. Charlie pursed his lips, exhaled and said, "That's not an easy question to answer. We'll spend a whole day on that subject, when you're up to it. The fact is that tax law in this country is the most convoluted, messed up, irrational body of law in the history of mankind. A lot of the laws are designed to protect the wealth of people with a lot more money than you have. Is there some loophole that you might fit through? Possibly, but I doubt it. You're liable to have to pay twenty-eight percent on your share of the settlement." "I didn't want to hear that," Dexter said. The receptionist came in and handed Charlie a piece of paper. He glanced at it, frowned, and then read it again. "Oh, shit. This is embarrassing." "What should I tell her?" the receptionist asked. "Send her in here," Charlie said with a sigh. "Tell her to bring the papers, and a real cup. I hate these little tea cups," "Yes, Sir," the receptionist said. Charlie turned to Dexter with a sheepish expression on his face. "It seems that you already know Mary." Dexter had a bad feeling about this situation. The woman who lived above Dexter stepped into the office. She was doing her best to look anywhere except at him. "You!" "Yes," Mary replied weakly. "You maced me," Dexter said. Mary kept glancing at him and then looking away nervously. "I was sure ... I thought ... I was afraid that ... well ... that you were going to rape me." "I didn't even know you were anywhere around me! I had just stepped out of my apartment," Dexter said in protest. "What was I supposed to think after you harassed me the previous night?" Mary asked. "I said 'hello' to you," Dexter said. "A strange man lurking in the shadows, is very threatening," Mary said. "I was sitting in a chair, on the front patio of my apartment," Dexter said. Charlie was rubbing his forehead, trying to stave off a headache. It had been bad enough when he had learned one of his employees had been arrested for assault. It was a disaster to discover that it involved a possible client. They had never covered this in any of his business classes! "Mary, I suggest that you hand me the paperwork and my coffee cup, and then leave," Charlie said. He wondered if he even needed the papers inside the folder. He couldn't see Dexter signing a contract with a firm that employed the person who had maced him. There wasn't much doubt about Mary's guilt in the matter. She had admitted to macing him. "Here are the papers," Mary said holding out the folder. "Where's my coffee cup?" Charlie asked taking the folder from her. Crimson faced, Mary answered, "I ... uh ... dropped it." "Find me a real cup, please," Charlie said demonstrating far more patience than he felt. "Yes, Sir," Mary said and fled from the room. "Oh, boy," Dexter and Charlie said simultaneously. "I didn't know until I got the note," Charlie said. "I figured there had to be a mistake." "She needs help," Dexter said. Charlie poured some coffee into one of the small cups. Holding up the carafe, he asked, "Would you like some more coffee?" "Sure," Dexter said holding out his cup. Charlie filled the cup. He set the carafe down and grabbed his cup. He drank the little cup of coffee in two sips. Disgusted, he said, "They do this to me every time I have a new client, here. They put me in this pretentious room, and bring out the china. Little old ladies sip tea out of china cups." "Let me see your office," Dexter said. "Why?" Dexter said, "I want to see where you really work." "Why?" "How else am I to get your measure? There's nothing in this room that reflects the real you, except for you. People can easily hide their real character for an hour. When you see where they live, or work, then you know a lot more about them," Dexter said. "It's a mess," Charlie said, while rising from his chair. "You can see it if you want." Dexter followed Charlie down the hallway. The office looked like a minor tornado had blown through. There were stacks of folders on nearly every surface. A sport coat had been tossed over one chair. There was a wet spot on the coat, which was probably due to the accident with a soda can that Charlie had mentioned. "Where's that thing you're working on for my kids?" Dexter asked. Charlie reached over and picked up a couple of folders. He held them out. "I've got some options laid out here and a draft of a contract from your lawyer." "You knew right where they were," Dexter said. Charlie pointed to a table on which there were a dozen stacks of folders. "I know where everything is in this room. Right there is an investment proposal for one of my clients. The three stacks of papers next to it contain background materials used in putting together the proposal. Those six stacks on the other side contain opportunities that I rejected for one reason or another." "Impressive," Dexter said. "Let's sign the paperwork." "You're kidding?" Charlie asked. Tapping his forehead, Dexter said, "You're organized up here, where it counts. Your brain ... that's what I'm hiring." "What about Mary? Doesn't that influence your decision?" "She needs professional help. You said before that you'd only use her for background research. Until her situation gets resolved, she's not an issue ... as long as she doesn't touch anything of mine," Dexter said. "I like the way you think," Charlie said. Dexter said, "You will see that she gets help?" "I'll do what I can," Charlie said with another sigh. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 10: The Steakhouse Dexter parked his car in the crowded parking lot of the chain steakhouse. Cleared by his doctor to increase his level of activity, and to expand his diet, Dexter had chosen a steak dinner as the ideal way to celebrate. It was true that steak, specifically, hadn't been added to his diet, but Dexter figured that was just a minor technicality. A crowd of people, mostly smokers, were waiting for tables in front of the restaurant. Although he wasn't a smoker, he thought it was wrong that they weren't allowed smoking areas where they could smoke their foul cigarettes, while letting non-smokers be free of having to smell it. Instead, the laws seemed to cast smokers into a semi-criminal status. He could empathize with the smokers. He viewed it as more laws intended to manipulate people into behaving in a manner that someone else had decided was in their best interests. In a way, he couldn't figure out the insane policies of the government. It provided subsidies for the tobacco companies, but it didn't want them to advertise so that the subsidies would be unnecessary. It generated revenue from the taxes levied on tobacco products, yet argued against the sales of the products. It criminalized the use of the product while allowing it to be sold. Inside the restaurant, there was a crowd of people waiting to get seated. Dexter made his way through the crowd to add his name to the list and was told that it would be an hour wait. The hostess gave him a dirty look when he stated that he was alone. He was given a plastic pager to let him know when a table became available. There weren't any seats available in the waiting area, although there were a few in the bar. He considered the bar, but held back. He didn't really want to drink on an empty stomach. He joined the crowd around the hostess station. There were only seats for about ten customers, and there were at least forty people waiting for a table. He leaned against a wall examining the décor of the restaurant. There was a strong Texas and cowboy theme. Pictures of famous Hollywood cowboys hung on the wall. There was a saddle mounted over the entrance into the dining area. Spurs, cowboy hats, old tools, kerosene lanterns, and branding irons filled in the spaces on the wall. Considering that this was a national chain, he wondered where they managed to find so much western memorabilia. He watched others when informed they had a table. The hostess would take the pager from them and then head off into the dining area expecting the customers to follow her. Sometimes the hostess even told the customers to follow her. Once on her way, she never looked back to see if they were behind her. The customers followed along like baby ducklings trailing their mother. The customers who had arrived before him were slowly seated. The space taken up in the waiting area was filled by new customers. Some groups talked among themselves while others just stood around waiting to be seated. Most groups with young kids didn't even try to wait for a table, but turned around and left. An hour was a long time to wait for a table. He thought about the other steakhouses in the area. The fancy ones didn't serve steaks on the bone. It was always a New York Strip, Filet Mignon, or a Rib Eye. The high priced steakhouses had asparagus, baked potatoes or fancy mashed potatoes for sides. They served garden salads with fancy dressings. The problem was that he liked a good sized Porterhouse steak, cooked medium rare. He liked a baked sweet potato with butter, sugar, and cinnamon as a side, and a lettuce salad with Thousand Island dressing. This particular chain delivered exactly that, and at a price that people could afford. If he was to get the meal he wanted, he had to come to this chain ... or one just like it. The problem with chains was that despite the lousy service, they provided a product that was exactly what the customer wanted, at a price the customer could afford. People who wanted something specific would accept lousy service if the price was right. On the other hand, if the price was high, they wanted the right item and excellent service. A rule of thumb for project management in engineering is that one can have it fast, cheap, or quality, but not all three. Dexter had come to the conclusion that when it came to purchasing, one could have the item, the price, or the service, but not all three. Chains emphasized the item and the price at the expense of service. Unfortunately, it seemed to Dexter that low price dominated the other two factors. People would accept an inferior item and poor service just because the price was right. It seemed to Dexter that successful chains couldn't maintain their success for long. In a way, it was their very success and consequent growth that often led to their downfall. As the chain expanded, the operating costs increased, which then forced them to increase prices. They tended to die when they raised prices without improving the service. Looking around the steakhouse, Dexter could see the beginnings of its downfall. The building was fifteen years old. In five years or less, it would need a major overhaul. That would cost money. Every year that passed would require increased maintenance expenditures. Soon, prices would have to increase. If the building was not significantly improved, people would interpret the poor surroundings as a lessening of the item they were purchasing – food and atmosphere. The pager finally went off, and he headed over to the hostess. She gave him a weak wave to follow her, and then headed into the dining area. Dexter followed along like an obedient puppy. She never looked back to see if he was following her. When they reached the table, she put a menu down and then headed back to her station. Her only statement was a quick, "Your waitperson will be with you soon," as she left. Dexter sighed and took a seat. He realized that she had spoken five sentences to him from the time he had stepped to her station to be put on the waiting list and getting to his seat. She had asked him the size of his party, asked his name, told him it would be an hour wait, told him that the pager would let him know that his table was available, and lastly that his waiter or waitress would come to the table. He imagined that she was probably a pretty nice and friendly person, but it would be hard to prove based on her performance that evening. The waitress arrived before Dexter had a chance to even open the menu. Looking down at her order pad, she asked, "What would you like to drink?" "A Texas Long Neck," Dexter answered ordering a well known brand of beer. He noticed that she never introduced herself. "I'll bring it right out while you look at the menu," she said while turning away. She then walked off. Dexter raised his hand to get her attention. He knew exactly what he wanted, and was ready to order. She never looked back at him. She went over to a kiosk and typed his drink order into it. She then headed off to another table. After five minutes, she returned with his beer. While putting it on the table, she said, "What would you like?" "The porterhouse steak, a baked sweet potato with butter and sugar and cinnamon, and a regular salad with thousand island dressing," Dexter answered. The waitress scribbled his order down on a pad of paper, then asked, "Any appetizers?" "No, thank you," Dexter said. She grabbed the menu out of his hand and left. She went over to a kiosk and typed his order into the machine. Dexter watched her work. The waitress had ten tables in the dining area. Those ten tables keep her continuously moving. In a way, she reminded Dexter of a comet orbiting around the sun in an ever changing elliptical orbit. She would sweep over to a table, and then make her way back to the kiosk. Based on his observations, she made six visits to each table for each seating of customers. The first was to get the drink order, the second was to deliver the drink and get the food order, the third was to deliver the food, the fourth was to drop off the check, the fifth to pick up the payment, and the sixth was to return the credit card or change. She spent less than a minute at the table for each visit. In fact, it seemed to him that she spent more time at the kiosk than she did at any single table. The waitress was not the only one working in her area. There were three people delivering food to various tables in the dining room, and another two busboys, who were clearing plates from tables as quickly as people finished eating. This was 'production line service'. He realized that the tips were being split among all of the people working in the area. Dexter turned his attention to the customers. It was obvious that the pace of service was being dictated by the staff rather than the customers. Some customers seemed to be oblivious to the service, barely giving any attention to the waitstaff. Others looked a little irritated as if the pace of service mismatched their pace of eating. Some were fast eaters and kept looking for their waitperson. Others were slow eaters and reacted like they were being rushed through their meals. Dexter's salad was delivered by a guy carrying several meals on a large tray. He set up a stand while holding the large tray in one hand. He deftly maneuvered the tray onto the stand. He glanced down at a small slip of paper and looked at Dexter. "Salad with Thousand Island?" "Yes," Dexter answered. The salad and a basket containing a single bun were set on the table. The man picked up the tray and stand. He left without saying another word. By the time Dexter finished unwrapping his silverware, the guy was delivering food at another table. The salad dressing was in a little cup on the plate of salad. Dexter turned the cup over and scraped out the dressing on the salad. It fell in one mass. He stirred his salad to mix the glop of salad dressing that sat atop the lettuce with the rest of the salad. He ate his salad. It was nothing special. A little lettuce, two wedges of tomato, a couple pieces of onion, a few bits of purple cabbage, and a sprinkle of croutons. In a way, that pleased him. He was tired of getting served garden salads that had leafs from plants that he didn't recognize. The fact was, he didn't even like the taste of a garden salad. He wondered if the contents of a garden salad were easier to grow than iceberg lettuce and that explained the predominance of it in restaurants today. He hadn't finished eating his salad when a different guy arrived with a tray loaded with meals appeared at the table. The guy set up the stand and set the tray on it. He looked down at a little slip of paper. "Porterhouse with sweet potato?" "Yes," Dexter answered. "The plate is hot," the guy said by rote. "Thanks," Dexter said. The guy deposited the food and then immediately picked up the tray and stand. He was gone before Dexter had finished checking to make sure that the order was correct. Dexter rearranged his plates so that he could get started on the steak while it was still hot. He glanced over at where he had slid the salad plate, but it was gone. Someone had snatched it while he had been distracted. The porterhouse was twenty-two ounces of meat and filled the plate with just a little room left for his baked sweet potato. The sweet potato had a load of butter and a huge pile of the cinnamon and sugar mix. He cut a little piece of meat off the steak and then trimmed off the bit of fat that was around the edge of the steak. He was about to take a bite when a woman's voice next to him said, "Dexter! What are you doing?" Shocked, Dexter looked up to find Samantha standing next to his table. She had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. It reminded him of the expression on her face when he had first met her. He had come to label that expression angry concern. He held up the fork with the piece of steak on it and said, "I'm eating a steak." "Did your doctor tell you that you could eat steak?" Samantha asked. "Well ... not exactly..." Dexter started to answer. Samantha looked at the steak and said, "That is a monster. You'll be back in the hospital if you eat all of that." "Well..." Dexter said. "You should have ordered the petite filet mignon if you wanted a steak," Samantha said. "I wanted a porterhouse," Dexter said. He flashed on the kids in the ice cream parlor shouting that they wanted their ice creams with sprinkles. He hoped he didn't come across that way. Samantha said, "You should have gotten the small T-bone. It's the same cut of meat." "I like a porterhouse," Dexter said. "It's bigger, it's thicker, and it tastes better." Amber appeared next to Samantha. She looked at his plate and said, "That's not on your diet." Dexter wondered if he was dreaming. There was no way that Samantha and Amber should be together at the steakhouse where he was falling off his diet in a major way. "Amber? What are you doing here?" "Sam and I came over here to eat," Amber answered. "You and Sam?" Dexter asked looking from one woman to the next. "Yes," Amber answered. "I didn't see you in the waiting area," Dexter said wondering how they had managed to sneak in without him seeing them. Amber said, "I stopped by here on my way to the gym, and put my name on the waiting list. After a half-hour workout, we came over here." "That's smart," Dexter said. "We better get over to our table," Amber said. "Okay," Samantha said. She turned to Dexter and then said, "Eat only a third of that. You can take the rest home in a doggy bag." "I suppose you're right," Dexter said. Samantha walked over to a table and took a seat. Amber leaned over and caressed his cheek with her hand. She said, "Dexter, take care of yourself." "I will," Dexter said. "Good," Amber said. He watched her join Samantha at their table. He wondered if Samantha knew what Amber did for a living. He doubted it. The two women laughed about something. Samantha glanced over at him. They chatted some more and then Amber glanced over at him. Enjoying his meal, Dexter ate a third of his steak and polished off the baked sweet potato. He sopped up the juices from the steak with the bun. To him, that was one of the great pleasures of eating a steak. He put down his silverware and pushed the plate away so that he wouldn't be tempted to finish the rest of the steak. He knew that the two women were right. He really shouldn't have ordered such a big steak. He drank down the last of his beer. One of people who cleared tables stopped by his table and asked, "Are you done with your meal?" "Yes. Could I have that wrapped to go?" Dexter asked. "Sure," the guy answered. The guy tossed all of the dirty dishes onto a tray. He walked off with the tray. Five minutes later he returned with a paper bag and dropped it on the table without saying a word. His waitress stopped by and asked, "Any dessert?" "No," Dexter answered. She dropped the bill on the table and said, "I'll be back to get that." She walked off. Dexter dug through his wallet to find his debit card. He slipped it into the plastic folder that held the bill so that the card was showing. He sat there thinking about how no one had asked him if the steak had been prepared correctly. No one had asked him if he had enjoyed the meal. In fact, no one had said anything beyond what was required to accomplish their jobs. He figured a few more years of this kind of service and waitresses would be replaced by ordering pads at the table. He knew there were a few problems that had to be solved before that could happen. He wondered how the restaurant manager would assure a slightly rushed flow through the restaurant. He thought about the problem for a minute and realized that he would have customers order their meal at a kiosk before getting seated. That would free up about five minutes of time spent at the table. People could be taken to their seats with their food appearing almost at the same time. That might free up another ten or more minutes spent at the table. A small dessert kiosk at the table would solve the rest of the problem. If he were in charge, he'd keep a person around to take care of the bill despite the fact that they could pay for their meal when they ordered it. That would enable them to gently push customers out of the restaurant when they finished their meal. Some folks might be tempted to sit around after the meal having a conversation. That would hold up a table for a lot longer. With that kind of operation, a restaurant could double or triple the number of customers handled in an hour. It dawned on him that it would be a modern version of the automat with the advantage that it would have a facade of a regular restaurant. The idea of that really depressed him. He knew that if he could think of it, so would some smart businessman. It was going to happen unless society really rebelled against the idea. He thought about it some more and realized that the self-service buffet had already gone beyond that point. The customer had replaced the waiter and server. About the only jobs left were the hostess, cook, busboy, and cashier. Without him noticing it, the bill had been collected and his debit card returned. He stared at the charge slip wondering what to put down for a tip. It was one of those aspects of dining out that he had trouble with. He glanced around the restaurant at the people. The staff was working hard. They were in constant motion. They each did their job. He knew they would be tired by the end of their shift. Still, what they were doing wasn't what he would call service. The meal was good, but that was covered in the price of the food. He looked at the tax and wrote that down as the tip. He was sure the waitstaff would consider him a jerk, but it hadn't been good service and he wasn't going to reward it as such. Dexter grabbed his bag and started to head out. He stopped when he realized that he hadn't said goodbye to Amber and Samantha. He went over to the table where they were seated. On arriving there, he said, "I hope you enjoy your meal." "Thanks, Dexter," Amber said. Winking at Amber, Samantha said, "We'll spend the whole meal gossiping about you. That will be fun." Holding up his doggy bag, Dexter said, "I only ate a third of the steak." "And I'll work it off of you, tomorrow," Samantha said with a smile. "Why do I believe you?" Dexter said looking worried. Amber and Samantha burst out laughing. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 11: Money Matters Dexter never did identify the time when he came to the realization that he was a multimillionaire. There wasn't an 'Aha!' moment in which he suddenly realized that he was wealthy. He was considering a minor spending spree, until Charlie handed him a little report entitled, "Losing the Lottery." It wasn't about buying losing tickets, but about winning and then losing all of the winnings. The stories within the report were not pleasant. Relatives were hounding the winners for money. There were attempts to kill them to inherit the money. They were offered sleazy business opportunities that lost money, and they went into debt with major purchases. He was shocked with how many lottery winners declared that winning had turned their lives into nightmares. With Charlie's guidance, he avoided most of the mistakes that the suddenly rich made. He didn't rush out and buy new cars, a large mansion, or send out a lot of gifts. He didn't advertise his sudden wealth, although it was a matter of public record. In a way, his concerns over his heart problems had pushed thoughts about his wealth out of mind. It had kept him from talking about it. He also had the payment from the initial lawsuit. That helped temper his spending, as it hadn't been large enough to tempt him into a major spending spree. His only major expense at that time, had been hiring Amber. That had been more of a necessity than an indulgence, anyway. Two days alone in the apartment had convinced him that he wouldn't be able to cope. Since his initial meeting with Charlie, he had spent a day with his tax attorney. The funds for the children had been established. He'd had to pay taxes on the forty million. Of course, he'd had to file jointly with Janet, since they weren't officially divorced. Also, she had not received the money until the day they had dealt with the tax issues. Dexter had not been present for any of the discussions with Janet. It would be a year or so later, before she realized how much grief Mark and Dexter had saved her with the slight delay in getting the money to her. Her first meeting about the money had been with Charlie. He had explained all of the difficulties that she would face, as a result of getting it. Being an accountant, she was well aware of the kinds of issues that would crop up in managing the money. She hadn't, however, given any thought to the sharks what would start circling around her. She took Charlie's advice to heart. Rather than quitting her job, she transitioned to part-time status. Rather then move out of the house, she stayed where she was. She didn't tell the kids about the money, knowing that they wouldn't be able to talk about it if they didn't know about it. After paying taxes, the amount of money Dexter had available was significantly reduced. The one good point, was that the money left over was all his. As far as he knew, no one had a claim on it. He did know that someone, somewhere, would try to find a way to get some of it from him. Mark, and Charlie, were working hard to prevent that from happening. Charlie's first investment recommendation was to put the majority of the money into a very conservative fund that would pay a reasonable return on investment. The amount of money earned would be more than enough to support Dexter at his current standard of living. The fact was, his website was already covering his cost of living expenses. After considering the matter, Dexter approved the investment. His business also required a significant amount of attention. The explosion had destroyed his office. Fortunately, he'd had insurance that covered most of the costs. He set up two new offices, at two separate locations. One office was for Eric, and the other was his. He and Eric resumed their normal work schedule, once the initial surge had passed. They teleconferenced on Wednesday afternoons, to plan their work for the next week. After several articles about lousy service at stores and restaurants, Eric had started interviewing employees of those same stores. He asked them about their working conditions, and what could be done to improve them. It turned out that waiters and waitresses weren't particularly happy about having to deal with so many tables. They didn't like having to be brusque with customers, in order to meet the demands placed upon them. The two men had decided that change couldn't come from within the businesses. It would require customers to complain directly to management. In their articles, they maintained that the staff couldn't be blamed for the poor service. The customers had to point out the horrid conditions placed upon the staff as the primary cause of poor service. It was a campaign that started slow, but increased in momentum with time. The expanded scope of the website drew more visitors. It turned out that a lot of people were dissatisfied with the service being provided to them. A subtle war among service staff, employers, and customers took shape. Stores and restaurants quickly realized that it was a war that they couldn't win. Dissatisfied customers simply took their business elsewhere, and good staff moved to places with better working conditions and pay. Much to Dexter's surprise, some chains started asking to have their businesses advertised on his website. In the same way that businesses had advertised compliance with 'green' practices, they now wanted to advertise that they were service oriented. The revenue generated by the website took a remarkable surge upwards. Dexter used a good portion of that money to improve Eric's office. His own office remained rather spartan. He didn't really care about the quality of his office. Eric was rather shocked when he discovered that he had a better office than the owner of the company. Now that money wasn't an issue in Dexter's life, the question that he faced was what to do. He had a business that was basically a part-time job. He had money, and he had lots of time. He remained lonely. His principle contact with people occurred with the handful of businesses that he frequented, his financial adviser, his lawyer, and the owner of the gym. It wasn't much of a life, and he knew it. There were still some things that he needed to do. His car was still parked at the airport in Reno, Nevada. He figured that the parking fees were probably more than what his little car was worth. Still, it was his car, and he was rather fond of it. Undecided about what he was going to do, Dexter headed over to Eric's house. Eric had invited him over for a Sunday afternoon backyard barbecue, and to meet the rest of his family. On his arrival, Dexter was introduced to Susan, Eric's wife. The kids, Mike and Stephanie, showed up a little later. After the introductions were finished, Eric and Dexter retired to the backyard to drink a little beer and talk. Eric asked, "How are things going?" "I'm bored," Dexter answered. Eric asked, "So what are you going to do about it?" "I don't know," Dexter said. "Are you going to move out of that apartment?" Eric asked. Dexter answered, "I don't think so. I like not having to maintain a house." "You could buy a townhouse," Eric said. "That would tie me to the area," Dexter said. "I'm not sure that I want to stay here." "Why not?" Eric asked. "I don't really have much of a life, here," Dexter answered. "Like you have a life anywhere else?" Eric asked. Dexter sagged in his chair. Eric had hit upon a painful truth. "You're right." "Why don't you travel a little?" Eric asked. Dexter said, "I thought about that, but living out of a suitcase and going from one hotel to the next isn't all that attractive." Eric snorted. "Get an RV. Drive to places and see the sites. Stay in campgrounds. Talk to people." "That's not a bad idea," Dexter said giving it a little thought. "Aren't they huge?" "You can get a smaller one, since you aren't traveling with a family," Eric said. "That's an idea," Dexter said. "I could even tow a car behind it." "Or you could get a trailer, and pull it behind a car," Eric said. "I like that idea," Dexter said. He remembered camping with his parents. He wondered if they still made tent trailers. Of course, he would want one with a toilet and an indoor kitchen, unlike what his parents had owned. "People in campgrounds are probably friendlier than people in hotels. You might be able to talk to them and find out what is really going on in this country. Hell, if you're smart, you could even add a few articles to the website. Then you could claim your travel costs as a business expense," Eric said. "I wonder," Dexter said. He would have to check with the taxman. The idea of meeting and talking to a large number of people of different backgrounds was really attractive to him. The recent articles about service at stores and restaurants had drilled home the fact that he didn't know too much about the lifestyles of others. "You can get an air-card, and work from anywhere there is cellular service," Eric said. "That's true," Dexter said. "That's not a bad idea." Eric said, "In a way, I kind of envy you. I'd love to do that, sometime." Susan came out and took a seat with them. "Do what?" "Travel around the country in an RV or trailer," Eric answered. Susan said, "We could do that when you retire." "Or when the kids leave home," Dexter said. "What do you mean?" Susan asked. "Eric has an office, but there's no reason he has to work out of it year round. In fact, you could travel all summer if you wanted to. I mean, you could even take the kids with you," Dexter said. "That's not a bad idea," Eric said. "Yes, it is," Susan said. "Why?" Eric asked. Susan answered, "We couldn't afford it." Dexter shrugged and said, "If the company can pay me to travel around a bit, I don't see why it couldn't offset some of your costs, too." "You'd do that?" Susan asked. The expression on her face was one of incredulity. Dexter said, "I'd have to check with the accountant, but I imagine I could cover the gas and camping fees. The company would own the trailer. You'd have to cover the food, though, because there would be the four of you." "The cost would be pretty high," Eric said. "That's true," Dexter said wondering if it was such a good idea. Eric said, "You know, we could offer seminars for executives on how to restructure their policies." "I don't know," Dexter said. "Let me work up something," Eric said. "I'm not really a very public person," Dexter said. Susan said, "There's still one problem with traveling around like that." "What's that?" Dexter asked. "My job. I don't think I could get a summer off," Susan said. Dexter asked, "What do you do?" "I'm a receptionist at a public relations firm," Susan answered. "I can see where taking a whole summer off could be a problem," Dexter said. "Sorry," Susan said looking over at Eric. Eric shrugged and said, "It was just an idea." Dexter was about to suggest that he hire Susan, but stopped himself before the words could leave his mouth. Dexter thought about the website company. It was making a lot of money. He could see how traveling around the country talking to more people would improve the quality of articles on the website. He knew what bugged him about the world, but did he really know what bugged other people? As an engineer, he knew that the solution team couldn't come up with all of the requirements themselves, they needed customer input. In the same way that he could justify going out himself, he could easily justify sending Eric out to talk to people. The fact that it was doing something that Eric would enjoy, was a secondary benefit. Hiring Susan was a different issue. He couldn't see how stepping in to offer Susan a job would be beneficial to anyone. Charlie's warnings about spending money for other people just because he could, came back to him. He resolved not to make an offer of employment. "Well, you think about it," Dexter said. Eric said, "We'll probably just put it off until we retire." "Sorry, honey," Susan said. She glanced over at Dexter and started to ask him something. She changed her mind when he became very interested in his bottle of beer. Dexter asked, "Are you making any progress on your lawsuits?" "Yes. Mark seems to think that I'm going to walk away with a million," Eric said. "That's good," Dexter said. Eric said, "Mr. Morris has been fired. He's protesting it, but the company went through all of the proper procedures. It seems that all of those games with the time sheets came back to haunt him." "It was corporate policy," Dexter said. "You're kidding?" Eric asked. "No. I have copies of the memos that had been sent out to people at his level," Dexter said. He grinned and added, "I wonder what he would do to get a copy of those memos." "I could just imagine the look on his face if you were to offer it to him," Eric said with a grin. Dexter said, "I want the company to pay through the ass for the shit they did to us." Susan looked at Dexter, rather surprised to hear him talk so roughly in front of her. She said, "You sound a little vindictive." "You know that I had a heart attack, recently, right?" Dexter said. "Yes," Susan said. Dexter said, "I would have had a heart attack, or my ulcer would have bled out, months earlier if I hadn't been fired. I would have died on the job. Do you know how many people I worked with would have come to the funeral?" "No." "One. Mr. Morris would have come to the funeral, but no one else in the company would have been approved for the day off. Eric and I worked together for more than ten years. He wouldn't have come because Mr. Morris would have found some reason that would have required him to stay at work," Dexter said. "You're probably right," Eric said feeling a little ashamed. There had been a time when the managers working under Mark used to have lunch together and discuss management issues. It was a way for them to share the burden of their job responsibilities. At the time, he would have said they were more than acquaintances. They might not have been friends, but there had been a sense of camaraderie. Sometime during the last five years on the job, that sense of being a close knit group disappeared. He hadn't even noticed. Looking away, Eric said, "I didn't go to Mark's funeral, and I had worked for him for ten years." Susan said, "I remember you telling me that you would be fired if you showed up to the funeral." "Mr. Morris said that I had too much to do, in taking over for Mark," Eric said. He had only accepted the job the day before Mark's funeral. Things had been kind of up in the air because of the policies that required two levels of management to approve any decisions. Without Mark there, a number of activities had come to a complete halt. The fact was, that everyone who had worked for Mark, should have attended the funeral. Dexter said, "Do you know that this is the first social engagement that I've had in eleven years?" "It's been about the same for us," Susan admitted. Dexter said, "There's no amount of money that offsets loneliness. Money matters ... but not that much!" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 12: Rowing Dexter climbed off the 'stair stepper' and announced, "I hate that machine." Surprised by the vehemence in his voice, Samantha asked, "Why?" "It's boring," Dexter said. "It is everything that I hate in exercise." "Really?" Samantha asked. "Yes." Samantha had anticipated that reaction from Dexter, although not with the kind of emotion he had exhibited. She had put him on that machine, assuming that he would prefer the next machine more. She pointed over to the stationary bike. "Try that one." Dexter climbed on the bike and started to pedal. He had been on it for about two minutes when he stopped. He looked over at Samantha and said, "I don't like this one, either." "I thought you liked riding a bike," Samantha said. Dexter said, "This isn't riding a bike." "Yes, it is," Samantha said. "No, it isn't. When you ride a bike, the ground goes past you. The view changes. There are things to see," Dexter said. "This is sitting on a seat and turning pedals." "It is the same motion as a bike," Samantha said. "Like I said about jogging on the treadmill, if I wanted to ride a bike I would ride a bike. Why should I accept an imitation of a bike, when I can get a real bike?" Dexter asked. "You don't want to use the treadmill, the stair stepper, or the stationary bike," Samantha said. "That's right." "You need a form of aerobic exercise," Samantha said. "I'm not going to prance around in some exercise class either," Dexter said. "I would feel like a fool." "Try that one over there," Samantha said. The machine she was pointing at was some kind of device with a seat, foot rests, and handles. Dexter asked, "What is it?" Samantha said, "It's a rowing machine." "A rowing machine?" Dexter asked. "Yes," Samantha said. "What do I do?" Dexter asked. Samantha got him onto the machine and explained what he was supposed to do. Dexter gave it a couple of trial pulls. He paused, and checked out the machine to see how it worked. He made a couple of adjustments. He tried a couple more pulls. He could feel his legs, back, and arms working. The room moved backwards when he pulled. Dexter started rowing at a nice leisurely pace. He got a rhythm going, and sped it up a little. He kept at it. Samantha watched Dexter, rather surprised by his actions. He was really starting to work that machine. He was sweating at the five minute mark. He upped the pace a little. Samantha said, "You can stop, now." Dexter stopped. "Why? I was just getting going." "You were on it for ten minutes," Samantha said. "I find that hard to believe," Dexter said. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, his body let him know that he had been working out. "I'm kinda sore." "You set a pretty good pace," Samantha said. "It seems easy enough," Dexter said. He climbed up, off of the machine. His legs felt like rubber, as did his arms. "Take some ibuprofen, tonight," Samantha said. "You'll need it." "Okay," Dexter said. Samantha said, "I'd suggest that you use the other three machines a little." "I'll buy a bike," Dexter said. "I'm not going to do jogging. I think jogging is the devil's exercise." "The devil's exercise?" Samantha asked amused by the description of the most widely practiced form of exercise. "I don't know how many joggers I've known who have twisted their ankles, ruined their knees, or tripped and fallen. I don't think getting hurt is healthy," Dexter said. He wasn't going to mention shin splints or knee replacement surgery. It seemed to him that most joggers had this cocky attitude that made them feel immune to the dangers of jogging, until they found themselves in the hospital. Everyone talked about how good jogging was for the body, but he just didn't see it that way. "You don't have to jog," Samantha said. "Good," Dexter said. Samantha asked, "How about swimming?" That question gave Dexter a little pause. He knew how to swim, but it was an awkward form of swimming at best. Janet had described it as a cross between dog paddling, and the breaststroke. He wasn't fast, but he didn't drown. He had always figured that not drowning was the important thing, when it came to being in water over his head. "I'd feel foolish," Dexter said. "Why?" "I'm not a very good swimmer," Dexter answered. He looked at the rowing machine and said, "I'll stick with that one for a while." "Think about trying a few laps in the swimming pool, anyway," Samantha said. She was trying to put together a reasonable exercise program for Dexter, but he wasn't cooperating. She was smart enough to know that if you put someone to perform exercises that they didn't like, that they wouldn't do them. Dexter didn't like many of the exercises. He would walk on the treadmill, but not jog. She decided walking would have to be good enough. The next day Dexter returned to the gym. For a change, he was the only one there at that time. Normally, there would be one or two others. He went over to the rowing machine and got on it. Samantha came over and watched him start to row. He was just getting into a good rhythm when she asked, "Why did you hire an escort to take care of you after your heart attack?" "What?" Dexter said, almost falling off the machine. "Why did you hire an escort to take care of you after your heart attack?" "Who told you that?" Dexter asked trying to get back into a rhythm on the rowing machine. "Amber," Samantha answered. "We've become quite close. You can't imagine my surprise when she told me what she did for a living." "She told you?" Dexter asked. He resumed rowing finding a little solace in the act. It wasn't that he felt guilty or remorseful about his activities with women who charged money to have sex with him. It just wasn't the kind of thing that one wanted to advertise. Although his hiring Amber had nothing to do with sex, her profession would make any relationship seem seedy. He wasn't ashamed of Amber or his friendship with her. She had been invaluable at a time when he had been weak. She had fed him and basically mothered him. Maybe there wasn't such a thing as a whore with a heart of gold, but Amber was pretty damned close. Samantha answered, "She told me all about it." "Why would she do that?" Dexter asked. "I was really upset when I learned that she was your caretaker and had let you over exert yourself like you did. I believed her when she said she didn't really know what she was supposed to do. I wondered what kind of service would send someone so inexperienced out like that. I really badgered her to tell me," Samantha said. Badgering was putting it lightly. She had cajoled. She had tried to make Amber feel guilty. She had shouted. Amber had resisted in a way that had left Samantha confused. She wondered what kind of hold the agency had over Amber that she wouldn't divulge its name. Samantha, in her frustration, had even threatened physical violence. Then, in what had to be the shocker of the century, Amber announced that the mysterious agency had been 'The Pussycat Escort Agency.' Needless to say, Samantha had been stunned speechless. It was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. She had actually stood there with her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. It was so funny that Amber had burst out into laughter. Dexter said, "I take it you aren't friends any more." "Why would you think that?" Samantha asked. "Her job?" Dexter asked. Samantha said, "She's not the only member of this gym who is in that profession." "Really?" Dexter asked. "Who else?" "Why do you want to know?" Samantha asked with a sly smile. "No reason in particular," Dexter said. He stopped rowing and tried to look up at Samantha innocently. Samantha rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that." "Okay. I'm just curious," Dexter said. Samantha said, "So tell me why you called an escort service to find a caretaker?" "It's a long story," Dexter said. "I have time." Dexter said, "It wasn't my first choice. You see, I was stuck alone in an apartment with almost no food, and a lot of dirty laundry. My car was in Nevada (it still is, for that matter) and I didn't have a rental at the time. I was feeling weak as a result of my medical problems. It was not a very good situation. "The first day there I had a microwaved dinner. It sucked, but it was about the only thing in the house. I spent most of the day on my easy chair. I even fell asleep in it. "My second day at home, I went to open a bank account with my lawyer. It was supposed to be a quick stop, and then we'd have lunch together. We checked out a dozen banks before I found one that satisfied me. I was so tired afterwards, that I skipped lunch and went back to the apartment, where I just slept. I didn't want to get up to cook, even though it would have been little more than nuking it. "The third day at home, I had to go to the store to get some food. I called a taxi to pick me up. I got maced, stepping out of the apartment." "You got maced?" Samantha asked. "Yes. The woman upstairs thought I was leaping out at her with the intention of raping her when I stepped out of the apartment," Dexter answered. Samantha said, "This was after you had heart surgery, right?" "Right," Dexter said. "After dealing with getting pepper spray in my eyes and handling questions from the police, I sent the taxi cab driver to get some food. He got a variety of stuff. Most of it was okay, but he did get some things that I wasn't allowed to eat. I also forgot to take my medications. "The afternoon of the third day, I started calling around to see if I could find someone to help. The first place I called was a maid service, since I figured that I needed a maid. I discovered that they don't really provide real in-house maids. They send a couple of people over to your place, they clean it, and then they leave. They don't shop or cook or do any of those things they show maids doing on television. "I then tried a nursing service. You should have heard them when I told them what I wanted. You see, nurses don't run errands, do laundry, clean the house, or cook meals. So getting a real healthcare person was out. "So there I was thinking that I was stuck without an option. I couldn't take care of myself, and I couldn't find someone to take care of me. You see, I wanted someone there when I woke up, to make the coffee and maybe cook a real breakfast. Microwave breakfasts aren't really good for you. I needed someone who would run errands and maybe help keep the house clean. "There were two big problems. The first was that I had only one bed, so anyone who stayed there would probably have to share it with me, or sleep on the floor or in the recliner. The second is that I've kind of become a closet nudist." Samantha interrupted, "A closet nudist?" "I like walking around the house without any clothes on," Dexter said. "I haven't heard that term, before," Samantha said. Dexter said, "What I needed was a temporary wife. Then I really got inspired. Where do you go when you want to 'rent' a woman? An escort service!" "In a sick way, that makes sense," Samantha said. "So I called an escort service and said I wanted to rent a wife for a week. I laid out what she would have to do. She'd have to cook, clean, do laundry, run errands, and generally take care of me. She'd have to sleep in my bed and put up with me walking around naked in the house," Dexter said. "So you called an escort service to rent a wife for a week," Samantha said. "Do you want to know the really funny thing?" "Sure." Dexter said, "They asked if she had to have sex with me, or was it going to be like a real wife." "That's funny," Samantha said giggling. "That's how I came to know Amber," Dexter said. He resumed rowing while Samantha studied him. She viewed Dexter as an eccentric uncle of the family. She liked him, but just didn't know what to make of him. Hiring an escort to act like a temporary wife, was something that would never have occurred to her in a million years. She patted him on the shoulder and said, "That's enough rowing for today." Dexter looked behind him and then across the room. He gave her a smile and said, "Well, I almost rowed all of the way across the room. Maybe I'll have better luck, tomorrow." Samantha laughed. "Get out of here." "So who is it?" Dexter asked. "Who is what?" Samantha asked confused by his question. "The other woman in Amber's profession," Dexter said. Samantha asked, "Did I say it was a she?" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 13: Happy Birthday "She signed the papers," Mark said. Dexter said, "It's about time." "I'll file them this afternoon," Mark said. "I guess today is as good a day as any other," Dexter said bitterly. After exchanging good-byes, Dexter hung up the phone. There wasn't much more to say. His marriage was over. All that was left was for it to become final. The assets had been divided. Maybe Dexter had lost some money on the deal, but he didn't really care. She had the house, the kids, and the millions he had given her. He had his own money. Dexter went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. He picked up the bottle of scotch and went over to his recliner. He filled the glass half full with scotch. He took a sip from the glass, and it burned its way down his throat. He sat back staring up at the ceiling thinking about the past, the present, and the future. There had been a time when things had been so simple. Dexter loved Janet and Janet loved Dexter. They spent every free minute together celebrating their love in minor and major ways. Little touches of the hands, kisses stolen in passing, and hours in bed spent making love. Janet wasn't the best cook when they first married. Some of her early kitchen disasters had been the subjects of jokes for years. Fried chicken served burnt on the outside and blood raw on the inside. His parents had tried to eat it without criticizing her, but he had opened his big mouth and complained. She had run from the table, embarrassed. It was only after a long time later, that they could laugh about the polite way in which everyone, including Janet, had avoided saying anything about the chicken while heaping praise on the applesauce, green beans, and cole slaw. She had never figured out how to cook a roast to medium rare. Her roasts usually came out of the oven as shriveled blackened masses. It seemed to be difficult for her to understand that the roast had to come out of the oven before it started smoking. The joke was that the smoke alarm was not a kitchen timer. With time, Janet's cooking skills improved. She did master fried chicken, despite her inability to deal with roast beef. She had turned into a great cook, with her favorite dishes being lasagna, pork chops, and chili. She made an excellent chili. Dexter often laughed at that joke that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach, but there were times when that old cliché was true. Her absence of cooking skills had wormed its way into his heart. The time she had spent learning to cook, had made him feel special. Each time she prepared a new recipe, and nervously presented it to him, reinforced his feelings about his importance in her life. She was showing her love. In the manner of women throughout history, Janet demonstrated her love in a much more intimate way by bearing two children – Will and Sarah. In Dexter's mind, he'd had the perfect family. Dexter grew up with his father serving as a role model for how a man should act as a husband and father. Dexter did all that was in his power to act like his father. He would come home from work, and play a little with the kids while Janet fixed dinner. After dinner, they would get on bicycles and pedal around the block. He wrestled with Will on the floor. He had little tea parties with Sarah. He was a real presence in his children's lives. Dexter looked down at the empty glass in his hand. He reached for the bottle of scotch to refill the glass, and then wondered why he was bothering with the glass. He took a swig out of the bottle. "I fuckin' had it all," Dexter mumbled. He thought his perfect little life would continue forever, but that wasn't possible. The world in which his father had raised him, changed. Work hours became a little longer. He wasn't home in time to play with the kids before dinner. After a while, he wasn't home in time for dinner. Then he was working at home in the evenings. His weekends became consumed by work as well. Dexter's father had occasionally worked a little overtime. He called it earning vacation money. It wasn't until much later that Dexter learned that his father's overtime was exactly that – money for vacations. His father would work an occasional evening or Saturday. The money earned, at time and a half, went into a vacation account. As a salaried person, Dexter couldn't earn 'a little extra money' by working overtime. He put in the overtime – lots of it. It just didn't contribute to his vacation. Dexter took a slug out of the bottle of scotch. He groaned out, "Nothin'! I got nothin' for all the shit I swallowed." He had lost everything that he had dreamed of – family, a home, friends, and good times. He hadn't had any good times in years. Maybe it was the absence of good times that he missed the most. The kinds of memories that would help him fill his days in the old folks' home. Ten years that were absent of good memories. He had a lot of memories of that time, but none of them gave him that much pleasure. He tried to focus on pleasant memories. Only two came to him: his visit to the casino where he'd had that incredible winning streak, and the subsequent visit to the whorehouse. Well, there had been the time spent at the cabin by the lake, but that time had been a false euphoria. Dexter took a good long swig from the bottle. He swallowed, and then loudly belched, feeling the alcohol return on him. It left a bad taste in his mouth. The trip to the whorehouse had not been easy. He had been nervous about asking for directions. He had thought a dozen times about turning around and returning to the hotel during the drive out. Just walking up to the gate had intimidated him. Then there had been the lineup. He had picked the oriental woman, not out of curiosity or real interest, but because she was the smallest woman there and the least threatening. He took another swig of scotch. "That was fuckin, '" Dexter slurred. The time spent with the women at the bordello had been spent in raw sex. No feelings of tenderness on his part. There were no demands to be particularly gentle or giving. It had been all about him getting his enjoyment out of it. Sex with Janet had been entirely different. It had never really been a case of one them taking sole pleasure in the act. It had always been a sharing of love between them. In a way, he wondered if that hadn't been a part of the problem. Maybe he was a more selfish person than he had realized. Sometimes there had been times when he just wanted to get his rocks off without having to worry about Janet's feelings. He had never let himself go like that, and wondered if that had been part of the problem. In a way, the sex aspect of his marriage could have been described as reserved. Sure, there had been times when they had spent the whole day in bed, but the acts themselves were pretty tame. His father used to talk about respect and that marriage was built upon respecting and honoring each other. Dexter had interpreted that as meaning never asking his wife to do something that she might consider demeaning. The bottle of scotch was nearing empty. The tears had started flowing down Dexter's cheeks. He took another swig and tossed the bottle away. He thought back on his visit with the whores. He had not been afraid to ask for what he wanted, since he wasn't concerned about maintaining their dignity. The Hispanic girl had taken a load on her tits without batting an eyelash. He wondered if Janet's lover had been unafraid to ask what he wanted of Janet. Sure, Janet denied having a lover, but Dexter didn't believe her protests. "Fuckin' wife stealer," Dexter said. Outside of the one week with Amber, Dexter had been alone, yet it was more than just being alone. He had been isolated. Out of twenty four hours, he was around people for less than an hour. No one touched him. Most of the stores did not have people to interact with customers. Shopping had stopped being a social activity. Dexter was alone in life. There was no one to look after him when he was sick. His experience had proved to him that he had to hire someone when he was ill. What kind of life was that? There wasn't a word to describe what he had become. He wasn't an outcast. An outcast had done something wrong and was being punished. He didn't see where he had done anything wrong. Sure, he had failed in what he had tried to accomplish. He wasn't a hermit. Hermits didn't want to be around people. A hermit lived in isolation and wanted to keep it that way. Dexter didn't want that. He did venture out to where there were people, but people weren't interested in talking with other people. He had even gotten maced once for his efforts to connect with others. He supposed the closest term to describe what he had become, was a 'reject'. Still, outside of a single text message from his wife, there really hadn't been that much rejection. Reject, in the connotation of production, indicated that there was a major flaw. Dexter didn't really see a major flaw in himself. He would have been angry at anyone who would have labeled him a reject. Then he thought of one term that described him fairly well: he was a misfit. He didn't fit into the world as it had become. He wondered what was the opposite of a misfit? He assumed that it was a fit. He said, "I'm a fuckin' misfit. A misfit recognizes loneliness and feels pissed while a fit doesn't give a flying fuck. It's a shitty world." It dawned on him that there was another word that described him. He was a discard. He was something that no one wanted anymore, and he had been thrown to the curb. He had been disposed of, as though leftovers that had been sitting too long in the refrigerator. The value he once had in people's lives was gone, and they didn't want or need him around any more. "I'm a fuckin' discard," Dexter said. Dexter burped. It was one of those drunken burps in which a mixture of alcohol and bile was sent to his mouth. It was that little warning signal by his body to let him know that he was about to vomit. He rose out of his chair, and fell to the floor. The room was spinning, his stomach was heaving, and his arms and legs were numb. ------- Eric glanced down at his wristwatch wondering what had happened with Dexter. It was long past time for their weekly meeting, and Dexter had been a no show. Two calls on the cell phone had gone to voice mail. He had tried the older number with the same result. It wasn't like Dexter to act that way. Eric rose and paced around Dexter's office. It was the same size as his, but nowhere near as nicely furnished. Dexter had spent at most five hundred dollars for his office furniture. Eric had spent ten times that much. He looked around, thinking that Dexter should be taking better care of himself. After another glance at his watch, he pulled out his cell phone and called Dexter's number again. After four rings, it went to voice mail again. He frowned. Finally, he said, "Fuck it." Eric drove over to Dexter's apartment. A thick fog of dread filled him. His hands were tense on the steering wheel. His mind kept drifting away from the act of driving, to what he might find at his destination. Eric kept wondering if he would find Dexter lying in his bed, dead from a heart attack. How did someone deal with that? He wasn't sure he knew. Hope that Dexter had lost track of time somewhere died, when Eric spotted Dexter's rental car in the parking lot. He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked harder and then put his ear to the door, hoping that he could hear something inside. He hoped to hear Dexter rustling around while making his way to the door, but there was only silence. His fingers fumbled when he first tried to unlock the apartment door with the key Dexter had given him, when he had first started working for the man. It took two attempts to get the key into the keyhole. Afraid of what he would find, he opened the door to the apartment. Shock! That was what Eric felt upon seeing Dexter sprawled naked on the floor with a pool of vomit next to him. At least Dexter was still moving. He rushed over to Dexter's side. "What happened?" "Wha..." Dexter immediately began throwing up. Fortunately, he was facing away from Eric. The bottle at the far wall of the living room caught Eric's eyes. He stared at it for what seemed like forever, and then looked back down at Dexter. "You're drunk! It's not even lunch time, and you're wasted." Bla-awwk! "Jesus H. Christ!" Eric knew that he was going to have to help Dexter to the bathroom. He just didn't want to wrestle with a naked man. He went into the bedroom to look for some kind of robe to dress Dexter in. He found a winter bathrobe, a thick terry cloth robe. He brought it back to the living room. He struggled to get it onto Dexter. In the process of getting Dexter's right arm into the sleeve of the robe, Dexter managed to come out of his drunken state enough to slur, "She signed the papers." It took Eric a moment to realize what Dexter was saying. That explained why Dexter had reached for the bottle. "Shit. I'm sorry." "I hope the fuckin' ass wipe has a fuckin' stroke while he's fuckin' her," Dexter said. His words were slurred, but they were clear enough to be understood. "That would be interesting," Eric said thinking that was a curse he was going to have to remember. "My bir'day," Dexter mumbled. "What?" "Iz my bir'day," Dexter answered. "Your bird day?" Eric asked confused by what he understood Dexter to be saying. "Bir'day. You know ... Happy bir'day to me..." Dexter said. "It's your birthday?" Eric asked. "Yeah. Fuckin' bir'day prez from da wife," Dexter said. Eric managed to get Dexter into the bathrobe. He dragged Dexter into the bathroom and then realized that Dexter wasn't even in good enough shape to worship at the 'porcelain temple.' He stood there for a moment trying to figure out what to do with Dexter. He finally decided to put Dexter in the bathtub thinking that he could arrange him on his side, so that he wouldn't drown in his own vomit. It would easy enough to clean him up, afterwards. It took several minutes to get Dexter into place. It was only after he had gotten him settled down; that he realized it probably wasn't a very good place to put him. Dexter would probably try to climb out, and kill himself by falling. He lowered the lid on the toilet, and took a seat, watching Dexter. He pulled out his cell phone and called his wife. She'd want to know where he was. She understood that he would stay there until Dexter was able to take care of himself. Watching Dexter eliminate some more of the scotch, Eric said, "I haven't dealt with anyone this drunk, since college." In college, he and a couple of guys would have grabbed Dexter, and held him under a cold shower until Dexter was able to stand on his own. There was no way he was going to be able to do that alone. He could just turn on the shower and let it spray down on Dexter, but then the idea of wrestling with a wet half-naked man in a bathtub wasn't all that attractive. The fact that Janet had chosen to sign the papers on that day angered Eric. He didn't know why she had chosen to do it on that occasion. He was half-tempted to give her a call, and giver her a piece of his mind. It was a cold harsh thing to do to someone. Dexter started crying. Eric muttered, "Happy Birthday, Dexter." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 14: Bedtime Dexter stared up at the ceiling of the Nevada bordello, wondering how many times the woman beside him had stared at it in boredom, while some pudgy old prick got his rocks off in her. It was sad to admit that he was the latest of the pudgy old pricks. He was sure that he wouldn't be the last. "Do you like your job?" Dexter asked. "Sure," she answered without much enthusiasm. Her work name was Bambi and she was a natural brunette. The blond highlights in her hair had come straight out of a bottle. She had soft brown eyes. She wasn't particularly voluptuous, nor was she anorexic. She was firm without being a hard body. She was the girl next door. In a way, she reminded him of Amber. Dexter didn't bother to look at her. "Really?" "Yes. I do enjoy it," Bambi said getting a little more energy into her claim. "I don't see how," Dexter said. Bambi rolled over to her side and supported her upper body off the bed with her elbow. Her silicon breasts didn't droop under the influence of gravity. She said, "I like men." "You do? Why?" Dexter asked surprised by her answer. Considering her line of work, he figured that she had to be tired of men. He often wondered if women in her occupation had a low opinion of men. God knows that he would if he were in her place. "They're strong, and at the same time they're weak," she answered. "I'm fascinated at how their strengths and weaknesses fit together. Women are strong only because they use their weakness for strength. For men, their weaknesses sap their strength." "I don't get it," Dexter said glancing over at her. Bambi sighed. She said, "A man can go out and fight an army for an ideal. You know ... country, family, or even company. There's a strength of character in that, that I find attractive." "A woman will fight for her children," Dexter said. "That's not an ideal that she's fighting for. Believe me, I know. It is about keeping what she has," Bambi said. "Isn't that what a man does?" Dexter asked. "A man will fight in the hope of improving things," Bambi said. "One of my professors once said that if women were in charge of the world, we'd still be living in caves. They wouldn't have ever risked what they had, for the uncertainty of something new." Dexter sighed. "I don't know about that." Bambi said, "My daddy used to say that a man marries a woman hoping that she won't change while a woman marries a man hoping that he will change. My mom used to say that a man wants to change the world, while a woman wants it to stay the same. I think they are both right, even though it seems contradictory." Dexter's first reaction was to laugh, but he bit down on it. The bit about woman wanting men to change reminded him there was a second part to that story. He said, "Men are disappointed when their wives change, and women are disappointed that their husbands don't change." "Truer words were never spoken," Bambi said. She sighed and then said, "I think it is even worse when a man does change. I think the women around him lose respect for him. It's almost like the women ask, 'Aren't you man enough to remain true to yourself?' That's an unfair question because women have a secret weapon. Men are weak, and the women can use that against them." "What weapon?" Dexter asked. "Men are so fragile," Bambi said. She reached over and touched his cock. "It is so easy to destroy a man. One laugh at his manhood and you can totally destroy him." "Everyone knows that," Dexter said. He looked down at his cock feeling a twinge of worry that she'd say something negative about it. It was an instinctual reaction to the topic of discussion. "Laughing at a man's cock will either infuriate him or emasculate him. In this business, I've seen the results of both. The man who comes in here and batters at my pussy using his cock as a weapon has been hurt by a woman. I've had men come in who couldn't get it up, just because of what a woman has said to him." "Couldn't get it up?" Dexter asked. "It's true," Bambi said. "I find dealing with that situation really difficult, particularly when he's small down there. You know that he's heard a thousand times that size doesn't matter, but he knows that's a lie. Size does matter. It matters most to the man who is small." "How about to women?" Dexter asked. "There are size queens, but they aren't really all that common. The physical is important to women, but it takes a distant second to the emotional. I can tell a guy who's been damaged that all day and he won't hear it," Bambi said quietly. "It's sad because the right woman could change it." "Are you the right woman?" Dexter asked. Bambi laughed and said, "I wish. A guy like that isn't coming to me to heal. He's hoping that he won't be shamed even further, but he is. He's paying for sex." "Like me," Dexter said bitterly. Bambi said, "Don't be so negative. You're paying for it for a different reason. I think you're paying for it for all of the right reasons." "What is that?" Dexter asked. "You're horny." Bambi looked over at Dexter and saw the expression on his face. She laughed and said, "It's the right reason. I know you feel guilty and a little ashamed, but you shouldn't." "Why do you say that I shouldn't feel guilty?" Dexter asked. "For you, there are two reasons to have sex. The main one is to express your love. The secondary one is to get rid of your horniness. You'd feel guilty as hell if you were to use some woman who was looking for love, just to get your rocks off." "I would feel guilty, just using a woman," Dexter said. Part of his guilt in coming to a bordello and paying for sex was the fear that he was continuing the degradation of a woman. "Coming to me makes it a transaction. Our expectations are explicit. You expect sex. I expect money. It's honest." "I never thought about it like that," Dexter said. "You shouldn't feel guilty about using me. I'm here for reasons that have nothing to do with you. I was here before you got here, and I'll be here long after you're gone. If you weren't here, I'd be out waiting at the bar for someone else to come in," Bambi said. "You must hate us," Dexter said. Bambi fondled his cock a little. "Not at all. In fact, I like men like you." "Now you're just trying to make me feel better," Dexter said. "Really. I do. You can have a prostitute anywhere. Why are you in Nevada?" Bambi asked. "It's legal here," Dexter answered. "You're an honest and law abiding man." Dexter said, "I guess so." Bambi said, "I liked how you treated me in bed. You weren't out to impress me. You took your pleasure without attempting to humiliate me, or make me feel like a lesser person in any way. You treated me with respect." He was pretty sure that she said those kinds of things to every client. It wasn't good for business to insult the person paying you. "I have no illusions about impressing you with my skills in bed. You've probably had the best," Dexter said. "And the worst," Bambi added. "And the worst," Dexter admitted. Bambi smiled because she knew the question he wanted to ask and would never ask. "You're good in bed. You've got a perfectly wonderful cock and you use it well." "Thank you," Dexter said. "You've got an expert's opinion on that," Bambi said. "Well, the rest of the package isn't so nice. I'm a little overweight, I'm not handsome, and I'm getting older," Dexter said. "Like I said earlier, men are fragile. You've been hurt, too, but in a different way," Bambi said. "How?" Dexter asked fascinated by her. "I said that men fight for an ideal. They fight for family. Men want to make it a better world. The problem is that sometimes it is a fight that just can't be won. You've lost a major battle," Bambi said. "Maybe," Dexter said. Bambi studied his face for a moment. "I know you have. You've got that look about you." "What look?" Dexter asked. "Someone hurt you real bad," Bambi said. "I wasn't hurt that bad," Dexter said. Bambi left loose a dismissive laugh. "Honey, don't even try to go there. It is written all over your face." She patted him on his cheek, as if to make her point. "All right," Dexter said. "I'm going to guess that you were a success in business, and woke up to discover that you had lost your family," Bambi said. "Why do you say that?" Dexter asked. "You've got money, so you were successful at something. Usually, that comes at the expense of family," Bambi said. Men who were worried about money didn't pay the kind of prices that Dexter had paid to be there. She knew that. He was the kind of guy that even if he was filthy rich, he wouldn't have spent that kind of money on her at the expense of family. That meant he was estranged from his family. "Close. I was a failure at work. I sued them, and that's how I got money," Dexter said. "But you're right about having lost my family." "That's a double whammy – job and family," Bambi said. "At least you haven't given up the fight." "I have," Dexter declared. "No, you haven't. You're off licking your wounds, right now," Bambi said. She ran her hand along his chest. He was right about being a little overweight, but she'd had men who were in a lot worse shape. All in all, he wasn't a bad looking man. When he didn't respond to her words, she said, "You're trying to decide if you should try to regain what you lost, or start over again. You feel like the first is hopeless and you're afraid that you've forgotten how to do the second." "You nailed it," Dexter said. There had been a time when Janet would have picked up on things like that. It was strange that a woman he didn't even know was able to understand him that well. "I know men." "So what do you think I'm going to do?" Dexter asked. Bambi's hand lingered down at his crotch. He was starting to react. It was still a little early. "I don't know. I just don't believe you've given up, yet," Bambi said. "I'm divorced," Dexter said. "So?" Bambi asked. "Well, that makes getting my family back impossible," Dexter said. "No, it doesn't. It gives you a chance to start over with your wife, again," Bambi said. "How can you say that?" Dexter said. "Well, it's like you hit a reset button. The marriage is over. Now you have to pursue her just like you would any other woman. That means you have to call her and ask her for a date. You have to take her to someplace nice. You have to fully engage in the mating dance," Bambi said. "Why would she be interested in doing that?" Dexter asked. "Women don't want change. She'd entertain the idea of going back to what she once had. I know I would have considered it if my ex-husband had called me for a date," Bambi said. "You were married?" Dexter asked. "Yes, and I fucked it up. I took him for granted. I only saw his strength. I didn't realize just how fragile he was, and I hurt him," Bambi said. "So this is your penance?" Dexter asked while gesturing to the room they were in. "No. This is how I'm paying my way through college," Bambi answered. "Psychology?" "Business." "I guess that makes sense," Dexter said. "You're hard again," Bambi said. "Yes, I am. I wonder what we should do about that," Dexter said. She said, "I think you're going to fuck me again." Dexter laughed. For some reason, he was feeling better than he had in a long time. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 15: A Stroll in the Park Birds chirping filled the air with the music of nature. Dexter paused to watch a sparrow flit from one branch to the next. It appeared and disappeared from view within the foliage of the tree, in pursuit of whatever was keeping it moving. Landing upon a branch, it would pause, look around, and then take off again for another branch three or four beats of its wings away. Dexter understood. It was anxiously seeking something, without knowing what it was. He understood, because he felt the same way. He was seeking something, hoping that he would know what it was when he found it. He turned from the tree and headed along the road that circled through the campground. He had never realized that there were so many different types of tents, campers, and RVs. It seemed to him, that times had really changed since he was a kid. Families relaxed in their campsites in chairs of a variety of flavors. Kids were riding bikes. There were a few places where the smell of food cooking filled the air ... others had finished eating, and were cleaning dishes. Dexter paused to study a silver camper. It was large, and had a slide that extended out, so that a third of the trailer was basically a double wide. He hadn't seen one with a feature like that. There were a couple of antennas on the top. One of them looked like a satellite television receiver. An elderly couple was seated by a silver camper. They waved to him. The man looked to be nearly seventy, and the woman just a little younger. Dexter greeted them with a simple 'hello'. The man said, "Howdy, beautiful day isn't it?" "Sure is." "Where you campin'?" the older man asked. Dexter answered, "I'm not. I've been thinking about making a trip with an RV or a camper. I figured I'd stop by a campground and see what I would be getting into." The woman said, "So you're just checking things out." "Yes. I'm basically retired with nothing to do. I thought it would be nice to see a little of the country. However, I'm not all that enthused about staying at a bunch of motels," Dexter said. "So you thought you see America in an RV," the old man said. "Yes." The old woman said, "We chose to do the same thing when Ed retired. We've been traveling around during camping season for five years now." "So, how has it been?" Dexter asked. "Well, pull up a chair, and we'll tell you all about it," Ed said. Dexter took a seat at one of the many lawn chairs scattered around their campsite. It looked like they entertained a lot of visitors. "By the way, my name is Dexter." "Told you, didn't I?" the woman said while shaking a finger at the man. "Gale said that you were that Dexter guy, on the television," Ed said. "I told her that she was full of hot air." "She's right," Dexter said. "I knew it!" "All right, I'll do the dishes, tonight," Ed said while patting his wife on her arm. Dexter laughed. Ed sounded grumpy, but it was obvious that it was a common bet between the two. They exchanged the kinds of looks that couples who were in tune with each other, often gave. He noticed that they sat close together, and touched frequently. They belonged to a different generation. They didn't see anything unusual with causal physical contact. Dexter said, "So you've been living out of this camper for five years?" "No. We had an RV, but it was kind of a hassle and ended up being a financial drain. Maybe we had bought a lemon, but it was like something was always breaking on it. After two summers, we sold it and bought this camper," Ed said. "So you recommend a camper?" Dexter asked. "Mechanically it is a whole lot simpler," Ed said. "Getting something fixed on a pick-up truck is a whole lot cheaper than getting something fixed on an RV. You can get an oil change on a truck, anywhere. You can't say the same for an RV." Gale said, "To me, it is just a matter of whether the car is in front of the camper or towed behind the RV. It seemed like every time I drove the RV we nearly had an accident. I kept forgetting the car was behind it. You can't forget the trailer is behind the truck." "I didn't think about that," Dexter said. Ed said, "That's just our personal preferences. There are folks who love their RV. I prefer the camper." "We prefer the camper," Gale said. "I'll keep that in mind," Dexter said. Ed said, "We got the deluxe model with everything on it. It has the extended side that gives us a nice dining area. It has auto-levelers, emergency generator, and satellite television. We've got plenty of room and all of the modern conveniences." "Except a dishwasher," Gale said. "Except for that," Ed said. Gale said, "It is just like having a one bedroom apartment. For us, there's no need for more than that." "Sometimes the grand kids join us for a week. The couch and table turn into beds, so we have room for them. It can get a little tight at times, particularly when it rains" Ed said. Gale said, "It still has more room than that first trailer we had when we used to go camping with the kids." "That's true. I guess I'm turning into a grumpy old man," Ed said. "Grumpy, yes; old, no," Gale said swatting him on the arm. Dexter said, "I'll be traveling alone." "Oh. That's a shame," Gale said. "It's always better to share some of the beauty of this world with someone else," Ed said taking Gale's hand in his. Gale said, "Do you remember that hike in the Shenandoah Valley where we came across all of those wild orchards in bloom next to that waterfall?" "Never forget that sight," Ed said nodding his head. "Or how about that sunset in the Painted Desert?" "I've never seen so many colors," Gale said. Dexter was listening to the couple exchange reminiscences about sights they had seen. He could just imagine an exchange with Janet about their vacation to Hawaii. Do you remember the hotel telephone? Yes, it was a standard hotel telephone. That's right dear, if you've seen one, then you've seen them all. He shuddered at the pretend exchange. Ed said, "The thing about camping is that it puts you right in the middle of everything. I'll admit that the parks are laid out so that you're basically trailer to trailer, but you're still surrounded by nature. You don't get that in a hotel. To get out and smell the trees in a hotel, you've got to go down an elevator and through a lobby. Here, we just step our front door." "Since my heart problems, I've got to stay on low salt diet. You can't get that in a restaurant," Gale said. Dexter said, "Well, I've been eating in restaurants a lot, lately." "That's not good for you," Gale said. Dexter asked, "So what's it like traveling around so much? Don't you get lonely?" "You'd think we get lonely, but we don't. We run into the same folks over and over. There's some folks three campsites over that we see about five times a year at different parks. We get together and talk about what we've seen and where we're going next. We're expecting another couple to show up in a day or two," Gale said. "It's almost like a small community," Ed said. "That's amazing," Dexter said. Gale said, "We meet folks and become friends. In the off season, we exchange emails to keep in contact. Sometimes we plan on meeting people at certain parks." "You'll notice that we have a bunch of chairs here. Folks gather at night for a mixed drink before bedtime. We talk and tell stories," Ed said. Dexter couldn't believe what he was hearing. It reminded him of his parents and the neighbors gathering in a backyard to talk and share news. It seemed to him that they always had neighbors dropping by. His mother used to go to the neighbor's house every morning to have coffee with the woman next door. Even as a kid, he knew that wasn't a good time to interrupt them. Gale said, "Campers are friendly folks. You walk around the campground and say hello to folks. They say hello back and the next thing you know you're exchanging stories about your grandkids." Ed nodded his head in agreement. He said, "It used to be that way in the neighborhood where we live. A lot of folks moved away and younger folks moved in. They aren't quite as neighborly as our generation." "That's because life has changed in the last fifteen or twenty years. Working conditions have really become horrid. It's hard to get away from work. When you do get away, you're so tired you just want to sit and vegetate. You don't want to deal with people, because you work all day with crabby and irritable people," Dexter said. "It can't be that bad," Gale said. Dexter said, "I was getting phone calls from work at six in the morning, and I was on conference calls until eleven at night. I couldn't take my wife to dinner on our anniversary, without getting three calls from my boss. It's not good." "I thought your website was an exaggeration," Ed said with a frown. "Nope. I've barely touched the surface," Dexter said. Ed asked, "What kinds of things haven't you included?" "I haven't even talked about coworkers. As competitive as keeping a job has become, people have taken on various strategies for making others look bad. You've got arsonist firefighters, pack rats, Dutch Boys, and snakes," Dexter said. "What's an arsonist firefighter?" Ed asked. Dexter answered, "An arsonist firefighter is someone who creates a problem so that they can be a hero by fixing it. Since they already know what the problem is going to be, they will always be the first to fix it. They don't fix it, immediately. No, they run around talking about what a disaster is looming on the horizon. Bosses love firefighters, because when you have a problem, who do you go to? The firefighter, of course." "That's unethical," Ed said. "I agree. Then you've got the pack rats. They're the ones who've been around forever. They know something, but won't share it, until it is to their best advantage. It is always done to make the new guys look bad. The problem is, that nothing is written down. You can't know everything, and they won't tell you until it is too late. Then they jump out and shout, 'Surprise! You're an idiot, because... ' You can fill in the blank," Dexter said. "Then there are the Dutch Boys. Like the kid in the fable, this is a person who's maintaining some old system, that is ready to break at any minute. He or she is the only one who knows anything about it. Dutch boys are indispensable, and they'll tell you that every day of the week. They'll let you know that if they leave, the whole place will fall down. Some of them put 'the fear of God', into their bosses. "Snakes are the worst. They make deals, and work in the background, just waiting for a chance to strike. They'll spread rumors, and talk bad about people. One day you walk into work, and your boss is glaring at you. Someone has told him that you've been badmouthing him outside the organization. You've just been bitten by a snake. You get a couple of snakes in an organization, and you're doomed." "Dear Lord! No wonder Jimmy is so unhappy. He keeps saying things like that, but I didn't quite believe him," Ed said. Gale said, "That's horrible." Ed said, "My old company wouldn't have run at all with those kinds of people in it." "Ed used to run a plastics company. He's still a majority stockholder," Gale injected. "Unless there's a real owner at the top, companies are being mismanaged," Dexter said. Looking worried, Ed said, "I may need to visit my old company, and check out what is going on. The last few checks from them have been kind of small. They've said that the operating costs have gone up." "You'll never spot it from the top down. It's 'cover your ass' all of the way to the top," Dexter said. "What can I do?" Ed asked. "Put a couple spies in at the bottom," Dexter answered. "They say that shit rolls down hill. The people at the bottom have a pretty good idea where the shit originates." "Damn," Ed said. "You're a depressing guy," Gale said. "I know," Dexter said. "I'm Don Quixote." Gale asked, "Why do you say that?" "I believe in some old fashioned values. I'm out tilting at windmills, trying to get an unwilling world to return to those values," Dexter said. Gale said, "I was an English teacher. You're right and you're wrong in your analogy. Don Quixote wasn't out to make the world return to chivalrous values. He was trying to live them. He was a heroic figure in a sad sense. You're a little different than that." "I hope that's a good thing," Dexter said. Gale said, "It is a very good thing." "My name is still on that company. I'd hate to see my good name ruined because some jerks are playing games, there," Ed said. "What company is that?" Dexter asked. "Daimler Plastics." Dexter said, "Oh, my." Ed Daimler was one of the wealthiest men in the country. His company, Daimler Plastics, was one of the largest independent plastic injection molding companies in the country. It was also on Dexter's 'Page of Shame'. Looking sharply at Dexter, Ed asked, "What's the matter?" "Your company is on my webpage of corporate shame," Dexter answered uneasily. "What!" Ed shouted. "I've gotten complaints from your company about interfering with the relationship between employee and employer," Dexter answered. "There goes our summer," Gale said. "No," Dexter said. "I have a suggestion ... something that might help." "What?" Ed asked. "I know some engineers who could work in your company. I could send you their names. You'll need to put them in the IT department. I'm sure that by the end of summer, they could give you a complete report on what is going on, there," Dexter said. Ed said, "You're hired." "I wasn't looking for work, I want to find out more about camping," Dexter said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 16: Getting Gas It was Thursday afternoon, and Dexter was still headed home from Nevada. It was his intention to arrive at the apartment, early on Friday morning. Eric was covering the website, so Dexter didn't have any worries, there. Ed Daimler had asked him to find three engineers to infiltrate Daimler Plastics, to find out what was really going on in the company. Somehow, the old man had managed to find a lawyer to draw up an agreement during dinner time. It was a rather lucrative contract. At one time, Dexter would have been overjoyed to make that kind of money. Now, he was worried about being able to deliver. Thinking about it, he decided that he would send in John Coleridge as a licensing consolidation expert. John had left the old company after all of the turmoil of Dexter's firing. Now the poor man was unemployed, but a lot a happier. Dexter figured that a little time spent working at Daimler Plastics would give John a renewed sense of purpose. After being on the road without break for four hours, Dexter pulled off the highway. The car was getting low on gasoline, so he figured it was a good time to fill up. He would also welcome a short walk to stretch his muscles. He spotted a typical self-service gas station located right at the exit from the highway. He stopped upon entering the driveway into the gas station. It had six rows of pumps and a convenience store. There was a line of cars at one set of pumps, and two empty rows. He examined the empty rows thinking that they must be closed. There weren't any red cones or signs to that effect. It was still odd that there was a long line at the one row of pumps, and almost no cars at the others. He drove by the line of cars and spotted a sign. Reading it aloud, he said, "Independent Full Service Gas At Self Service Prices. Tips Appreciated." "What the hell?" Dexter asked. He looked over at the service aisles. Two young men wearing beige pants, white shirts, and plain beige caps were running around taking care of the cars getting gas. Curious, Dexter pulled into the line of cars. He watched, incredulous, while the two young men gave what he considered to be full service treatment to every customer. They greeted the driver, and touching the brim of their caps in salute. One of the young men appeared to be in charge of dispensing gasoline. He would take the credit card from the driver, and swipe it through the reader. Then he would start to fill the car. While it was filling, he would return the card to the driver before going over to another car to check the pump. He kept moving all of the time. The other young man went from car to car washing the windows. He even checked the air pressure on the tires. He had a pressurized air tank that he would use to add some air to a tire that was a little low. About half of the drivers had him check the oil. When it was Dexter's turn, the young man who pumped gas directed him to drive around the car at the first pump of the row. As soon as Dexter had parked, the young man came over, touched the brim of his cap. "What can we do for you today, Sir?" he asked. "I guess fill it with regular, and check the oil," Dexter answered. He handed his credit card over to the young man. "If you'll open the door to the gas tank, and release the hood, we'll get right to it," the young man said. Dexter did as directed and watched the young man go to work. The other young man came over and checked the oil. The young man closed the hood of the car. He came around to Dexter's window. "Your oil is a quarter of a quart low, Sir, but you might consider getting it changed soon. Your wiper fluid levels are pretty good." "Thank you," Dexter said. The young man started washing the front window. It was clear to Dexter that the young man had had plenty of practice washing car windows. He was rather surprised when the young man washed the rear window as well. The young man checked the pressure in the tires. He added a little air to one of them. Dexter hadn't realized that one of his tires had been low. He wondered if the air tank belonged to the service station or to the boys. The first young man returned to his window and said, "Here's your credit card and receipt, Sir." "Thank you," Dexter said and held out a ten dollar bill. The young man took the ten and then returned a five and five ones. Dexter said, "What's this?" "You didn't mean to give me a ten dollar tip on a fifty dollar fill-up," the young man said. "Yes, I did," Dexter said handing the money back to the young man. "Really?" the young man said taking the money. "Really." "Thank you, Sir. Have a nice day," the young man said with a big smile. "I will," Dexter said. He started the car, and drove over to a parking space in front of the gas station's convenience store. Inside the store, Dexter grabbed a soda and a bag of popcorn. The popcorn wasn't freshly popped but came inside a plastic bag like potato chips. He would have preferred fresh, but this made a good snack while driving. While standing in line, Dexter listened to the conversations taking place around him. It appeared that the two boys, and two of their friends, had come up with this idea of providing full service, for tips only. After getting permission from the owner of the gas station, they had set up a row of full service. A lot of people appreciated it, and tipped them well. They were making more money than if they had a regular part-time job. Dexter was impressed on many levels. First, the boys had exhibited significant creativity and motivation in coming up with, and pursing, the idea. Second, the owner of the place had recognized a good deal and let the boys do it. Third, the customers had responded in a positive manner. This convinced Dexter that the world was ready for real service, again. That night, after getting ready for bed, Dexter wrote an article about the independent full service aisle at the gas station. It was a long article in which he put forth the idea of service hands for hire. He said that there were lots of areas in which a little service would go a long way. People didn't have to be directly employed by a company. All that was required was for customers to tip them for the service. As far as Dexter could tell, the two young men were probably earning over twenty dollars an hour. He felt that was a perfectly good wage for a young man or woman still in high school or college. He added that there were many people working full time who didn't make that much money. He went on to write about how many people had lined up to pay extra for just a little service. In a way, it was amazing to him the people would be willing to spend a little to get a little service. It suggested that there was a hunger there for true service. Although the wait to get gasoline had been a little longer than he had expected; the fact was, that he would have waited longer. He never would have checked his oil or the pressure in his tires. He made a couple of points about how the boys had treated customers. Touching the brim of their caps was just part of showing a little respect. He mentioned how they had called him 'Sir'. Sure they were minor acts of politeness, but they added a lot to the experience. Rather than feeling like a number, he had felt like a person. He also mentioned the bit about giving change on the ten dollar bill. The young man had turned the single bill into a five and five ones. That freed Dexter to give any size tip from a dollar to ten dollars. The kid could have given him two fives expecting to get one of them as a tip, but he didn't. The young man had given Dexter choices. Dexter's choice had been to make it a ten dollar tip, which was basically twenty percent. Good service wasn't just about doing something for someone else. It was about the little things that changed a mundane event, into something special. Dexter's visit to the gas station had been made special. That special feeling had continued on into the convenience store. People were talking to each other. It was if taking that little break had opened people to being a little nicer to everyone else around them. Dexter speculated that perhaps the two young men had set a standard of interaction that lasted beyond the purchase of gasoline. He posted the article, and went to sleep in the standard hotel bed. He didn't think about the consequences of his article. His thoughts were on getting home the next day, and taking care of the business that Ed Daimler had given him. He'd have Eric find some of the folks from the old company, and make them an offer of temporary employment. For those who were unemployed, it would be very welcome money. They'd receive a paycheck from Dexter, and one from Daimler Plastics. The next morning, Dexter was eating breakfast when his cell phone went off. He checked the caller id and then answered, "Hello, Eric. What's up?" "What did you do?" Eric asked. "What are you talking about?" Dexter asked. "The website is going crazy," Eric answered. Dexter said, "I don't understand why it would be doing that? I just posted an article last night, before going to bed." "Well, the web server crashed this morning," Eric said. "That's weird," Dexter said. "I'll see what's happening," Eric said. "I'll be there around noon," Dexter said. "We've got a lot of business to discuss." "It'll have to wait until after we get the website back up," Eric said. Dexter said, "You take care of things. I'll be there around noon." "Okay," Eric said before hanging up. Although he was curious about what had happened, Dexter finished his breakfast. He still had to check out of the hotel. He was waiting for the waiter to come by with his check, when his cell phone rang again. He checked the caller id and saw that Eric was calling him back. "Dexter! You dog!" "What?" Dexter asked. Eric laughed. He said, "I think every unemployed person over the age of sixteen, and under seventy, has visited our website between six this morning and now." "Why on earth?" Dexter asked. "Your little article may have just found employment for a million people," Eric said. "What?" Dexter asked in shock. He was trying to imagine what he might have done and couldn't think of anything. The article wasn't that big of a deal, as far as he was concerned. Eric said, "Your article told people how they could go out and earn real money; cold hard cash, with no bosses hanging on their ass. You're brilliant!" "I'm not brilliant," Dexter said. "It wasn't my idea. I just described what happened when I stopped at a gas station yesterday." "I'll bet you a hundred dollars, that that gas station is on the national news, tonight," Eric said. "I'd never take that bet," Dexter said. Eric said, "My son just called me from school. He said that every kid he knows is trying to get to the website. I don't think there is going to be a self service gas station left in this country, by the weekend." "That would be amazing," Dexter said. "Our service provider turned on the backup system. Everything is working smoothly again," Eric said. "That's good," Dexter said. "I don't know how you do it. You just keep coming up with things that people want to read," Eric said. Dexter said, "Luck." Eric burst out laughing. "It's not that funny," Dexter said. Eric asked, "Do you know that we got an e-mail from a house painter who said that he was going to hang around the hardware store on the weekends advertising his services as a shopping assistant?" "Shopping assistant?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "Yes. He was going to advertise that he would help shoppers pick out the right material for their painting needs based on his twelve years of experience as a painter." "Next thing you know, he'll be offering his services as a painting instructor," Dexter said. Eric burst out laughing again. "It's not that funny," Dexter protested. "You just keep doing it, don't you?" "What?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "I'm putting that idea on the website right now." "What idea?" Dexter asked. Eric answered, "In-home home-repair lessons. People are going to eat it up. Rather than paying some professional a thousand dollars to paint a house, you have a professional painter teach you how to do it the right way, for a small fee." "But..." "I'll talk to you when you get here," Eric said. "But..." By the time Dexter had recovered enough to say something, Eric was long gone. Dexter looked at his cell phone in shock. He hadn't really meant for whatever was happening, to happen. All he had done was describe his experience the previous day. He wondered if there were going to be any negative repercussions. He hadn't thought to put any warnings on the article. Looking around for the waiter, he muttered, "I wonder what is going to happen next." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 17: Mail Call "John said that he wants to have your babies." "What?" Dexter asked. Dexter had just stepped into the office. That was not the kind greeting he had been expecting. Of course, hearing that some man wanted to have his babies, was a little out of the ordinary. Even at the best of times, he'd have had problems with that kind of greeting. "John is a very happy man, and he owes it all to you," Eric said. That was a bit of good news. Dexter had hoped to help John and he assumed that John had been hired at Daimler Plastics. It would be six months of double employment. There was even a chance of getting a follow up job doing something similar at another company. Dexter said, "I think he'll enjoy it out there." "Do you mean at Daimler?" Eric asked. "Yes," Dexter said. Eric said, "I figure he'll save them more in software licenses, than we're getting paid to identify the problems in the company. He really did a good job at the old company. He single-handedly saved them three million dollars a year, on licenses for software that wasn't used. I'm sure he'll do just as well at Daimler." It was amazing how many pieces of software had been purchased with annual licenses and maintenance fees. While most of the software packages were used, there were quite a few that weren't. In some cases they had bought licenses for fifty people, only to discover that no more five people ever used it. They had even replaced some Legacy systems, and were still paying licenses on software that had been part of them. The most amazing thing, was that no one had a list of all of the software licenses and maintenance fees that were being paid. The automated systems just generated payments, because they were scheduled annually to be sent to corporation XYZ, without explanation. Some of the companies didn't even exist. John had found the company was paying seventy-five thousand dollars a year on a license for software that hadn't been used since 1992. "I figured he would be good at that when I gave him that job. I know Ed Daimler will appreciate any savings that John manages to dig up," Dexter said. "I'm happy for him." "I'll let John know that he can have your babies," Eric said. "Please don't," Dexter said rolling his eyes. "I'm glad to hear that. I would have been jealous if you had said yes, since I want to have your babies," Eric said with a smile. "What are you talking about?" Dexter asked. Grinning broadly, Eric said, "Oh, boy! You don't know, do you?" Somehow or another, Dexter felt like he was the last one to know anything, anymore. Eric was in too good of a mood. One of these days, Dexter wanted to be the one in the know. "Know what?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "The lawsuit was settled this morning." "What lawsuit?" Dexter asked. "The class action lawsuit regarding the hostile workplace. Your copies of the memos between Mr. Morris and the ever lovable V.P. of Engineering, blew them out of the water. It proved a high level corporate policy of intentionally lying to employees about their chances of promotion. It effectively said to promise us anything, but give us nothing," Eric said. "That's nice," Dexter said. Dexter remembered finding that memo. He had handed it to Mark with the comment that it would win the case. Mark's only response was a smile that would have put a man-eating cartoon shark to shame. He felt good at getting another shot in at the old place. He hoped that Mark was able to get a good settlement. After all, Dexter had been promised five percent of the award. Of course, he wondered why they had settled so quickly. Dexter asked, "So how much did you get?" "A million for each person," Eric said. "That's some big money," Dexter said as he considered that there were over three hundred people involved in the lawsuit. Eric said, "You should have heard them complaining about not getting big bonuses this year. I heard the CEO was only getting twenty million in cash and ten million in stock options." "What was he expecting?" Dexter asked wondering how anyone could be disappointed with that kind of bonus, considering the losses the company had taken over the past year. "Quadruple that," Eric said. "It seems that the board decided that the money to pay for the lawsuit should come out of the bonuses of the executive staff. There are lots of unhappy campers there." "That's good to hear," Dexter said smiling. Eric said, "It gets even better. There are now criminal charges being filed." "What for?" Dexter asked. "I'm not sure what the specifics are, but apparently it is illegal to lie to employees about their conditions of work. You see, they were knowingly telling us things that were false," Eric said. "That might explain why they wanted the civil suits resolved. One of the conditions might be to not talk about the case," Dexter said while scratching his chin thoughtfully. He wished he knew more about all of this legal stuff than he did. Eric said, "I heard that the board of directors was pretty irritated at the men running the company. Rumor has it that the CEO, CFO, and CIO are all going to be let go, as a sign that the board didn't know about this stuff. Once the courts start indicting everyone, the company stock is going to take a swim in the sewer, unless they can put the proper spin-control on it." "I wonder why the prosecutor chose to pursue the 'lying to employees' route. I figured he would go after the fraudulent charges on federal contracts," Dexter said frowning. "Fraudulent charges?" Eric asked. "I hadn't heard anything about that." Dexter said, "You know, come to think of it ... I haven't delivered that paperwork to the Federal DA. Maybe I should give him a call." "Are you telling me that they've been ripping off the federal government?" Eric asked looking at Dexter wide-eyed. "Yes," Dexter said. "They were billing for overtime on cost-plus contracts without paying any overtime. That's a big no-no." "Shit, you're going to own that company by the time you're done with them," Eric said. "That's the plan," Dexter said. "I was kind of hoping to get to the federal offenses after getting a little more blood out of them before sending them to jail." "Jesus," Eric said. He had known that Dexter was angry at the old company and wanted a bit of revenge, but he couldn't imagine the lengths that Dexter had gone. "You sound a little vindictive," Eric said. "Maybe I am," Dexter said. "But I believe that I'm justified." "Why?" Dexter answered, "American businesses have shat upon engineers for two decades. They make billions of dollars off our creations, and then they treat us like dirt. Engineering is the most important human activity. Try to think of any industry that doesn't rely upon engineering. "Film? That's one of the highest tech industries around. Theater? Think of the lucky actor who doesn't have to shout his lungs out on a stage with poor acoustics. Food? Think of all the equipment required to produce, package, and deliver food sufficient to feed three hundred million people every day of the year. Housing? That's just too obvious. "Engineers create products on which people's lives depend. There aren't many things that you can buy that didn't involve an engineer during its design. Soft drink? Consider the engineers who designed the bottle and the machine that fills it. Everything in the modern world is engineered. "Engineers make design decisions that can make or break a company. One major design flaw in a critical product can mean the end of a company. People trust that an engineer has done his job whenever they step in an elevator, sit in a car, fly on a plane, or ride a damned bicycle. Their lives depend upon it. "Look at how upset everyone got when a nuclear facility failed to withstand the third most powerful earthquake in recorded history, followed by a forty foot high tsunami. It should have been rubble, but it wasn't. I can't imagine anything surviving that kind of double whammy. I know the next one built will be able to withstand such an event, because that's what engineers do. "Ask the CEO of some large corporation to name the most important parts of their business. You'll get finance, marketing, sales, or manufacturing as answers. Then ask about engineering? They'll look at you blankly. Maybe if you're lucky, they might say that engineers are a dime a dozen. They are so fucking wrong. "Because of that attitude by executives, engineers are working in abysmal conditions. Cubicles? They are the invention of the devil. There are no engineering workspaces anymore. In the old days, we'd create a blue-print. A couple of engineers would gather around the drawing discussing the various implications of every aspect of that design. Now we can't even get a fucking table in our cubicle to gather around. "We've got viewgraphs projected on a wall ... that's when we can actually get a conference room. Of course, sitting at conference table pointing to spots on a wall twenty feet away isn't the same as putting finger to paper to make a point. Critical elements of a design of any significance, become postage stamps, when projected on the wall and viewed from twenty feet away. If you can't see a problem, then you can't fix it. "We are rushed through product development, by assholes who have never designed or built a damned thing in their entire lives. They couldn't design a fucking garden shed. "They've got no understanding of the engineering process. Requirements? Don't worry about requirements. Release the product and the customers will tell us what needs to change about it. Design? Just slap something together that can be built, and we'll make whatever changes are necessary to make it work. Testing? No that's too expensive. Let the customer test our product once they've bought it. Maintenance? They just tell us: 'If you guys did your jobs right then we wouldn't need maintenance.'" "That's the general attitude among a lot companies," Eric said. "It seems to me that it is getting worse." Dexter said, "We worked like dogs at our old company. We put in unpaid overtime. They didn't give us raises despite the fact that our work resulted in the products that made the company money or saved it tens of millions of dollars in operating costs. We didn't get bonuses. We didn't get stock options. We didn't get promotions. The marketing folks did, but not the engineers. "They trust us to create programs that wouldn't ruin the company, but they don't trust us to make decisions about the simplest shit. They didn't trust us with the God Damned office supplies! It's like they expect us to design by pissing on the snow." "That doesn't mean they should go to jail," Eric said. "Yes, it does." "On what grounds?" Eric asked. Dexter replied, "I say that the executives of our old company, like the executives in many other companies, are guilty of the attempted murder of our profession. They've just about destroyed what it means to engineer. That is a crime against humanity." "A crime against humanity?" Eric echoed skeptically. Dexter asked, "What is going happen when we can't build bridges any more because nobody can design one to span the required distance and to support the necessary loads?" "Dark ages." Dexter said, "If these assholes get their way, the infrastructure of the industrialized world is going to collapse, because there won't be engineers who can create the products to keep it functional." "That's a little dire," Eric said. The problem was that Eric could actually see that it was becoming true. Some of the young engineers couldn't perform the analysis required to validate that a system would function. They relied upon software to do their thinking for them. If the software had an error, so would the product. Dexter said, "We can't arrest executives for attempted murder of engineering, but they deserve prison. Like Capone, if you can't get him for murder, then you get him for tax evasion." Dexter's cell phone rang. He checked the caller id and answered. "Hello, Mark." "Hi, Dexter," Mark said. "What's up?" Dexter asked. Mark answered, "The company came to an agreement this morning on the lawsuit." "I heard that from Eric," Dexter said. Mark said, "Sorry about that. I've got people calling everyone else involved in the class action suit. I should have called you first, but I just got out of a meeting." "No problem," Dexter said. "We got more than three hundred million, plus legal fees. Your share is a little over fifteen million," Mark said. "That's a nice payday," Dexter said with a grin. "What are you going to do with it all?" Mark asked. "I guess I'll invest it," Dexter said. Considering that he wasn't in this for money, Dexter hadn't given a thought to what he would do with the money. He wondered if it wasn't time for him to think about buying a small house, somewhere. He thought about buying that little cabin he had stayed in, and using it as a vacation home. "I'd like to take you out to dinner, tonight, to celebrate," Mark said. "That would be fine," Dexter said. "Oh, by the way, I've got some more memos for you." "More?" Mark asked. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 18: Steak Dinner Dexter had a very productive day. He decided that ending it with a steak dinner would be perfect. He arrived at his favorite steakhouse to find that it had changed. The parking lot now had a tent and a rather large modular building in front of the restaurant proper. There was a sign on the modular building to see the seating hostess inside. Dexter walked into the modular building. There were three women standing at the hostess station. One of the women smiled at him and said, "Hello. My name is Susan. Welcome to The Great Texas Steakhouse." "Thank you ... uh ... Susan," Dexter said rather surprised by the greeting. "What is your name?" Susan asked. "Dexter." She typed his name into a handheld device. While she worked, she said, "Please pardon the appearance of our facilities, Dexter. We're in the process of expanding the waiting area. This is just a temporary measure, until the expansion is complete." Dexter looked around. There were a lot of seats for people who were waiting. He noticed a small low table with small seats for children. There were a couple of cups with crayons and stacks of paper, for drawing. Remembering what it was like taking young kids out to eat, he knew that parents would appreciate that little feature. "This wonderful," Dexter said. "So how many people are in your party?" "Just me," Dexter said. Susan said, "Would you like seating at a communal table?" "What?" Dexter asked. "We had customer who suggested that people eating alone might enjoy sitting at a communal table rather than be alone. The idea is that it gets you seated quicker, and gives you a little company while eating. It's very popular," Susan said. "That would be fine," Dexter said. He always felt like a loser when seated alone in a restaurant. He also knew that it would allow the restaurant to get more customers through the place, in less time. The hostess fiddled with her little handheld computer for a second and then said, "If you'll come with me, I'll take you to your table." "Okay," Dexter said. While leading him into the restaurant, Susan said, "Your waiter today is George." "George," Dexter repeated. It appeared that his waiter was actually going to have a name. It sure beat calling out 'Hey you!' when he wanted the guys attention. "Our special today is the Tenderfoot Sirloin. It is a twelve ounce sirloin steak that is between our Cowgirl Sirloin and the Cowboy Sirloin in size. We also have a Chuck-wagon Stew. It has beef, potatoes, carrots, and peas in a thick rich broth." "That sounds good, but I'm here for the large Porterhouse steak," Dexter said. "Now that is a real steak," Susan said. "I like it," Dexter said. Susan stopped by a table with six chairs. There were three men already seated at the table. She gestured to a spot and said, "Here's your seat, Dexter." "Thank you," Dexter said. While he was sitting down, one of the men at the table said, "Dexter? That's a rather unusual name. You don't meet many Dexters around." "That's true," Dexter said. "You wouldn't happen to be that Dexter guy with the website?" the man asked. "I am," Dexter said. The man stood up and reached out a hand. He said, "It is a real pleasure to meet you, Dexter. Your website added eight thousand dollars a year to my income. I'm getting reimbursed for my data/phone plan, my home office, and the company gave me a corporate credit card for when I travel. By the way, my name is Tom." "Nice to meet you, Tom," Dexter said. One of the other men asked, "What is this about a website?" Tom said, "This guy created a website that explained how to get companies to reimburse employees for expenses. Let me tell you, the stuff he's got on that website works. When I sued my company to get the interest payments on my credit card reimbursed, the judge told the company lawyer that they had better get me a company credit card for travel expenses, as he was tired of listening to the same lawsuit over and over." "Really?" Tom nodded his head and said, "The judge really let the lawyer have it. He said that covering the cost of doing business was the company's responsibility and not the employee's. The company lawyer spouted something about fraudulent use of company money and the judge nearly threw him out of the room. The judge started yelling that all it took to correct that problem, was to fire the person, and to hand the evidence over to the DA. I swear that lawyer slunk out of the courtroom looking like the judge had killed his dog, and set fire to his cat." "That's happening everywhere," Dexter said. "Emails to the website have told many similar stories. Small claims courts around the country are tired of hearing one case after another, dealing with the same issue. A couple of judges even hired temporary people to go through the bills before the cases were heard, to come up with a summary amount for the award. Cases are now taking mere minutes to be handled in the courtroom." "I'm traveling on my own credit card," said one of men. Tom asked, "Are you getting reimbursed on the interest charges?" "No," the man answered. "Figure out what they are, and demand to get reimbursed. Dexter's website even has a handy spreadsheet for figuring it out," Tom said. "No, I don't," Dexter said. "Sorry. I got the spreadsheet off of one of the links on your page," Tom said. "What's the URL for this website?" Dexter handed the man one of his cards as he said, "This is my website." "I'll visit it tonight, when I get to my hotel room," the man said tucking the card into his shirt pocket. The waiter arrived and said, "Hello, Dexter. I'm George. I'll be your waiter this evening. Susan noted that you were interested in the Porterhouse steak." Dexter stared at George wondering how he knew his name and that he mentioned being there for the Porterhouse steak. He saw that the waiter had a handheld computer on a thin lanyard that went around his neck. He realized that George must have gotten his information off of the system. That was a nice touch. "Yes, I am," Dexter said. "I'd like the big porterhouse steak, cooked medium rare." "Excellent. Do you know what sides you'd like?" "The baked sweet potato with extra butter, and the cinnamon topping," Dexter said. "That goes perfectly with a good steak," George said making note of that on the computer. "What kind of salad would you like?" "A regular dinner salad, with Thousand Island dress," Dexter said. "How about a beverage?" George asked. "A Texas Long Neck," Dexter answered. "Let me make sure I have it right: a Texas Porterhouse, a baked sweet potato with extra butter and cinnamon sugar topping, a dinner salad with Thousand Island dressing, and a Texas Long Neck beer." "Right," Dexter said. "Your order has been submitted. I'll be right back with your beer and salad," George said. "Thank you," Dexter said. George pushed a button on his handheld and asked, "Harry. Would you care for another beer?" "Sure," Harry answered. "I'll bring it in a minute," George said. After a second he asked, "Can I get anyone else something?" "No thanks," the others at the table said. When George had left the table, Harry said, "This place is incredible." "It sure is," Tom said. Dexter said, "It wasn't like this a month ago." "The prices went up a buck a steak, but ... hell ... I'd pay five bucks extra for this kind of service," Harry said. George reappeared with a tray. He had two beers and a salad on it. He deposited a beer in front of Harry, and the salad and a beer in front of Dexter. The computer was hanging from the lanyard, out of the way, at his waist. He said, "There you go, gentlemen." "How many tables are you waiting on?" Dexter asked. "Four. I've got four communal tables," George answered. "Oops, I've got another table that needs my attention. I'll be back in a few minutes." "Okay," Dexter said. Dexter started eating his salad. The one man at the table who hadn't spoken yet, pushed his plate away. He gave forth a contented sigh. Smiling, he said, "That was a great meal." Harry said, "My steak is great." "It sure is nice having conversation over dinner," the man said. "Whoever came up with this idea for communal seating was brilliant." "You can say that again," Tom said. Dexter listened to the conversation flow around the table while eating his salad. Another hostess arrived with a woman. She took the fifth chair at the table. Dexter, not understanding why he did it, stood and said, "Welcome to our table." The other three men looked at Dexter and then rose from their seats. The young woman was rather surprised to find the men standing at the table. She sat down and said, "Wow. A table full of gentlemen." Dexter sat down and said, "I'm Dexter. That's Tom, Harry, and ... uh ... I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name." "I'm Al." "And Al," Dexter finished. "I'm Mary." Dexter said, "Nice to meet you, Mary." Harry said, "We were talking about the communal seating." "I hate sitting at a table all alone," Mary said. "It makes me feel like some sort of wallflower." Al snapped his fingers and said, "That's the perfect word for it. I usually sit there trying not to get noticed and read a book." "I've got a book in my purse," Mary said. Al reached into the pocket of his sports coat and pulled out a book. Holding it up, he said, "A murder mystery." "I've read all of her books," Mary said. "I go more for science fiction," Harry said. George showed up to take Mary's order. He also got Al's coffee and dessert order while he was there. Tom got the bill for his meal. Dexter pushed away his empty salad plate. George was right there to take away the empty plate. He handed Tom back his credit card and the charge slip. Tom looked at the slip and said, "This was definitely worth a twenty percent tip." "You can say that again," Al said. Dexter said, "I'm going to add this communal dining concept to my website. Can you imagine how many business travelers would enjoy this?" "Sure beats sitting at the bar all evening," Al said. "Or in your room," Tom said. "Yes," Dexter said. Tom rose from his seat and said, "It has been a pleasure talking to you. I don't think I've enjoyed an evening half this much, in ages." "Nice meeting you, Tom," Dexter said. "I hope that people read your website and do this in every business hotel in the country. It sure would make my life better," Tom said. "Thank you," Dexter said. He watched Tom leave. It had really nice talking to him. Mary said, "I'm an auditor for an accounting firm. We just adopted a Per Diem for meals on business travel. They give me cash for every day that I'm traveling. The amount varies, depending upon the city. I don't have to worry about receipts or anything. I can eat anywhere, for however much or how little I want." "No receipts?" Dexter asked. "That's right. I went over my expense reports, and discovered the company is actually saving money this way. I was spending fifteen dollars for breakfast at the hotel. I would spend another ten for lunch somewhere. Then, I would have a twenty-five dollar dinner at the hotel. That was an average of fifty dollars a day," Mary said. "That doesn't sound very good. It sounds to me like you're getting stuck paying for your own meals," Dexter said. Mary shook her head. She said, "You don't understand. Now, I buy a five dollar breakfast at a diner, a ten dollar lunch at a sandwich place, and a fifteen dollar dinner most days that I'm traveling. I save about five to ten dollars a day. When I get enough money, I go out and really splurge with a good dinner that might cost seventy dollars. I couldn't do that, before. They would have rejected that meal on my expense report." "Still..." "The only reason I ate at the hotel, before, was because it made keeping track of my receipts easier. I could just charge everything to my room and get it all on one bill. I hate hotel food," Mary said. "To tell the truth, eggs at a diner for five dollars; is better than a hotel breakfast, for fifteen." "That's true," Dexter admitted. Mary said, "Besides that, I was stuck paying for a meal if I lost the receipt. Now I don't worry about that." George arrived with Dexter's steak. Dexter ate while listening to the others talk. Another person was brought to the table. Al had left after finishing his coffee and dessert. The conversation just continued along without interruption. Dexter didn't normally get dessert and coffee when eating out. This time, he did. It was a real pleasure to just be around people, again. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 19: Lunch Dexter carried the tray with his sandwich and soft drink over to one of the dozen tables in the chain sandwich place. The sandwich that he ordered had a little heart symbol next to the item on the menu suggesting that it was a healthy choice. He didn't really know about that, but he liked turkey sandwiches anyway. Of course, drinking a soft drink kind of undermined any healthful effects of his sandwich. He sat down at a table and unwrapped his sandwich. It had always seemed to be a waste to wrap a sandwich in paper to carry it fifteen feet from the counter. The paper did serve a dual purpose, as it was also the plate. He took a bite out of the sandwich thinking that he should have gotten potato chips to go with the sandwich. It could have used a pickle to go along with it as a side. He sighed thinking that if he had wanted a deli sandwich, then he should have gone to a deli, rather than a chain sandwich shop. There was a difference. "Hello, Dexter." Dexter looked up to find his ex-wife standing in front of him. He swallowed his latest bite of his sandwich and then said, "Hello, Janet." "Can I join you at your table?" Janet asked. This was unexpected. Dexter could feel the old anger rise, but he fought it down. Now that they weren't married, it just wasn't worth fighting with her. There was going to be a time when they had to be civil with each other. He guessed now was as good of a time to start as any. "I guess so," Dexter said. Janet frowned at the lukewarm response, but said, "I'll get my lunch and come right back." He watched her go over to the counter. She had lost some weight. She looked more like a woman and less like a Sneech. She actually had hints of an hourglass to her figure. She had also let her hair grow a little longer, and her clothes weren't so dowdy. Janet returned after a minute with a sandwich, and a bottle of iced tea. She sat down and unwrapped her sandwich. Dexter noticed that it was a turkey sandwich as well. She basically ignored him while taking the first bite out of her sandwich. Dexter was finding the silence unsettling. "You've lost some weight," Dexter said. Janet said, "Yes, I have." "You look good," Dexter said. "Thank you," Janet said before taking another bite of her sandwich. "You're welcome," Dexter said. Dexter took a bite out of his sandwich rather than attempt to continue what was becoming a rather awkward conversation. The two ate without saying much. Dexter wondered why she had wanted to join him at the table if she wasn't going to talk. When Dexter finished his sandwich, Janet opened the conversation. "You made the news again." "What did I do?" Dexter asked. It seemed to Dexter that somehow he was always in the news. About every two months an article of his would suddenly appear on the news as if he had proposed something revolutionary. The article about the steak house had made the news and was touted as promoting a new way for restaurants to provide service. Business commentators were trying to figure out what business practice he was going to change next. To say that they had been taken by surprise at the resurgence of service, would be an understatement. No one was more surprised by the results of his articles than Dexter. Janet answered, "The Dexter James scholarship." "Oh, that. Well, I had a bunch of money and didn't know what to do with it. Charlie recommended a charity. I liked the idea of helping some kids get through college without ending up in debt," Dexter said. He had taken a third of the money from the class suit and created a scholarship for engineering students. He had never forgotten that discussion with the young man at the hospital who had become a wage slave because of college debt. "It was nice," Janet said. Dexter shrugged his shoulders. "It was a lot of work, getting it set up. I wanted something that would fit kids who didn't qualify for any of the normal government crap and whose fathers weren't rich enough to put them through school. You try writing that as a condition on award. I was pulling my hair out by the time we got something together." "Is it true that it is for engineering students only?" "Yes. I think we need more engineers in this world," Dexter answered. Janet sat back and studied Dexter. "Being an engineer was important to you, wasn't it?" "Yes, it was. It still is, but I don't get a chance to do engineering anymore, and it's too late to return to it. I'm out of practice," Dexter said. Janet raised an eyebrow at the comment about him being out of practice. He sighed. "That's what I hated the most about that company. The only way to move up, was to move out of engineering, and into management. I never wanted to be a manager. All that I wanted to be was an engineer. All I wanted to do was to take care of my family. They used the latter, to deny me the former." "You did a good job of taking care of your family," Janet said softly. "Don't give me that," Dexter said angrily. He hit the table with his fist as he added, "I blew it with the kids, and I blew it with you." "I didn't say that in sarcasm. I meant it. You did a good job of providing for us. You're still doing a good job of that," Janet said. "I sucked at being a husband and a father," Dexter said. "Not really. I'll admit that there for a while, you weren't a very good at it, but it wasn't your fault," Janet said. "Yes, it was," Dexter said. "You were stuck playing a game that was rigged against you. The company was using your desire to support your family to take advantage of you. They made it impossible for you to be a good husband and father. You had a choice: provide for us, or be there for us," Janet said. Dexter said, "We all know what I chose. I was never there." "You provided for us. You kept a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs, and clothes on our backs. You put the kids into the best schools available to us. You provided them with a chance at a real future. It may not sound like much, but that's becoming almost impossible, today," Janet said. "You did it, and that's an important thing." "I should have been there for you," Dexter said. Janet said, "It takes two to tango. I wasn't there for you. For that matter, the kids weren't there for you, either." Dexter was about to make a comment about her knowing all about it taking two to tango, but he bit the words back before they had a chance to escape. Seeing the expression on his face, Janet said, "I know what you think. You're wrong, but I understand why you believe the way you do." Dexter took a sip of his soft drink through the straw trying to get his emotions under control. He wanted to blast her, but this wasn't the kind of place for that type of confrontation. "I know I hurt you. I apologize for that," Janet said. "Apology accepted," Dexter grunted. His answer was automatic. His father had always said that when someone sincerely apologized, you accepted. You might never forget the insult, but you accepted the apology and went on with your life. To do otherwise could, and would, lead you to becoming a bitter person filled with venom. Janet shook her head. She knew better than that. "Don't accept it, yet. You aren't ready to forgive me. You're still too angry." "Don't tell me what I'm feeling," Dexter said sharply. Janet took a drink of her iced tea. She still had a third of her sandwich, but she had lost her appetite. She toyed with it waiting for Dexter to calm down a little. "That day in the hospital you were right about a lot of things and you were wrong on other things," Janet said. "About?" Dexter asked. After taking a deep breath, Janet said, "In a way, you were right that there was another man." "Who?" Dexter asked. He felt like he was about to lose the sandwich that he had just finished eating. The fact was that he didn't want to know the identity of the other man. He guessed that he was supposed go out and beat up the guy. After all, wasn't that a man was supposed to do? He wondered if he was going to have to take on some gym strongman or some rough construction worker who could tie him into knots. He hoped not. "You," Janet answered staring him straight in the eye. "Me?" Janet said, "You were wrong about there being another man, but you were right about me being in love with someone other than you. I was in love with the you from years ago." "Thank you," Dexter said sarcastically. "That makes me feel a whole lot better." There was one bright lining ... he figured that he could beat himself up rather easily. He did that pretty regularly, now. "It should," Janet said. "You see, I never fell out of love with you." Dexter sighed. "So what happened when you realized that I wasn't that man anymore?" "I never came to that realization. As far as I can tell, you're still the guy I fell in love with." "But I'm not that guy," Dexter said. He didn't know how to be much plainer. He had told her that at the hospital. It seemed a wasted effort to have to repeat himself. Janet said, "That's what you think. And you see ... that's where you're wrong. You're still the man who believes that being an engineer is the most noble thing that a man can aspire to be." "It is," Dexter said. "You're a true son of Martha," Janet said. "You're still trying to fix things that are broken. You take apart the world to see how it works, then you try to put it back together, better than new. That part of you hasn't changed. That idealist, the man who wants to make the world a better place ... he's the man I fell in love with so long ago. He's the man I still love." "But I'm not an engineer anymore," Dexter protested. Janet scoffed at that. "Dexter James! Don't give me that bull. I've seen your website. You're providing engineering solutions to problems that everyone has. You're still trying to make the world a better place. So what if it isn't by making a new gadget or widget or thing-a-ma-bob. You're still trying to fix the world." "I don't see it that way," Dexter said. Janet said, "There for a while you lost touch with yourself. You lost your way during those years at the company where they tried to turn you into an incompetent middle manager. I wasn't too fond of the guy you were acting like, but I knew that deep down inside you were still Dexter James." "I don't know," Dexter said. "I kind of take exception to being called an incompetent middle manager." "You were. You knew what the problems were, but you didn't fix them," Janet said looking at her husband in the eye. "Well ... I did fix a lot of them before I was fired," Dexter said. "You did?" Janet asked. With her busy schedule at work during that time period she hadn't been too aware of what was going on with Dexter. It was hard to talk by instant messaging. She wished that she had known that. "I made some major changes in my department and I was turning things around," Dexter said. "What kind of changes?" Janet asked. Dexter answered, "I redefined everyone's jobs. I got rid of a bunch of Mickey Mouse bullshit. My people didn't have to work overtime to get their work done. I was getting home by six every night, with no calls on the weekends." Frowning, Janet wondered how much she had missed during that time. She said, "I didn't notice that. I wish I had known." "What can I say? I turned back the hands of time at work, so that things were being managed the way they had been when I was a young engineer. Guess what? It worked pretty damned well, if I say so myself," Dexter said. "They didn't want a competent manager. I guess, in that sense, you weren't a good employee," Janet said. Janet wrapped the remains of her sandwich back in the paper it had come in. She stood and said, "Give me a call when you remember who you are. We'll go on a date." "We'll see," Dexter said. Janet said, "I'll accept that as an answer, for now." "That's the closest you'll get to a yes anytime in the near future," Dexter said. Janet's shoulders sagged. In a fraction of a second she appeared to have aged a year. She sighed. "I really hurt you, didn't I?" "Yes," Dexter answered flatly. He didn't think lying about it would make things better. "I'm really sorry," she said. Unable to stop himself, Dexter asked, "Why did you do it on my birthday?" "Do what?" Janet asked puzzled by the question. Dexter asked, "Why did you sign the divorce papers on my birthday?" "I didn't," Janet said. She tried to remember the date she had signed the papers. That whole week had passed in a fog. "You did," Dexter said. "I couldn't have," Janet said. "You did." "Oh my God!" Janet shouted when she realized that he was serious. She fled, with tears running down her cheeks. Dexter watched her race out of the shop, then he looked down at her sandwich on the table. "I don't think she'll be back for the rest of her sandwich." Dexter continued to stare at the sandwich. He began to think of it as if it was an alternate manifestation of Janet. "I can't believe you didn't know what you had done," he said. "Do I mean that little to you?" A small kid walked over to Dexter and said, "Mister, do you know you're talking to a sandwich?" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 20: Friends Dexter waited for Samantha to turn her back to him. She was busy talking to a woman who was working out on the StairMaster. He moved the rowing machine four inches closer to the center of the room. "I saw that!" Samantha shouted. She spun around and pointed a finger at him. "What?" Dexter asked trying to look innocent. "You moved that rowing machine," Samantha said. "I did?" Dexter asked wide-eyed. "Don't play 'innocent little boy' with me. I watched you move that machine in the mirror," Samantha said. The woman on the StairMaster giggled. "Damn, busted." Samantha said, "It's been driving me crazy. Every other day, that stupid rowing machine has been moving across the room. At first I thought there was something wrong with it to make it move like that. Then I realized someone was moving it." "Occam's razor," Dexter said. At her puzzled expression he said, "The least complicated explanation is usually the best explanation." "Yesterday I sat down, and came up with a list of suspects." Dexter asked, "How many names were on the list?" "One," Samantha said. The woman on the StairMaster had to stop exercising, because she was laughing too hard to stand upright. "You could have put at least one other name on it, just to make me feel better," Dexter said. Samantha laughed at the pitiful expression on his face. "You're the eccentric uncle I never had." "Is that a compliment?" Dexter asked. "Yes," Samantha said. "That's good," Dexter said. He sat down on the rowing machine and started rowing. Fidgeting nervously, Samantha said, "I've got a date, tonight." "Who's the lucky guy?" Dexter asked. "Calvin," Samantha answered. "That's nice," Dexter said. Samantha said, "Amber doesn't like him. She thinks I should take a chaperone with me." "Really? That's not good. She's really people smart," Dexter said. "She's coming with me on the date," Samantha said. Dexter said, "That's really nice of Amber. There's nothing worse than being the third wheel." "She needs a date," Samantha said looking at Dexter. "She's an attractive young woman. She'll have no problem getting a date," Dexter said. "She doesn't want a date, date ... she wants a date," Samantha said with an odd emphasis on the last word. It was almost like it was in quotes. "Huh?" Dexter asked. Samantha looked over at the woman on the StairMaster. She said, "Dexter is in the process of getting divorced from his wife. He hasn't been on a date in twenty years." "That explains it," the woman said. Dexter said, "Oh. You want to know if I'll be her date, right?" "Yes," Samantha said. "It's not a real date, is it? I'm not divorced yet, you know," Dexter said. It was strange, but Dexter didn't feel comfortable going out on a date until his divorce was final. He didn't have any problems with guilt concerning his visits with prostitutes in Nevada, but that was just sex. A date kind of promised more. "No, it's not a 'real' date," Samantha said. "Okay, then I'll go," Dexter said. Samantha looked relieved and said, "We'll be at your apartment around six to pick you up." "Okay," Dexter said. "You don't know how much I appreciate this. It's been so long since I've had date, and then Amber kind of spooked me," Samantha said. The woman on the StairMaster asked, "When was the last time you were on a date, Sam?" "A year and a half ago," Samantha answered. "I don't stand a chance," the woman said. "The men these days must be crazy. If I was fifteen years younger and twice as handsome, I would fight to have a date with you," Dexter said. He paused in rowing long enough to mimic a fighting posture with his hands. Then he added, "Of course, you'd have to swing by the hospital to get me after the other guy finished beating me up." The woman on the StairMaster laughed again. "It's tough getting a date. The good ones are all married. The bad ones aren't worth dating. The ones in between are working on their careers," Samantha said. Dexter said, "I do know a little about that. I've had several young men tell me that they can't date because they have no free time. Getting a business call in the middle of a date really kills the chance for romance." "The last guy I dated got called into work in the middle of our date. Never date a systems administrator. They get a call and they drop everything," the woman said. "Calvin is a sys-admin," Sam said. "Are you talking about the Calvin who lives above me?" Dexter asked. "Yes," Sam said. Dexter said, "He's a nice guy." ------- "Hey, Calvin," Dexter said. "Hi, Dexter." "Are you looking forward to your date, tonight?" Dexter asked. Calvin was pacing around in front of the apartment. He was dressed in slacks with a sport coat. He was actually wearing a tie, which surprised Dexter, as he didn't think young men did that anymore. Calvin's black leather shoes were polished to a high shine. He looked pretty sharp. He also looked pretty nervous. Calvin said, "I don't know. It's a double date." "I know," Dexter said. "How do you know?" Calvin asked. "Amber and I are going with you," Dexter said. "She hates me," Calvin said. "Don't worry about it," Dexter said. "You're a nice guy." Mary, walking from the parking lot, greeted the pair of men, saying, "Hello." "Hello, Mary," Calvin said. "Hi," Dexter said, increasing his distance from her. He was ready to run if her hand went anywhere near her purse. Mary said, "I'm not going to mace you." "That's nice to know," Dexter said. "I've been getting some help with my problem," Mary said. "That's good," Dexter said. Charlie had already told him that. "That's great," Calvin said. "I want to thank you for dropping the assault charges," Mary said. Dexter shrugged his shoulders. There had been a lot of reasons behind his decision. Learning that she had been gang raped had made him feel like she was a victim in that whole mess as well. He could understand being a little skittish, particularly after having had someone try to kill him. Charlie had told him that she was getting some treatment so that she wouldn't be so quick on the pepper spray. Charlie said that she often returned to work from her therapy sessions with red eyes from crying and emotionally exhausted. Dexter didn't know if that was a good thing, but it did sound like she was making some progress in dealing with past issues. Dexter could also imagine the press having a field day with this. He could just imagine how some of the pundits who disliked him would report it. He'd be cast into some sort of sex crazed madman who stalked innocent women trying to get into their apartments. He couldn't imagine going through that. Another reason that convinced him to drop the charges, was that he just didn't want to bother with going to court. It wasn't that he didn't have the time. He just didn't want to spend all day sitting around a courthouse. Calvin said, "That was nice of you, Dexter." "I don't think going to jail would help anyone," Dexter said. "I'm really sorry," Mary said. "I just didn't have a chance to thoroughly check you out on the sex offenders list, before you surprised me that morning." "What?" Dexter said. Mary said, "Well, I ran your name through the system, and it came up blank. Then again, you never know if people are using their right name." "Why would you suspect someone living here, of being a rapist?" Dexter asked. "There are two men in this apartment complex that are on the sex offenders list. I make sure that I stay away from them," Mary answered. "There are two men on the sex offenders list living here?" Dexter asked shocked to learn that little piece of information. He couldn't believe it. It seemed like a pretty nice apartment complex. "Yes. One was convicted of sexual assault. That's a polite way of saying rape. The other was a teacher who molested a young girl in one of his classes," Mary said. Her eyes flicked over to two different parts of the apartment complex. "I had no idea," Calvin said. "You can't choose your neighbors," Mary said. Dexter said, "It must be hell living here knowing they are around." Mary sighed. "I'm trying to save my money so I can move into a gated community with around the clock security." "I don't blame you," Dexter said. "I'm going to go into my apartment, now," Mary said. "Have a nice evening," Dexter said. "Take it easy," Calvin said. Once she had entered her apartment, Dexter said, "I thought this was a nice safe place." "No apartment complex is safe, anymore," Calvin said. Dexter said, "What do you mean?" Calvin gestured to their surroundings. "There's over a thousand people living in this complex and we don't know even a handful of them. Every month a couple people move out and new people move in. Some are on their way up and others are on their way down. It is a transient society where everyone is a stranger. You can't investigate everyone ... so, there are people with secrets." "I didn't think about that," Dexter said. "Every year someone in this apartment complex gets arrested for drugs or drunk driving. Sometimes someone gets into worse trouble than that. You've got a bunch of single people here who have friends. Those friends stop by for visits. Some of those friends are trouble. There isn't a day when you don't see some strange face walking through here," Calvin said. Dexter said, "Jesus, how are you supposed to protect yourself?" Calvin said, "I think you have to get to know as many people around you as possible. They tell you things so that you have a clue as to who is dangerous and who isn't. It gives you a better awareness of your situation. Of course, that takes time ... and free time is a rare commodity these days." "Yes, it is," Dexter said thoughtfully. "There are others who go the whole self-defense route. They take all kinds of martial arts instruction, just so that they can protect themselves. I don't think that works, but it does give some of them confidence enough to know more of the people around them. That effectively gives them the same strategy that I use," Calvin said. "It might give them a false sense of safety," Dexter said. "Mary thinks that it is better to lock herself away from everyone," Calvin said. "I'm not sure if that is a good strategy." "It's a lonely strategy," Dexter said. "We're guys and the chances of someone wanting to rape us are pretty low. This isn't a particularly violent area so we are not likely to get mugged. Women, like Mary, have to be a lot more careful than we do," Calvin said. "What about the guy that lives next to me? He's almost as bad as Mary in terms of locking himself away," Dexter said. "I have no idea. He doesn't talk to me either," Calvin said. Dexter said, "By the way, where are we going, tonight?" "I was thinking of a little family owned restaurant that I know of. It is kind of expensive and I wanted to talk to the other guy to make sure he could afford it," Calvin said. "I guess that would be you." "I can afford it," Dexter said. "Do you like jazz?" Dexter said, "I don't know. I haven't ever really listened to any." "There's a jazz club down the street from the restaurant. I was thinking of going there after dinner," Calvin said. "I guess I can listen to a little jazz," Dexter said. He had images of a smoke filled room with old men sitting around playing jazz while drinking beers or whiskey on the rocks. Then he realized that with the anti-smoking laws that smoke filled rooms were extinct like the dinosaur. He couldn't decide if something had been lost. "You won't be sorry," Calvin said. "How did you get turned on to jazz?" "My uncle. He really likes jazz. He used to babysit me when I was little. He'd bring over a stack of records and listen to jazz music the whole night. He would tell me stories about the various artists that he's known. He sometimes plays at the club I was talking about," Calvin said. "Will he be there tonight?" Dexter asked thinking it would be kind of neat to actually meet some of the musicians there. "I don't think so," Calvin said. "Usually he spends all day Saturday there playing with some of the other amateur jazz musicians in the area. A lot of the time is spent telling stories, but they do play a lot." "That sounds fun," Dexter said. He wondered how many other folks had hobbies like that. He didn't remember any of his old coworkers talking about playing a musical instrument. He remembered in high school that a lot of kids played instruments of some kind or another. His school had an orchestra and a marching band. There must have been a hundred or two hundred kids in the marching band. There were even kids who had their own garage bands. Calvin said, "It is a lot of fun. I played the sax. I used to join them before I started working. Once I got a job, I had to quit because I didn't have much time to practice." "Are you going to start up again?" Dexter asked. "That's not a bad idea, now that I've got real work hours again," Calvin said thoughtfully. Dexter said, "I had my concerns about this evening, but I'm beginning to look forward to it." "Me, too," Calvin said. ------- Samantha cocked an eyebrow when the barmaid brought another round of beers for Dexter and Calvin. This had to be their fourth beer each. Amber could see that Samantha was beginning to get upset. The date had really started out well. The dinner had been outstanding and the music at the club was amazing. She was now having visions of trying to wrestle two drunken men into her car. Dexter and Calvin raised their glasses to each other in a silent toast and took a sip. "Are you two going to drink beer all night?" Amber asked. She had expected Calvin to do something like that, but not Dexter. She figured that she knew Dexter pretty well considering she had lived with him for a week. He just seemed like a nice guy. She was really disappointed in him. "Probably," Calvin answered with a grin. He winked at Dexter. "It's not like we're going to get drunk," Dexter said. "The way you two guys are drinking?" Samantha asked. There was a bit of an edge to her voice. "It is alcohol free. It has all of the lousy flavor, and none of the stupidity, of a regular beer," Calvin answered. "Really?" Amber asked. Dexter said, "Calvin told me about it when we were waiting for you two to show up at the apartment." "Your wine is alcohol free, too," Calvin said. "I didn't order alcohol free wine," Samantha said. She had been nursing that glass of wine for at least an hour. "You didn't have to," Dexter said. Amber said, "I don't believe you." Calvin said, "A whole lot of the musicians that come here, have drinking problems. The owner of the place set up a dozen non-drinking tables and brought some non-alcoholic beverages. You know ... fake wines and fake beers. It lets all of the old guys fit in, without making a big deal out of not drinking. I asked the owner to seat us over here so that we could enjoy ourselves, without making fools out of ourselves." "I've been nursing this wine all evening," Amber said. "Drink up and order another one," Calvin said. An albino man dressed in black walked by their table. His long white hair was pulled back in a pony-tail. He had a short well trimmed beard. He glanced over at their table spotting Calvin. He stopped and came over to the table. Clapping Calvin on the back, the man said, "Hey, Calvin! What are you doing over here in the 'drunk free zone'?" "I'm on a date with Samantha, here. These are my friends, Dexter and Amber," Calvin said. "Say no more ... I didn't mean to interrupt your date. I just wondered where your uncle was hiding." "I imagine he's at home, Edgar. He should be around tomorrow." "I'll swing by to see him. I always enjoy playing with that old coot," Edgar said. "I'll let him know that," Calvin said. "You folks have a nice evening," Edgar said before he walked off. Samantha looked at Calvin and then over at where Edgar was stopped by another table. She asked, "Is that who I think it is?" "Yes," Calvin answered. Dexter said, "I haven't had this much fun in ages. I'm going to have to try this dating thing again, sometime." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 21: Mobile Home Dexter and Eric were having their weekly Wednesday meeting, via video conferencing. Dexter was at his office while Eric was at his. The most recent article had been about employee benefits. Basically, it discussed how to find out exactly what benefits one had, as an employee. Companies, upon hiring people, gave them a detailed description of the job benefits. However, over time, those benefits changed. Announcements concerning the incremental changes in benefits were delivered to employees, but the writing was typically small, and couched in language that didn't really communicate the full extent of the change. Established employees never a received a detailed package of the total benefits that were available to them. This issue had come to light when Dexter had had a conversation with someone at the steakhouse he frequented. A man who had been with a company for twenty years, had been shocked to discover that he didn't have nearly the benefits that he had believed. Several of the plans had changed over the years, while some things had been dropped. Others had been added, without him being signed up for them. He hadn't been aware that he had to enroll in some of the benefits. The company the man worked for had transitioned to a website for employee benefits. This sounded good, except that it allowed the company to make changes without explicitly advertising what was changing. People only visited the website when they had a problem with a benefit. When a benefit was discontinued, a small announcement was put on the page, for a very short period of time. They also removed all links to the discontinued benefit. Once the original announcement had been on the page long enough, legally, the announcement was moved to an archive arranged by date. To discover that it had ever existed, would require going through the archives month by month. It would be buried among all kinds of 'important' announcements, such as a news blurb that some particular date was national wart day. The only real advice that Dexter could suggest, was to schedule monthly visits to the benefits website. The person should be prepared to spend four hours on the website, since there was a lot of information that could be stashed away on hidden webpages. If necessary, the browser could be set to increase the font size for easier reading. So far, the reaction to the article had been lukewarm, at best. Dexter knew that people either felt very strongly about this subject or not. He had never really been the kind who had tracked his job benefits with the diligence required, mostly because he was too busy to spend the time on it. That lack had burned him, several times, in the past. Having dealt with the latest article, Dexter said, "How about we tackle the problem of companies trying to raise capital from employees, by selling discounted deferred stock options?" "I remember that debacle," Eric said. Shortly after Eric and Dexter had left, the company had tried to raise capital by selling stock options that could be exercised after six months. The options had been sold at ten dollars a share below the current market prices. By the time six months had passed, the stock cost less by purchasing them on the stock exchange, than by using the options. Some people were still holding onto the options, hoping that one day they would be worth something. Dexter said, "People should be aware that when a company turns to raising money from its employees, it is because real investors wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole." "Okay, I'll get started on that article," Eric said. Dexter asked, "Have you heard anything from our guys at Daimler Plastics?" Eric said, "I talked with John, yesterday. The guys have finished the Daimler job. Yesterday was their last day, there." "That's good," Dexter said. "Is Daimler pleased?" "Yes, I would say so. John ended up saving them over twenty million in license fees," Eric said. "Daimler gave him a ten percent commission. John is beside himself." "I think John may be able to start his own company. Software license auditing," Dexter said. "That's not a bad idea. I'll mention it to him," Eric said. "I guess everyone is happy." "Daimler is cleaning house, today, based on the report that we sent him last week," Eric said. "He's having a few difficulties." "What kind of difficulties?" Dexter asked. Eric said, "Some of them are demanding their 'golden parachutes.' Apparently, they can't be fired for incompetence, without getting millions of dollars in compensation." "Some of them broke the law," Dexter said. Eric said, "They are all lawyered up, so who knows." "I bet Daimler is happy about that," Dexter said sarcastically. Eric said, "He wants to talk to you this afternoon." Dexter had never wanted to get involved in the Daimler mess. He had mentioned putting a couple of guys into management positions thinking that Ed Daimler would take care of it. Instead, Daimler had turned it around and given Dexter the problem. The old man was pretty convincing. ------- Dexter made the call to Ed Daimler. He expected to get a secretary, but Ed answered right away. "Hello, Dexter." "Hello, Ed," Dexter said. Ed said, "Dexter, I've got a problem." "I'm sorry to hear that," Dexter said. "Those bastards won't leave unless I pay them to leave," Ed said. "I'll be damned if I'm going to pay them for screwing up my company." "Then don't get rid of them," Dexter said. "I'm not going to keep them," Ed said. "I can't have a vice-president of finance who's playing games with the books." "So don't let him near the books," Dexter said. "He's the Vice President of Finance," Ed said. Dexter answered, "That's a job title. Send out a statement from the board that there is a new position, the Vice Dictator of Finance, who has the responsibilities that were formerly associated with the Vice President of Finance. Put a new person in that position." "What about the bastard?" "Announce that the new responsibilities of the Vice President of Finance will now be as the greeter at the front door, or cleaning toilets with a tooth brush," Dexter answered. "Dexter, I love the way you think." Dexter said, "Make the official uniform of the job, a tutu." Ed burst out laughing. After half a minute, Dexter could imagine tears coming down his face from the laughter. "I owe you big time," Ed said, just before hanging up. ------- Dexter was in his apartment several days later, watching the business news on TV. There was a segment on humiliating incompetent executives. They were showing clips of executives at the doors to various Daimler Plastics locations, shaking the hands of people arriving at work. The initial humiliation of being reduced to the position of greeter had not been sufficient to make them resign. Nor was it sufficient to get news coverage. Getting business programs to pick up the story had required an appearance by Ed Daimler, on a business show. It had been his announcement that after discussions with the corporate lawyers, it had been determined that the company could make tutus the official uniforms for all individuals whose duties were as door greeters. Ed had even brought a visual aid: an actor he had hired to demonstrate the costume. The actor was a rather burly looking individual, and he looked totally ridiculous wearing the pink tutu. It appeared that the actor was having fun. He kept dancing across the set in his tutu. The producer of the business show had realized that he had a major story. Instead of giving Ed Daimler the five minute segment that had been planned, the producer canceled everything else to stay on the story. He brought in every business pundit that had been hanging around the studio. The pundits were having a field day. He called up the station's lawyers and had them come into the studio. The lawyers argued back and forth about the legality of using humiliating costumes as a form of punishment. One of the lawyers asked how having a corporate greeter wearing a costume was any different than a greeter wearing a lobster suit at a seafood restaurant. Dexter watched the arguments with a grin. Dexter's amusement disappeared when Ed Daimler informed the world that Dexter James – yes, that Dexter James – had given him the idea. All of a sudden, Dexter was the subject of discussion. Ed Daimler kept insisting that Dexter was not only concerned about employees, but cared about the company bottom line, as well. He pointed out that Dexter's complaints weren't about companies making profits, but about incompetent management taking short-cuts to make the profits. Employees were supposed to make money for companies by working, but companies were not supposed to make money by abusing their employees. There was a substantial noise coming at the door. It wasn't a tapping, rapping, knocking, or banging. It was a booming noise that almost sounded like someone was using a sledge hammer on it, rather than a hand. From Dexter's perspective, only someone in a strong emotional state would hit the door that hard. Concerned, Dexter quietly went to the door and peered through the spy hole. He saw an eye looking back at him. The visitor pulled back such that Dexter could see the whole person, though the spy hole distorted the image. 'This guy is a monster, ' Dexter thought. He figured one blow from the guy would kill him. He hoped that he wasn't some disgruntled business owner out to kill him. In a rather twisted thought, he wondered if Mary upstairs would rescue him, by using her pepper spray on the big man. The guy hammered on the door again. Dexter looked through the spy hole again. The man didn't look angry, just big. Dexter shouted, "What do you want?" "I've got a delivery for Dexter James," the man shouted through the door. "What kind of delivery?" Dexter shouted. "A camper," the man shouted back. Dexter frowned thinking there had to be some sort of mistake. "I didn't order a camper," he yelled. "You're Dexter James, right?" the man yelled back. "Yes," Dexter said. The man shouted, "I have paperwork here saying to deliver this camper to you." Dexter opened the door and asked, "What camper?" "That camper," the man said as he pointed to the parking lot of the apartment complex. There was a huge camper parked out in the middle of it. Dexter stared at it, incredulously. "Here's the paperwork. You need to sign for it," the man said holding out a clipboard. Dexter grabbed the clipboard. Sure enough, his name was on it ... as was his current address. He looked over it and then spotted the name of the purchaser – Daimler Plastics. He said, "I can't accept this." "I'm just the delivery guy. I have to deliver it to the person named on that paper. If you're that person, then you need to inspect it, and then sign for it," the man said. "I guess you'd better show me the camper," Dexter said. Dexter followed the man out to the parking lot, where the camper was parked. The man walked around the camper pointing out external features. It had everything. Then they went inside where the interior features were explained. The camper was fully loaded with every option available under the sun. They spent a good hour just going through the interior with the man pointing out how to use the various features. After signing the paper, Dexter watched the man drive off in his truck. Dexter went into the trailer and sat down on a sofa. The side had been extended to form a living room. It wasn't quite as large as his two bedroom apartment, but he knew that many folks lived in smaller spaces. "What in the hell am I going to do with this monstrosity?" Dexter asked. He knew that he wouldn't be able to leave it parked at the apartment. It took up two parking spaces. He was afraid someone would break into it and steal things out of it. He was going to have to find some place to park it. "I don't even have a way to move it," Dexter said realizing that his car didn't have the kind of power necessary to pull a trailer of that size. He guessed that the first thing he would need to do was buy a new car or something. Dexter's cell phone rang. He checked the caller id. "Hello, Ed." "Hi, Dexter. Did you get my present?" Ed asked. "Yes, I did. Thank you very much," Dexter answered. "It's got everything on it." "I know that you had some reservations about getting a camper, but you'll really learn to enjoy camping," Ed said. "It's more like a mobile home," Dexter said looking around at his surroundings. "It is a little more mobile than a mobile home. By the way, your truck will be delivered in the morning." "What truck?" Dexter asked. "The truck to pull the camper, of course," Ed answered. "You'd think it would take less time to prepare a truck for delivery than a trailer, but that wasn't case. It seems they had some problems with the wiring. Apparently the truck used a four wire connector and the camper required a seven wire connector. I'll admit that sounds kind of stupid, after all the truck comes ready for a trailer." "You didn't need to do this," Dexter said. Ed said, "You saved my company from folding up in the next couple of years. This year alone you saved me close to a hundred million dollars. I figured one little camper and truck was better than a thank you card." "I'm overwhelmed," Dexter said. Ed said, "I think you'll enjoy the camper for years. There's a lot of this country to see." "Thank you," Dexter said. "I'll let you check out the camper some more. I'll be talking to you later," Ed said. "Bye," Dexter said. Dexter hung up the cell phone and then stared at it. He punched in the number that he knew by heart. After a two rings it was answered. "Hello, Janet. This is Dexter." "What do you want?" Janet asked. It wasn't the most friendly greeting she had ever given him. In fact, she sounded distracted. "I need to park something somewhere for a couple of days. Could I put it in your driveway?" Dexter asked. "Sure," Janet said. "I'll bring it over, tomorrow," Dexter said. "Okay. I've got to go," Janet said and hung up. Dexter stared at the cell phone, and then shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea what had distracted her. It wasn't his business, anyway. He was no longer married to her. The divorce had become official ninety days after Janet had signed the papers. He hoped that if her distraction was a guy, that he had broken the mood a little. "At least I have a place to park this beast," Dexter said. It was big. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 22: Pulling a Monster Amber walked around the camper. After her third circuit around it, she stopped by Dexter. "It's big," she said. "Yeah," Dexter said looking over the camper. He had just hooked the huge truck up to it. Amber was there because he hadn't been sure if he would be able to hook up the camper, without someone guiding him. Even with her help, it had taken more than a dozen attempts to line the ball of the trailer hitch, to the receiver of the camper. "Do you know how to drive, pulling something like that?" Amber asked. "Of course! I'm a guy," Dexter said somewhat confidently. He had no idea how he was going to pull that behind the truck. Amber looked at Dexter and then burst out laughing. At his pained expression, she said, "You've got no idea what you're doing." Dexter looked sheepish for a moment. "No, I don't." "It's big," Amber said looking back at the camper. "I know," Dexter said. Amber asked, "What do we do now?" "I guess we get in the truck and take it on the road," Dexter answered. Dexter held the door open for Amber. She climbed into the truck thankful that she was wearing blue jeans. There was no way a woman could climb into that monster truck with a skirt and maintain much, if any, modesty. Dexter closed the door, and walked around to the driver's side. He opened the door and climbed into the truck. "I really appreciate you helping me out like this," Dexter said while starting the engine. "I wasn't doing anything today, anyway," Amber said. Dexter pulled forward a little and started to turn the wheel. He glanced in the mirror and slammed on the brakes. He had almost hit the car parked next to the camper. "This isn't good." "What?" "I don't know if I can get out of here," Dexter said. He backed the truck up watching the camper in the mirror. It took Dexter three attempts to get the camper out of the parking spot. He had to move forward a bit, back up a bit, move forward a bit more, and then turn so that he missed the cars to either side and the one in front. In a way, he was lucky that it was the middle of the day in the middle of the week. He never would have been able to get it out of the parking lot on the weekend. "That wasn't too bad," Amber said as under her breath, she added, "for a near disaster." She had been watching when the camper missed one of the parked cars by less than two inches. She looked over at Dexter. He was sweating. "It should be easier, from now on," Amber said. Dexter ran over the curb when leaving the parking lot. He couldn't change lanes because cars were whipping past on both sides. He nearly didn't get it stopped at the first intersection in time. He nearly hit a telephone pole when he turned a corner. That got him a block away from the apartment complex. "This isn't going so well," Dexter said. His hands were starting to hurt from holding onto the steering wheel so tightly. "You're doing fine," Amber said. "We'll see," Dexter said. Amber said, "You know this isn't really intended for driving in the city. I bet it will be a lot better when you get on an interstate." "Maybe," Dexter said. The longest half hour of Dexter's life passed before he reached the street on which he formerly lived. Whether through luck or some minor skill, he managed to arrive without causing an accident. He was about to turn into the driveway of his old house when Amber said, "Stop." Dexter hit the brakes wondering if he had missed seeing something. "What?" "What are you doing?" Amber asked. "I'm turning into the driveway," Dexter said. Amber said, "You're going to have to back the camper into the driveway ... unless you can drive the truck out the back of the garage." "Damn," Dexter swore. Amber said, "I better get out, so that I can direct you." "Okay," Dexter said. Amber climbed out of the truck and walked over to the driveway. She stood where Dexter could see her. Dexter pulled forward a bit so that he could back into the driveway. He put it into reverse and cut the wheel. The camper went in the wrong direction. Dexter growled. Amber shook her head. Dexter pulled forward again, and started backing up. Dexter was lucky that the house had a driveway wide enough to fit two cars. He used the whole driveway getting the camper into it. He parked the truck and got out to see how he had done. Amber said, "Well, you did a pretty good job of taking up the whole driveway." "I guess it is a little crooked," Dexter said. "For a minute there, I thought you were trying to parallel park it," Amber said with a smile. "It seemed that way to me, too," Dexter said. "I guess I better straighten it out." "That would be a good idea," Amber said. Dexter climbed back into the truck. Rather than immediately trying to get the camper straightened, he thought about what needed to be done. It took him a minute to get all of the steps laid out in his mind. He started the truck and began his maneuvers. Much to his surprise, things went much better. Amber directed him when to stop. Once he parked the truck, Amber walked around behind the camper. Dexter looked down the street, and noticed Janet's car approaching. He wondered what she was doing home in the middle of the day. Then he remembered that she only worked part time, now. Janet pulled into the driveway waving at Dexter. Her car came to an immediate stop when Amber appeared from behind the camper. Dexter did not know that Janet could move so fast. She was out of her car, and facing Amber, in a fraction of a second. Dexter also did not know that his wife's face could turn that particular shade of red. He climbed out of the truck in time to hear Janet say, "Who are you?" "I'm Amber." "What are you doing here?" "I'm helping Dexter?" Amber answered without much confidence. There had been a few occasions in her job where she had run into a jealous girlfriend or an angry wife. She knew the best course of action was to get out of the way as quickly as possible. She looked at the truck wondering if there was anyway to get past Janet and into the truck without suffering serious injury. Dexter muttered, "This is not good." "Aren't you a little young for him?" Janet asked. "Not really," Amber answered. The words were hardly out of her mouth before she realized she had just made a major error. "He'll be in adult diapers by the time you get out of high school," Janet said coldly. "That's mean," Dexter muttered. Then he said, "Hey! I'm not that old." Janet slowly turned to look at Dexter. In a frigid voice, she asked, "What is this monstrosity?" "That's my camper," Dexter answered while gesturing toward it. "Oh, Jesus. You've started your mid-life crisis, already. Young bimbos, and expensive toys," Janet said. "Actually, the camper and truck were gifts," Dexter said. "And the bimbo?" Dexter said, "She's not a bimbo. She's a friend of mine." "What bar did you meet her in?" Janet asked. "I hired her," Dexter said. "To do what?" Janet asked. The way in which Janet asked the question left little doubt what she thought Dexter had hired her to do. The look she gave Amber angered the young woman. "Uh ... Um ... That's kind of hard to answer," Dexter said. "He hired me to be his wife for a week," Amber said. "What!" Amber stepped forward and said, "Yes. He hired me to be his wife. You see, he was just out of heart surgery, and couldn't take care of himself, because his 'wife' was divorcing him. So he hired me to feed him and to run errands, and to watch over his recovery. You know ... things a loving wife should do ... but then, you wouldn't know about that." Janet turned pale. Amber continued walking slowly towards Janet. She said, "So I took care of him. I cooked, I cleaned, and I took him to his appointments. I nagged him to take his pills and to rest. You know ... I did everything a good wife should do." Janet took a step back. "Did I sleep with him? I slept in his bed with him, but sleep is all we did. I'm sure you know all about how wives sleep with their husbands, and don't have sex with them." "I..." "It wasn't easy sleeping with him. I listened to him cry at night, when he thought I was asleep. I don't know how many times he woke me as a result of nightmares in which he called out your name. It broke my heart," Amber said. Janet shook her head in denial. Amber said, "Imagine someone having to hire a woman to act like a wife, while he's recovering from surgery. That has to be depressing, but Dexter isn't a sad man. I watched him struggle to appreciate the good things in his life. I envy his strength." "I..." "That's when I fell in love with him," Amber said. "Oh, no!" Janet cried. "What?" Dexter asked. Amber said, "Samantha calls him her eccentric uncle. I think of him like that. There are times when he's funny without meaning to be. There are times when he's serious. He does funny little things to make you laugh. He's the eccentric uncle that you can't help but love." "I'm not eccentric," Dexter muttered. Janet asked, "Who is Samantha?" "Another of Dexter's friends," Amber answered. "How old is she?" Janet asked. Dexter asked, "What's that got to do with anything?" "Same age as me," Amber said. "Is she fucking him?" Janet asked. "No!" Dexter said. "You're one sick bitch." "Don't call me sick," Janet said. "You text him that you want a divorce, then you sign the divorce papers on his birthday, and then you've got the nerve to accuse him of having sex with his friends. Do you know what that makes you?" Amber asked. "I don't give a damn what you think," Janet said. Amber said, "I think you're a fucking sadist, who gets off on making Dexter suffer." "How dare you say that?" Janet shouted. Dexter stared at Amber unable to believe what she was saying. He muttered, "Sadist?" Amber said, "I bet if we took a vote, that opinion would win bigger than Obama in the last election." "You bitch," Janet said. "I know you're fucking him." "You don't fuck your uncle," Amber said dismissively. "I wouldn't put it past you," Janet said. "I bet Dexter hasn't been laid since he divorced you. I doubt he was laid for years before then, either. That's got to be torture," Amber said. "And you're going to be the one to take care of him?" Janet asked cattily. "I can arrange a date for him in a minute. There are women all over this city who would love to catch him," Amber said. "How'd my sex life get into this?" Dexter asked. There was no way he was going mention his trips to Nevada. The two women ignored him. The volume of their discussion rose even higher. Dexter looked over at the trailer and said, "Maybe I'd better unhook that." Dexter went over to the trailer, and went through the process of unhooking it. This was a bit more complicated than the old pop-up tent trailer of his youth, since it included weight distribution rods. Everything had to be released in the proper order. While working, he would occasionally look over at the women. They were still going at it tooth and nail. There was a little fear that it might escalate to violence. He wasn't sure what he would do if that happened. After he got the ball unhooked from the receiver, he climbed in the truck to pull it away so that the camper could be leveled. He only moved the truck a couple of feet forward. Exiting the truck he looked around. The women were gone. "That's not good," Dexter said. "I probably should have parked this over at Eric's house." Dexter went over to one of the side cabinets to remove the wood blocks that went under the leveler legs. He lined everything up and went inside to activate the automatic leveler system. That was a whole lot nicer than having to crank the supports on the old pop-up tent trailer. When it was finally leveled, Dexter stepped out to make sure that everything was as it should be. The guy who had delivered the trailer had warned him that he should shut down the power for the trailer when parking it for extended periods of time. There were small electrical items that put a consistent load on the batteries. If he didn't shut off the circuit, then the batteries would be drained, when it was time to move the trailer. Dexter couldn't remember where the switch was so he went inside the trailer and grabbed the manual. He was sitting there reading the manual when Will stuck his head through the door. Will asked, "What's this?" "It's a camper," Dexter said. "You're going camping?" Will asked. Dexter said, "I guess so. I've got to buy some stuff first." "It looks like it has everything," Will said staring at the flat screen television. "I still need to get the essentials like blankets, pillows, pots, pans, plates, and all that kind of stuff," Dexter said. "Neat," Will said. Dexter asked, "Would you like to go camping sometime?" "Well, I ... sure," Will answered. "Excellent." "All of us?" Will asked. "You and your sister," Dexter said. "How about Mom?" Dexter said, "We're divorced." "Oh ... Yeah, I guess that would be kind of awkward." "Yeah." The front door opened. Will looked over and then did a double take. He asked, "Who's the babe?" "That's Amber," Dexter answered even though he couldn't see who had stepped out of the house. "So you traded Mom in for a younger model," Will said in disgust. "I didn't trade your mother in for anything. In case you don't remember, she asked me for the divorce. Amber is just a friend," Dexter said. "Right," Will said in disbelief. "Will she be going camping with you?" "No," Dexter answered. "Well ... I hadn't thought about it. I suppose I could ask her to go." "I'm not going if she's going," Will declared. "All right, then I won't ask her," Dexter said. "Okay," Will said. Amber stopped behind Will. "You must be Will." "Yes," Will answered in a voice colder than Canada in winter. "Your mother asked me to ask you to pick up your sister from school," Amber said. "Oh," Will said. Amber said, "She also invited me to stay for dinner. She said that you would drop me off, to pick up my car, later. I hope you don't mind." "Sure," Will said, surprised that his mother was volunteering him to be Amber's taxi. "This is not good at all," Dexter muttered. When Will left, Amber said, "I hope you don't mind if I stay here and talk to Janet for a bit." "No, I don't mind," Dexter said thinking that this was going to come back to haunt him. He looked at Amber for a moment and then added, "I know that you mean to be nice when you say that I'm like an eccentric uncle, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell everyone that." "Why?" Amber asked. "It just makes me look kind of ... well ... not very manly," Dexter said. "It gives the impression that I'm feeble, weak, incompetent ... and not much of a man." Amber said, "Oh. I didn't think of it that way." "One more thing," Dexter said. "What?" Amber asked. "I have been laid several times since I separated from my ex-wife," Dexter said. He was surprised by the disappointed expression on Amber's face as she said, "Oh, sorry." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 23: Campground Dexter sat in the lawn chair listening to the birds chirping in the tree. He was taking a few minutes to relax, after the long drive to the national park, and the effort to set up the camper. There was still a lot to do before it got dark. If Will or Sarah had any experience camping, he would have tasked them to do some of it. At least sunset was several hours away. Will and Sarah were seated next to him bored out of their minds. Neither had any clue concerning what to expect when camping. It had sounded adventurous, but the camper had kind of taken some of the adventure out of the whole deal. They had fetched and carried when Dexter told them to do something, but that was more like work than adventure. "Let's get in the truck and get some firewood from the local store," Dexter said. Will looked puzzled. Pointing to the woods, he asked, "Don't we get it out of the woods?" "You can't do that. With so many people coming here, there wouldn't be any woods left near the camping areas if everyone grabbed their own," Dexter said. "I guess that makes sense," Will said. Sarah asked, "So we go to the store and buy it?" "Yes," Dexter answered. "Isn't this kind of like sitting out in the backyard?" Sarah asked. "Do you see the trees around us?" Dexter asked. "Yes." "You don't have that in the backyard," Dexter said. Will asked, "So?" "Then there are the animals. We might see some deer," Dexter said. "Deer?" Will asked. "Sure. There are a lot of deer around here," Dexter said. Sarah asked, "You mean, they've got tame deer here like at the petting zoo?" "No. They are wild deer," Dexter said. "Are they dangerous?" Sarah asked nervously. "Not really," Dexter said. "They are wild animals, so you should leave them alone." "Are there other wild animals around here?" Will asked. Dexter said, "I'm sure there are. We can ask at the store." "They have an information booth that would answer questions like that?" Sarah asked. Dexter said, "No. There will be a friendly sale's clerk and we'll talk to him or her." "You mean a clerk like at the convenience store," Will said. "Sure," Dexter replied. "They don't answer questions unless it is about the store," Will said. "That's right," Sarah said. Will fumbled with his cell phone, then shocked, he said, "There are no bars! I can't go to the web and look it up." "That's okay. We'll talk to the clerk," Dexter said. "They won't answer our questions," Will said. "Let's go to the store," Dexter said getting out of his chair. The trio returned to the campsite an hour later. The kids were bewildered by their experience at the store. It had only taken a few minutes to pick-up some firewood, a coffee for Dexter, and two soft drinks for the kids. They had spent forty-five minutes talking to people at the store about what to see in the area. It wasn't just the store clerk, but customers who stood around chatting with each other. No one seemed to be in any hurry to leave. During the discussion, they had learned where to go see eagles, bears, and deer. They learned what fish were biting, and what lures were best for catching them. There had also been a couple of exchanges about good places to fish, with people pointing to various locations on the map. They found out where they could rent a boat, if they want to use one while they were there. They listened to an informal weather report, which was then commented upon a dozen times. Most surprising to them was that they had nearly finished their soft drinks before Dexter even paid for them. They hadn't been required to bring the wood into the store to get rung up. All Dexter had to do was tell the guy how many bundles of wood he wanted. The clerk trusted Dexter to take the amount for which he had paid. It was all very casual. The store, more than the campground, convinced the two teenagers that they were in a different world. At home, spending forty-five minutes at a store talking to folks, was unheard of. People didn't do that. Upon arriving back at the campsite, the kids were further surprised when Dexter suggested that the three of them take a walk around the campground. The two teenagers approached the excursion like taking a hike. Dexter was much more relaxed. They hadn't even gone past the trailer next to theirs when they were engaged in a conversation with the couple at the campsite. It was a nice little exchange in which they were informed that the camp hosts held a story night in which they told about the history of the campground. The kids wondered if Dexter knew the people and then were shocked to learn that he had never seen them before. It seemed to them that they couldn't walk past more than three campsites without getting greeted. In one hour they had met more people in the campground than they knew in their own neighborhood. It was kind of shocking to them. They hadn't been back at the campsite for more than ten minutes when four kids stopped by. They were invited to go down to see the lake. Both kids looked at their father wondering how they were supposed to respond. They were shocked again, when Dexter told them to have fun. Dexter went about setting up the camp while the kids were out exploring. He got out the lantern, the grill for use on the fire pit, and set up the table for dinner. He started a fire in the fire pit, with the wood purchased at the store. The kids returned from their explorations, exhausted. They had walked and run more than they had in years. The other kids seemed very willing to head off on some road, just to see what was down it. They had come across some other kids who were riding bicycles. None of the teenagers had parents hovering over them! Dexter cooked up some steaks over some coals taken out of the fire. The kids had been surprised to learn that they weren't supposed to cook over the flames. The steak, beans, and canned peaches was the best meal the kids had ever eaten. They were surprised to learn that dishes had to be washed by hand. Sarah wasn't sure that it was sanitary to wash them by hand. Will was skeptical that the dishes would actually get clean, without a machine to do the work. After the dishes had been washed and dried, the trio headed towards the campsite of the camp's hosts. That involved stopping by a couple of campsites to exchange greetings with other campers. No one seemed worried about reaching the camp's hosts at a set time, but by the time they reached the campsite, they were one of a dozen people approaching it. It turned out that one of the camp's hosts was the son of one of the men who had helped build the campground during the Great Depression. Pictures of the campground getting built were shown, using a projector on a portable screen. It was amazing to see people cutting down large trees with two man saws, and then hauling them away with mules. There wasn't a single picture of a bulldozer or any earth moving type of equipment. They looked around at their surroundings with eyes that saw the world differently, now. It was as if the campground had been transformed from an everyday place, to something special. That building over there, had been made of logs that had been cut down in the woods, by hand. They had been trimmed and shaped by men, and lifted into place with muscle. The camp's host touched their imaginations, and made those days live! After the presentation, they headed back to their campsite, talking about the stories the camp's host had told. It was a pleasant walk, with Dexter lighting their steps with a flashlight. The stars were out, but the moon hadn't risen yet so it was rather dark. Used to a world with streetlights, the kids were shocked by how dark it was. Back at the camp, Dexter lit the lantern hanging it a good distance away from the chairs. It provided a nice light that allowed them to see without detracting from their ability to see the stars. There were a lot of stars in the sky. After stirring the campfire back to life, Dexter sat back in his chair. He asked, "What did you think of your first day here?" "It was strange," Will said. "In what way?" Will said, "The people here ... they talk to each other." Dexter said, "When I was kid, we would walk around the block a half an hour before sunset. Folks would be outside. We'd stop and exchange words with them. Sometimes, a couple of families would be sitting around drinking and talking about world events. It was like today, where people took that little extra moment to say hello. "I think hello is one of the most important words in the English language. It is more important than please and thank you. You see, 'hello' says that I see you, and I acknowledge your existence. "We all want to matter. We all want our existence to be recognized by others. We want to feel special. 'Hello' accomplishes that. Getting told several times a day by complete strangers that you exist, changes you. It gives you confidence in yourself. It helps establish trust with others. You say 'hello' and they say 'hello', then the world becomes a better place. I think we've forgotten that. "In the city, you don't say hello to perfect strangers. Everyone is too busy to acknowledge that you exist. No, they attempt to establish their importance and value by what they do, by what they can buy, and by what they can make you do. They get their identity from their money and their jobs. It is a shallow form of recognition, because money and jobs come and go. You're always having to compete for attention and recognition. It is sad. "You get out here, where there are wild beasts and open spaces, and you're reminded that people need people. A couple dozen people acknowledge your existence, and you don't feel the need to prove yourself at the expense of someone else. It changes the tempo of life. It changes the quality of life." Will said, "I think I know what you mean. We spent all that time at the store, but it didn't seem like we were there for all that long." "That's right," Dexter said. "People talked and others listened. Then other people talked and people listened. Questions were asked, and taken seriously. What animals can we see? Go up to the point in the early morning. You'll see a couple eagles. Then someone else points out that it is an impressive sight." "Yeah," Sarah said. "Tomorrow, we'll go up to the point, in the early morning. We should take our cameras so that you can show other people what you've seen," Dexter said. "I can put it on my webpage," Will said. Sarah said, "I kind of expected camping to be different." "In what way?" Dexter asked. "Hiking over a mountain or something," Sarah said. Dexter said, "We'll probably walk along one of the trails, but not one of the long ones. We don't have the experience to tackle the hard ones." "I am kind of tired from the walking we did today," Will admitted. Dexter said, "Maybe we can rent a row boat one of these days, and spend a little time on the lake." "Fishing?" Will asked. "I'm sure we could do that. We'd have to do catch and release. I don't particularly feel like cleaning fish," Dexter said. Sarah said, "That's good. I don't think I could eat something that I saw alive." "A lot of people feel the same way," Dexter said. The three of them sat around the campfire watching the flames. Dexter always felt that watching a campfire was somehow hardwired into people. A dog could curl up in front of a fire without looking at it. A person sat down and inevitably faced the flames. Will asked, "Where do you work now?" "I own a website," Dexter said. "You're making money on it?" Will asked. Dexter answered, "Yes." "I've visited your website. I thought it was just a little hobby site," Will said. "I'm making a bunch of money on it," Dexter said. "I'm doing better than when I worked at the old company. I'm a lot happier, too." Will said, "I don't understand. Why is it such a big deal?" Dexter asked, "Did you enjoy today?" "Sure," Will answered thinking his father was avoiding his question. "What did you enjoy about it?" Dexter asked. "I don't know, exactly. I guess talking to people," Will said. Sarah said, "I enjoyed the store and the story telling." "How about exploring around the campgrounds with the other kids?" Dexter asked. "Sure, that was fun," Will said. "That doesn't answer my question." Dexter said, "The reason my website is such a big deal is that I'm trying to take what happened to you, here, and transplant it to the city. I want to get people back to a point where they 'work for a living', without having to 'live for work'. I want people to start greeting people, again. I want to change the pace of life from that frantic 'nothing can wait' pace, to where there is time for common courtesy. "I'm not alone in wanting that. Others want it, as well. That's why I get so many visitors to the website. I think that is why it makes the news so often. It resonates with what people really desire in their lives. "I'll admit that some people are brought to the website because they want to get back a little of their own from the companies that have been abusing them. In the process, I'm hoping those people learn enough about the other things in life, that they can make changes in how they treat others. "Sometimes I see something that really impresses me. I write about it, because I think it would be nice if someone else does something like that. The 'independent full service' at that gas station was one of those things. Now, I find them, everywhere. I use them, and I tip those folks well, because that's the kind of world I want to live in. "Now, some folks see that kind of work as being degrading. I don't. I don't think the people doing it see it as degrading, either. They are the ones choosing to do it. It is no different than being a waiter or a waitress. The ones who do it well, make great tips. Those who do a poor job don't last. Every customer is another judgment of their work. There's nothing wrong with that. "I do see something wrong in replacing everyone with machines. I don't use ATMs. I like going into a bank, and dealing with a person. Does that make me a dinosaur? I don't think so. It means that I like people. I like talking to them. I like being talked to in return. I want to hear that magic word: 'hello'. "My website tells people how to get back some of what we've lost. It's not big steps ... not major changes in lifestyle ... It's just little things that people can do to make their life better. I don't have all of the answers, but I do notice when someone has found an answer. That's what I put that on my website. I think that is why my website is such a big deal. It helps people." Sarah said, "Well, you sure fucked up our family." Dexter wobbled his head in half-hearted agreement. He said, "I'm not going to take full blame for that, but I will take a little credit for trying to fix things." "How are you going to fix things?" Will asked. Sarah asked, "Are you going to remarry mother?" Dexter said, "I'm going to take advantage of the fact that we are in a cell dead zone and you're kind of stuck having to talk with me, rather than play your computer game or text your friends. We'll go and do some things that you wouldn't get a chance to experience otherwise. I'll tell you a little about myself. I'll listen to you when you share something important about yourself. In the process, maybe we'll build the kind of relationship that we should have had all along. "I don't know what is going to happen with your mother and I. There have been a lot of hurt feelings. We don't know each other anymore. Ignorance is not a basis for a marriage. If we do get back together, it will only happen after we date and learn more about each other. Will we date? I don't know. If we do date, will we fall in love? I don't know. I can't make any promises." "That doesn't sound very good," Sarah said. Dexter said, "Maybe, but it is not hopeless. At least we're talking, now." "Mom really regrets what she did," Sarah said. "I don't understand why she did it," Will said. "She told you," Sarah said. "I don't believe her," Will said as he tossed a small stick onto the fire, and watched it burn. "Enough about that," Dexter said. He looked over at the stick Will had tossed onto the fire. He wondered if there was a hidden metaphor there that he didn't see. He said, "I don't quite understand that whole game thing. What is it that draws you into playing them so much of the time?" Will said, "Well, it's like this..." End Of Part 2 Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Part 3 ------- Chapter 1: On Utopia It is not clear when humanoids made the transition from brutish animal to thinking being. The adoption of language, the creation of tools, and the discovery of fire are clearly important landmark events that followed that transition; but where it began, and how it proceeded, is shrouded in mystery. It is likely that it will never be known, unless time travel becomes a reality. Homo Sapiens were not the only thinking line of humanoid. Several branches of the humanoid family made that transition from brute to intellectual. Neanderthals had language, art, tools, fire, and clothes. Sure, Neanderthals were 'just' cavemen, but that misses the point. They were not stupid. They could solve problems. Somehow, Homo Sapiens survived while the other branches of humanoid died out. Was it a matter of degree of intelligence or some physical advantage? That is hard to answer. There are hypotheses that masquerade as theories, but the evidence is not compelling one way or the other; as, in the main, there is very little of it. It is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that modern man is more intelligent than our ancestors. After all, we have computers to count for us while they had fingers or strings with knots. We have cars and airplanes while they were lucky to have shoes. Of course, we could take the most intelligent man of modern times, strip him naked, and throw him into the middle of the everglades swamp with absolutely nothing. He, too, would be lucky to have shoes. The complexity of tools and sophistication of theories is not to be confused with the intellectual prowess necessary to create them. The intellect necessary to invent the brick was no less than the intellect necessary to create the silicon chip. The intellect necessary to invent bronze was no less than that necessary to invent the laser. So much of what is considered advanced in the modern world, is simply a refinement of things that existed before. The silicon chip owes its existence to the brick. The modern digital telephone is not that far removed from jungle drums used to communicate across distances with discrete signal patterns. The advances of the past and the advances of the present are not as far removed from one another, as our modern hubris would make us think. The collective ignorance of the world has shrunk over time, but that is because with each new idea, discovery, and invention, the body of human knowledge has increased. It has been increasing for tens of thousands of years. It gives an illusion of greater accomplishment than actually exists. The rate at which the body of knowledge increases, isn't a good measure of the intellectual capacity of individuals within a given generation. It is a better to see it as a measure of the education and the quantity of people contributing to that body of knowledge. It has been estimated that between eighty to ninety percent of the scientists and engineers who have ever existed, are alive today. Of course, the population of the world has gone from one billion in 1800 to over six billion in 2000. That is a significant difference from the million or less that existed in 70,000 BC. The key point, is that the intellectual capacity of a modern human being, is not that much different from that of our most primitive ancestors. One might argue that it may not have changed at all, since that early transition from brute to thinking being. Of course, there are the effects that a better diet can have on individual intellectual capacity, but it should be remembered that not all of our ancestors suffered from malnutrition. In what might be a great surprise to modern men and women, is that the subjects of thought have not changed in at least 70,000 years. People today are just as concerned about the basics of food, shelter, clothing, mating, and death; as our ancestors ever were. Our ancestors were just as interested in art, music, history, literature, math, science, engineering, and religion; as is modern man. Getting along with others has always been an important area of thought; with trade, politics, sociology, and psychology foremost among them. The stories told in ancient times covered the significant deeds of great men and women, love affairs gone well or tragically, wars fought: won or lost. The modern reader can listen to a story twenty centuries old, and follow themes that appear in stories written today. Although it may be self-evident, it is a fact that there hasn't been enough physiological divergence for modern man to be classified differently from the first Homo Sapiens. It may not seem that way. The average height of Homo Sapiens has increased, throughout history, but there have been improvements in diet and nutrition also. Modern athletes appear to perform at greater limits than those of the past, but modern athletes are often specialists, now; rather than generalists, as were those of the past. Given that there have been no physical or intellectual changes of substance between modern man and our earliest ancestors, what has changed in 70,000 years? Well ... nothing. When the pretensions of grandeur afforded us by our modern technologies are stripped away, it is discovered that we human beings are just the same as our ancient ancestors. Modern humans suffer from the same emotions and passions that have always existed. Man sees woman, woman sees man, and the mating dance begins. The form of the dance depends upon the current conditions, but wealth, power, beauty, personality and intelligence have always played a role. There may be social conventions put upon men and women, but tales of lovers who run to avoid parental interference, adulterers who meet despite existing mating bonds, and loves that endure in spite of external attack; tell us that the essence of love hasn't changed. Hate, jealousy, and envy are just as much a part of being human as love and sexual desire. Strong negative emotions lead to violence, and even murder. Stories as old as time are told of vendettas, revenge, and crimes of passion. Stories that were old, then, are just as relevant, now. Like a coin with two sides, there are two sides to every person. People attempt to put forth the side that will gain praise, adoration, and recognition from others. For each good, there is a bad. For every positive emotion there is a negative emotion. We seek out recognition and avoid humiliation. We act in the hope of achieving praise, but sometimes we slip and find ourselves subject to criticism. That boil of good and bad within us is what makes people so complex. There are always those questions to be answered: to be or not to be, to act or stand passive, to speak or forever hold our peace. Those questions have haunted people throughout all of history. The answers may be self-evident until you are the faced with the questions. Then things get murky. The problem is, what happens when we try to eliminate all manifestation of the negatives of being human. The short answer is that it doesn't work. It is like trying to remove the ugly side of a coin. You scrape and scrape at the one side until one day the coin disappears. People need to shout, scream, stomp about, and raise a fist to the sky. It is necessary to bleed off the negative so that gentleness, compassion, generosity, and forgiveness can emerge. Recognition and acceptance of the need to express the negative, should not to be interpreted as condoning murder, rape, pillage, or wreaking general havoc. In modern times, the person who yells, stomps around, slams doors, and throws things is liable to discover the police knocking upon the door. The crime – disturbing the peace, being a public nuisance, or some other such charge. Of course it is well deserved. After all, that person disturbed someone's afternoon nap, and that can't be allowed. The rational among us will argue that we should be able to sit down and discuss things in a calm and reasoned manner. This sounds wonderful. Wouldn't it be great if all of life's conflicts are resolvable by sitting down and calmly discussing them? The result would be tranquility and peace. We would live in Utopia. It is said that getting angry solves nothing. Implicit in that statement is that we shouldn't get angry. So how do we avoid feeling anger when things work out contrary to our desires? The only truly workable answer is not to have strong desires. In other words, we shouldn't care. Wait! We shouldn't care about things? But caring about things is what allows the most positive of traits to emerge. Nothing great has ever been achieved, without passion. Great things require great energy to achieve. The modern world does not trust passion or emotion. Emotional people are unpredictable. They might say nasty things; or, even turn violent. We are a rational world ruled by reason, not emotion. There is a problem. There are only two ways to focus the kind of energy necessary to do something great: passion or the whip. If passion leads to negative behaviors when it becomes frustrated, then clearly we must avoid passion. That leaves us with the whip. Ah! The whip! That conjures images of slave masters with bull whips shredding the backs of poor slaves tied helpless to posts. We don't use whips in modern society. Or do we? Be happy you have a job. Click it or ticket. Be nice or I'll sue. A whip does not have to be made of leather to cause misery. The whip leads us directly to dystopia while passion prevents us from having utopia. It is a dilemma that does not seem to be easily resolved. Perhaps the real problem is the attempt to do something great. A better answer might be to strive for mediocrity. It is possible that utopia is a world filled with indifference, apathy and marginalism. Apathy and mediocrity are not good, so instead we settle for restricting passion to specific times and places, while accepting the whip at other times and places. We construct social rules, enforced by the whip, to dictate what is allowed when, i.e.: men should not make women feel like they are being looked at as potential mates while at work. The problem is that emotion is not like a light bulb. It can't be turned on and off by a switch. It can be dimmed, but not eliminated, unless bludgeoned out of existence. Once emotion is eliminated, it is virtually impossible to regain. Instead of the passionate romance that result when man views woman as a possible lifetime mate, we now are 'friends with benefits'. Is that what we really wanted? The modern human being looks in the mirror, smugly confident of a superiority over our distant ancestors. Instead of feeling superior; it should be recognized that physically, intellectually, and emotionally, we are not far removed from being cavemen. We have the body of knowledge accumulated over thousands of years, and a mishmash of conflicting rules governing what is acceptable behavior. To the contrary, if anyone has reason to gloat, it is the caveman. ------- An Interview With Dexter: Reporter: You demonstrate a lack of concern for the innate dignity of people. Dexter: Innate dignity? What's that? Reporter: The right of a person to be treated with dignity. Dexter: You're right. I don't believe in dignity as a right. Reporter: So you admit you don't respect people? Dexter: I didn't say that. There are a lot of people that I respect. Reporter: Yes, you did. Dexter: I don't believe in dignity as a right. That suggests people deserve dignified treatment regardless of what they've done. Some people deserve undignified treatment. Reporter: I take it you are referring to the executives from Daimler Plastic. Dexter: They are a good example. Reporter: They were publicly humiliated on your advice. Dexter: They quit before they were humiliated to the degree they deserved. I really wanted to see them in tutus. Reporter: You say that you respect people. Dexter: The men we are talking about abused everyone under them while thinking they were exempt from criticism. They weren't. Reporter: You tell people to take on menial jobs. Dexter: Yes. Reporter: There is no dignity in menial labor. Dexter: There is a lot more dignity in honestly earning a dollar, than in being a beggar. Reporter: This is a rich country. No one should be a beggar. Dexter: A handout is a handout. I'd rather give my five dollar bill to a man for polishing my shoes, than to a man standing hat in hand and begging. Reporter: You'd humiliate a man by making him polish your shoes rather than treat him with dignity? Dexter: Hmm. I hadn't thought about it that way. You're telling me that earning money is humiliating. Reporter: Yes. Dexter: You're getting paid to interview me, right? Reporter: Uhhh, yes. Dexter: Based on the job you're doing, you should feel humiliated. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 2: Princess Ann The breakfast place, located in a strip mall, was sandwiched between a pharmacy and an electronics shop. It had opened only a couple of months ago. It had attracted a small but growing clientele, who primarily lived or worked nearby. The majority of locals were elderly, and knew each other. Elderly couples who came to the breakfast place often split up to join their individual friends at separate tables. The men gathered at a couple of tables to discuss politics, or other matters of great importance. The women gathered at a couple of tables across the room from the men, to complain about living with retired men who had too much time on their hands, and not enough to do. Business owners often sat together to discuss matters of business, whether it be rent or the impact of new laws upon their ability to make money. They tended to arrive, eat, and then depart. Although they shared a table, they often arrived at different times, and parted separately. Sometimes they moved from table to table, taking their food with them, to discuss some important business matter. The wait staff – the woman who owned the place and the part-time waitress – had adapted to the behavior of the clientele. Basically, they treated each customer individually. Each customer had their order taken individually, and was given an individual bill. Parties could combine their bills when it came time to pay. It just made dealing with the general chaos of the dining area easier. Chaotic was a good way to describe the little breakfast place. It seemed as if people were always in motion. Some went from table to table to engage in friendly banter, while others were taking orders, delivering food, and clearing tables. There were the sounds of silverware being rattled when being set out, and food being cooked in the kitchen. Orders were shouted, conversations were taking place, and chairs were being moved about. In a way it was a reassuring cacophony of noise, as it was based on friendly interactions and people at work. One of the things that Dexter liked about the place was that it had a very basic menu. You ordered what you wanted from it, and it was delivered at a reasonable price. It was a good place to go when he wanted something that wasn't easy to make for a single person. Dexter couldn't make a soft-boiled egg to save his life! It either came out runny, or hard-boiled. This particular morning Dexter wanted half a grapefruit, toast, orange juice, and coffee. For a couple, having half of a grapefruit for breakfast isn't a problem. However, a single person is left with half a grapefruit in the refrigerator. Dexter would intend to make a fruit salad with the remainder, but that never seemed to happen. The next day, the grapefruit never looked all that appealing. After several days, he would have to throw it out, and he hated wasting food like that. Dexter entered the breakfast place and wandered over to a table where one of the local insurance agents was seated. Dexter knew the man from previous visits, and greeted him. "Hello, Jim, mind if I join you?" "Have a seat," Jim answered. "So, how's business?" Dexter asked. Winking at Dexter, Jim said, "It would be doing just great if you'd buy a policy from me." Dexter laughed and said, "I've got insurance on two cars and a camper. I've got renter's insurance, health insurance, life insurance, and three different kinds of insurance on my business. I'm paying more for insurance than most people make in a month. Now, if you can find an insurance against insurance, I'll talk to you." Jim said, "No can do ... guess there's always tomorrow." Wendy, the owner of the place, stopped at the table. She put down a glass of water and turned to Dexter. "What can I get for you?" "Half a grapefruit, white toast; a small OJ, and a coffee," Dexter answered. "You like it with brown sugar, right?" Dexter said, "That's right. I'm impressed that you remembered." Wendy laughed, "Don't be impressed. Just about everyone that orders the grapefruit, likes it with the brown sugar." "I'm still impressed," Dexter said. She left to submit his order, and returned after a minute with a cup of coffee. Dexter held it to his lips to take a sip, and decided it was just a little too hot. He dropped an ice chip into it after using a spoon to fish out a piece of ice from his glass of water. He tried the coffee again, and found that the temperature was just about right. A woman stopped by the table and said, "Hello, Jim. Mind if I join you?" Dexter looked up at the woman. She was about five years younger than he was. Unlike a lot of women her age, she still had the figure of a much younger woman. She had blond hair that was pulled back from her face and fixed in some sort of swirl at the back. His first impression was that she was pretty. His second impression was that she was more than pretty. Jim answered, "Hello, Ann. Have a seat and join us." Jim introduced Dexter and Ann. Ann was a real estate agent who sold houses in the area. Dexter was introduced as the owner of a small Internet business. Wendy showed up with his breakfast, and took Ann's order. Ann and Jim chatted while Dexter attacked his grapefruit. When Wendy showed up with Ann's breakfast, Jim excused himself and left. Suddenly, it was just Ann and Dexter at the table. She was looking across the table at him. Feeling awkward, Dexter tried to find a neutral topic of conversation. "Well ... here we ... So, what's it like, selling real estate?" "I hate it," Ann said. "Why?" Dexter asked. Of all of the jobs out there, Dexter assumed that being a realtor would be one of the least hostile job areas. It was a fairly portable occupation, meaning that one didn't seem to be locked into a particular company. Ann answered, "It isn't a very stable occupation. I can go for quite a while without making any sales. That means no income. Then I can get a couple of good sales back to back. I'm always worried about my income, so I watch my money very closely. As a single woman, I can tell you that it is terrifying to watch my bank balance decrease for one or two months, without anything being deposited." "I can see where that would be scary," Dexter said. "It is a job that involves dealing with people who are feeling very insecure. Buyers are concerned about everything. You might think they are concerned the most about the house and you would be right. How old is it? How old is the water heater? What are the taxes? How much is the typical maintenance? How much does it cost to heat and cool? Will there be any problems making alterations to it? "But the house is just the beginning of their worries. They want to know about schools, crime, neighbors, shopping, and such. How good are the schools? Is there much crime? How long does it take the police to respond to a call? What is the average income of the neighbors? What stores are good, and how far away are they? What are the taxes? "The sellers are often very emotionally invested in the house. They think their house is the best one in the area, and should get the highest price. Their feelings get hurt when potential buyers start finding flaws in their place. I've had women break down into tears, when a couple talked about all of the changes they were going to make to her house. "So you're dealing with a lot of emotional people. On top of that, the buying process itself is stressful. The whole negotiation process is just painful ... with offers, counteroffers, conditions of sale, and time lines. Then you have to get in4to the bureaucratic stuff like title searches, inspections, and dealing with mortgage companies. At any point in the process, the sale can fail. It is like everything conspires to make this an unpleasant experience. "Everyone turns to the realtor to take care of everything. That means I'm dealing with worried, angry, frustrated, or tired people. It can be a major pain in the you know what." "I didn't think about that," Dexter said. "You get a lot of women who enter the business after a messy divorce, thinking it is basically a job that can support her family. They think it is an easy job since they know all about owning a home. Boy are they surprised at how horrible it is. So you get a lot of recently divorced women coming and going from the business. A lot of them have issues with men, and that doesn't help them." "I can see why you don't like your job," Dexter said. "Unfortunately, I'm pretty good at it. I manage to close enough sales to keep afloat, financially. Sometimes I even manage to put some money aside. I do well enough that it is nearly impossible to change careers," Ann said. She looked down at her plate and took another bite of her breakfast. "So you feel trapped," Dexter said. "Yes," Ann answered. "I understand that feeling," Dexter said. He wondered how many people felt the same way. They made a decision early in life that trapped them into a job or lifestyle that they grew to dislike. He assumed there was a time, like for him, where they actually enjoyed what they were doing. While Dexter was lost in his thoughts, she took a moment to eat a little more of her breakfast. Dexter asked, "Was there a time when you enjoyed selling real estate?" "In the beginning, I liked it. I saw it as helping young couples find their first home. After a while, that initial glow vanished. I've gotten tired of working nights and weekends. I can have quiet mornings, but there are always demands on my time. It gets old after a while," Ann answered. Dexter thought about his career as an engineer. Over time, his job had transformed from engineering to management. He missed those days of engineering, but felt that he could never recover them. Ten years of not practicing his craft had severely hurt his ability. He remembered picking up one of his early textbooks, and finding it difficult to read. He said, "I guess that is pretty common for a lot of people." "Let's change the subject. I hate talking about work," Ann said. "That's fine with me," Dexter said. He had no idea what they could discuss. He looked down at this grapefruit thinking he could stave off the silence by eating a little something. Unfortunately, he had eaten all of the sections. Ann finished off the rest of her breakfast during the lull in conversation. "Do you have any hobbies?" Ann asked. "I've discovered recently that I enjoy camping," Dexter said. Ann looked away for a moment before she said, "It's been ages since I've been camping." "You camp?" Dexter asked. Ann said, "When I was a kid, my parents used to take us camping occasionally. It's been a long time since I've camped out in a tent." "I have camper. It's like living in a small mobile home. It's not quite as long as a singlewide trailer home, but it isn't that much shorter. It has all of the modern conveniences, except a dishwasher," Dexter said. Ann smiled. "That sounds a whole lot better than sleeping in a tent. I'd love to try that sometime." "Uh." Dexter thought that sounded a lot like an invitation to get to know her a little better. Wendy stopped by the table to refill their coffee cups and to clear away the dirty dishes. She was used to customers sitting around and talking after finishing their meals. "That wouldn't really be possible since I have to work lousy hours. You know ... weekends, and evenings, when other people are off work? It is easier for me to take weekdays off, than weekends," she said seeing that he was uncomfortable. "My work gives me a little more freedom with time. I don't go camping on the weekends much. The nearest campground is usually too full to get even a lousy spot on weekends. I can go out there on a Monday, and get one of the best spots in the place," Dexter said. Ann glanced down at Dexter's left hand. She frowned. "I take it that means you go camping in the middle of the week?" "Usually," Dexter said. He had discovered that he could go camping at a state park that was four hours away during the middle of the week. There was good enough cell reception that he could actually work while he was there. A laptop with a cell phone dongle, allowed him to connect to the internet. He could work a couple hours in the morning, and a couple more in the afternoon. A video conference call with Eric on Wednesday mornings, essentially completed his work needs. "Tell me about your wife," Ann said. Dexter replied, "My ex-wife." "You're divorced?" Ann said. "Yes," Dexter said. Ann pursed her lips for a second. "I didn't realize that." "I am," Dexter said. "She asked me for a divorce. I gave it to her. At the time, I was sure that my ex-wife had someone on the side. Although she claims she didn't, I'm still not convinced that I believe her." "You must have loved her a lot," Ann said. "I don't know. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but living apart from her has been a lot easier than I thought it would be," Dexter said. "Have you dated much since your divorce?" "Not really. I went on one date, but that was to be ... basically ... well, to serve as chaperone," Dexter answered. Seeing her reaction, he added, "A young woman ... who considers me her uncle ... had a date with a young man she didn't really trust. She asked me and another young woman to double date with them, to make sure that nothing bad happened." "What did you do on this date that wasn't really a date?" Dexter said, "We went to dinner, and then to a jazz club. I had a really great time at the jazz club. I've been meaning to go there again, but I just haven't really had the chance." "Why not?" Ann asked. "It just isn't the kind of thing you do alone," Dexter answered. Ann said, "Maybe we can go there one of these evenings." "That might be nice," Dexter said. Ann waited for him to say something. After an uncomfortable pause, she said, "Tuesdays are usually pretty quiet in my business." "Why is that?" Dexter asked. "They just are," Ann said looking slightly annoyed by the question. "Maybe one of these Tuesday nights, we could go there," Dexter said thinking that he'd enjoy listening to jazz again. "I could go, Tuesday," Ann said. "Okay." Ann handed him one of her business cards. "You can pick me up at the agency around seven." "Okay." "I'll see you Tuesday," Ann said. She stood up, grabbed her bill, and headed over to the cash register. Wendy showed up and took care of Ann. Dexter noticed that Ann dropped a couple dollars in the tip jar. Dexter sat there watching her leave the breakfast place. She turned and waved to him before stepping out the door. He realized that he had a date. He wondered how that had happened. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 3: The Third Degree Dexter was working on one of the exercise machines intended to develop his upper body. He had no idea what the machine was called, but he had nicknamed it 'The Bastard, ' much to Samantha's amusement. It was some sort of progressive resistance thing that always made him work for that last inch of extension. He figured that Samantha must have turned the crank up on it, today, because it was worse than usual. "So you had a date?" Samantha asked. Dexter grunted. He hated the The Bastard, but Samantha insisted that he use it. "What was she like?" Samantha asked. Dexter grunted again. "She was that nice, huh?" Samantha said. Dexter stopped his workout on the machine and said, "Why do I have to use this stupid machine?" "Because women like men with strong chests, and hard abs," Samantha answered. Dexter laughed and said, "Like that is ever going to happen?" "Have you looked in the mirror, lately?" Samantha asked. "When I shaved this morning," Dexter answered. "Well, you better spend a little more time looking at yourself in the mirror," Samantha said. Dexter had lost a lot of the fat that had made him look like a Jelly Roll Baby. His shoulders were broader and his stomach had flattened. His clothes were a little large, but tightening his belt had taken care of most of it. He did need to make another shopping trip to get clothes that fit a little better. "Why?" Samantha said, "You're turning into quite a hunk, for a man your age." "Walter Brennan was a hunk, 'for a man of his age, '" Dexter said. Samantha stared at Dexter with a puzzled expression on her face for a moment, wondering who Walter Brennan was. It dawned on her that he was a character actor who played grumpy old men in a couple of ancient western films. She burst out laughing, as she said, "Don't be silly!" "Well, he was," Dexter asserted. Samantha said, "Don't go changing the subject. I was asking you about your date." "No, you were going to answer why I have to use this damned machine," Dexter said. "I answered your question," Samantha said. "Now answer mine. What was your date like?" "I went back to the jazz club," Dexter said. "Have you been back there?" "I've been back there a couple of times," Samantha said. "With Calvin?" "Of course. He's been practicing the Saxophone again, thinking that he might join in on those Saturday sessions. You should hear him, he sounds pretty good." "I've heard him practicing, and he is damned good. Don't forget that I live right below him," Dexter said. "I forgot about that." "So are you getting serious with him?" "Yes, I am." Dexter asked, "Why haven't I seen you around Calvin's place?" "We go back to mine," Samantha answered. "Ah!" Dexter said, as though she had just said something significant. "Don't go changing the subject on me," Samantha said. "What was your date like?" "I told you. I went to the jazz club," Dexter said. Sounding a little frustrated, Samantha said, "Her! I want to hear about her." "She's pretty." "Ah! That tells me everything I want to know," Samantha said rolling her eyes. "What?" Samantha answered, "You had a horrible time on your date." "No, I didn't." "You must have. You went to the jazz club and your date was pretty. That's a pretty poor summary of an evening out," Samantha said. "What more do you want to know?" Dexter asked. He was really puzzled by the questioning. Samantha answered, "Well, things like how was she? What did you talk about? What did she wear?" "I don't ask you those kinds of things about your dates with Calvin," Dexter said. Samantha said, "You didn't have to ask those questions about my first date with Calvin. You were there." "Well, yeah. I guess so," Dexter said. "Get on the rowing machine, and tell me all about your date. I want to know everything ... from when you picked her up, to when you took her home," Samantha said knowing that Dexter was at his most relaxed when rowing. Happy to get off 'The Bastard, ' Dexter told about how he had picked Ann up at the agency. He had gone inside to see where she worked. It was kind of hard to tell just how successful she was by her work area. She had a nice desk that was fairly neat, although there were a few folders stacked up on one side of it. Of course, all of the desks in the agency were basically the same. He started to tell her how they had left the agency and went to dinner, but Samantha interrupted to get a detailed description of the clothes Ann had worn. Dexter's description of her outfit being a typical 'little black dress', with a low cut neckline and a hem that showed lots of leg didn't satisfy Samantha's curiosity. However, that was as much detail as he could remember, and he didn't feel comfortable telling about how appreciative he was of the low neckline! Actually, Samantha's curiosity was greater than Dexter's ability to satisfy it. He couldn't remember what they talked about over the meal. He did remember that he did most of the talking. Ann had been remarkably well informed about his website. Of course, all of that was public knowledge. He did have a feeling that Ann was a little disappointed in his choice of restaurants. He had taken her to one of those middle-of-the-road surf and turf places. It wasn't a chain, but it wasn't a high-end place, either. Dexter had picked it, because he felt comfortable with the atmosphere, and the food was pretty good. The service had been great. Samantha's interest was piqued when he talked about the visit to the jazz club. He had taken a seat in the non-alcoholic section. Dexter had had several glasses of N-A beer while Ann had had several glasses of N-A wine. Samantha's questioning suggested that Ann wasn't all that happy that the wine didn't seem to affect her. Dexter then described taking Ann back to the agency, but left out the exchange of good night kisses. It was a fairly tame date, consistent with Dexter's expectations. He didn't figure Ann would invite him back to her place for a nightcap, so he wasn't disappointed when such an invitation failed to be extended. She did accept a date for the next Tuesday, though. Samantha had frowned through most of his description of the date. There were some details about his date that bothered her, although she couldn't put her finger on them. Of course, first dates tended to be a little awkward. Each party was carefully presenting his or her case as a potential mating partner while exploring the fitness of the other. As much as she liked him, she felt that Dexter was basically a pretty boring man, though she didn't mean that in a negative way. Amber pretty much agreed with her on that point. His only hobby was camping, and he didn't go camping that frequently. He had a few stories to tell about his camping trips, but they were pretty mundane. Basically, his stories were along the lines of what animals he had seen. He worked on his website for a couple hours every day, dealing with common frustrations within the workplace. He very seldom talked about his divorce. In terms of politics, he didn't have any really strong opinions. Dexter had stopped rowing before finishing his description of the date. "So she seemed to have a good time," Samantha said. "I think she did," Dexter said. "Did she talk about herself much?" "Not all that much." Samantha was silent for a moment. She looked at his left hand and frowned. She asked, "So, she didn't have a problem dating a married man?" "I'm divorced. You know that," Dexter said shocked by the question. "I know that, but she doesn't." "I told her that I was divorced." "And she just accepted it?" Dexter said, "Of course. I wouldn't lie about that." "You might not, but other men would." "Why would she possibly think I would be lying about that?" Dexter challenged. Samantha pointed to his left hand. "You're still wearing your wedding ring." Stunned, Dexter looked down at his left hand. There on his ring finger was the gold band signifying his marriage to Janet. He played with it for a moment, as though attempting to remove it, but ended up leaving it on his finger. "I forgot to take if off when the divorce became final," Dexter said. "I don't think so," Samantha pointed out. "It never dawned on me to remove it," Dexter said. "That's because you still love Janet." "No!" "Yes!" Dexter said, "We're divorced." "So what?" Samantha challenged. Dexter said, "You don't divorce someone you love." "It happens all of the time. Just because you divorce someone doesn't mean that you don't love the other person. In your case, you divorced Janet because she hurt your feelings," Samantha said. "Don't be ridiculous," Dexter said, denying what he knew was most likely true. Samantha said, "Amber told me about your nightmares." "What nightmares?" Dexter asked knowing that Amber had made reference to him having nightmares, on several occasions. "The ones where you cry in your sleep and ask Janet why she threw you to the curb," Samantha asked. "Well..." "You still have them, don't you?" "Maybe," Dexter answered grudgingly. The fact was, that Dexter seldom had a full night of rest. Even after taking sleeping pills, he awoke in the middle of the night, filled with anger about the divorce. He never remembered his dreams, but he knew that they weren't pleasant. "You love her so much that it hurts to talk about losing her," Samantha said pointedly. "Isn't that true?" "Can't we change the subject? I don't want to talk about it," Dexter said. "You know that Janet still loves you." "No, she doesn't!" "Amber says that Janet still loves you." Dexter knew that Amber had met with Janet on several occasions, after the first time they took the camper to Janet's house. It appeared to Dexter that they had become friends. He feared that the friendship between Amber and Janet would diminish his friendship with Amber. He hoped not. Finding his anger rising, Dexter swore. "Fuck that! The bitch sent me a text message telling me that she wanted a divorce. A loving woman doesn't do that!" "She does when she feels that her lover has betrayed her." "I didn't betray her!" "What would you say you did?" Samantha asked. "I didn't do anything wrong!" Samantha asked, "How about making her feel like a stranger in her own house? You don't think that is a betrayal?" "I didn't do that," Dexter said. "You stole her sense of security from her," Samantha said. Dexter wondered how Samantha knew so much about what had happened between himself and Janet. It seemed to him that she knew a lot of things that he had never told her. Curious, he asked, "How do you know that?" Samantha answered, "Amber knows your wife. We talk about you." "My ex-wife," Dexter corrected. "Until you remove that wedding ring, I'm not going to call her your ex-wife," Samantha said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 4: The Coffee Machine Dexter placed the paper filter into the brewing chamber of the coffeemaker. He carefully measured out the scoops of ground coffee into the paper filter. It always took a little effort to get the brewing chamber placed correctly into the coffeemaker. He then filled the water reservoir to the six-cup level. After rising out the glass carafe one more time, he put the lid on it and then slid it onto the burner, checking to make sure it was in the correct place. He pushed the button, and watched the light come on. It would take a few minutes for the coffeemaker to complete the magic task of brewing a reasonably good pot of coffee. Knowing that, Dexter headed off to the bathroom for his morning ritual. After his shower, Dexter took a moment to study his reflection in the mirror. He decided that Samantha had been right. He was looking pretty fit. Of course, working out wouldn't put any hair back on his head. He wondered about one of those medicines intended to promote hair growth, but figured that the only hair he would grow, would be in his nose and ears. Feeling good about himself, Dexter went into the kitchen. He grabbed a coffee cup and, without looking, picked up the glass coffee carafe from the coffeemaker. It took a fraction of a second for him to realize that it felt a little light. He looked at the carafe. It was empty. "What the fuck? It can't be broken, it's not even a year old, and there are no moving parts," Dexter said. A moment of inspection let him know that the coffeemaker was plugged in, there was water in the holding tank, and coffee in the brewing chamber. The 'power' light was off. He flipped the switch, and nothing happened. The power light remained off. There was no other explanation for the absence of brewed coffee, other than the coffeemaker being defective. "This damned thing is broken," Dexter said. For the first time in ages, the little kernel of engineer in Dexter began to emerge. Rather than toss the coffeemaker, Dexter took it apart to find out why it wasn't working (It should be noted that this was the simplest coffeemaker on the market. There just wasn't that much to it.). It didn't take Dexter much time to locate the heating element. He put an ohmmeter on it, only to discover that there was infinite resistance. He examined the heating element, knowing that it had burned out. "This is a piece of shit," Dexter declared as he headed out the door on his way to the shopping mall. Five hours later, Dexter was surrounded by a variety of drip coffee makers, each of which was completely disassembled. Few devices are as simple as a coffeemaker. There were minor variations. Some had timers to turn on or off the heating element. Others had valves that allowed the user to remove the pot to pour some coffee, in the middle of the brewing cycle. Basically, though, they were the same. Gravity forced water through a one-way valve into a small chamber containing a heating element. The one-way valve prevented the water from flowing back into the water holding tank. The heating element boiled the water, forcing it up through a simple tube. The tube released the water over the brewing basket. Gravity, again, pulled the water through the coffee grounds, out a hole at the base of the brewing basket, and into the coffee carafe. There just isn't much that can go wrong with a drip coffeemaker except for the heating element failing, the tube getting clogged with calcium deposits, or the one-way valve sticking. The weak points are the heating element and the one-way valve. Of the two, the weakest point was the heating element. Dexter looked around at the mess he had made in the little dinette area. The sad thing was, that most of the mess was packaging. He figured that more money had been spent on packaging the coffee machines in plastic, cardboard, and Styrofoam; than had been used to make the machines themselves. The fact was, he'd had fun taking them apart, figuring out how they worked, and finding the design flaw in each coffeemaker ... and each of them did have a serious design flaw. Usually, there was more than one. The most common was the poor quality of the heating element. The diameter of the heating coil inside the heating element was too small. It would burn out after a few hundred uses. This was a flaw that could easily be fixed. A ten percent increase in the diameter of the element wire, would have made it a product that lasted forever. He believed that it was a flaw that could easily be fixed by using existing products. All he had to do, now, was prove that to himself. Feeling good for a change, he said, "That was fun. Now comes the real work." Taking a seat in front of his computer, Dexter cracked his fingers before bringing up his browser. He was now on a mission. Two hours of searching for information on heating elements, had produced a greater understanding of what was involved in getting a quality heating element. He found several heating elements intended for commercial grade coffee makers that would work, and work well. Although this particular project was a little outside Dexter's area of expertise, he had come to the conclusion that it was possible to build a simple drip coffeemaker, that could be used for at least twenty years. He knew there were engineers out there who did this for a living. They would know of design heuristics that could avoid the thousand other design problems that could emerge. Dexter spent the next three hours writing an article entitled, "To Engineer Or Not To Engineer." It started with a simple description of his problem with finding a quality coffeemaker. He wrote about how he had taken apart a number of machines of various manufacture to discover common underlying design flaws. He described how good engineers could create a quality product if allowed to actually do their jobs. He called upon engineers who created coffee makers, toasters, and other common appliances to consider leaving the monolithic companies that forced them into producing poorly designed and manufactured products. He suggested that they open their own companies to produce well-designed products, following well established engineering principles. Rather than trying to start a company that produced a hundred different products, they should focus on a single quality product line for home markets. In terms of coffeemakers, he suggested single cup, six cup, and twelve cup machines. These three simple products could take over an entire market sector, if designed and manufactured to high standards. Improvements in quality and style should be done at an engineering pace, rather than in a marketeer's frenzy. There was no real reason to create a new style of coffeemaker every year, to keep up with some fad in fashion. Dexter didn't know of anyone who redecorated their kitchen every year by going out and buying all new appliances. He did know people, including himself, who complained that their coffeemaker broke after a year and they'd had to replace it. Dexter argued that a good engineer could design products that would last twenty years with a price tag of only a few dollars more than the price of the garbage currently on the market. There was no real reason that these products couldn't last a lifetime. He suggested they be called 'Heirloom Products, ' after the idea that children could inherit their parent's coffeemaker, toaster, or whatever. Dexter recognized that the most immediate question would be the profitability of such a strategy. He pointed out a certain tool company, with a lifetime warranty on its products, had been selling tools for decades. He noted that not only was it still in business, it was still at the top of its trade. He suggested that having a coffeemaker with that same kind of warranty would revolutionize the world of household appliances. The idea of a 'no questions asked, in store replacement' strategy on products with a twenty-year warranty was suggested. All it would require, would be inscribing the date of manufacture on the base of the product. Continuing with the demand for quality, Dexter felt that engineers should sign their work. It was a sign of pride and ownership. There was nothing like buying a product with the name of the person who designed it inscribed on it, somewhere. John Deere signed his product by putting his name upon it. Henry Ford did the same. Why not small appliances? Dexter uploaded the article. It was only after finishing it that he realized he had worked through breakfast and lunch. Despite having parts of a dozen coffee makers lying around the place, he still hadn't even had a cup of coffee. It had been a long time since anything had captured his interest like that. After a late lunch, Dexter puttered around his apartment. He cleaned up the mess he had created by taking apart so many coffee makers. It was the heat conducting grease that was the most difficult to eliminate. There were going to be spots of it on the floor for a long time. He figured the only way to get rid of it, was to replace the carpet. He checked the website over the course of the afternoon, finding that his article had generated almost no interest. There had been a few emails, but mostly they were telling him that it was the worst article that he had put on the site yet. Well, that was to be expected. Who was really in a position to leave the company where they were working, to start up something that was so risky? Dexter had to admit that it was a pipe dream. He knew he didn't know enough to start a venture like that, even though he had the money. It was dinnertime before he plopped himself down in front of his television set to watch the news. Considering how often he was mentioned, it had become habit to watch the business news programs, just to see what they were saying about him. He thought he had become thick-skinned when it came to news commentaries. "Dexter James is a naive fool," was the lead statement to that evening's program. For the next thirty minutes he listened while pundits, experts, and financial advisers trashed his article. According to them, he had shown his true ignorance of how a business was run. Dexter's ears felt so hot, that he was amazed his hair didn't catch fire. At the second commercial break, Dexter pulled out his cell phone and called his internet provider. He warned them to ramp up the bandwidth, and to get the backup servers online. He expected a firestorm to erupt at any time. The system administrator on the other end of the call, let Dexter know that that traffic was already increasing. After Dexter hung up, his cell phone rang. He checked the caller id and was surprised by the identity of his caller. Dexter answered, "Hello, Ed." "Dexter, have you been listening to the garbage being spouted on the Xander Show?" Ed Daimler asked. "Yes, I have," Dexter answered. Ed said, "I'm pissed." "It definitely isn't very flattering to me," Dexter said. The fact was that the program had transitioned from criticizing his ideas, to criticizing him. He felt that this was rather unprofessional of the individuals making the commentaries. It was one thing to say that an idea was bad. It was another thing entirely to say the person with the idea was a total idiot. "I read your article and I agree with damned near every word you wrote. I started my company on the principle of quality first. I even put my name on the door of the company, to let people know that I took pride in my work. I backed my products with the most aggressive warranty in the market. To hear those scum sucking assholes declare that to be the epitome of narcissism and bad business practice, makes me mad." "I agree with you," Dexter said, thinking that Ed was going to write a nasty email to Phil Xander. Ed said, "I'm going to the studio tomorrow, to give that damned Phil Xander a piece of my mind." "Really?" Dexter asked surprised that Ed would defend him like that. "Yes. And I want you to come with me," Ed said. That took Dexter by surprise. Stuttering, Dexter said, "I ... I ... I've never been on television, before." "No problem. Just tell it like it is, and you'll trample those idiots into the ground," Ed said. "But..." "They wouldn't know how to run a lemonade stand, much less a real business." "But..." "I know a couple of other men whose names are on their company. I'll be making some calls, tonight. I'll bet I can find a dozen of them who would join us on that show. We'll show those assholes what's what," Ed said. "You're really angry," Dexter said. Ed said, "You bet I am. I built Daimler Plastics from the ground up. I stood behind every product I shipped out the door. When I retired, the suits that took over the company damned near destroyed it. They were talking crap like those assholes on the Xander Show. It has got to stop." "I couldn't agree with you more," Dexter said. Unfortunately, Dexter didn't think he would make a very good spokesperson. He didn't have the full head of hair with the proper amount of gray, to give him that distinguished leader look like most executives had. He didn't even have a good suit to wear on the program. At best, he had a sport coat, slacks, and white shirt. "Dexter, I really want you to go there with me," Ed said. "Where, exactly, would we be going?" Dexter asked. "New York City." "I'll have to see if I can get a flight," Dexter said. He figured that a last minute flight would cost a fortune, but he could afford it. It would probably be an early morning flight, and he'd arrive feeling like hell. He hated business travel. "Dexter, I know you have money. It's time you learned how to use it to your best advantage. Call up an executive charter service. Arrange for them to fly you, tomorrow, at a time of your convenience. They can arrange for a limo to take you to the Astoria. We'll meet there around two in the afternoon, and then head over to the studio," Ed said. "You don't even know if they are going to put us on the show," Dexter said. Ed laughed. "There's a certain real estate magnate whose name is on a dozen buildings and businesses around the country. He'll get us invited." "Oh." Ed said, "I happen to be camping, so I won't be bringing a suit with me. In fact, I'll be there dressed real casual: slacks and a long-sleeved blue shirt. I suggest that you wear something similar." "Why?" Dexter asked. "I want them to think of us as working men, not lawyers or accountants or sniveling little assholes who hide behind silk ties and expensive suits. I want to come across as a guy who is not afraid of rolling up his shirtsleeves and getting dirty to get the job done. You see, business isn't about making the deal. It's about delivering on the deal, so you get paid," Ed answered. "That's a good line. I hope you use it, tomorrow," Dexter said. "Don't worry. You'll be doing most of the talking," Ed said. Dexter said, "You know ... I'm kind of a private person." "You'll come across as sincere." "I'm not really a public speaker." "You're plenty eloquent." "I'm going to look like fool and that wouldn't reflect well on you," Dexter said. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself," Ed said. "Okay ... I guess I'll see you at the Astoria." "Good. I've got some calls to make," Ed said before ending the call. Dexter stared at the phone, realizing that he had just agreed to appear on an internationally broadcast business program. "Oh, shit! What did I just do?" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 5: The Gladiators Dexter had suffered through having makeup applied, and was waiting in the green room for the show to start. He felt weird wearing makeup, and had to resist the temptation to remove it. It wasn't easy. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. The palms of his hands were sweating and he kept wiping them off on his pants. His stomach flipped each time someone had entered the green room. He was convinced that the moment he stepped onto the stage that he would have to go to the bathroom. His four visits to the bathroom while he was waiting, had not produced much in the way of urine. Ed was much more relaxed about waiting than Dexter was. He tried to tell Dexter a few jokes to ease the tension, but Dexter hadn't responded to them. "Dexter, listen to me. You'll do fine out there. Don't worry about it," Ed said. "I'm really not good at this," Dexter said with a worried expression on his face. "Just imagine that it is a regular business meeting. You've sat through enough of those, to know how to act," Ed said. Thinking back to all of the meetings he had attended, Dexter asked, "You mean that I'm supposed to nod my head like a bobble-head doll, and agree with every idiotic thing he says?" Ed laughed. "No. You're job is to disagree with every idiotic thing he says." "That's a change," Dexter said. Finally, the big moment arrived. Dexter and Ed were taken into the studio. They were seated across a desk from Phil Xander. After a final touch-up of their makeup, they were on the air. Phil Xander introduced the two men. Phil said, "I must say that I'm pleased to be the first to interview the notorious Dexter James." "Notorious?" Dexter said. Phil said, "You've got to admit that you're kind of a wild man." "You think I'm a wild man?" Dexter asked getting irritated. Phil said, "You've come out with a lot of controversial stuff over the past year. It is a real pleasure to finally get you here, where I can ask you some serious questions." "Not for much longer," Dexter muttered. "What did you say?" Dexter answered, "You're not going to be pleased for much longer." "Why do you say that?" "Let me ask this, Mr. Xander," Dexter said getting a raised eyebrow by the formal address to the host. "I noticed that your program is called the 'Phil Xander Show.' Yesterday, you said that having engineers put their names on products was an idiotic idea. Why did you name your program after yourself, if you consider that to be ... and I quote... 'the epitome of narcissism?'" "That's different. I'm staking my reputation, here," Phil answered. Dexter asked, "Don't you think an engineer should stake his reputation on every product he designs?" "I guess he should," Phil said. Dexter said, "Yesterday, you said that it was stupid." "It just hasn't been done," Phil said. Dexter said, "That's wrong. John Deere did it. Henry Ford did it. Marconi did it. Westinghouse did it. I can go on all day about engineers who put their names on their products." Ed piped up, "I put my name on the whole company." "I'll concede that point," Phil said weakly. Dexter said, "You also said that customers wouldn't be served by having coffeemakers that lasted twenty years. Would you like to bet a steak dinner on that?" "Sure," Phil said. Dexter turned to face the camera. He said, "I have a request to make of everyone who has had a coffeemaker fail on them this month, or wants the next coffeemaker they buy to be the last one they have to buy. I would appreciate it if you would send an email to the Phil Xander Show during the next commercial break." "Don't suggest that," Phil said looking horrified. Ed snickered. Dexter said, "You also said that a business that produced a product that lasted twenty years wouldn't stay in business twenty years. I disagree with that. I think it will be an exceptionally stable business." Ed interjected, "After an initial flurry of sales, such a business would probably settle down to a consistent sales level every year. It would be a very stable business so long as it kept up its quality." "The stockholders expect growth," Phil said. "I strongly disagree with that. A nice stable company is exactly the kind of stock that grandmother wants her retirement money invested in. She doesn't want a stock that fluctuates every damned day and is liable to lose all of its value overnight. She wants one that produces a consistent return on investment, year after year," Dexter said. Ed said, "There are a lot of grandmothers who've lost their retirement moneys because of that 'must grow' mentality." "It is a well known maxim in business that a company has to grow or it will die," Phil said. Dexter said, "Did you know that at one time people thought ice cream caused polio?" "You're kidding?" "Nope. It turns out that there was a strong statistical correlation between sales of ice cream, and outbreaks of polio. Of course, the real reason for the correlation was because polio is a summer-time disease, and ice cream is a summer-time treat," Dexter said. "We're not talking polio here," Phil said. Dexter said, "Perhaps the reason that so many companies have to grow or die isn't a law of business, but is a consequence of introducing management structures and practices that sap a stable company of its stability. "How many companies bloat their management staff once they get to a certain level of success? How many companies start emphasizing process over productivity? How many turn to the bottom line for every decision rather than an emphasis on a product? How many companies have executives who suck every penny of profit out of the company? "I think ... I might be wrong, though I doubt that I am ... that there are a lot of reasons why a company might have to grow or die. "For one, I think that management fails to remember what made the company successful. I think they forget about customer need, customer service, and quality; in order to purse a profit. "I suggest that our business academicians might be better served to investigate those reasons, rather than prescribing a bandage that masks the true issues." "Everyone knows that a business has to grow or die," Phil said. Dexter said, "Everyone knew that stress caused ulcers. Now we know that ulcers are caused by bacteria. Everyone knew the earth was flat. Now we know that it isn't. Don't give me that 'everyone knows' argument." Ed said, "We went through some growing pains in my company. There was a lot of room for expansion in the early days. Then we reached a point where the market was saturated. I had a choice of trying to grow by expanding my product line or accepting that my business was as large as it was going to get. "I looked around at my options and found that I didn't see any real business areas that made sense for me to expand into. I chose to accept that I had my share of the market, and that my job was to maintain that share. Much to my surprise, many of the companies in the injection molding business started to fail. My market share grew with each failure of my competitors. "Now you might think that it was because the market was shrinking. That wasn't the case. The market was nearly stable, and growing only slowly. You see, a lot of my competitors chose to diversify, but failed in their expansion plans and went out of business. I focused on my maintaining my core business, and I survived. "It took three idiots less than five years to drive a stable company to a point where it was nearly out of business. They bought into that whole 'expand or die' nonsense. "For a couple of years they were able to play accounting games that made it look like the company was growing. What they were really doing, was lining their pockets, rather than serving as caretakers. They put into place idiotic policies 'to save money'. They cost the company far more money than could ever be saved. The paper bill for all of the extra paperwork ate up a full ten percent of the profits. "Dexter is right about there being reasons that some companies have to grow in order to survive. Of course, I think the biggest reason a lot of business executives feel that way, is out of greed. You can't get a forty million dollar bonus, if your company only does forty million dollars worth of business. It's got to grow until they can grab the big bucks. If it falls apart later, who cares? They got their money out of it." Phil said, "I disagree. If a small company doesn't grow quickly enough, the large companies will put it out of business faster than you can blink. If they can't do that, then they'll buy it. The concerns of a large company have to change from the small company mindset in order for it to survive. "There are a lot of factors that dictate certain business practices. Even the laws change once you hit certain levels of employment. Your arguments suggest a certain naiveté when it comes to the need for growth." Dexter said, "I keep having this image of a giant bloated elephant, being swarmed by army ants. Sure, the elephant out masses any single army ant, but the number of ants overwhelms the elephant. I think a hundred small businesses, each of which is taking a small chunk out of a big business, will eventually put that big business, out of business! "It starts with coffeemakers, then toasters, can openers, electric griddles, blenders, and who knows what else. "Each little company takes a little bite out of the big guy. At first, the big guy doesn't feel a thing. Then there will be a little concern that sales are down a couple of percent, across the board. After a while, the company that once had a thirty percent market share will discover that it has a three percent market share." Ed said, "It gets even better than that. For the big company, it will look like the market is shrinking, because everyone who buys the well made coffee pot today, won't be buying one next year or the year after that." "You've got a really good point," Dexter said looking over at Ed. "I think so," Ed said with a grin. Phil said, "Just think of how many people you'll be putting out of work." "Just think of all the other things I'll be able to buy because I'm not spending my money on new coffeemakers every year. I might get a new lamp or a set of golf clubs," Dexter said. "I'm sure that those other sales will employ people." Phil said, "You know that those companies will start out like you say, but they'll discover that it doesn't work. The smart ones will grow and the dumb ones will go out of business. Before you know it, they'll be big companies themselves and nothing will have changed." "You might be right about that," Dexter said. "It may be inevitable that the greedy and incompetent will rise to the top of a company and then suck it dry, but I think there are a lot of smart businessmen out there who don't feel that way." Phil said, "You make it sound like it is a trivial matter to create a product that lasts a long time. We all know that it isn't easy, and it isn't cheap." Dexter looked over at Phil with an expression suggesting that he was looking at something disgusting, on the bottom of his shoe. He said, "I know what engineers have been allowed to do, and I know what engineers are capable of doing. The difference between those two facts is like the difference between night and day. American engineers can create products that will blow your mind in terms of styling, quality, and functionality." "I think that is a myth," Phil said. "Everyone knows that American workers are productive, but the fact of the matter is, they are expensive. There's no way that they can be productive enough to offset their high cost." "So you think the American Worker is the enemy of profits?" Dexter asked. "To a certain extent, that's true," Phil said. Ed said, "That's wrong. My company grew because of good dedicated workers. These are folks who occasionally stayed a little late to fix some problem. These are folks who suggested ways to improve our business. "You might get a guy on the production floor who makes a suggestion that saves you all of the money you'll ever pay him, for the rest of the time he stays at the company. Effectively, he becomes free labor, because of that one suggestion. "You don't get that with slave labor. If you have slaves making your goods, do you know what you get? You get garbage made by slaves." "It doesn't change the fact that American workers are overpaid," Phil said. "I'll tell you something! You don't know what the hell you're saying! You can take away a million dollar bonus from one executive, and give a thousand employees a thousand dollar a year raise. Knock off ten million dollars of bonus money, and you can give ten thousand employees a thousand dollar raise," Dexter said. Phil said, "Those executives earn those bonuses." Now it was Ed's turn to give Phil a dirty look. He said, "The largest bonus I ever gave myself, as the head of my company, was fifty thousand dollars ... and that was the year that I retired. That same year, I gave the janitor a five hundred dollar Christmas bonus. That's a reasonable difference between the guy at the bottom and the guy at the top. "Those three jokers that I tossed out of my company gave themselves millions of dollars in bonuses, while driving my company into the dirt. The janitor got nothing at Christmas time. That's not reasonable, and it's not right." Dexter said, "Those three should have been paying the company for the stupid things they did." Phil said, "I still disagree with the kind of humiliation you were proposing for those men." Ed said, "The difference between the founder of a company, and an executive of a company; is the same as the difference between a home owner, and a renter. The homeowner takes pride of ownership, and maintains the property. A renter just doesn't give a damn." Phil said, "We're going to have to break..." Dexter shouted, "Don't forget to email the show about coffeemakers during the commercials! Did your coffeemaker break recently? Do you want a..." "We're off the air!" Glaring at Dexter, Phil shouted, "Don't ever shout over me on my show, Dexter James!" "Or what?" Dexter asked. "I'll toss you out of here so fast that your head will spin," Phil said poking a finger in Dexter's direction. "I guess I'd better not do that again," Dexter said without sounding the least bit repentant. "You better not," Phil said. "You better offer to buy your IT people dinner, tonight," Dexter said glancing down at his watch. "Why?" "Because, in about a minute, your mail servers are going to go down ... and they are going to go down hard," Dexter said with a smile. A woman came over to fix Dexter's makeup while two other women were fussing over Ed and Phil. Dexter growled, "I saw myself on the monitor. I looked like a clown. You gave me purple lips. I don't have purple lips." "I'll fix it," the woman said. "Please do," Dexter said. "Quit talking," the woman said. "Phil?" echoed from the speakers. "What?" "The mail servers crashed!" "Damn!" "See," Dexter said grinning at Phil and earning a dirty look from the makeup woman. Ed said, "Damn, you're good." "I figured they'd get somewhere between ten and twenty thousands emails in the first minute of commercials. I'm not the only one who is tired of being forced to buy junk, to replace junk," Dexter said. "I guess so," Ed said chuckling. Phil said, "You can't run a successful household goods business, with a twenty year warranty on the products." "Sure you can," Dexter said. Ed said, "I'd put money on it." "So would I," Dexter said. "We'll be on air in five, four, three..." The makeup women scurried off the set. Turning to face the camera, Phil said, "We're back with Dexter James and Ed Daimler. During the break they said that they felt so strongly about this, that they were willing to put up money." Ed said, "That's right." "How much?" "Ten million," Dexter answered. "The same," Ed said glancing over at Dexter. "What product?" "Coffeemakers," Dexter answered. "Fifteen million coffeemakers are sold every year. I'll be more than happy to take five percent of that market." Ed said, "Daimler Plastics will make the plastic parts." "You men are serious," Phil said. "Yes, we are," Ed said. Dexter's cell phone dinged letting him know that he'd gotten a text message. Phil glared at Dexter at the interruption. Someone should have told him not to bring his phone onto the set. Ignoring the dirty look from Phil, Dexter dug the cell phone out of his shirt pocket. He looked at it, and chuckled upon reading the message. "My investment manager just texted me. He has a client who's willing to throw two million in on this deal." "Would you turn that cell phone off," Phil said wondering if he should put some money into it. Dexter said, "By the way, you owe me a steak dinner." "Why?" "Your mail servers crashed as a result of people supporting my position. I'd say that kinda proves my point," Dexter answered. "We'll talk about that during the commercial break," Phil said. Dexter said, "This break, let's have everyone email your show who thinks that a five year limited warranty on a hot water heater really sucks." Phil said, "Please don't." "Why not? Are you concerned that many of those great business leaders who are heads of companies that are producing the majority of consumer products have forgotten what it means to provide service, quality, and value?" Dexter asked. "It's not that," Phil said. "Well then, what it is?" Dexter asked. "It's just that there are a lot of people out there who will complain about anything," Phil said. "I think it is interesting that in order to get a real warranty, you have to pay for it. They call it an extended warranty, but it is really the warranty that should have been on the product to begin with," Dexter said. Ed said, "I hate those things." "Did you ever buy one?" "Yes and it was a waste of money," Ed answered. "Didn't need it or it didn't help?" Dexter asked. Ed answered, "I bought a cheap laptop for four hundred bucks to use in my camper and they sold me a second year of warranty on it for fifty bucks. I opened the thing one day and the screen fell off. I took the damn thing in and they told me that particular part wasn't covered by the extended warranty. They said the machine was clearly abused. Abused? I just used it." "I had a similar problem with my MP3 player," Phil said. "I don't buy those extended warranties any more." Dexter said, "Every production line is going to produce an occasional defective part. It is a fact of manufacturing that there will be defects. Now, you can test the hell out of every item off the line or just accept that you will have some defects. A warranty is intended assure customers that even if they buy a defective item that it will be repaired or replaced. Standing behind a warranty can be expensive if you are producing a lot of defects. Of course, testing the hell out of every product before it leaves the factory is even more expensive. "What a properly run company will do is selectively test products off the line, examine returned items, and study the manufacturing process for problems. They will make improvements to the design and the production process to reduce the number of defects. That reduces the number of defects and makes standing behind a warranty much cheaper." Ed said, "Now when you produce an entirely revised product every year, you can't follow that process because you've ended production of a product before the cycle can complete even once. What happens? You end up with a high percentage of defects. Your warranty will kill any chance of profit. Rather than fix the real problem, you limit the warranty so that you can make a profit." Dexter said, "It seems as if every company producing consumer products has taken the same strategy. The result is that costumers are faced with having to decide among products of low quality with warranties that mean nothing." Ed said, "Marketeers have decided that people want a new style every year. Dexter and I believe that people want products that last." "You'll be proven wrong," Phil said. Dexter said, "I'm reminded of a German car company that produced essentially the same car from World War II until the late seventies without making a major engineering or stylistic change to the car. Any changes they made were to improve the quality of the product. They had ads showing a person hanging off an open door. They had ads showing that it was so well constructed that it didn't sink in water. Those damned cars were rugged things and cheaper than any car produced in the US. I'll admit that they were ugly as sin, but people bought them. You still see them on the road in some parts of the country even though they haven't been on the market for forty years." Phil said, "I think everyone watching the show knows what car company you are talking about." Ed said, "That's our point. That same car company doesn't have the same customer loyalty today that it had then." Dexter said, "They broke into the American market at a time when it was controlled by the big three automakers. It was the cheapest car on the market despite the fact that German workers cost more than American workers at the time. They were paid better and they had even more days of vacation." Ed said, "Japanese automakers did the same thing. They introduced an inexpensive car, improved it over years, and kept the price down. They grabbed a huge percentage of the market share. They introduced higher end cars to take advantage of customers loyal to their products who wanted to move up in style and comfort. That strategy worked. Now they control the American car market." Dexter said, "It's not going to last. They've made the same mistake that the big three made and started coming out with completely new models every year. They now have quality problems, the prices on their products have gone up, and they have lost customer loyalty. "If you were to ask me what has changed, it is that corporate decisions stopped being made by engineers and started being made by marketeers." "And accountants," Ed interjected. "And accountants," Dexter admitted. "The point is that they've fallen into a trap that will allow a smaller company to come in and replace them as the dominate force in the automotive market. There is a well established process that was used by Ford, by the Germans, and by the Japanese." Phil interrupted and said, "We have to break for..." "Email about warranties," Dexter shouted. Furious, Phil turned to Dexter and shouted, "I told you..." "We're off the air." "Sorry," Dexter said without seeming the least bit repentant. Ed chuckled. Phil shouted, "That's it. You're off the show." Dexter turned to Ed and asked, "Where there any other points you wanted to make?" "No. I think we said all that needed to be said," Ed answered. "Are you up for dinner?" Dexter asked. "I am getting a little hungry." The voice from overhead said, "The servers are down again." "Shit," Phil swore. "Let's go." "We need to stop by the bathroom to wash all of this makeup off." "Thanks for reminding me." Watching the two men leave, Phil shouted, "You can't just walk off the set like that!" Ed came to a halt. Looking at Dexter, he said, "I just remembered one more thing that I wanted to mention." "Okay," Dexter said. The two men returned to their seats in time for the show to resume. "On the air in five, four, three..." Phil said, "We're back on the air with Dexter James and Ed Daimler." "Phil." "What?" "I'd like to say something," Ed said. "Okay," Phil replied. Ed said, "During the break, you ordered us off the set." "I asked Dexter James to leave the set," Phil corrected. Ed replied, "It was an order and not a request. In light of that, I want to make a comment about yesterday's show. "You spent an hour denigrating the ideas that Dexter had put on his website. In today's show, we basically explained how everything he put on his website yesterday was reasonable. We've demonstrated that people do want quality. They want real warranties. We've given examples of how companies that produced quality products have displaced market leaders who provide low quality products. This was a reasonable dialog. "However, yesterday you also spent a major portion of your show mocking and denigrating the person, Dexter James. That was uncalled for. In fact, I would say that it was despicable since he wasn't even here to defend himself. You owe this man an apology and a very public one, at that. "We weren't denigrating Dexter," Phil objected. Ed asked, "Are the mail servers up?" "Yes," Phil said surprised by the sudden change in topic. Ed said, "How about everyone who thinks that Dexter was treated fairly -- I repeat, treated fairly -- on yesterday's show send in an email stating that?" "Why ask them to validate that he was treated fairly?" Phil asked puzzled by the suggestion. "The silence should be deafening," Ed replied. Smiling, Dexter said, "Your poor IT guys and gals have already had a rough enough day." Ed stood up and said, "In light of the fact that you demanded Dexter to leave the set during the last break and that you have failed to apologize for your treatment of him on your show yesterday, we are leaving." "That's unprofessional," Phil shouted. Ed said, "Calling Dexter James an ignorant, narcissistic, ill-mannered, uncultured, undisciplined, stupid idiot is unprofessional. You said all of those things, and more, about Dexter yesterday." "But..." Ed said, "Good day, Sir. We are leaving." The pair walked off the set with their microphones still on. Dexter said, "Thank you. That was nice of you to defend me like that." "It was my pleasure." "All in all, I think the show went rather well." "I agree." "Someone turn off those microphones!" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 6: Reality Check Calvin sighed with contentment as he settled into the chair on the patio area, in front of the door to Dexter's apartment. That first taste of beer really felt good going down. He set the bottle on the cement of the patio. Calvin said, "I was thinking about having a beer on my ride home. You can't imagine how nice it was to have you offer me one when I got here." "It's a perfect day for a beer," Dexter said leaning back in his chair. "I couldn't agree more." After taking a drink out of his bottle of beer, Dexter asked, "So how are things going with Samantha?" "Good. We've had a lot dates, and only a couple of them were ruined by work. She hasn't complained when I've had to rush off to take care of a problem. I'm very lucky," Calvin said. Calvin reached down and picked up the bottle of beer, leaving a wet condensation ring on the concrete. The weather was hot, the air was muggy, and the beer was cold. He took a swig from the bottle and sighed in pleasure. He set the bottle down on the cement of the patio where it immediately created another ring of water. "She's a nice lady," Dexter said. "She's smart in addition to being pretty," Calvin said. "I think smart women are sexy." "I couldn't agree more," Dexter said. "You'll spend more time talking to a wife, than having sex with her. It's important to be able to talk to her." "Don't give me marriage advice," Calvin said. "Why not?" Dexter asked. Calvin answered, "Amber has told me a little about how you treated your wife." "What did she tell you?" Dexter asked bristling more than a little. "That you acted like an asshole, when your wife sent you that text message," Calvin answered. "Me? I acted like an asshole? That's bullshit," Dexter said angrily. "Maybe. Maybe not," Calvin said. "Maybe I've got thicker skin than you." "What do you mean?" Dexter asked. Calvin said, "You know that I'm a systems administrator, right?" "Yes." "All day long, I get messages from users that some system, somewhere, is not working right. Sometimes, they really get abusive when reporting a problem. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things that people say to me," Calvin said. "I probably would believe," Dexter said. Calvin laughed as he replied, "You might, at that." "So what has that got to do with Amber saying that I acted like an asshole?" Calvin said, "You're wife let you know that your marriage was broken. Did you try to fix it? Nope. Did you even ask what the problem was? Nope. Did you even check to see if the message was an error? Nope. You just ran off, shouting 'fuck you', without even looking back." "I was hurt," Dexter said. "That's not an excuse. You're supposed to fix things, not let them fall apart even more," Calvin said. "But..." "Man up!" Calvin said. "I was sure that she cheated on me," Dexter said. "A man can't stay married to a cheating wife." "Did you have any proof?" Calvin asked. "No." "Shit! The first thing you learn, in 'Troubleshooting 101', is to identify what the real problem is. You didn't do that," Calvin said. "Well..." Calvin took a long drink from his beer. He put the nearly empty bottle down. Calvin said, "You blew it." "You think so?" "Yep." "Shit." Calvin said, "You're a pretty smart guy. I mean ... your advice on your website nails one problem after another. You identify exactly what the real problem is, and then you provide a solution that solves that problem. That's a rare talent." "Thanks," Dexter said. "You should have tried that with your family," Calvin said. "Hey! I'm getting along better with the kids, now," Dexter said defensively. Calvin would have responded, but spotted Mary walking up the sidewalk. He waved to her. She said, "Hello, Calvin. Hello, Dexter." "Hello, Mary," Calvin said. Trying to be polite, Dexter said, "Hello, Mary. Would you care for a beer?" "Sure." Her answer took him by surprise. He hadn't expected her to be interested in joining them for a beer. "Do you want another, Calvin?" Dexter asked while rising from his chair. "No, thank you. I'll take some water," Calvin answered. "I don't like to drink when I'm liable to be called for work. You wouldn't believe what damage you can do, when trying to fix a system problem while intoxicated. It's not pretty." "All I've got is tap water," Dexter said. "That's fine." Mary said, "I never drink tap water." "Why not?" Dexter asked. "It's not as pure as bottled water," Mary said. "I'd argue that," Calvin said. Dexter decided that he didn't want to be part of that conversation. His personal opinion was, that bottled water was one of the greatest crimes against the American public ever perpetrated by marketing folks. Half the time the water was tap water, despite misleading product names. It was a scam to get people to pay an exorbitant amount for money for something that was basically almost free. A lot of the bottled water crowd didn't appreciate his comments about being fooled into spending their money for nothing. He went in the apartment to get Mary's beer, and a glass of water for Calvin. While in the kitchen getting the glass for the water, he decided that he should probably get a glass for Mary's beer, since most women preferred to drink out a glass rather than a bottle. He filled one glass with water, after adding a little ice to it. He carried the beverages out to the little patio in front of his apartment door. He handed the glass of water to Calvin. After handing Mary the glass, he opened the beer and held it out for her. "I don't need a glass," Mary said while taking the beer and handing the glass back to him. "Sorry." "Don't be. It was a nice thought, but I can drink out of the bottle as well as the next guy," Mary said. "Okay. Why don't you sit in my chair? I'll bring another one out," Dexter said. "Thanks," Mary said. Dexter went back in the house and brought out another chair. He sat down just at the entrance to his apartment. Mary asked, "What were you two arguing about when I came up?" "Nothing," Calvin answered diplomatically. Dexter answered, "He was telling me that I was an asshole concerning how I treated my ex-wife." "What did you do?" "I divorced her," Dexter answered. "Were you screwing around?" Mary asked. "No!" "She asked for a divorce, and Dexter just ran off, without even talking to her," Calvin answered. "Why did she want a divorce?" Mary asked. "She says that it's because I wondered who she was, when she came home from work one night," Dexter answered. "What?" Mary asked looking a little confused. "She needed a hug, and he asked who she was," Calvin answered. "She was almost out of the room when I said, 'Who was that woman?' She didn't say anything about needing a hug," Dexter said. He wasn't sure when the events that his wife said had taken place, had actually taken place. There had been quite a few evenings that he had wondered about Janet, and his relationship with her. He didn't recall asking the question, but Janet had insisted that he had asked it. He did know that his wife had never mentioned needing a hug. "I'm not sure that I understand," Mary said. "Neither do I," Calvin said. "That makes three of us," Dexter said. Mary asked, "Didn't you ask her?" "No." "You should have," Mary said. "Why?" "Did you love her?" "Well ... I ... I guess so," Dexter answered. Calvin said, "Check out his ring finger. My girlfriend remarked on that the other day." "You're still wearing your wedding ring," Mary said after leaning over to examine his ring finger. "So?" "Jeeze! You still love her," Mary asserted. "Well, I didn't ask for the divorce," Dexter said. Calvin said, "You really fought hard to save your marriage. You never talked to her about it, until after you got shot. You wouldn't listen to her when she tried to explain what happened. You basically threw her away, even when she was begging to stay married." "That's horrible," Mary said. Dexter said, "She texted me that she wanted a divorce." Calvin said, "You still love her. Judging by that ring on your finger, you haven't really accepted that you're not married to her. According to Amber, your ex-wife still wants to be married to you." "Maybe." "Do you like being single?" Mary asked. The way she stated the question, made being single sound like a fate worse than death. It was obvious that she wasn't happy being single. Calvin's expression supported her attitude. "Not really," Dexter answered. "So why aren't you trying to get her back?" Calvin asked. "Because..." "Because what?" "I don't know." Mary said, "Call her and ask her out on a date." "That's a good idea," Calvin said. "That's a horrible idea," Dexter said. "Why?" "I don't know. We're divorced." "So?" "I don't know," Dexter said unable to come up with a reason. Calvin said, "Is she interested in dating you?" "She said she was," Dexter said. "So call her and ask her out on a date," Calvin said. "I don't know." Calvin said, "When something breaks, you take it apart, replace the bad part, and put it back together again. If you can do that with something as complex as a dishwasher, you can do it with a marriage. You've taken apart the marriage. Now you can fix the bad part and put it back together again." "You said I was an asshole," Dexter said. "That's one of the bad parts," Calvin said with a chuckle. Mary said, "That's an easy part to fix: stop being an asshole!" "I don't know," Dexter said. "Come on, Dexter. It's time for you to 'man up'. Go back to your wife and tell her you were wrong." Mary looked down the walkway and spotted Dexter's neighbor walking towards them. She said, "Hello, Xavier." "Hi, Mary." "Xavier?" Dexter asked wondering if he had heard correctly. "That's my name," Xavier said. "Wasn't that the name of the Happy Hooker?" Calvin asked. "She was named Xaviera, not Xavier. The 'a' makes it a woman's name," Xavier answered looking very irritated by the question. "Sorry," Calvin said. It was obvious that Xavier had been asked that question many times and was very sensitive about it. Dexter was lucky that Calvin had asked first. He had been about to ask the same question. Xavier said, "Now you know." Dexter asked, "Would you care for a beer?" "I'd like to get into my apartment," Xavier said. "Sorry. Just thought I'd offer," Dexter said. Looking over at Calvin, Xavier said, "Do you mind backing away from my door?" "There's plenty of room," Calvin said. "I don't like being near people," Xavier said. Mary said, "Lighten up, Xavier. They won't hurt you." "You don't know anything," Xavier said. "They're my friends," Mary said. Dexter was shocked to hear Mary call him a friend, particularly after she had maced him. He was also surprised that she knew Xavier. He kind of figured that she viewed all men as little more than possible modern incarnations of Attila The Hun ... ready to rape her at the drop of a hat. "Will you vouch for them?" Xavier asked. "I'm drinking a beer with them. You know my story," Mary said. "Do you think I would risk drinking a beer with them if I didn't trust them?" Xavier frowned and looked at the ground. After taking a deep breath, he said, "I guess one beer wouldn't hurt." "Good for you, Xavier," Mary said. Dexter said, "One beer coming up." "Could you put it in a glass?" Xavier asked. "Sure." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 7: Advice Dexter dialed the number, hoping that he wouldn't have another evening alone at home. Amber answered on the second ring. "Hello, Dexter." "Hello, Amber." "What's up?" "I was sitting here feeling kinda lonely, and was wondering if you were free tonight. Are you?" Dexter asked. Amber giggled. "I'm never free for lonely men." "I don't mean like that," Dexter said. "I was wondering if you wanted to get together tonight. Are you busy?" "As a matter of fact, I am," Amber said. "Okay," Dexter said. "I was hoping we could go listen to some jazz, or something." Amber said, "Why don't I swing by your place after I finish up with my client? It shouldn't be too late. He's married and has to get home at a reasonable time." "What's a reasonable time?" Dexter asked. "We'll be done by ten," Amber answered. Dexter said, "I can deal with ten." "Okay, I'll see you then," Amber said. She hung up the phone. Dexter wondered what kind of guy had a prostitute for his best friend. He probably saw more of Amber than anyone else. Sometimes, they just went out for burgers at lunchtime, or met to exercise together at the gym, or generally hung out together. More often than not, she called him. It was a strange kind of relationship. They seldom talked about what she did for a living. Mostly, Dexter talked about his various experiences in searching out places that still provided service. She made comments about his observations, reflecting a young disbelief that things had even been the way he described. She found his desire to change the world into a friendlier and nicer place, endearing. She wasn't sure if she believed it was possible. For his part, he enjoyed her company. Even when they did nothing but sit around saying little, he cherished the time spent with her. She was nothing like any woman he had ever known. She tended to be upbeat most of the time, but there were days when she was very depressed. On those occasions, she just wanted someone to hold her. It was a little after nine when there was a knock on Dexter's door. He opened it to find Amber standing there. It was obvious that she hadn't gone by her apartment to change clothes after her 'date.' She was dressed in a very revealing outfit. The skirt was way too short, and the low cut blouse barely concealed the treasures beneath it. He could tell that she was wearing stockings. "Come on in, Amber." "My date ended early," Amber said. She held out a paper bag and added, "I brought a little something to drink." Dexter accepted the bag from her. He looked inside. A glance at the label was sufficient to identify the source of the wine. "German wine?" "I don't really feel like going out. How about we just drink a little wine and talk?" Amber asked. "That's fine with me. Why don't you have a seat while I open the wine and get some glasses?" "Can I use your bathroom to freshen up?" "Sure." Dexter went into the kitchen to open the wine. It was only when he pulled the bottle out of the bag that he realized that he wouldn't need a corkscrew. The wine bottle had a screw-on top. He grabbed two glasses and carried them out to the living room. He unscrewed the cap from the bottle, and filled two glasses with white wine. Amber came out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts. She flopped down on one of the living room chairs and said, "I hope you don't mind me borrowing one of your shirts." "Not at all," Dexter said while handing her a glass of wine. "I was getting tired of my ass showing and my tits hanging out," Amber said. "I can understand that. I guess that's an occupational hazard," Dexter said, although his shirt still showed nearly as much leg as the short skirt had. Amber said, "My client tonight was one of my regulars. He's not a bad guy, but he wants that street-walker look." "You looked kinda sexy," Dexter said. "Thanks," Amber said. "Sometimes I get so tired of it all." "So quit," Dexter said. "It pays the bills," Amber said shrugging her shoulders. "So you're going to stay with it until you find something better?" Amber nodded her head in affirmation, took a sip of wine, and then sighed. She studied Dexter for a moment, as if he was some new species of bug. "You know, I don't understand you," Amber said. "You don't understand me?" Dexter asked rather puzzled by that comment. "Nope." "I'm a pretty simple guy. At least, I think so." Amber said, "Something has been bugging me for a while." "What?" "You told me that you had been laid since leaving your wife. When and with whom?" "I went to Nevada. Prostitution is legal there," Dexter said. "Really?" "I thought everyone knew prostitution is legal in Nevada." "Not that. I was surprised you went to a brothel." "Why?" "I never figured you to be the type to pay for it." "I get horny just like every other man." "I guess so. Still, it surprises me that you would pay for sex," Amber said. She thought for a moment and then added, "Maybe I'm not surprised. You aren't the 'friends with benefits' kind of guy or the 'one-night-stand' type, either." "I'm not into casual sex," Dexter said. He took a big sip of wine, wishing they could talk about something else. "Why haven't you ever tried to hire me?" "You're a friend," Dexter answered with a shrug, earning a great big smile from Amber. "I'm glad you think of me that way. I don't have that many friends. It's an occupational hazard. Women find out what I do for a living, and immediately start treating me like I'm slime. When a guy learns that I'm an escort, he either thinks I'm easy, or that he can hire me." "I can see where that is a problem. I guess you're kind of lonely." "You can say that again." "I understand loneliness." Amber snorted. "If I were you, there'd be no way I'd be living in this dump, all alone." "Don't call my place a dump. I like it, here," Dexter said. "Like I'm going to believe that? You're living alone, when you don't have to. I don't have that option. There isn't a man around who wants to marry an escort. There are lots of men who would be more than happy to fuck me on occasion, but they wouldn't look at me for anything more serious than that. I just don't understand why you would chose to be alone." Dexter stammered, "Women aren't lined up to be with the great Dexter James." "You've got an ex-wife who still loves you. You could walk back into your house at any time and she'd welcome you home," Amber said. "I don't think so," Dexter said. Amber shook her head in disgust. "I know so. Janet told me how she feels about you. Did you know that your ex is jealous of me?" "Why? We aren't dating or anything." "She's jealous because I'm your friend." "I don't understand," Dexter said. He stared down at the floor for a minute. "I really don't understand." "It's not that difficult to understand." "Maybe I'm an idiot," Dexter said. "If so, you're going to have to explain it to me in simple little words that I can understand." "Let me put it in simple words. You've known me for less than a year, and I'm your friend. She was married to you for nearly twenty years..." "Eighteen." "Eighteen years, and she was a stranger to you. It's supposed to be the other way around. I'm supposed to be the stranger, and she's supposed to be the friend, the lover, and the wife." "She asked me for the divorce. That's why she's not my wife." "That's because you insulted her, and never apologized." "What the fuck did I do?" Dexter asked. "You really don't know?" "I really don't know. Explain it to me." "Let's say that you were walking out of the bathroom after taking a shower. Like usual, you're wearing nothing." "Well ... I like being naked on occasion," Dexter said. "Suppose you got an erection because I'm lying there looking real sexy. How would you feel if I were to look at your cock and then burst out laughing?" "Hurt." "That's right. You'd feel hurt." "Okay, so what? I didn't laugh at her cock. She doesn't have one." Amber shook her head knowing that he really didn't get it. She said, "Your wife came home from a real bad day at work. She's tired, feeling old, and really down. Have you ever felt like that?" "Sure." Amber said, "All she wanted was to be comforted. Normally, she'd look to you for that, but you hadn't been there much for her." "Hey, I was doing the best that I could for her and the family," Dexter protested. "I'm sure that's true. I'm sure that she understood that. She goes for second best: a hot shower and a comfortable bed." "Okay. I can see how a hot shower and going to be early would make her feel a little better." "That was second best. She really wanted you to comfort her, but you didn't. You stabbed her in the back," Amber said. "I didn't stab her in the back," Dexter shouted. "You just sat there and watched her walk past without even offering a word of understanding. You questioned who she was, as if she was someone you'd never met. She looked to you for comfort and you treated her like a stranger. It might not seem that way to you, but to a woman, that's about as cruel as laughing at a man's erection." "I didn't know she was expecting anything from me. She didn't say anything to me," Dexter said. "You were supposed to know," Amber said. "She could have told me. She didn't have to text me that she wanted a divorce." "When could she have told you? You two never talked. That incident just kept running through her head ... and everyday that you didn't apologize, she got angrier. So one day, after her boss had shit on her once again, she gets frustrated with her whole life. She hates her job. She's mad at you. It seems to her that nothing is going right," Amber said. "She wasn't the only one feeling that way." "In her frustration, she texts you that she wants a divorce." "And I gave it to her," Dexter said. "You idiot! She didn't want a divorce. She wanted you to apologize. She wanted you to recognize her as being your wife, and to give her the emotional support that she needed." "I figured she was having an affair. We never talked. We never saw each other. We hadn't had sex in years. She hadn't told me that she loved me for even longer than that. Hell, I don't even remember the last time we kissed," Dexter said. "She never had an affair. She loved you then, and she still loves you," Amber said. "How do you know?" "She told me." "Excuse me if I'm a little skeptical." "Why shouldn't she still love you? You still love her." "No I don't." "Don't be a baby. You know you still love her. You're still wearing your wedding ring." "Arrgh!" "Unlike me, you don't have to be alone," Amber said. Dexter said, "You don't have to remain alone. We could date and see if we fall in love." "That won't work." "Why?" "Because you still love her. I could never be second in my man's heart," Amber said. "Do you really believe that?" Amber pursed her lips while thinking about his question. "Yes." "Maybe you're right," Dexter said softly. Amber said, "Your life is a lot better now in many ways, but you're still miserable. You need Janet. You two belong together." "I wish I believed that," Dexter said. "You do believe it. You just don't want to accept it." Amber polished off the wine that remained in her glass. She refilled the glass and took another good drink. She said, "You're not drinking." "Sorry," Dexter said. He took a sip of his wine. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had expected considering the fact that it came in a bottle with a screw-on cap, rather than a cork. It was a little sweet, and was more of a dessert wine than one he would drink with a meal. He said, "Not bad." "It's cheap, and it tastes good," Amber said. "I'm not really a wine expert," Dexter said. Amber said, "Only pretentious assholes worry about what others think of the wine they're drinking. I figure, if you like it then drink it." "I couldn't agree more," Dexter said. "So what are you going to do?" Amber asked. "About what?" "Janet." "I don't know," Dexter answered. Amber sighed. "Tomorrow you will call her up on the telephone, and ask her out on a date." "I will?" Dexter asked. "Yes." "She really hurt me." "Big fucking deal. Get over it," Amber said. "I'm not sure that I can." "Do you want to spend the rest of your life alone? Do you want to live surrounded by gold diggers who are more interested in your bank account than you?" "No." "So call up Janet and make a date." "What if she turns me down?" "She won't." "Are you sure?" "God. This is worse than fucking high school. Call her!" Dexter took another sip of wine. "I've got some cheese. Would you like some to go with the wine?" "Don't change the subject," Amber said. After a pause, she added, "Cheese does sound like a good idea." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 8: The Date "Hello, Janet." "Hello, Dexter." "Hello, Janet," Dexter repeated feeling like an idiot even as he did it. There was a long moment of awkward silence. Finally, Janet asked, "Why are you calling?" "I thought ... I was wondering if ... Would you go somewhere with me ... Thursday night?" Dexter asked. Confusion evident in her voice, Janet asked, "Where?" "I thought we'd go to a restaurant, and then to jazz club," Dexter answered. "I ... well ... you mean ... would it be like a date?" "I guess." "This is kind of unexpected," Janet said, surprised by his answer. "If you don't want to go, I'll understand," Dexter said rushing his words nervously. Dexter didn't quite understand why he was asking her to go out with him. Samantha's comment about her considering him a married man, had gotten to him. So had the discussion with Calvin and Mary about the fact was that he was still wearing his wedding ring. He kept thinking back to the early days of his marriage to Janet, and how much he missed that. He was also reminded of how she still viewed him as an engineer. Events of the past few weeks had reminded him of his roots. Of course, no one had been nearly as insistent or as convincing as Amber. She had talked about him making the call for hours during her last visit. She had asked him if he had called her during their last phone conversation. He was almost afraid to tell her that he hadn't made the call, the next time they talked. Janet said, "What time will you pick me up?" "About seven?" Dexter suggested. "I'll be ready at seven." "Okay." There was a long pause while each of them tried to think of something to say. Finally Dexter said, "I'll see you Thursday at seven." "Okay. Bye." "Bye." After disconnecting the call, Dexter sat back in his chair, unable to believe how nerve-racking that conversation had been. It had taken him almost four hours, and two scotches, to work up the nerve to make the call. He looked down at his wedding ring, wondering why he couldn't force himself to remove it, despite the fact that the divorce had been finalized months ago. Maybe, despite the divorce, Dexter wasn't willing to admit that his marriage had failed. ------- Sarah opened the front door and stared at her father. He was dressed nicely, but she felt that he could have put a little more effort into selecting his clothes. A suit would have been better. After all, he was dating her mother. "She'll be ready in a minute," Sarah said. "Okay," Dexter replied thinking this was a rather awkward moment. He stood on the porch, looking at Sarah wondering, when she was going to invite him in. She was looking back at him, wondering why he was just standing there. He felt like a kid trying to pick up his date, with her father guarding the door. It finally dawned on Sarah that she hadn't invited him in. "I guess you can come in." "Thank you," Dexter said. It was hard remembering that this wasn't his home anymore. He had lived in that house for a lot of years. There were so many memories locked up there. Some good and some bad. It was bittersweet being there. The house had undergone a few changes since he had seen it last. The exterior had been redone with new siding. It really changed the appearance of the house significantly. The lawn looked like a landscaping company had performed some sort of magic feat in turning it green. There was now a real flowerbed, complete with flowers, in place. Dexter stepped into the house. The interior walls were freshly painted. They were soft pastel colors, rather than the strict white that he had always insisted upon. The carpet had been replaced with a new carpet. It was a lighter brighter color than the old one. Surprisingly, the furniture had not been changed. "You've done some redecorating around here," Dexter remarked. Sarah said, "Mom hired people to fix up the outside of the house. She painted the interior." "She did the painting?" Dexter asked. Janet had never been one to help out much with that kind of work around the house. Of course, those kinds of things were his job. He wondered what had inspired her to do it. A better question was, who taught her how to do it. "There was some guy down at the paint store she hired to show her how to do it. He came to the house and everything," Sarah said. "Ah," Dexter said finding it interesting that someone actually had taken up the idea of providing home repair instruction. Janet stepped out of the hall. She no longer looked like a sneech. Her dress showed off her feminine figure. Her heels were high enough to give shape to her legs. Her hair was a little longer, and more ornately styled ... as if to announce that she had a little more time every day to take care of it. Dexter said, "Wow. You look nice." "Thank you," Janet said looking pleased by his reaction. "Are you ready to go?" "Yes," Dexter answered. ------- The Italian restaurant was a family owned place. It wasn't as large as many of the restaurants in the area, but Dexter assured her that the service was excellent, and the food was great. Janet glanced around wondering how Dexter had discovered it. This wasn't the kind of place he normally visited. He usually went to steak places, but she imagined he would get tired of having steaks seven nights a week. Lowering the menu so that she could look at Dexter, Janet asked, "What's good, here?" "Everything," Dexter answered. "I've never been disappointed with anything that I've ordered, here." "I'll try the Chicken Parmesan," Janet said. "That's a good dish. I'm going with the Angel Hair de la Mer," Dexter said. "That sounds good, but I'm not quite that adventurous," Janet said thinking that she needed to avoid pasta, to stay on her diet. Dexter said, "You'll enjoy the Chicken Parmesan. I've had it here, before, and it was very good." "Great," Janet said awkwardly. For the next few minutes they intently studied their menus as a way of avoiding conversation. Each knew the other had already selected his or her meal. It was just a good way to avoid talking. "So where did you get ten million dollars to invest in a coffeemaker company?" Janet asked. "Another lawsuit," Dexter answered. He shrugged his shoulders, as if that explained everything. In a way, it did. "You're taking that company for everything you can," Janet said with a smile. Dexter replied, "Yes, I am. It cost me everything that was of value to me." "Am I included in that?" Janet asked suddenly serious. "Yes," Dexter answered, while looking away. The topic of conversation was drifting into sensitive territory. He would have preferred to avoid that. He still wasn't sure of his feelings. The waitress came over to the table, interrupting their discussion. The pair ordered dinner along with appetizers. Having eaten there in the past, Dexter knew that dinner would take about two hours. The waitress left and then returned with bread, a plate filled with olive oil, and a bottle of house wine. Janet stared at the bread. "There goes my diet." "Don't worry. One meal, on occasion, won't kill you," Dexter said. "You've got no idea how hard it has been to lose weight," Janet said. Dexter said, "I've lost a little weight myself. I've spent lots of hours at the gym under the unforgiving eye of 'Samantha the Terrifying.'" "I understand that she calls you 'Uncle Dexter.'" "How do you know that?" Dexter asked. "Amber told me about it." "That explains it." "I can't believe you hired an escort to take care of you," Janet said shaking her head. She would have been willing to nurse Dexter after his heart surgery, but Dexter wouldn't have accepted it, at the time. Amber had been there when he had needed her. He was a nice guy and would have treated Amber with respect. She wasn't surprised that Dexter and Amber had become friends. Janet knew that Dexter was basically a nice guy, but was somewhat immature when it came to dealing with others at an emotional level. She guessed it was part of being an engineer. Engineers looked at life like it was some kind of machine that needed fixing. They felt uncomfortable with the emotional 'messy stuff.' Dexter had a tendency to get reactive when things turned emotional on him. She had forgotten that, and her texted message had backfired because of it. "It made sense to me at the time," Dexter said. "In a strange way, it does make sense," Janet said. "However, I think you were very lucky to find Amber. She's a lovely young lady." This topic was making Dexter a little nervous. How many men talked to their date about their relationship with an escort? He didn't think it was exactly a common topic of dating conversation. Janet could tell that he was uncomfortable. She said, "The kids enjoyed their camping trip with you. Are you planning on taking them out again?" "I was thinking of going camping next week. I'll invite them along," Dexter said. "They would enjoy that," Janet said. If anyone had told her two years ago that the kids would enjoy going camping she would have laughed at them. It seemed to her that was all they talked about now. Will had discovered that the real world was a lot bigger than a video game. In the game world, a short hike for his avatars took him out of the woods, and into the middle of a plain. In the real world, a short hike in the woods, meant that he was still in the woods. In a way, that had been a real surprise. The camping trip had taken some of the fun out of playing computer games, as well. The game world was flat and uninspiring compared to the real world. Trees had a lot more variety and texture than shown on the computer screen. It seemed to him that each little trip exposed something – a small meadow, the edge of the lake, a stream cutting through a gully, or a tree that had been struck by lightning. Those little elements were missing in the game world. "I'll talk to them," Dexter said. Janet said, "Will and Sarah said that you guys talked a lot on that camping trip." "We did. I still don't understand them, but it is a little better. Will talked about playing his computer games. I had always thought of it like playing cowboys and Indians when I was a kid. In a way it is, but without the imagination. I still think that seventeen going on eighteen is a little old to be playing cowboys and Indians. Maybe I'm wrong about that," Dexter said. That difference between the kinds of games Dexter played when he was young, and the kind of games that kids played today, was really an indicator of the gulf that existed between the two generations. Dexter had had a job at Will's age. He hadn't played games every day. The games he did play were sports, although he wasn't really all that athletic. Occasionally, his family would play a board game. On his days off, Dexter was more interested in tinkering with gadgets or looking at girls. Of course, he wasn't one of those lucky guys who had a ton of women interested in him. All throughout high school, he had been fortunate enough to have two girlfriends. Janet said, "I'd say that your stock rose a little in their estimation. You managed to show them a little of the world they didn't know existed. Will was really blown away by that trip." "I'm ashamed that my relationship with the kids got so bad. At the least, I should have been involved with Will when he was in the Boy Scouts," Dexter said. "Will was never in the cub scouts, or the Boy Scouts," Janet said. "I don't even know if his high school has a scout troop." "That's a damned shame," Dexter said unable to believe it. Scouting had been an important part of his childhood. He remembered going on hikes, camping in a two-man tent, attending Jamborees, and earning merit badges. He had been quite proud of each advancement made, in the scouting ranks. He didn't make it to the Eagle Scout level, but that was because his school and part time job at the gas station had interfered. The enormity of just how poor of a father Dexter had been crashed down upon him. He thought about all of the life lessons that his son had missed out on. He wiped his eyes. Voice breaking, he said, "Every boy should experience the Boy Scouts." Janet stared at him for a second. She asked, "Are you that upset?" "I really blew it," Dexter said. "Where in the hell was I when he was growing up?" "You were working to support your family," Janet said. It was not an accusation, just a statement of fact. He had been working to support his family. She was well aware that it wasn't easy to support a family in the modern world. It wasn't the same world as when their parents had raised them. The annual property taxes on her house were almost as much as the original purchase price of her father's house. "That's no excuse. There's something wrong, when a father doesn't even know that his son didn't join the Boy Scouts. I have really failed that boy. I should have helped him into Boy Scouts." Janet said, "It's not that important." The problem was that Dexter felt it was extremely important. His son had been raised without any kind of moral compass. He hadn't been there to instill his moral values. His son hadn't belonged to the scouts which would have instilled a little of his values even without him being present. "It is that important." Dexter raised his right hand in the scout sign, three fingers extended with little finger and thumb touching. "On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and to my country, and to obey Scout Law: To help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight." "What's that?" "That's the boy scout oath. I still remember it," Dexter said. "It's all about swearing to be a good citizen, compassionate to others, and being an honest and good person. That is what the Boy Scouts is really about. "We need organizations like the Boy Scouts. You don't learn duty, honor, and self-reliance in school. You can't even mention God in school much less doing your duty to God and country." Janet frowned while thinking about it. In a way, Dexter was right. The school wasn't in the business of teaching morality. She also knew that Dexter had tried to be a good example of a person who stepped up to his responsibilities, but it was an example that was provided in the worst way possible. In effect, they wouldn't see his actions for what they were: an attempt to provide his family with the best standard of living possible. She said, "Maybe he did miss something." "He missed a lot," Dexter said. "Most of all, he missed having a father." "There's still time to make it up to him," Janet said. Dexter didn't think it was possible to undo the effects of years of neglect. He feared that society had already hammered into Will, the currently popular ideals of conformity, mediocrity, and moral ambiguity. If things were bad now, he could only wonder what the world would be like after this generation took charge. Dexter said, "I'll have to think about what I can do." This wasn't a problem where an engineering approach would work. He knew that there weren't any magic knobs that he could tweak that would establish his values in his kids. Maybe a few more camping trips would help establish a better dialog between him and the kids. It might be wise to tell them about the dangers of the workplace. "You'll come up with something," Janet said. "Has Sarah gone to a prom yet?" Dexter asked. "No." Dexter said, "At least I didn't miss that milestone." "The 'torturing of the poor lad who takes her to the prom' milestone?" "Yes. Every father deserves the chance to terrify some young pup." Janet laughed. "I would have said that would be impossible until I watched you take on that gunman. You were incredible." "I had no idea what I was doing," Dexter said. "It didn't look that way to me." Wanting to change the subject, Dexter asked, "So what have you been up to lately?" Janet answered, "I'm working just twenty hours a week. I've been doing a little gardening ... mostly in the backyard. I painted the living room and dining room." "I noticed. You didn't paint them white," Dexter said. "I picked the colors out of a decorating book. I kind of like them," Janet said. "It looked nice." "I've been working out and dieting." "Where have you been working out?" Janet answered, "There's a little place at one of the strip malls. They do personalized workouts and diets with an individual coach." "I believe I'm familiar with the place," Dexter said. "That was one of the places that I visited when looking for a gym. I was looking for a place to workout in recovery from my heart attack, and not a weight loss program." "I like the fact that I am the only one there. I don't want a bunch of people looking at me while I'm working out. That was particularly true before I lost weight," Janet said. Dexter said, "Well, their program seems to have worked for you." "I'm pleased with the results," Janet said. "Ellen has been a wonderful coach." "That's good," Dexter said. He was about to say a little more, but the waitress showed up with their appetizers – fried calamari and steamed mussels. They may not have been the most exciting appetizers in the world, but it was what they enjoyed. They talked throughout the meal, but their conversation was about neutral topics. They discussed his website, the little changes in the quality of service that were appearing, and the subtle changes in how people acted. There was a lot that could be said about those topics. It was refreshing to be treated like a person again. Society had a long way to go before it would become a pleasant environment within which to live, but it was improving. Janet enjoyed the jazz club, although she had hinted that going to a place to dance would have been nice. Dexter had agreed about enjoying the jazz club. He wasn't sure that he really wanted to go dancing. He didn't really enjoy dancing, but decided that he would look for a place where they could dance for their next date, if there was to be one. The date ended with Janet giving Dexter a kiss before going into the house. Dexter couldn't remember the last time she had kissed him. It had been a nice kiss, but it had felt a little forced and artificial. He walked away from the date wondering if she'd really had a good time, or was trying to be considerate of his feelings. He wasn't sure if he'd had a good time, or if he was trying to be considerate of her feelings. There had been a lot of awkward moments. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 9: A Campfire Conversation The stars, hidden by a thin layer of clouds, did nothing to dispel the darkness of the night of a new moon. The wood, burning inside the fire ring, gave forth a weak light that held back little of the darkness. The warmth and the small amount smoke the fire produced, was sufficient to keep the trio gathered around the fire from getting too close to it. Faces glowed softly in the light while the rest of the world disappeared in the blackness surrounding them. It created an atmosphere that allowed a reserved intimacy to emerge among those gathered there. "It's kind of strange having your parents dating," Will said. "I don't think so," Sarah said. Dexter said, "It is a little strange. When we were married, we would have just called that night 'an evening out.' Now, it's a 'date.'" "I don't remember you and mom going out, except on your anniversaries," Will said. "We went out a couple evenings a month when you were small, then we got too busy," Dexter said. That was the whole story. At one time, his life had been pretty good, but then he got too busy. Everyone got too busy to take care of the important things in life. "So how was the date?" Sarah asked. Staring into the fire, Dexter answered, "I think it went well. We ate dinner and talked. Then we went to a club, and listened to some jazz." "Jazz?" Will asked. "I've come to like it," Dexter said. "I've never listened to Jazz," Sarah said. Dexter said, "It isn't all that common, now. You don't hear it in any of the movies. We don't have a radio station that plays it. I never paid much attention to it, until I went to the jazz club. I'm not going to say that I know much about, but I like listening to it." "You can always listen to it on the internet," Will said. Dexter said, "That's one of the good things that the internet has brought about." He would have said that was about the only thing good about the internet, but he didn't. Having access to information on nearly every topic under the sun wasn't bad. Of course, that didn't mean the information was of great quality. His website was part of that cacophony of information out there, too. "All of that is interesting," Sarah said, "but what I really want to know is how your date went." "We talked a lot. It was pleasant," Dexter said. It had been pleasant talking to Janet. In a way, it had been a real first date with the pair of them trying to discover the interests of the other. One would think that after being married for so many years they would have known everything about the other, but that night had pointed out how far apart they had grown. Sarah asked, "Did you connect?" "Connect?" "Did it feel right?" Dexter answered, "It felt a whole lot better than my dates with Ann." "Ann?" Sarah asked with a sudden chill in her voice. "Who's Ann?" "She's a real estate agent I met at the place where I occasionally have breakfast," Dexter explained. "You dog! Dating two women," Will said with a touch of pride in his voice. "You asshole! Dating two women," Sarah said disgustedly. "I'm not dating two women. I had two dates with Ann, and then one date with your mother," Dexter said. "You shouldn't have dated anyone other than Mother," Sarah declared as if it was a fact that should be obvious to anyone. "We're divorced. I can date anyone I want," Dexter said without heat. "So are you going to go out with this 'Ann' woman again?" Sarah asked. "No," Dexter answered. Samantha's comments about Ann accepting his word that he was divorced despite having direct evidence to the contrary had soured his opinion on the woman. It made him wonder if she was not all that particular about the men she dated. There had also been a few hints during their first date that she would be high maintenance, particularly her comments about the restaurant where they ate. His second date with Ann had reinforced that impression. Sarah asked, "Why not?" Dexter held up his left hand. The gold metal, in the weak light of the fire, flashed almost too brightly against the darkness. "Jeeze! You're still wearing your wedding ring," Sarah said staring at the gold band. "I just can't bring myself to take it off," Dexter said. "Whoa!" "I guess you're not over Mother." "Samantha pointed that out to me after I had my date with Ann. It kind of made me wonder about Ann. What was she doing dating a guy who was wearing a wedding ring, and was mostly likely married?" Dexter said. A piece of wood in the fire settled, causing another to shift. Dexter reached out and picked up a stick. He pushed the two pieces closer together and stirred the coals to increase the fire a little. After a second, a small flame appeared. Will asked, "How do you know how to do that?" "Do what?" Dexter asked. "Stir the fire," Will answered. Dexter said, "You mean how do I know how to tend the fire?" "I guess," Will said. Dexter answered, "I don't really remember when I learned how to tend a fire. It's actually pretty easy. A fire needs three things: fuel, heat, and oxygen. Tending a fire is a matter of putting all three together. The fuel is kind of obvious. That's the wood. You have to keep the burning logs close enough together so that the heat from one helps the other to burn. You also have to make sure that they can get enough oxygen to keep burning." "Neat," Will said. Dexter said, "You were never in the boy scouts." "That's right," Will said. "It wasn't a big thing in school." "It's a shame. You could have learned a lot in scouts," Dexter said. "Like what?" "Like how to start a fire and to tend it," Dexter answered. "What's so tough about starting a fire?" Will asked. "You take a lighter and light the starter log." Dexter laughed. "The way I lit the fire was cheating. When I was in the scouts, we had to do it without matches, or lighters, or starter logs from the grocery store." "You were in the scouts?" Will asked. "Yes, I was. I'm really sorry you didn't get a chance to participate in it," Dexter said. "Being in the scouts teaches you about citizenship, honor, and duty. It teaches you about self-reliance. It teaches you about how to survive in the wilderness." "I don't see where those things are important," Will said. That comment nearly left Dexter speechless. Dexter asked, "What do you mean?" Will answered, "We learned about civil rights in school. Besides, we were born in this country, so we're automatically citizens. We don't have to 'get' citizenship. Honor and duty are basically military concepts, and we're civilians. If you can't do something for yourself, then you just hire someone to do it. And lastly, who goes in the wilderness?" "Oh my God," Dexter exclaimed. Sarah said, "You looked shocked." "I'm dismayed." "Why?" Will asked. "Citizenship isn't about civil rights or a gift of birth based upon where you were born. Citizenship is about your conduct as a citizen of your community, state, nation, and world. It's about being active in your community and giving of yourself so that the country, and the world as a whole, is a better place. It's about volunteering to help others. It is about obeying the laws, and observing the customs of your country. "Honor and duty are more than military concepts. Honor is about respect. Being honorable is about acting in a manner such that you are worthy of respect. It is about your word, your promise, being meaningful. It is about making promises to do the right things, and then living up to those promises to the best of your ability. Honor, once lost, can never be regained. Honor isn't consistent with moral relativism. It requires a real sense of right and wrong. "Duty is about meeting your obligations to the best of your ability. These are not things that you want to do, but things that you have to do, because there is no one else to do them. I took upon myself an obligation to feed, cloth, shelter, and educate the two of you from the day that you were born. My duty, as your parent, meant that I had to work. No matter what else you may think of me, you will have to admit that I have done my duty to the best of my ability. "I don't even know where to begin with the importance of self-reliance. All I know is that there will be times when you are all on your own. There will be no one there to help you. You can get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere. Self-reliance is about knowing how to change the tire yourself. "Maybe knowing how to survive in the wilderness is a skill that most people won't need in the modern world, but that misses the point. Survival is a mindset, in which one figures out the rules of the game from scratch. Then one functions within those rules, using generic skills one has developed for survival. It is about adapting to changing circumstances, and overcoming any situation that comes your way. Knowing how to start a fire with nothing is useful in the woods. It is also useful when the power goes out in the middle of a snowstorm. That's knowing how to survive. "There are all kinds of wildernesses out there. A wilderness is a place where the rules aren't written down so that you can study them at your leisure. Downtown is a wilderness for someone from the suburbs. So is the workplace. For that matter, so is school. There are a lot of people who fail to survive school, work, downtown, and just about every other wilderness out there." Will was taken aback by the passion in his father's voice. It surprised him that Dexter felt so strongly about this matter. "You really mean it," Will said. Dexter said, "A lot of people have forgotten what citizenship means. They think it is all about what the country owes them. It isn't and we see the results of their belief in terms of how the country is becoming a worse place to live. People have stopped giving and only know how to take. They'll take until there's nothing left. "We've forgotten what honor and duty mean. If two honorable men come to an agreement, there is no need for a lawyer or judge or law to arbitrate whether they have met their terms of the agreement. Honorable men live up to their agreements. Men without honor don't. We need laws, lawyers, and judges because so many people aren't honorable. Their word means nothing. Their promises have to be written down so that others can force them to live up to their terms of the agreement. "At one time, we were a land of honorable people." Sarah said, "According to my teacher, all of that historical stuff is fiction. Washington never cut down a cherry tree. We stole America from the Native Americans. We enslaved blacks. We have killed people all over the world for oil. All that stuff you said is great, but it isn't historically accurate." "I have to agree with her," Will said. Dexter looked at his two children. He knew that he couldn't dismiss their objections or tell them they were wrong. He had been watching dishonest people rise in power and then lie to the American People his whole life. Dexter said. "I'm not going to argue against what you've said. I think a lot of the negatives have been emphasized and few of the positives have been admitted. I'm not going to deny the negatives. There have always been greedy and dishonest people. I'll even admit that power attracts those kinds of people much more than it does good and honest people. "However, without good citizens, without people of honor and who will do their duty, and without self-reliant individuals who will think for themselves; I can assure you that the horrors you have been taught about, would pale in comparison. "Yes, we dropped the bomb on Japan. Not only did we do it once, we did it twice. We killed a lot of Japanese during World War II. It was a war. We defeated Japan. We could have made it part of American as conquered territory, but we didn't. For that matter, we could have made the Japanese people our slaves, but we didn't. Instead, we helped them rebuild their cities, their industries, and their lives. We allowed them to remain an independent country and to keep their culture. We didn't have to do that. "There are a lot of people who claim to be extremely moral and God-fearing. You'll hear them talk about how good they are. Honor isn't about the words that people say about themselves, but about their actions. When you discover that their words and actions are two different things, you may be tempted to say that everyone who says those same words will behave in the same hypocritical manner as the dishonorable person. That's an unreasonable assumption." "So who do you believe?" Will asked. Dexter shrugged his shoulders. "That's it?" Sarah asked incredulous. "Your answer is to shrug your shoulders?" Dexter said, "It is said that 'power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' There's a lot of truth in that. I also think that an absence of power corrupts, as well. Desperation can make a man do awful things. You either have power or you don't. As a result, there is always the chance that anyone you meet is corrupt. So, who do I believe? I guess I'm a cynic, because I don't believe many people at all." "That's not very comforting," Will said. "That's horrible," Sarah said. Dexter said, "I do give people the benefit of the doubt, though. I'll give a person a chance to earn my trust. I start by trusting them with small things and work my way up to trusting them with more important things. However, if they should break my trust, then I'll never trust them again on any matter, large or small." Although she had been looking at the fire through most of the discussion, Sarah turned her head and stared at her father. All of a sudden, she understood his actions over the past year. "Mom broke your trust, didn't she?" Sarah asked. "I trusted your mother to come to me if she had a problem with our marriage," Dexter said. "'I want a divorce' isn't coming to you with a problem. It is a declaration that she doesn't want to discuss the problem," Will said. "You took her text message as a sign of disrespect." "Right," Dexter said. For the first time since he had received the text message from his wife, he felt that someone in the family was beginning to understand his actions. He still didn't think that Janet truly understood why he left like he had. "Jesus! No wonder you just left!" Sarah said. Dexter said, "I'm sure that you think I was overreacting. However, you have to understand that my ability to trust others, had been taking quite a beating, at that time." "In what way?" Will asked. Dexter answered, "I had discovered that every person above me in the company, had been lying to me. I'm not talking about just my boss; but about my boss's boss, and his bosses, all of the way up to the CEO of the company. "They lied about everything. Before I was fired, I spent months gathering evidence, and documents, to expose all of their lies. "Up until the second that I got the text message from your mother, she was the only one in the world who I truly trusted." "That must have been a real shot in the balls," Will said. "Oh, that's gross," Sarah said. "It might be gross, but it is a pretty accurate description of how it felt," Dexter said with a sigh. Sarah asked, "What about us? Did you trust us?" "Trust you to do what?" Dexter asked. "I don't know," Sarah answered surprised by how he had turned the question around on her. Dexter said, "I felt your mother was obliged to explain to you what happened. I kind of hoped that you would call me and let me know that you thought your mother was wrong. But, you didn't. To tell the truth, I didn't expect you to do that. I figured that you didn't want or need me in your lives." Will stared into the fire as he said, "You know, you were gone so much, that your absence really didn't impact our lives much. I guess I didn't think about how you would take my lack of action. I kind of thought that we weren't all that important in your life." "Do you want to know what's the sad thing?" Dexter asked. Sarah answered, "Yes." "Every time my job got between me and my family, I would say to myself that I was doing it for my family," Dexter said. Will glanced over at his sister and then said, "We didn't know." Dexter pushed one of the burning logs with a stick to allow a little air to flow in below it. The flame from the fire grew brighter. Satisfied, he sat back with a sigh. "That was mostly my fault. I thought that I was being a good example of a father, by supporting his family. Unfortunately, I never told you what I was doing, or why I was doing it. Your mother didn't think of telling you either, so you were left with the impression that my absence was due to a lack of interest in you on my part," Dexter said. "I feel kind of guilty," Sarah said. "Don't feel guilty. You didn't know. Even I wasn't aware of how badly I was failing. I should have been doing the scouting stuff with Will, and the father-daughter things with you. I was too caught up in providing food, clothing, and shelter to realize that I was failing to educate you in the important lessons in life, which were my responsibility," Dexter said. It was quiet around the campfire while everyone watched the flames for a bit. There were sounds from other campers in the background. Sarah asked, "Why did you ask Mom out on a date?" "I'm not sure." Will said, "There's got to be a reason." "I've never stopped loving your mother. I guess that I'm trying to convince myself that your mother meant to do the right thing, but failed miserably in her execution. I keep hoping that if I can convince myself of that, that I'll be able to trust her again." "Can't you just accept it?" Will asked. "It is not what you believe in your head that's important, it's what you feel in your heart. There's still a lot of pain in there." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 10: The Hike Dexter looked down at the map and then around at the parking lot. The trail clearly started from this parking lot. It took him a moment to spot the sign denoting the trail head. Supposedly, the trail went straight to a small pond, and then around it. The trail was listed as being three and a half miles in length, and of 'moderate' difficulty. He figured that a short hike like that would be simple enough. Pointing to the trail head, Dexter said, "There it is." The sign had the trail name on it, the distance of the trail, the difficulty (medium), and a simplified map of the trail. They had chosen the trail based on its length. The 'easy' trail was actually a mile longer. Sarah said, "It seems simple enough." "Let's go," Will said. Will had been looking forward to this hike. He wanted to report back to his friends what it was really like to hike across country. In the computer games they played it was just a matter of making sure that every player's avatar was in good health, and enough stamina points. He figured he would be able to pick up some tricks that might be useful in playing the game. Dexter asked, "Has everyone got their bottles of water?" "Yep." "You bet." "Shoes?" Dexter asked. He was wearing the shoes he normally wore to the gym. "Sneakers." "I've got my sneakers on," Will said. Dexter looked at the kids making sure everyone had hats. He patted his pockets to check that he had a small bottle of sun block. He couldn't think of anything else that he needed to bring with him. "Let's go," Dexter said. The trio walked down the well marked trail. There was finely crushed gravel that made the trail smooth. The first quarter of a mile was nice and flat. They were surrounded by trees that kept the wind out. They walked along at a brisk pace, not really talking all that much. They did pause occasionally, to take time to appreciate the natural setting. The trail then began to head downwards. The grade was moderate, but it wasn't all that bad. The surroundings dropped off at a steeper grade, but the path was at an angle to the downward slope. The trio trudged along, pausing occasionally to look down the side of the trail. The trees didn't allow them to see how far down the side went. Dexter said, "Watch your step. It would be horrible to slip down the hill." "No problem," Will replied. Dexter said, "We might want to turn around and head back." "Why?" Sarah asked. "It's getting kind of steep. It's going to be kind of a tough climb, coming back," Dexter said looking back up the trail. "It'll be no problem," Will said. "We can handle it," Sarah said. "If you're sure," Dexter said doubtfully. "We're sure," Will said. They walked further. The grade downwards got a little steeper. Now there were little areas where parts of the trail had been eroded away by water running down the slope. It made walking the trail just a little more difficult. The crushed gravel disappeared in places, but they could see the trail pickup beyond those points. Dexter said, "We're lucky it isn't going to rain today. I think this would be a little dangerous in the rain." "I don't think it would be that bad," Will said. Sarah said, "I'd hate to get my feet wet." Dexter stopped. He realized this was a good time to talk a little about wilderness survival. This looked like a little thing, but it could get out of control, very easily. Dexter said, "The problem isn't getting your feet wet. If you look uphill, you'll see that it is pretty steep here." "So?" Will asked. Dexter said, "The water would be running past here at a pretty good clip. The dirt would turn into mud – making it slippery as hell. I doubt you would be able to cross without falling down the hill. With the rushing water, you might not be able to stop until you reached the bottom. By that time, you'd be all banged up. You might even have broken bones." "It's just a little section of the trail. It couldn't get that bad," Will said. "It might look little, but those kinds of things are what can kill you out here," Dexter said. Sarah asked, "Is it supposed to rain today?" "No," Dexter answered. "Then why worry about it?" Will asked. Dexter said, "It's about learning the lay of the land. Right now, this isn't a big deal. If we decided to go hiking on a day where it might rain, we'd know to avoid this trail. Last night around the campfire, we talked a little about survival in the wilderness and that there are all kinds of wildernesses out there. "Look at this as a metaphor. When times are good, there are places where you can spot potential trouble areas knowing that when times are bad that they can result in disaster. That gives you the opportunity to avoid them when troubled times are on the horizon. You won't be caught between a spot downhill and the car. "Likewise, you can use this time to look for safe havens so that if things don't work out, then you'll have a safe place to weather the storm. That's all part of that survival mindset that I talked about. The time to start thinking about surviving, is before things go to hell." "I get it," Will said. "It's like in Cave Explorer where you have to decide what kind of weapon to carry so that you'll be able to fight off the monsters without losing the advantage of first strike." "I guess," Dexter said not appreciating the analogy. Will asked, "So how does this apply to ... I don't know ... the workplace?" Dexter thought for a moment before answering, "Suppose the company you work for has a 401K plan..." "What's a 401K plan?" Sarah asked. Dexter answered, "It is like a savings account where you put money into it out of your paycheck. While the money is in the account, it is being invested and, hopefully, increases in value at a better rate than a regular savings account. The thing is that you can't touch the money until you retire. You don't pay taxes on it until you take the money out of the fund. Now that's a good deal because you're making a lot of money when you put it into the fund so that taxes would have been high, but you're not making a lot of money when you take it out so the taxes are low." "So it's a retirement thing," Will said. "Right," Dexter said. "So how is that dangerous?" Will asked. Dexter said, "It sometimes happens that the company puts that money into a fund that reinvests that money in the company. It is kind of like this spot right here. Everything is okay, but it could become bad very quickly." "How?" Will asked. Dexter answered, "While the company is doing well, having your retirement money invested in it is not a problem. That's the sunny day. The problem comes when the company starts having problems. First it starts with rumors – like thunder in the distance. Nothing is really obviously wrong. Suddenly, stock that was selling at eighty dollars a share is now sixty dollars a share. If your fund had four hundred thousand dollars in it, it has suddenly become worth three hundred thousand. You've lost a hundred thousand dollars of your retirement money." "That's not good," Will said. "Then the bad news gets officially announced that the company is having problems. If the company is really in trouble, the stock drops a little more. Now a share is worth forty dollars and you're down to two hundred thousand in it. So at this point, you've lost half of your retirement money, but you still have a job. At this point, you've slipped, but you aren't sliding down the hill yet." "It gets worse?" Will asked. "How can it get worse?" Sarah asked. "Now the problems really start manifesting themselves. The company is losing money, so you get laid off. The stock drops some more. Now it is worth about twenty dollars a share. Your retirement account is worth only a hundred thousand and you're out of a job," Dexter said. "I guess a hundred thousand is still a lot of money," Will said. "Not when you have to live on it for twenty or thirty years. You'll eat it all up taking out five thousand a year after twenty years. You can't really live on five thousand a year," Dexter said. "That doesn't sound like much when you look at it that way," Sarah said. "So there you are, laid off, no retirement, and lots of bills," Dexter said. "Officially, you are sliding down the mud covered hill, screaming in fear at the bottom that is rushing towards you." "So what once looked like a good deal turns out not to be that good of a deal," Will said. Dexter said, "That's what I mean about a survival mindset. You spot that shit early and avoid it." "Damn," Will said shaking his head. "It sounds like it's a jungle." "It is," Dexter said. "Let's walk some more." The trio walked down the trail for another quarter of a mile. Here there was a larger washout. Rocks were strewn on the ground. They tended to roll out from underfoot when stepped upon. Dexter warned, "Be careful. You could twist an ankle here." The kids nodded their heads in acknowledgment. They carefully walked across the rock-strewn section of the trail. By this time it was getting hot and humid. The surrounding trees stopped what might have been a refreshing breeze, from cooling them off. Sweat started dripping from their faces and getting into their eyes. Short breaks during which they drank a little of their water helped, but it was definitely becoming uncomfortable. They reached the little pond. The trail around the pond was flat and easy to walk. The lake itself had cattails along one end. There were a few ducks swimming near the cattails. A mother duck followed by a half dozen ducklings entered the water near where they were standing. Sarah said, "Look at the baby ducks!" The kids watched the mother duck paddle forth with her baby ducklings following behind her in a line. "That is so cool," Sarah said. Dexter pointed to the cattails. "Some parts of that plant are edible. The early shoots are editable. That part that looks like a hotdog can be steamed and eaten like corn on the cob when it is green. Near the base, you can strip off the leaves and get what is called the cattail heart. The roots can be mashed, soaked in water – the residue can be turned into a thickener for stews." "That's cool," Will said. "Have you ever eaten any?" "No," Dexter answered. "I never had the nerve to try it." "You want to try some now?" Will asked. Dexter answered, "Not really. Besides, this is a park and I'm not sure they'd appreciate us eating their plants. However, it is good to know that if things were to get bad that we can find food and keep from starving." "You're probably right," Will said. So far, the hike had been easy. It wasn't until they started back that they realized why the trail was marked as being moderate in difficulty. The steep walk down to the pond was now a steep walk up to the parking lot. What had once seemed a gentle slope was now a muscle killer. They got part of the way up and had to stop to rest. They drank a little more of their water. The exertion of their climb, the warm temperature, and the high humidity now had them sweating rivers. It was so bad that it tended to run into their eyes. "Are we near the top yet?" Sarah asked. "My legs are burning," Will said. "We've got mile or more to go," Dexter said. "It didn't seem this steep coming down," Sarah said. Dexter said, "We'll take more frequent breaks." "Good idea," Sarah said. After a ten-minute break, they resumed their climb towards the parking lot. It was a while before they reached the spot where the trail had been washed out, to the point of leaving rocks exposed. Dexter crossed the spot, forcing one leg in front of the other. He was thanking God that for all of that time spent in the gym. He figured that he'd be lying by the side of the trail near death if it hadn't been for all of the exercises. His thoughts were interrupted when Sarah screamed. Dexter and Will turned to look at her. She was sitting on the ground, rocking back and forth, holding her ankle. "What happened?" Dexter asked. "I twisted my ankle," Sarah said. Moving carefully over the loose rocks, Dexter made his way to Sarah's side. He examined her ankle, but couldn't really tell anything, other than it hurt. He helped her stand up. "I can't stand on it," Sarah said. "I'll support you," Dexter said while putting an arm around her. Together, the pair made it to where the quality of the trail improved. She made little sounds of pain with each step. Dexter looked up the trail. He knew that she'd never make the walk back to the parking lot. He didn't see many options. Dexter said, "I guess I'll have to carry you." "I can try walking," Sarah said. "You'll just make it worse," Dexter said. Sarah climbed onto his back. He supported her legs with his arms. She wrapped her arms around his chest. After taking a deep breath, Dexter said, "Let's go." Being sure to take frequent breaks, they made their way up the trail. It was hard going and there were times when Dexter didn't think they would make it. The bottles of water were empty before they reached the end of the trail. Will was exhausted by the time they reached the parking lot. His life of sitting around and playing computer games had not prepared him for any level of physical exertion comparable to what he had just experienced. Although he was in much better physical shape than Will, Dexter was barely aware that they had made it to the parking lot. He had never been so exhausted in his life. His legs felt like lead, the sweat in his eyes blinded him, he was feeling faint, and his back was cramping. Dexter eased Sarah to the ground near the sign at the start of the trail. He collapsed beside her. "I'm getting ... too old ... for this," Dexter said, panting. "I'm sorry, Daddy," Sarah said looking over at her father. She couldn't believe how bad he looked. His hair was plastered to his head. His shirt was soaking wet. He was breathing hard. His face was red. Dexter said, "Nothing ... to be sorry ... about. -- Accidents ... happen." "I can't believe you carried her that far," Will said. "I'd have given up a half a mile back." Breathing heavily, Dexter said, "You do ... what you have ... to do ... for your family." "Duty?" Will asked. Finding it a little easier to breath, now, Dexter said, "Yeah ... something like that. Although ... in my case ... it's more like stubbornness ... than anything else." "Damn," Will said looking at his father with respect. The fact was, Will knew he wouldn't have been able to carry Sarah all of that distance. He had barely made it to the trail head, himself, and that was without carrying any extra weight. Sarah, although young, wasn't exactly a lightweight. Will figured that she weighed more than a hundred pounds. It seemed incredible to him that his father managed to carry her that far. "Can you go to the car and get some water for us?" Dexter asked. "Sure," Will said, groaning as he stood up. While Will went to get some water, Dexter looked over at Sarah. "After we get a little water in us, I'll carry you over to the car. We'll find a doctor and see how bad your ankle is." "What will they do?" Sarah asked. "Oh, they'll probably x-ray it, to make sure it's not broken. Then they'll wrap it with an elastic bandage, and have you put ice on it to keep the swelling down," Dexter answered. Sarah said, "You know, you're a pretty tough guy." Dexter snorted. "Just make sure you tell your boyfriends that!" "Oh, Daddy!" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 11: The Critic After a shower and change of clothes, everyone gathered in the lawn chairs beside the fire ring. It was too early for dinner, much less a fire. After their hike, and subsequent doctor's visit, none of them felt like moving any more than was absolutely necessary. "We did a bunch of things wrong, today, and we were lucky it didn't turn out any worse than it did," Dexter announced. "What did we do wrong?" Will asked. Sarah said, "I didn't mean to twist my ankle." "I know. That was an accident. The reason it happened, though, is because we weren't properly prepared," Dexter said. "Prepared?" Dexter said, "First, we should have been wearing hiking boots. They would have supported your foot, so that it would have been much less likely for you to twist your ankle." "I figured we were just walking," Sarah said. "There's a reason they call it hiking and the appropriate footwear is called hiking boots," Dexter said. "That makes sense," Will said. Dexter answered, "Also, we should have gone on the 'easy' trail." "It was longer," Will said. "It may have been longer, but it was probably a whole lot less work," Dexter said. "Oh, yeah," Sarah said. "I guess, in hindsight, it is kind of obvious," Will said. Dexter said, "This is the really hard one to admit. We weren't in shape for that level of exertion." "I'm not going to argue with you there," Will said. "You're right," Sarah said. Dexter said, "If we had been a little more fit, this could have been a fun day. Unfortunately, we aren't in shape, and it turned into a nightmare." "You're in better shape than me," Will admitted. Dexter said, "I guess I'm going to have to beef up my exercise program." "You? Are you kidding? I thought you did pretty darn good," Will said. Dexter said, "Not really. I kind of pushed it a bit too far. I could have gotten seriously injured. What would you have done if I had passed out?" "I don't know," Will answered. "I didn't even think about that," Sarah said. Dexter said, "You know I had a heart attack." "I forgot about that," Will said. "I should have stopped at that spot where we had discussed the dangers of that washout. I should have sent Will ahead to get some water, and perhaps even some help. I didn't. Because of that, I put both of you at risk. That was a bad decision on my part," Dexter said. "It worked out all right," Will said. He frowned while thinking about what his father was saying. It seemed to him that his father was taking all of the blame for how the afternoon turned out. Will said, "This wasn't your fault." Dexter said, "I'm not talking about fault, here. I'm talking about learning from your mistakes. One of the things that you have to learn, is to examine your past actions, and learn from them. You should be your own harshest critic. You shouldn't focus on only the negatives. You need to look at the things you did right. The whole point is that you have to learn from your experiences. "You also have to watch what other people do, and learn from their experiences. Maybe they do things differently than you do. If so, does their way work better, or worse than yours?" "That makes sense," Will said. Dexter said, "So let's try it. We'll each come up with something that we did wrong on this hike. I'll go first ... I should have stopped at the place where Sarah twisted her ankle, and helped her across the uncertain ground." Sarah said, "I shouldn't have twisted my ankle." Dexter held up a hand and asked, "Are you saying that it was a preventable accident?" Sarah answered, "I guess so. I mean, it wasn't until I had twisted it, that I remembered your earlier warning that the footing wasn't very good through there. I could have been more careful." "Excellent," Dexter said. "Will?" "You know, you suggested that we turn around at one point. I dismissed it without thinking. I should have really considered that the hike was a little more strenuous than I was prepared for," Will said. "That's a good point, too," Dexter said. "You're right," Sarah said. "I didn't think about that. It would have been a nice little hike, if we had turned around at that point." "It would have been about as much of a hike as we could have enjoyed," Will said after giving it another moment of thought. Dexter said, "It is my turn again. I should have gotten a little more experience hiking, before bringing you two with me on a hike." "What good would that have done?" Will asked. "It would have made all of the difference in the world. I would have become a little more aware of some of the problems we might have encountered. I could have found a trail that we would have enjoyed, before taking you on it. That way, you'd have had a lot more fun on your first hike," Dexter said. "I can see that," Sarah said. Dexter said, "After this experience, I don't think either of you would want to go on a hike again." "That's not true. I really enjoyed the trip down to the pond and around it. I learned a lot," Will said. "That was fun. I enjoyed watching the baby ducks," Sarah said. "It was only coming back that was not so fun," Will said. "I'll concede that point," Dexter said. "So you would try it again?" "Sure," Will said. "Maybe not tomorrow, though," Sarah said pointing to her ankle. Her sprained ankle was wrapped in a bandage. The doctor had prescribed aspirin to deal with the pain and swelling. Her ankle was a little tender, but not all that bad. Still, she couldn't put her weight on it. Instead, she had to use crutches to move around. Like most young people, she was milking it for everything she could. In a way, Dexter was relieved that the two kids were willing to try hiking again. He had enjoyed most of the hike. In fact, he felt that he probably could have handled the entire hike without much difficulty except for having to carry Sarah for the last mile or so. "We'll probably be talking about this day for a long time to come," Sarah said. "You're probably right," Dexter said. Although common interests often formed the basis for friendships, the strength of a friendship was often tempered as a result of shared experiences ... particularly harsh ones. There was nothing like having a tough time to bind people together or force them apart. Brittle relationships often fell before hard times, but good relationships grew stronger. Will said, "This sure wasn't like in my computer games. I mean, the characters never get tired or twist their ankle. You sure can't save the state of game, here, and go back to try it again. I guess there's a lot more difference between the fantasy world presented in computer games, and real life, than I thought." Dexter was kind of surprised that Will thought there were any similarities between the game world and the real world. He said, "You don't believe there are monsters out there." Will said, "Of course not, but not all of the games we play have monsters. A couple of the games I've played are military games. The weapons and stuff are all pretty accurate, according to the stories on the web. Even some of the landscapes compare well with reality. "The point is, our characters go running all over the enemy compound in some of those games. I never really thought about how I would feel after running that much while carrying all kinds of weapons. I mean ... that's the unreal part. We can run forever in some of those games. There's no way I could have run up that trail and fought the Taliban. I'd have been wheezing, and puking my guts out." "Oh, gross," Sarah said. "You're probably right about how you'd feel after running up the trail," Dexter said. The sad fact was that Will was in horrible physical shape. It wasn't that he was overweight. It was that he had no stamina or strength. Years of sitting in his room playing games on his computers, had basically left him a physical wreck. His weekend skateboarding hadn't done much to develop any muscles. Dexter couldn't imagine what kind of shape Will would be in after working twenty years in an office. Will said, "I never really thought about that before. There's no blurring of vision because sweat has gotten into your eyes. There's no fatigue that makes it impossible to raise your gun. The game makes you ... like ... like a comic book superhero, or something." "It might be a different story if you were in really good shape. I'll bet there are some folks who could have run the whole trail, and still be ready for anything," Dexter said. "The point is, that in the real world, I'm not capable of doing that. In the game world, I am," Will said. "It kind of gives me a false sense of ability." "That's true," Dexter said. Dexter had once read that the games people play as children, prepare them for their life as adults. He wondered what kind of world it would become, where interacting with false realities taught the essential skills for being adult contributors to society. It was a rather frightening thought. Sarah asked, "So, are we going to try hiking again?" "What do you think we need to do before we try it again?" Dexter asked. "Get in better shape." "Get hiking shoes." "Get the right kind of clothes." Dexter said, "I agree with all of those things. If you get new hiking shoes, you'll have to break them in before you go hiking in them." "Right," Will said. Dexter asked, "So will you get in better shape?" "I think I will. I might start jogging," Will said. "Same here," Sarah said. Dexter said, "I don't like jogging. I consider that the devil's exercise." "Why?" "Everyone I know who jogs, ends up getting hurt," Dexter said. "So what do you suggest?" she asked. "Walking, cycling, or swimming," Dexter answered. "I would guess that walking is probably better preparation for hiking than swimming. Cycling would probably help build up your stamina." "That makes sense," Will said, wondering where he could walk. It didn't dawn on him that he could walk around the block. That just wasn't done. He guessed that he could drive over to one of the local parks and walk there. "We don't have bikes," Sarah said thinking that she would prefer cycling, over walking. "That's easy enough to fix," Dexter said. Dexter had been meaning to get a bicycle. He had told Samantha that he would rather ride a real bicycle than an exercise version. He wanted to see the world go past while he peddled, rather than just stare at a wall. Will asked, "How?" "We can go to a bike store and get bikes." Will said, "I think I would look horrible in spandex." Sarah said, "I think I would look good." "Spandex?" Dexter asked wondering what that had to do with getting a bicycle. "You know, those tight little outfits that cyclists wear," Will said. "What's wrong with wearing blue jeans?" Dexter asked confused at the suggestion that a special outfit was necessary to ride a bicycle. Sarah said, "You've got to wear the right kind of outfit." "Why?" Dexter asked. Will said, "It cuts down on the wind resistance." "Are you going to be racing?" Dexter asked. "Well ... no ... it's just that ... riding a bike in jeans, just isn't done," Will said. "That's right," Sarah said. Dexter was dismayed. It seemed to him that the bike should have been the more important consideration than the clothes. Then it dawned on him. For the kids, having a bike, riding it, and wearing the proper clothes; were all essentially one concept. He muttered, "When did each activity begin to require a different outfit?" "What did you say?" Will asked. "I was just curious when riding bicycles required specific kinds of clothes," Dexter said. Sarah said, "Always." "It wasn't always like this," Dexter said. Will said, "Sure it was." Dexter said, "We didn't require special clothes when you were younger." "That's different." "Why?" Dexter asked. "I don't know," Will said after a pause. "We weren't riding our bikes for exercise," Sarah said. Dexter replied, "Yes, we were." "We were?" Will asked. "Sure. It was a fun family activity and exercise. There's no reason it can't be both," Dexter said. "We'll be riding our bikes for exercise, now." Dexter looked at Will with a frown. "Why can't you ride it for fun?" "We're getting the bikes to get in shape," Will said. "So what? Can't you have a little fun while doing it?" Dexter asked. "I suppose so," Sarah said with a frown. Dexter said, "You know ... when I was your age, riding a bicycle was a form of transportation. I rode my bicycle to school, to the park, to the store, and to work. I went everywhere on it. I wore school clothes and work clothes while riding on it. My school clothes and play clothes were one and the same. I didn't require special outfits to ride my bike." "That's weird," Will said. "Weird?" Will said, "I just can't imagine it." Dexter gave up and said, "We'll buy bikes and outfits." Sarah said, "Don't forget that we'll have to get helmets and pads, too." "What for?" Dexter asked. "They are required by law," Will said looking at his father like he didn't know anything. Sarah said, "It's illegal to ride a bike without wearing the proper safety gear." "It's just riding a fucking bike," Dexter declared. Will, quite seriously, said, "No. We're going to be getting into shape to hike. We've got to do it right." "I guess you're right," Dexter said, and sighed. Will said, "I guess we'll still need to take walks." Sarah said, "We're going to have to get some clothes for walking." "Will we need helmets and pads, too?" Dexter asked. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 12: Becoming a Cyclist "A titanium frame?" Dexter asked the salesman. "Yes," the salesman answered. "Like they use on airplanes?" Dexter asked. "Yes. Of course, the composite frame on this bike is better," the salesman added. "How much for this bike?" Dexter asked. "It's a steal at thirty-five hundred," the salesman said. "Thirty-five hundred! Who's doing the stealing? You or me?" Dexter asked not sure that he heard the man correctly. "It's a high end sport bike," the salesman said. "Let's go down a little in price," Dexter said. The salesman said, "We have this double-butted chromalloy frame and carbon fork ride, for only a grand." "Only a grand?" Dexter said. "It's a twenty-seven speed bike with grippy dual-pivot brakes for maximum control and stopping power. It's a great bike for the city," the salesman said. "Twenty-seven speed?" Dexter asked. The last he remembered was that high-end bikes were 10-speeds. He wasn't even going to ask about dual-pivot brakes. He figured that it meant he'd fly ass over head the first time the front wheel locked up on him. "Yes." "Won't you spend all of your time shifting gears?" Dexter asked. "Getting the best performance out of a bike is all about gearing." A man about Dexter's age came over and put a hand on the shoulder of the salesman. "Harry, I'll take this one." "Sure," Harry said. Harry walked away, looking unhappy. The older man watched Harry walk off. He sighed. Dexter looked at the older man. "I'm Jack, and I own this place," the man said turning to look at Dexter. "I'm Dexter." "I'm sorry about that. Harry tends to view bicycles from a sporting perspective," Jack said. "I think I'm a little lost, here," Dexter said. "These aren't the bikes we had as teenagers," Jack said. "I didn't understand a damned thing he said." Jack said, "You want a basic bike, to ride around the block and get a little exercise, right?" "Right," Dexter said, relieved. Jack walked a couple of steps away and stood by a bike. Pointing to it, he said, "This would have been our dream bike, when we were teenagers. It's a good basic bike, by today's standards. I think this is more along the lines of what you are looking for." "That's exactly what I'm looking for," Dexter said. Jack said, "We've got a couple of bikes at this quality level. It's really a simple matter of preference in color, style, and price on your part. You and I can't really tell that much difference in terms of performance, and comfort, among the bikes here." "I like the blue one," Dexter said. Jack pulled the bike out so that there was some space around it. "Straddle the tube." "What?" Dexter asked. "Straddle the bike ... not on the seat, but over this tube," Jack answered. "Okay," Dexter said. Dexter straddled the tube wondering why he was doing it. "Lift the bike's front," Jack said. Dexter lifted the bike about an inch. Jack said, "That's a good fit. For this style of bike, you need one or two inches between you and the tube. More than that and you're too big for the bike. Less than that and the bike is too big for you." "I guess that makes sense," Dexter said. Jack grabbed the bike to stabilize it. "Get on the seat and put the pedal down to the lowest point in the pedal stroke. We need to adjust the seat height." Dexter sat on the seat and put his feet on the pedals. He started to push the pedals down. The bike tried to roll forward into Jack. "Pedal backwards so the bike doesn't try to move forward," Jack said. "Sorry." Jack examined Dexter's position. "We need to move the seat up just a tad." "More than a tad," Dexter said. "My leg is still bent." "You only want about eighty to ninety percent extension in your leg at the bottom of the pedal stroke," Jack said. "Oh," Dexter said. It seemed to him that getting a bicycle wasn't that difficult when he was younger. All he had to do was pick one out that he could get on. Jack smiled. "You'll appreciate having the bike appropriately adjusted once you start riding it." "I guess," Dexter said. It took Jack a few minutes to get the seat set to the appropriate height. Dexter couldn't really tell the difference. He figured that it might be important while riding it. "Sit down on the seat. We need to check the seat position," Jack said. "Didn't we just do that?" Dexter asked. "We just set the seat height. Now we need to set it forward or backward, so that you have the proper line. Your knee should be aligned over your forefoot." "Oh." It took another minute to get the seat positioned correctly. Then they adjusted the position of the stem so that Dexter was in a comfortable riding position. Jack explained what they were doing while making the adjustments. With Dexter still on the bike in his riding position, Jack asked, "Is that comfortable?" "I guess," Dexter answered. "Well, let's let you try it, out in the parking lot," Jack said. After a pause, he added, "I figure you don't have a helmet." "My kids were telling me that I had to have a helmet and pads, but I don't think I need them," Dexter said with a frown. "You don't need pads, but you do need a helmet. It's the law," Jack said. "It's a stupid fucking law," Dexter muttered. This was another case of the legal system passing laws to protect people from themselves. Maybe it was safer, but having laws dictate his behavior down to that point seemed excessive to Dexter. He had put at least two thousand miles on his bicycle when he was a kid, without a single injury. It wasn't the first time Jack had heard someone say that. Jack said, "Wearing a helmet does prevent head injuries." Dexter said, "With the way that people walk around texting, I'm surprised that we aren't required to wear helmets when walking!" Jack laughed. "I'm serious," Dexter said. "It's not that bad," Jack said. Dexter said, "Yes, it is." Jack knew it would be pointless to argue. He gestured to a wall with helmets. "Pick one out, and try it on." Dexter looked at the helmets. They looked ridiculous to him. When he thought of a helmet, he thought of something one would wear on a motorcycle or playing football. These helmets had all kinds of holes or slots in them. He picked one up and pounded on it. There was a little foam inside the helmet. It didn't look like much protection, to him. "This really looks stupid," Dexter said. "These are standard bicycle helmets," Jack said. Dexter put it on his head. It didn't feel like it fit. He rocked it around the top of his head. "You can adjust the fit," Jack said. Dexter fiddled with the helmet for a minute. Even after trying to get the fit right, it felt like it was just sitting atop his head, protecting nothing. "It feels stupid," Dexter said. Jack looked it over and said, "That's how it's supposed to fit." "This little thing is supposed to protect my head?" "Yes. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." Dexter looked at Jack. "That's the story of my life." "What?" "Getting used to things," Dexter answered. He couldn't imagine having to take a helmet everywhere with him when he had been riding a bike as a kid. Riding a bike had just been a way to get from one point to another, as part of a young liberated lifestyle. There was a lot of freedom in being able to run out of the house, and jump on your bike, and go. Now it seemed like it was a production to get prepared to go somewhere. "What will you be wearing when you're out cycling?" "What I have on," Dexter answered. He was wearing a pair of Dockers and some comfortable casual shoes. He saw no reason why he couldn't ride a bike in his clothes. "You might consider some biking shorts and riding shoes," Jack said. Irritated, Dexter said, "I just want to ride a bike around the block, not participate in some idiotic fashion show." "It was just a suggestion," Jack said. He actually understood how Dexter felt. A lot of people their age remembered how they used to ride bikes back when they were teenagers. Their bodies were still growing. Most of the time, they didn't adjust the fit of the bike. They got used to riding a bike as it was, and seldom adjusted the seat. He hadn't worn special outfits while riding a bike, and knew that Dexter wouldn't see a need for them, either. "Sorry," Dexter said. "I just haven't accepted the idea that I have to wear activity appropriate clothes, for everything that I do. I have casual clothes that I wear when I'm working around the house, running errands, and doing daily kinds of things. I have business casual clothes for work, and suits when I have an important meeting. "When I was younger, I wore blue jeans all of the time. The only time I got out of blue jeans, was to put on swimming trunks. My swimming trunks were an old pair of cutoffs made out of blue jeans." "I know what you mean. It was a different world back then," Jack said. Dexter replied, "I don't accept that. It isn't a different world. It is still the same world that I grew up in. A tree is still a tree. Mowing the lawn hasn't changed. A bike is still a bike. Sure, the frames are a little lighter, the style a little different, and the engineering a little more performance driven. Still, it's just a bike. "It is people who have changed. Some asshole in an advertising agency says that you need to wear x to do y. Like Pavlov's dogs, everyone says that you can't do y without wearing x. Doing y has nothing to do with what you're wearing. After all, we were doing y for a long time before some asshole said that we had to wear x in order to do it. "At the turn of the century people used to wear regular suits when riding a bicycle. The suit wasn't necessary when riding a bicycle. It was that a gentleman wore a suit when in public. I used to have a poster of Einstein riding a bicycle while wearing a suit. "Even today, millions of people worldwide wear regular clothes to ride bicycles. If you don't believe me, look at a picture of people in foreign countries, where everyone rides a bicycle to get around. Not one of them is wearing a skintight outfit. "The problem is that even our leisure activities have become fashion statements. We spend money, which doesn't need to be spent, getting fashioned up. I can guarantee you that my ability to ride a bicycle doesn't depend upon my outfit. I can fall off my bicycle just as well wearing my Dockers, as wearing those spandex riding shorts. "Do you know what the worst thing is?" "No," Jack said, sorry that he had even brought up the subject. Dexter said, "We pay money to advertise products on our clothes. We are tying our individual identity to a product or a corporation. My boy was wearing a tee shirt, advertising a brand of sneakers, when we went camping. I'm sure that he paid good money for that. He isn't all that much into sneakers. I find something wrong with that." "You might be right," Jack said. Dexter realized he had been ranting. Looking a little sheepish, he said, "Sorry. It's just that some things kind of get under my skin." "No problem. Are you ready to try out the bike in the parking lot?" Jack asked. "Sure," Dexter said. While wearing the silly helmet, Dexter managed to ride the bike around the parking lot, without falling off. It was actually easy to pedal. He'd have to pedal up a hill or work up to a pretty good speed for it to become real exercise. "I'll take it," Dexter said. "Will you need a bike rack for your car?" Jack asked. Upon hearing the question, Dexter sagged. Buying a bicycle had somehow turned into a much more complicated endeavor than anticipated. "Yes," Dexter answered. "I've got a couple that will fit your car. I don't know your situation, but we have racks for one, two, three, and four bicycles," Jack said. Dexter was about to answer that he needed one for three bicycles, but changed his mind at the last second. "I'll take a rack for four bikes." "Good choice," Jack said. "I'll be back tomorrow with my two kids to get their bikes," Dexter said. "Excellent," Jack said with a grin. Dexter sighed. "Promise me that I'll get out of here spending less than three thousand dollars, tomorrow." "I'll try," Jack said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 13: President James At a very personal level, Dexter didn't like the idea of a corporation. It was strange to him that a legal fiction produced a virtual entity that had what he felt were greater rights than a human being. The only punishment for violating some law that a corporation could receive, was a fine. Those fines usually had little or no impact at on the corporation's bottom line. Unlike a person who broke a law, a corporation could not spend time in jail. Products engineered and sold by a corporation could kill people, but the corporation could only be sued for monetary compensation for the deaths. It was not charged with murder or manslaughter. Some very large corporations actually performed a cost-vs-benefit analysis to determine what made the most economic sense when a product was determined to be unsafe. It was true that the people involved in some corporate wrongdoing might go to jail, but in a strange convolution of the legal system, they were more often than not found guilty of a crime against the corporation. Individuals who committed felonies could lose the right to vote. Corporations did not have the right to vote, but there were other ways to influence politicians, and they certainly did not lose access to those other mechanisms. Dexter had a feeling that one day, corporations would get the right to vote. Dexter wondered how much different the world would be if corporations could be 'executed' for major crimes? What would happen if a corporation that has been charged with a crime had to suspend doing business, until the matter was solved by a court, or had to post a bail in order to be able to continue to perform business? What would happen if a corporation, upon being found guilty of a crime, was disbanded? How would business be conducted if all stockholders could lose their investments, all employees could be laid off, and the warranties could be voided upon conviction of a criminal corporation? Would employees continue to accept the risks that executives placed upon them or would they demand greater visibility into corporate decision making? Would investors continue to allow Boards of Directors of major corporations to be filled with individuals who had no clue about the real nature of the business, and who rubber-stamped the decisions of the executives in charge? Would the world start to celebrate whistle-blowers who turned in crooked executives? Dexter, feeling somewhat hypocritical, had just finished signing the papers that would create a corporation. There was a pile of paperwork stacked in front of him. They had just incorporated in the state of Maryland. Apparently, the tax laws for businesses incorporated in Maryland were less complex than elsewhere. "Is twenty-two million dollars going to be enough to get this business started?" Dexter asked for the hundredth time. "Yes," Ed answered patiently. "We've already spent over twenty thousand dollars, and all we've done is become a company," Dexter said. The majority of the money hadn't been spent on the required fees for incorporating; that was relatively cheap. The money had gone towards setting up the roles, responsibilities, and obligations of each of the investors. Dexter was the President of the company – a position that he didn't want. Ed Daimler was the CEO. Dexter had not known Janet was the third investor in the company until contacting Charlie after the Phil Xander interview had finished. Now she was seated at the table with him and Ed, in her new role as CFO. Her accounting background made her the logical choice for that position. He wasn't sure how he felt about being in business with his ex-wife. Legacy Coffee Machines was now a legal entity, with a full compliment of officers, stockholders, and ties to accounting firms and lawyers. They didn't have an office, employees, or even a single paperclip, but they were a legal entity. Dexter hoped that meant something. That didn't mean they didn't have any potential employees. The website had been inundated with resumes from individuals who designed coffee makers. A lot of the resumes were from very experienced individuals. Dexter had a feeling that they could have wiped out the competition just by hiring all of their engineers. "Don't worry about it. Right now is the time to avoid mistakes at all costs. We just spent the money necessary to avoid some very major and costly mistakes," Ed said dismissing Dexter's concerns. Janet said, "In my opinion, it was money that was well spent." The corporate bylaws had been quite complex. Allocation of initial ownership, outstanding shares, and the terms and conditions on selling outstanding shares had been hammered out with the help of the lawyer. The procedures by which corporate business decisions were to be made had taken another week to establish. Dexter had been the difficult one in that area. One of the bylaws required a three-quarters majority vote by the stockholders, to approve any new product line. The goal was to prevent the business from expanding into some sort of international conglomerate that had its fingers in all kinds of products. It might prevent the business from becoming a Fortune 500 company, but they were going for long-term, slow, managed growth rather than explosive expansion. Dexter wanted to make sure that a hundred years from now, people were still buying Legacy Coffee Machines to make coffee. He didn't want it to turn into a toaster company or have a product line of chain saws. He was well aware of the history of a certain pen corporation that had decided that it was time to expand its product offerings. First, it introduced a line of disposable lighters. Two years later, the company launched a disposable shaver product. The core commonality among the new business areas was that the products were made of plastic, were cheap, and were disposable. After seventy-years in business, that company had three core product lines: stationary goods, disposable shavers, and lighters. He felt like that was the kind of growth that companies should strive to achieve. "What next?" Dexter asked. "We get over to the bank, deposit our money, get a place of business, and then hire some people," Ed answered. Dexter wondered how much of his time was going to be spent on this business. After a year away from a full-time job, he had gotten used to working on his own schedule. He feared that this was going to result in a bigger change in lifestyle than he could possibly imagine. "Let's get it over with," Dexter said. "Do you have a bank that you prefer?" Ed asked looking over at Janet. "Not really," Janet answered. "As a matter of fact, I do," Dexter said. "Excellent. Let's go there," Ed said. It took half an hour for them to make it to the bank. Each of them had taken their own car since they each had different plans for after the bank visit. Dexter waited in his car while Ed and Janet went inside to create an account. The idea was that he would join them after they had established the account. It was kind of stupid, but he wanted them to have the full experience of service without him being present. He was afraid they would mistake their regular level of service as being special because he was there with them. He wondered how they would react to the level of service they would receive while opening an account. No matter how many times he had gone into the bank, he always emerged overwhelmed by the individual attention that he received while there. Sitting alone in his car, he thought about the strange direction his life had taken since the interview on The Phil Xander Show. He had always considered himself to be an engineer. Now, he was Dexter the Entrepreneur: President of Legacy Coffee Machines. It was a strange thought. Despite the fact that his website was making money, he didn't really view it as a business. He viewed it as a public service that was making enough money to support itself. He definitely hadn't gone into it with the expectation of making money off of it. Although it was to be expected, he was almost as busy now as when he had been working full time at the old company. It was different though, and the differences were significant. He was in charge of his time. There were no six in the morning calls from his boss. He returned to his apartment before six in the evening. His evenings were spent visiting with people, reading, or even just eating a relaxed dinner at some nice restaurant. In terms of material goods, his standard of living had actually decreased (ignoring, for the moment, the camper). His home had gone from a substantial four-bedroom house, to a two-room apartment. He no longer had a lawn to maintain. There were a lot fewer gadgets in his home. He didn't have a DVD or a Blu-ray player. He didn't have a stereo system. If he wanted to watch a movie or listen to music, he played it on his home computer. He didn't have a landline telephone, using his plain vanilla cell phone for that purpose. No longer was he carrying his work environment around with him. His cell phone kept him in contact, but it didn't have the data plan that had once bombarded him with emails. He let everyone know that his cell phone would not accept ANY texted messages. His experience with text messages had left him gun shy of that particular feature. In modern terms, Dexter had stepped back in time regarding his connectivity to the world. He had a cell phone that he carried with him and a basic computer at home. His office had a computer, but that was it. He had a website and two email accounts, but he wasn't a participant in the social networking brouhaha. The fact was, Dexter wanted to interact with people – not machines. The bank was just another example of how he was achieving that particular goal. Real human tellers waited upon him. They talked to him while making the transaction. They physically handed him his cash and receipts. Everyone who had ever gone to the bank with him, had left impressed. He checked his watch and saw that it was about time for him to go into the bank. Much to his surprise, Janet stepped out of the bank. She walked a few steps away from the front door, and turned to look back towards the bank. She shook her head in disbelief. She took another few steps and then paused to look back a second time. Thinking that Janet had come out to get him, Dexter was further surprised when Ed walked out of the bank with a frown on his face. Ed paused after a few steps. He looked back at the bank, and then over at Dexter. His frown deepened. Wondering if there was something wrong, Dexter waited anxiously in the car while Janet and Ed engaged in a short animated conversation. Their reaction wasn't exactly what he had been expecting. He wondered for a moment if there had been a change in management, in the past week. Janet and Ed returned to the car. Janet rode shotgun while Ed got in the back and moved to the center of the seat where he could easily talk to Dexter and Janet. "Wow. That's a very different kind of bank," Janet said. "Yes," Dexter said. Ed said, "I'd put my personal accounts in a bank like that, in a minute." "I though you would like it," Dexter said. "I love it, but I'm afraid that it is too small to handle the banking needs of our corporation," Ed said. "What?" "It's a small bank. I don't think they'll be able to arrange for the kinds of loans that we'll be needing, in the future. Don't forget that we're going to have some major expenses coming up. We'll have to float loans of tens of millions of dollars while we're getting our products manufactured," Ed said. "You're saying it's too small," Dexter said not sure that he understood the problem. "He's right, Dexter," Janet said, "It's all in how a bank gets money to make loans. They actually have to borrow it. A small bank like this won't be able to borrow enough to cover all of their existing loans, plus our loans." "That sucks," Dexter said. It kind of disturbed him that Janet was the swing vote in the business. Neither he nor Ed had a full majority. If there were any disagreements between the two men, then Janet had the final say. Considering their tenuous relationship, he wasn't sure that his interests were going to be given the consideration that they should be given. "It sure does," Ed said. Janet said, "Those are some really nice people in there. I was impressed." Ed said, "I was never treated that well at my bank until my company got large enough to be a significant customer. Of course, that was back in the day when banks did provide a lot more services than they do today." "I guess ... well ... I figured that service was an important consideration in choosing a bank," Dexter said. Dexter had not given any thought to the kind of banking that would be required to allow the company to go forward in the future. It was kind of a shock to discover that small and personal wasn't good enough. He felt that in going with a larger bank that their account wouldn't be important enough to get the kind of service he wanted. "It is, but it isn't the most important consideration," Janet said. Ed said, "You've got to realize that we'll probably be approaching a billion dollars a year in sales, at some point in time. There will be times when our short-term financial requirements are going to be substantial, and we won't have the cash on hand to meet them. We'll need loans to carry us during times of growth." "Those loans could be huge," Janet said. She might not have ever run a business before, but she had gone through the books of a lot of businesses. She knew how important the ability to get access to significant amounts of cash on short notice could be for a company's survival. In this matter, she was firmly on Ed's side. "This really sucks," Dexter said. Ed said, "I made an appointment to see the president of the bank this afternoon. I'll see if they are able to handle our banking needs." "Thanks," Dexter said. "You never know. After all, this is just a branch office. They may not know some of the main office's financial ... uh ... well ... abilities. However, I wouldn't get your hopes up too much, though," Ed said. He could tell that Dexter was a little upset that his little bank, was just a might bit too small. It had been a long time since he'd seen that kind of customer loyalty demonstrated in a retail or a banking setting. It still existed in the manufacturing world to a small degree. Often times the provider of an essential part of a product was more of a partner than anything else. Customer loyalty was almost a thing of the past. For the most part it was because too many companies had given up on treating customers well, and had settled for just working the numbers. New business was often brought in by using gimmicks. Old customers were kept because there weren't any real reasons to leave one company for another. It was often just too much work to change companies. In some cases, there were contracts that prevented customers from being able to change companies without having to pay a penalty. Ed said, "I'll head over there, and let you know." "Thanks," Dexter said. Ed and Janet discussed meeting at the bank later that afternoon. Dexter could transfer the funds into the account once it was established from his bank. After a short discussion concerning the logistics of meeting, Ed got out of the car to drive back to the hotel where he was staying. He had lunch plans with his wife. Dexter watched Ed go over to his car. Janet sat there staring off at the bank. "What are you thinking?" Dexter asked once Ed had driven off. "That's a nice little bank," Janet said. "I'd actually consider moving my accounts to it. I've never been treated like that in our bank." "Yes, it is a nice bank. That's why I moved my accounts there," Dexter said. He hadn't missed how she had referenced his old bank as 'our bank'. He figured Freud would have something to say about it, but personally he felt that Freud was an idiot. There were times when one could read too much into something. Janet said, "It's a shame that it's too small for our needs." "You're talking like that has already been established," Dexter said. "Although you aren't willing to accept it, you know the truth of the matter. It is highly unlikely that the corporation will go with this bank," Janet said. "I know," Dexter said with a sigh. He added, "I won't fight the decision, if that is what you're worried about." "I didn't think you'd fight it, but I know you're disappointed. It really is a nice little bank," Janet said. "I guess there's nothing else to say about the matter. We will pick the bank that meets the needs of the company," Dexter said. An uneasy silence descended in the car. Dexter didn't have anything more to add about the bank. In a way, he felt that topic had been milked far too much. Janet said, "I enjoyed our date." "I did, too," Dexter said. "Any chance of another?" Janet asked pointedly. It might be a cliché, but she had been sitting by the telephone waiting for him to call. The fact that he hadn't called had irritated her more than she was willing to admit. At the end of the date, she had been left with the understanding that there would be a dancing date. "I guess so," Dexter said. "I can't find a place with dancing." He had attempted to find some venue that would offer dancing. The problem was that he didn't want to go to some young club where they would be the oldest ones there by twenty years. He didn't think watching a bunch of twenty-somethings drink too much while looking for their next bed partner would make for a very interesting time. Perhaps a country club might have been a good venue, but he wasn't a member of one, and had no desire to join one. "We don't have to go dancing. I enjoyed the jazz club," Janet said. Dexter said, "I found a nice little Greek restaurant. The food is great. A nice family owns it. Even the kids work there." "I like Greek," Janet said. "I guess we could go there. Would Friday be okay?" Dexter asked. "Friday night would be fine," Janet said. "Okay, it's a date," Dexter said. "Can I pick you up around seven?" "Perfect," Janet said. "Great." She sat there looking at Dexter as if waiting for him to do something. He had no clue what she wanted. The thought that she might be expecting him to kiss her flashed through his mind, but that didn't seem likely. She wasn't sending out that kind of message. It was kind of getting on his nerves. "What?" Dexter asked defensively. "Aren't we going home?" Janet asked. "Uh," Dexter answered uncertain what was expected of him. "Start the car and drive," Janet prompted. "What about your car?" Dexter asked while looking out the window at her car. "Oh! This is embarrassing. I forgot that I drove here," Janet said, her face turning bright red. On hearing that, Dexter knew that he wasn't the only one feeling a little uncomfortable in this relationship. That simple fact actually helped him relax a little. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 14: Interviews "Can you do it?" Dexter asked the candidate. Malcolm Engels answered, "Of course, I can. You're talking about a single cup coffee maker." "I'm talking about a single cup coffee maker, that will last for twenty years," Dexter said. Malcolm Engels was in his mid-thirties and had been working as an engineer in a large company that produced coffee pots as one of its product lines. He had been there for over fifteen years working on a variety of coffee makers. His resume looked impressive. It covered just about every aspect of coffee maker design. "Ten, twenty, or thirty years – it doesn't matter. You get the right heating element that will last. You include a replaceable brewing basket. You'll need an I-R sensor to make sure the cup is in place. Add in a simple water sensor and you're done," Malcolm said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Give me your thoughts on the product," Dexter said thinking that the young man was being a little over optimistic in his answer. Malcolm smiled at the question. "I see a machine with a broad base that is exceptionally stable. I hate it when a coffee maker tips over because you're doing something or even just bump into it. It needs to have a little heft to it so that it's bottom heavy. That heft can also provide the necessary thermal insulation to prevent any fire hazards. "It will need a simple flat platform that fits into the base, where you'll set the coffee cup. That way, you don't have to worry about breaking the coffee pot. It'll have to include an overflow catch basin because people might add more water than their cup holds. That's not a real big problem. What you don't want, is steaming hot water flowing out where people can get burned. "The on/off button should be right in the front where you can see it. While brewing it should be red. When the water chamber is empty, the light should go out and the heating element turn off. We could add an alarm, but I don't really see the need for that. That would be an executive decision. We are talking a single cup coffee maker and the person will probably be waiting for it to finish brewing. "I see the top as being funnel shaped so that it is easy to pour the water into the water chamber without spilling any of the water. It should have a cover on a simple hinge so that dust won't fall into the water chamber and clog up the plumbing. After twenty years, dust will be an issue. Open the cover, add water by pouring it out of your coffee cup, and close the cover. Allow excess water to run off into the catch basin in case the person tries to overfill it. Neat, clean, and no mess. "The brewing chamber can actually be an individual component. We could provide one that takes those K cups, one that takes coffee pods, and one that takes ground coffee out of a can. I don't see any sense requiring people to use one kind of coffee delivery mechanism over another. Your coffee aficionados can grind their own beans and use it. If a new coffee standard comes out, a new brewing chamber can be introduced to support it. "Of course, having a good interchangeable brewing chamber will be the greatest engineering challenge, but I've got some ideas in that direction. I don't see any real issues with that, but it will take some time to make it a reality. "The coffee maker should work with ceramic, foam, paper, or plastic cups of varying heights, shapes, and sizes. There will have to be some limits, but there are standard sizes for coffee cups. We don't want the brewed coffee splattering out of the cup and messing up the area. "There will be three sensors that basically run in serial. If anyone of the sensors gets tripped, then brewing will stop. The on/off switch will be the most visible to the user. It will be mechanical so it needs to be pretty robust to last twenty years. The I-R sensor to check the presence of the cup is basically all solid state. Getting one sufficiently durable to last twenty years might be a little tricky. A good electrical engineer could answer that question. "The water sensor is just a float that can trip a simple switch. Since it has moving parts, it will be a little expensive to get one that will stand up to years of use. "The heating element, one-way valve, and plumbing are not big deals. We've been making industrial brewers that have a lifetime of at least twenty years of hard service. The parts are out there. We just have to use them. "We have to make sure that it can be operated single-handedly. You can't expect someone to have to hold the cover while pouring the water or to have to use two hands to put the brewing chamber in place. I know that's a small detail, but it's an important one. My Granddad had a stroke, and can't use his left hand." "It sounds like you've given this a lot of thought," Dexter said. "I'll admit that I have," Malcolm said. "The last coffee maker that I worked on couldn't be used one-handed. It was a design flaw introduced by another of my coworkers. I knew it and wanted management to give us the time to fix the design, but my boss pushed the project through over my objections. I had to tell my Granddad that he wouldn't be able to use the coffee maker I designed. He looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. Believe me, I felt like one." Dexter always felt that pride in a product was an essential character trait in a good engineer. Why? Because a proud man would feel shame in knowingly releasing a bad product. Good engineers who took pride in their work produced good products. "How did it do in the market place?" Dexter asked. "It bombed. They dropped the price to clear out the inventory and discontinued the model after six months," Malcolm answered. Dexter asked, "What was the problem?" With a look of disgust on his face, Malcolm answered, "It was the stupid brewing chamber. There was a last minute change introduced by one of the marketing gurus to make it swung out to the side. When the coffee grinds were wet and the coffee pot wasn't in place, it was heavy enough to tip the coffee maker over on its side. I hadn't designed the base for that kind of configuration. The brewing basket was supposed to slide out to the front. "In addition, you had to lift the brewing chamber off of a hinge to remove it so that you could empty the old grinds. That took two hands – one to lift the brewing chamber and another to hold down the rest of the coffee maker." "Did you have anything to do with the design of the brewing chamber?" Dexter asked. "No. I worked on the core structure of the coffee maker," Malcolm answered. "My initial design had a heavy wider base, but management decided that would cost an extra quarter to make so they had me reduce it in size. That's what made it so unstable. If we had kept my original design, I doubt it would have tipped over." "Sounds like politics killed the product," Dexter said. Malcolm said, "You're absolutely right. They put a recent college graduate in charge of designing the brewing basket. It was his first real product. He had an equal voice in design decisions as the rest of us. It was disgusting." "I've observed that phenomena before," Dexter said. There had been many occasions where he had sat in a meeting where someone who had never built a product was telling him how to do the job the right way. Most of the time, the kid was spouting nonsense that he had tried when he was a young snot-nosed engineer without experience. Back then, a senior engineer would explain where he was wrong and that would be the end of it. Now, the kid would flood management with memos and the issue would never end. "I hope that you have a better management plan than that," Malcolm said. Dexter said, "Well ... That's a tricky little thing." "What?" "The single cup coffee maker will have one person on it. Any supporting engineering activities will be contracted to an independent," Dexter said. "Do you mean I'd have to do the whole thing?" Malcolm asked. His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. "More or less," Dexter answered. "You'd have to work with the engineers over at the plastics company to assure that it can be manufactured. You'd need to work with them to select the plastics used in its construction. You would probably need to contract out the design of the electrical circuit to an electrical engineer." "Sweet!" "Your name would be engraved on the side of the coffee maker," Dexter said. "Really?" "Yes." "Damn!" Malcolm said with a grin. Dexter said, "I'm hiring two other engineers. One will work on the five-cup maker, and the other will do the ten-cup coffeemaker. I think it would be a good idea for each of you to check the others' work. Fresh eyes, and all of that." "No problem," Malcolm said. "The other two engineers would probably need to work closely together to assure a common style in the product. I don't see that being an issue with a single cup coffee maker so you would have a greater degree of creativity in how you design it," Dexter said. "This is so good," Malcolm said while rubbing his hands together. Dexter said, "I'll need a list of the resources you would need to produce the design. I'm looking at getting a three dimensional printer to make mock-ups of the designed product." "That'll be great," Malcolm said. Dexter smiled. He said, "One more question." "What?" Malcolm asked. "How long will it take?" "Oh, boy," Malcolm said. He exhaled loudly and looked at the far wall. "I want a reasonable estimate," Dexter said. Malcolm said, "That's a tough one. My team usually worked on a year long cycle from product conception to manufacturing. Of course, every meeting was filled with a lot of bickering. I remember it took us almost two weeks to come to consensus on the on/off switch for one of our machines. Still, I'd be working alone which would require a lot more effort on my part. "Boy..." "Best guess," Dexter said. "Maybe fifteen to eighteen months. I'll have to get a design environment set up, create the initial drawings, validate the design, select the plastics for the various parts of it, iterate the design a couple of times, cost it out, and see what kind of manufacturing procedure needs to be followed," Malcolm said. Dexter was pleased with that estimate. It was between the estimates given by the two other candidates for the same position. One candidate had boasted that nine months would be sufficient. That seemed a little quick to Dexter. The other candidate had said two years and he felt that was a little too long. "Okay," Dexter said. "I'd need to put together a project plan before giving you a firmer estimate," Malcolm said. "How about packaging and UL certification?" Dexter asked. It was surprising to Dexter how many people forgot about packaging and certification of products until too late in a project. There was nothing worse than having a product ready to go and not having any boxes to put it in. Although he wasn't an electrical engineer, he knew that no electrical products could be sold without getting UL certification. A coffee pot was clearly an electrical product. Despite the fact that the circuit and electronic parts were pretty simple, it still had to be certified safe by the Underwriters Laboratory. He understood the need, but disliked the added expense of creating a product. "Getting the packaging together is one of those things that we'll have to do once we have our final design. We'll need to know the exact dimensions of the product. There are firms that specialize in designing the packaging for products. Someone will have to deal with the artwork. That's a little out of my pay grade," Malcolm said. Dexter already had plans in place to hire an artist to create the artwork that would appear on the packaging for the coffee makers. This was one of those areas where he had to function well outside his comfort zone. He had no clue how to go about hiring an artist. "The UL Certification?" Malcolm said, "I'm very familiar with the UL Certification requirements for coffee pots. It should be no problem. We need to get them involved as early as possible." "How much will it cost?" Dexter asked. "I don't actually know, since I never actually dealt with the business aspect of getting UL Certification. My job was always technical. We'll have to request a price quote from them," Malcolm answered. Dexter said, "Okay." Malcolm said, "Don't forget the user instructions and warranty card. Someone will have to write those and get them printed for inclusion in the packaging. For the printed material, we can assume certification." "I didn't forget about that," Dexter said. He was going to have to hire a technical writer to put together the basic brochure. The lawyer would write all of the legal mumbo-jumbo. He was tempted to just borrow the majority of the material out of the brochures that came with other coffee makers. He would also need to get someone to translate the written material into Spanish, as well. "Do you want to go for a CE Mark?" "What?" Dexter asked. Malcolm said, "Well, the CE mark is a manufacturers self declaration that their manufacturing processes are in conformity with European Directives for selling products within the European Union." "I've got no clue. I guess I'll have to look into it," Dexter said. "Do so. You'll need it if you want to sell to Europe," Malcolm said. Dexter asked, "Is there anything else you think I should know?" "Not right off hand," Malcolm said. "Do you have any questions?" Dexter asked. "I have a hundred questions," Malcolm said. "Okay, ask away." "Are you offering shares in the company?" Malcolm asked. Dexter answered, "Yes. We'll give out shares to the engineers of each coffee maker upon successful launch of their product." "Excellent," Malcolm said. "I want to retire a millionaire." "You really think so?" Dexter said. "Yes. If I have control over the design of my coffee maker, then I know it will bring in money. It will be the best one on the market. This company will grow and I want a piece of the action," Malcolm said. "Why are you so sure that it will grow?" Dexter asked rather pleased by the faith that Malcolm was demonstrating in the potential for the company. Malcolm said, "How many hotels are in this country? How many rooms are in your average hotel? How many of them have single cup coffee makers in their rooms? If you make a single cup coffee maker that will last twenty years, I'm positive that every hotel chain, motel, and bed and breakfast in this country will be buying them in bulk." "I hadn't thought about that," Dexter said stunned by the possibility. He was pretty sure that Ed, with his business contacts, could probably arrange for a meeting with one or more hotel chain executives. He figured that with that one suggestion, Malcolm had landed the job. It was the kind of suggestion that would pay his salary for many years. "Think about it. If I were you, I'd sell the first few production runs to a couple of large hotels. I bet you could sell fifty thousand units in Las Vegas, alone. I could include a little cutout that would allow a hotel to put its brand on the coffee maker," Malcolm said. "I'll mention that to my partners," Dexter said thinking Ed could probably line up a couple of substantial orders before the first coffee maker rolled off the production line. "Then there's the home market. Single people living alone will constitute a huge market. They don't need a five-cup coffee maker for everyday use. They need a quick cup of good coffee," Malcolm said. "That was the market I was targeting," Dexter said. Malcolm said, "You might not realize it, but this is my dream. I want to create a product that everyone in the country will recognize on sight. The idea that my name will be on it sends chills up and down my spine." "That's good," Dexter said. Malcolm asked, "Where will my office be?" "Right here," Dexter answered. The room they were in was huge, capable of fitting at least fifty cubicles. There were five desks along one wall with a bookcase sandwiched between each desk. There were three huge tables in the middle of the room. There were several additional smaller tables at the far end of the room. Each wall was covered with white board from ceiling to floor. There was a desk near the door to the office. "How many people will be working in here?" Malcolm asked. "Six. Three engineers, one secretary, a tech support person, and a purchasing agent," Dexter answered. "This is a lot of space for just six people," Malcolm said. Dexter said, "This is a real engineering work space, just like they used to have in the old days. You'll be able to printout your design, gather around a table and discuss issues with others. You've got space on the walls to write notes, solve problems, and track your schedule. You'll be with other engineers working on essentially equivalent products that you'll be able to discuss your ideas, explore concepts, and validate designs." "I was kind of expecting a cubicle," Malcolm said looking around the room in amazement. "There will be no cubicles for engineers, here," Dexter said. "Engineers need space to work. They need to be around other engineers to brainstorm. They need to exchange information with others working on similar products." "Wow," Malcolm said. "I'm going to like working here." "I think you will," Dexter said. "When do I start?" Malcolm asked. "You aren't going to ask about benefits?" Dexter asked. "Do you have benefits?" "Yes. We have life, disability, medical, and dental insurance. We're looking at getting a 401K." "Good enough for me," Malcolm said. "When do I start?" "Aren't you concerned about pay?" Dexter asked. "Sure. How much?" Malcolm asked. For the next ten minutes, Dexter and Malcolm discussed pay. Malcolm was very flexible in terms of accepting stock, in lieu of money. Dexter had the impression that Malcolm would have settled for just enough money to cover his bills, if the rest of his salary was in stock. After calling Janet to let her know that he wanted to hire Malcolm, he sent the man across the hall to meet with her in order to fill out all of the required paperwork. Dexter had figured that he would hire three engineers, turn them loose in designing a product, and be done with it. After a little thought, he realized that he was going to have to hire a secretary, a purchasing agent, and a technician to provide support for the computer systems. After further thought, he realized that he was looking at contracting out work to an artist, a technical writer, an electrical engineer, and a marketing specialist. He was going to have to establish contractual relationships with the plastics company, a manufacturing facility, a distributor, a printer, and a packaging company. His head was spinning while he considered all of the work ahead of him. Dexter pulled out his cell phone and made a call. "Hello, Amber." "Hello, Dexter." "Would you like a job?" Dexter asked. "What kind of job?" Amber asked. "I need a caretaker," Dexter answered. "What?" "I'm over my head, here. I need a personal assistant," Dexter said. "Do you want me to give you head between meetings, or something?" Amber asked suspiciously. "No. I need someone to take notes, keep track of my appointments, and make sure that I'm where I need to be when I need to be there," Dexter said. "Why me?" "Don't you want out of the business?" "Yes." "You're a friend. I want to help you get out of the business." "This is a serious offer?" "Yes." "Let me think about it. I'll get back to you," Amber said. After Amber hung up, Dexter sat back, thinking about what all had to be done. He still had to post an article on the website, that afternoon. Ten minutes later, Janet walked into the room. She glared at Dexter and said, "You want to hire Amber as a personal assistant?" Surprised by the question, Dexter wondered how she knew about it so quickly. He guessed Amber had immediately called her, although he could think of no reason why she would do so. "Yes." "Why?" "I need someone to keep track of where I'm supposed to be, what I'm supposed to be doing, and keeping everyone off my back." "Why her?" "She wants out of the escort business," Dexter answered. "Oh," Janet said. She stood there for five full seconds, staring at the floor. She finally said, "You fuck her, and I'll cut your balls off." "Yes, Dear." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 15: Time Management Dexter was pleased with the article he was about to post on the website. The title of the article was, "The Customer is Always Right?" The question mark in the title was the whole point of the article. The past week had been spent interviewing people who worked in a service capacity. Some of the stories they told were very interesting. One waiter had relayed a story about the time a woman yanked on his arm while he was walking past her table, carrying a tray of food for another table. The tray had spilled over the woman. She had complained to the manager about his incompetence, demanded to have her dinner comped, and a gift certificate for dinner at a future time. He'd had to pay for all of that. Another waitress spoke about a family in which the teenage girl had believed she was royalty, as a result of her father calling her 'Princess.' The girl had ordered the most expensive item on the menu. When asked about her preference in salad dressing, the girl began telling her parents a long story about something or another without ever answering. The waitress was left standing there trying to get the rest of the girl's order. Finally, the girl looked at her and said, "I'll get to you in a minute. I'm telling a story here." The father nodded his head with a vacuous smile on his face. The mother looked embarrassed. The daughter's behavior only got worse as the meal progressed. Another waitress told about one family that had kept her fetching and carrying almost to the exclusion of allowing her to serve other customers. First it is was to get a clean knife after someone had dropped one on the floor, then water, then rolls, then more rolls, then extra napkins, then one of the kids spilled their water, and the list of errands just kept increasing. They complained that the salads weren't presented artistically enough. The husband sent his dinner back after he over-salted it. According to them, nothing was done correctly and they had never had such horrible service. It was the smirks on their faces when they made their demands that really had irritated the waitress. Another waitress complained about the drunks who came into the diner where she worked. She was tired of being fondled, pinched, propositioned, and generally harassed. She wondered how those men would feel if some guy did that to their daughter. One manager of a restaurant told about a family that allowed their five year old kid to stand on his chair and scream for a solid thirty minutes without making the least attempt to quiet the child. The family sat around the table as if there was nothing wrong. It was so bad that other customers were leaving. When he had asked the family to leave, they had gotten belligerent. How dare he criticize their child? Their attitude was that if other people had a problem with how the child behaved then it was the problem of those who were complaining. After all, kids will be kids. Dexter relayed those stories with the comment that service was a two-way street. Not only was having a good server required, but so was having a good customer. Manners mattered. Servers in service industries were people trying to make a living, and deserved respect. They weren't slaves. He admitted there was a fine line between being a demanding customer and being an asshole. One way to keep from crossing that line was to be polite. Simple words like 'please, thank you, you're welcome, and excuse me' went far to keeping one on the correct side of that invisible line. Compliments were always appreciated. A good customer recognized when a server was extremely busy, and would wait patiently for service, at least to a point. It was a balancing act, and people made errors. Over-reacting to poor service wasn't appropriate. Applying a standard of service above that expected for an establishment, wasn't fair to the employees. A diner would never provide the kind of service one might find in a five star restaurant. After reading over the article, Dexter posted it on the web, hoping that it might get some attention. He had gotten quite a few emails about how he blamed only the servers for bad service. It was only after talking to the full waitstaff of a restaurant that Dexter truly appreciated some of the issues servers faced. Dexter turned to Amber and said, "That's done." "Your afternoon is free of appointments," Amber said. "You mean I have a free afternoon?" Dexter asked. He had given her complete control over his schedule. It wasn't that she ordered him around, but that she freed him to focus on what was important. Essentially, he went where she told him to go. Fortunately, she hadn't told him to go to hell yet. "Well..." "Well, what?" Amber said, "I think Calvin is looking to talk with you this evening. You might do one of your front porch beer-fests." "That sounds okay to me," Dexter said. He rather enjoyed those occasions when he and his neighbors gathered on the front steps of his apartment for a quick beer and a little conversation. He and Calvin always had things to discuss. He found that Mary was a fascinating person in her own right. She had interests in topics that he never considered. She challenged him to keep up with current events. Xavier remained somewhat of a mystery. He would occasionally join them, but preferred drinking wine to beer. Dexter said, "Remind me to pick up some wine and beer on my way home." "Pick up some wine and beer on your way home," Amber said while looking down at her notebook. "I meant for you to remind me when I left here." "I'm leaving early today," Amber said. "Why?" "I have a date," Amber said. Seeing the uncertain expression on Dexter's face, she said, "A real date with a guy." "Nice. Is he anyone I know?" Dexter asked. "No," Amber said. "I hope you have a good time," Dexter said. Amber said, "I hope so, too." "Where are you going?" Dexter asked. "I don't know. That's the guy's job," Amber said. "I guess so," Dexter said feeling a little sheepish. "Yes. Well ... I want to go over your schedule for tomorrow so that you won't be surprised should I come in late tomorrow." "Hit me with it," Dexter said knowing his Wednesday schedule by heart. Amber said, "Tomorrow morning you have your standing meeting with Eric." "I know," Dexter said. "You have a lunch appointment with Janet at the Silver Cockerel," Amber said. "I do?" Dexter asked surprised by that. He didn't remember making any kind of suggestions that they meet tomorrow for lunch. "Yes," Amber answered. "Why?" Dexter asked. "Because I said so," Amber answered jokingly. "What are we supposed to talk about?" Dexter asked. Amber stared at him for five full seconds. "You're partners in a business. Talk about business. You told everyone else at the company to have lunch together occasionally, in order to build a better working relationship with each other. As management, you and Janet should practice what you preach." "I can do that," Dexter said. "You might also remind her that you're scheduled to have a date with her Friday," Amber said. "Where can I take her?" Dexter asked. "I found a nice place with dancing," Amber said. "She'll enjoy that," Dexter said. "I know," Amber said. "You'll spend the afternoon here. Don't forget that you have a conference call scheduled with Ed at three in the afternoon to discuss assembly issues." "I almost forgot about that," Dexter said. Ed and Dexter were trying to decide whether to start their own assembly plant for the coffee makers or to give a contract to a company here in the states that could do the work for them. Ed was leaning to starting their own assembly plant. Dexter was concerned about the demand being sufficient to employ a factory full time. In the short-term, the costs of having their own assembly plant were higher, but would save them money in the long-term. "I'll remind you again tomorrow," Amber said. "You might want to examine the issues before leaving this afternoon." "That's a good idea," Dexter said. "That's it. I'm done," Amber declared. "That was quick," Dexter said. "I'm going now. I have to get pretty for my date," Amber said. "You're already pretty," Dexter said. "That's nice of you to say, but I've got an appointment for a manicure and to have my hair styled," Amber said while getting up from her chair. "Have fun," Dexter said. After Amber left, Dexter picked up the folder with his notes concerning the assembly issues. He waded into the material trying to find a convincing argument to contract out the work. There was one thing about which he was adamant. The work would stay in this country. There was no way he was going to send it overseas. Lost in his research, Dexter was surprised when the telephone rang. He answered it using the speakerphone capability, without checking the caller id. "Go home, Dexter." "You're not Amber," Dexter said staring at the phone. "Amber asked me to call you. She's under the hair dryer," the woman said. "Oh," Dexter said. "Don't forget to buy beer and wine on your way home," the woman said. "Thank you," Dexter said. The woman hung up the phone. ------- Mary walked up the sidewalk to the apartment. As usual, her eyes were watching everything at once. She visibly relaxed when she spotted Dexter seated in front of his apartment door. "Would you care for wine or beer?" "Wine," Mary answered with a grin. She had come to enjoy the times spent on the front patio with what she considered to be, 'The Gang, ' if three others could be considered a gang. It was one of the few times she felt safe outside her apartment. She viewed Dexter as being safe. Xavier wasn't interested in women. Calvin had taken it upon himself to be her protector. She could sit there, surrounded by men, and be sociable. It was nice. Dexter poured a glass of wine for her and set it down on a little table. She sat down and said, "I haven't seen you around much." "I've been busy," Dexter said. "I've been watching for any news about your company, but there hasn't been a thing in any of the papers or trade journals," Mary said. "It's too early for that. We've just about finished the design work, and we're looking into what's required to manufacture the coffee makers," Dexter said. "If I can help, let me know," Mary said. Dexter wondered if she could help him find a company that would do the assembly. According to Charlie, she was pretty good at researching investment opportunities. She'd be able to find a company with good potential at about the right size to grow with his business. Xavier came up the steps. Without waiting for Dexter to ask, he said, "Ah! Wine! Nectar of the Gods! I could really use a glass." Dexter poured a glass of wine, and held it out for Xavier. "Did you have a bad day?" "Somewhat. We had a guy at the shop who was picking on Robert," Xavier answered. "Robert? Isn't he the guy who is openly gay at your shop?" Dexter asked. "Yes," Xavier answered. Dexter said, "The world is full of assholes. It's a shame that some people find it impossible to understand people who are different than themselves." "You can say that again," Xavier said. "I've got the scars to prove it." "You don't have to talk about it," Mary said. "Here comes Calvin," Dexter said hearing the motorcycle turn into the parking lot. "We'll talk later," Mary said to Xavier. She knew that Xavier was still worried about Calvin. Even she had to admit that Calvin, wearing his motorcycle leathers, didn't look like the kind of guy who would have much tolerance for alternative lifestyles. Whistling, Calvin walked up the sidewalk carrying his motorcycle helmet. He didn't look surprised at all to find the others seated in front of Dexter's apartment. Dexter grabbed a beer and held it out for Calvin. The young man took it. With an easy twist, he removed the cap from the bottle. Dexter watched the action thinking that was something else that had changed in the world. Men didn't carry 'church keys' anymore. His father had always carried one with him. Calvin took a sip of his beer and sighed in contentment. This had been a very good day and having a beer right now was the perfect beginning to what was going to be a good night. He said, "I've got some news." "What?" Mary asked. "I'm getting married," Calvin said. "Who's the lucky woman?" Dexter asked dead panned. Calvin stared at Dexter and then realized that Dexter was teasing him. "Who do you think?" "Mary," Dexter answered. "Mary?" "Me?" "Yeah. She's not marrying you. She's the lucky one," Dexter said. Dexter smiled up at Calvin. Mary and Xavier burst out laughing. Calvin shook his head and chuckled. "I'd like you to be my Best Man," Calvin said. "Who, me?" Dexter asked. "Sure. Samantha is going to ask Amber to be the Maid of Honor," Calvin said. "I'd be honored," Dexter said. It was strange, but Dexter had never figured that he would be the Best Man at someone's wedding. Until recently, he hadn't had a social life that would have made it possible. "Give us the details. When is it? Where is it? Where's the registry?" Mary asked. "Whoa!" Calvin said. "I just proposed. The rest of it is up to Samantha." "I hope she does the whole church wedding bit. Ceremonies at the town hall are so lame," Xavier said. "You might as well go to Vegas and get married by Elvis if you're going the town hall route." "Knowing Samantha, we'll do the whole church bit. You're both invited to it," Calvin said. Nervously, Xavier asked, "Can I bring my friend?" "Why wouldn't you bring him? You love him, right?" Calvin asked. Too choked up for words, Xavier nodded his head. Calvin said, "I'll expect to get invited to your wedding." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 16: Hiking Redux The trio gathered in front of the sign at the trailhead. It was the same trail they had tried the summer before. Now they were back to try it again, only this time they were better prepared. They were properly equipped with well broken in hiking boots, a first aid kit, energy bars, lunch, and sufficient water for the trip. They were in much better physical shape having walked, ridden bikes, and exercised regularly for the past year. They were more experienced having hiked many easy trails over the past year. Dexter asked, "Are we ready to go?" Sarah answered, "You bet." "Let's get to it." "All right!" Dexter said, taking the first step on the trail proper. The two kids followed behind him. There was a slight concern that the trail would still be too much for them. Their memories of their previous time on it had slowly exaggerated the difficulty with each retelling. The step path had become nearly a vertical wall. The eroded portions had turned into canyons. Will said, "The first half is the easy part." Sarah said, "I remember." "It's coming back that is the problem," Will said. "I've been using the stair-stepper at the gym. I'm pretty sure that it won't be that bad this time," Sarah said with a slight trace of doubt in her voice. "We'll manage easily, kids," Dexter said. "I'm sure we will," Sarah said. Will said, "I know." They walked a little while until they reached the first washout. They had remembered it being a lot further from the trailhead than it actually was. They stopped and looked at it. Dexter said, "There's been another year of erosion, but it isn't too bad." "I don't think it has changed much at all," Sarah said. "Same here," Will said. "Do you want to turn around?" Dexter asked. "No," Will answered. They continued onward. Sarah said, "You and Mom have been together a lot." "I guess you could say that," Dexter said. "Two lunches a week, a date on Friday nights ... and, occasionally, biking with us on Sundays. I'd say that is a lot," Sarah said. "It sounds serious to me," Will said. "I guess you could say that," Dexter said. A lot of the negative anxious tension in their dates had disappeared only to be replaced by sexual tension. It had been a long slow process, though, and not always an easy one. At first, Dexter had been reluctant to expose his emotions and had held back. That had slowly thawed. Janet had been patient and understanding, knowing that he had been hurt. Fortunately, he had opened up before her patience had run out. There was then a period of time where their dates had been fun and relaxed with occasional moments of intense emotions. Issues that had been present in their marriage were danced around, until they had to be addressed. They had both matured since initially getting married, twenty years earlier. Gone was some of the idealism. The rose colored lenses in the glasses of youth, had been replaced by reading glasses. They had grown apart in ways that surprised them. The sudden change in their financial positions had affected them differently. Janet had become much less concerned with her personal finances, and that had given her the confidence to try new things. She wanted and reveled in her responsibilities in the coffeemaker company. Dexter on the other hand, found that he didn't want to put in that many hours working. He wanted to focus more on family duties, and a social life. After a while, Janet had started pulling back emotionally. She had discovered that Dexter wasn't the man she had remembered from the early days of their marriage. Nor was he the man she thought she had known during the last years of their marriage. Her primary concern, was that she didn't know the real Dexter well enough to commit to him for the rest of her life. Dexter had been patient and understanding during that time. Working together had forced them to exist in close proximity. That helped them get through some of the rougher periods of renewing their relationship. What emerged was as much a friendship, as a romance. They had twenty years of shared experiences and, at the same time, they'd had years of totally different experiences. The combination of the two meant there were surprises waiting to be discovered. The nature of their dates changed over time. They had started going places as a couple with other people. It felt odd for the older couple to double date with much younger couples. Calvin and Samantha were seriously dating, and were talking about moving in together. Amber and Michael had become a couple. Still, they went with the younger couples to clubs, baseball games, football games, theater, and even opera. Sarah said, "Mom sure seems happier lately." "Well, she's enjoying her work," Dexter said. "I think it is more than that," Sarah said. The summer months had really established some major changes in their lifestyle. Rather than participating in early morning conference calls, and then rushing off to work, mornings had become more relaxed and intimate. They spent time around the breakfast table, talking. Sometimes breakfast lasted an hour. Janet now made a real breakfast. Gone were the days of frozen bagels. Sometimes it was fresh fruit and juices. Other times, it was eggs and bacon. She would occasionally make a pot of hot tea and they'd sit around eating bread slathered with jam. Will said, "I think she is just happier about everything." "Everything?" Dexter asked. "You know, things like dating you, her job, and her leisure time activities," Will answered. "That's good," Dexter said. "How about you two?" "I'm not looking forward to returning to school," Sarah said. "Why not?" Dexter asked. Sarah said, "I've enjoyed biking, hiking, camping, cooking, and just relaxing." "You'll still be able to do some of that when school starts up again," Dexter said. "I know," Sarah said. "It just won't be the same." "I suppose," Dexter said. "How about you, Will?" "I've decided not to go to college this year," Will answered. In the past, an announcement like that would have Dexter exploding. He hadn't worked so hard so that Will wouldn't go to college. Instead, he held off expressing his disappointment. It was easier than he expected, mainly because Will had dropped hints that he wasn't sure that college was really something he wanted to do. "So what are you going to do?" Dexter asked. "I've found a job. I'll go to work." "What kind of job?" "I found a job in the produce section of a grocery store," Will answered. "Really?" Dexter asked. Dexter was half tempted to ask Will what he knew about fresh vegetables and fruits, but bit his tongue. It didn't really matter what he knew. He would learn on the job and maybe he would learn more than just about produce. "Yes. The pay isn't that bad," Will said. Dexter could only guess what the job paid. "How much?" "Over twenty-four thousand a year with benefits," Will said. "That's not bad, I guess," Dexter said. He was fortunate that he was walking in front of Will so that he couldn't see the frown. Twenty-four thousand wasn't enough to support a family. Of course, Will wouldn't have to worry about that after he reached twenty-five. Still, it would be a tough seven years until that time. Will said, "I was talking to the produce manager at the local store. He makes close to fifty thousand a year. Any way, he suggested that I go to a community college and take some courses in business, accounting, and management. He said that would enable me to get promoted to his position one of these days." "That's not bad advice," Dexter said thinking that a little encouragement now would motivate Will to continuing past a community college, and get a Bachelor's Degree in Business. "I know it's not a glamorous job, but the work is steady and the hours are reasonable. Besides, I figure that people will always need food. There's got to be some job security in that, right?" "That's true." Will asked, "What do you think?" "I never really thought about it as a career. I never ever even considered it. I knew from an early age that I wanted to be an engineer," Dexter said. "You're disappointed," Will said. "I didn't say that. I've met people who do that kind of work and they seem to be nice people. It is a service job and that means you're dealing with people," Dexter said. "The way I figure it is that if a year of doing that is horrible, then I can always go back to school. With a semester or two of community college courses under my belt, getting into a regular college wouldn't be that difficult. I won't actually lose that much by working for a year," Will said. "You've given this some thought," Dexter said. Will said, "I have." Dexter asked, "When does this job start?" "Next week," Will answered. They reached the place where the Sarah had twisted her ankle. The three took their time crossing the washout. They supported the one who was crossing to help minimize the chance of injury. They continued along the way without concern. So far the hike was proving easy. Dexter asked, "How did you find the job?" Will answered, "That was pretty easy once I decided that I wasn't going to go directly into college. I went around various businesses in the area and looked at the jobs people were doing. I visited gas stations, convenience stores, car repair places, restaurants, and all kinds of stores. You might not think about it, but there are a lot of different jobs within five miles of our house. "When I found something that looked interesting, I talked to the person doing the job. I asked about job security, salary, and what kind of hours they worked. Some people actually liked their jobs. It was strange because they weren't necessarily the kind of jobs you would think that people might like. "I spent almost a whole afternoon at a garden nursery. The people who worked there really loved working with plants. They really knew plants. I couldn't believe it. It really sounded like a great job except it was seasonal. That was kind of a problem. "Finally, I was at the grocery store watching the people working in the different departments. Let me tell you, working as a cashier was out. That was a no-brainer! However, the deli department, the bakery, and the meat department didn't look that bad. The deli department had a huge line and those people were really hopping. The bakery was a little baking, decorating cakes, and dealing with people. The meat department just didn't do it for me. I don't think I'm cut out to be a butcher. The produce department was probably the best of them all. It was nice pace, a little interaction with people, and it wasn't that hard. "Well, I talked to manager of the produce department about career opportunities and what I could expect from the job. He was quite helpful even though they didn't have any positions open. I guess he liked the idea of someone deciding to do that for a living rather than just falling into it. After we talked for a while, he made a call to a friend of his and next thing I knew, I had a job interview. I got the job." Dexter was stunned. He had figured Will had put in a couple of job applications and took the first position that offered him a job. It sounded like he had put a lot more energy into it than that. "How long did it take you to decide on that as a career?" "I spent the whole summer looking." "I've got to say that I'm impressed," Dexter said. "I kind of figured you'd be disappointed that I wasn't going into engineering or business," Will said. "I'll admit that was my instinctual reaction. I mean, that isn't the kind of job that I ever really considered. I think you went about finding a job in the right way, though. That impresses me." "So are you disappointed?" "No." Sarah said, "I kind of figured you'd blow your stack when Will told you his plans." "Why is that?" "Mom didn't look too happy," Will said. "And you are a lot more reactive, emotionally, than Mom," Sarah said. "Why do you say that?" Dexter asked. "The whole divorce thing..." "You did over react a little..." "Maybe," Dexter admitted. "There is a white collar prejudice against blue collar jobs," Dexter said. "I know," Will said. Sarah asked, "Why is that?' Dexter answered, "It's a matter of education. A college degree expands your understanding of issues beyond your immediate environment. It teaches you some skills in critical thinking and problem solving. Now some college graduates are convinced that that makes them smarter than others who haven't gone to college. "That's not really a modern thing. Educated people who manage others have always lorded it over those who do the work. I guess it is human nature. I'll be the first to admit that it isn't very nice." They reached the pond and took a moment to set out their picnic lunch. It was simple sandwiches, chips in small bags, and bottles of water. While eating, they continued the discussion. "You said earlier that people look down on blue collar workers. Does this mean that you won't respect me if I chose to be a produce manager?" "I'll still respect you," Dexter replied. "It's just because I'm your son," Will said. Dexter replied, "No. I came to a realization a lot time ago that blue-collar people do deserve respect. In fact, I think most engineers are like me on this matter. You see when I was growing up, I spent days taking things apart and putting them back together again, to understand how they worked. Another kid down the street, did the same thing. We often took things apart together. However, he did it in order to learn how to fix things. "He went to work in a garage fixing cars while I went off to college. I still respect him to this day because I understand what it took for him to know what he does. We have a common background that allows us to respect each other. "Lawyers, doctors, accountants, and business graduates don't have that shared background. Oh boy, do they feel superior. I think some of that superiority colors their view of engineers. We're 'Sons of Martha' and it is our job to keep the world running. That almost makes engineers blue collar as far as the elite are concerned." "'Sons of Martha'?" Dexter said, "'The Sons of Martha' is a poem by Rudyard Kipling, based on a story in the Bible. You might want to read it, sometime." "Remind me about it when we get home," Will said. Sarah looked up from her cell phone. "I put a note on my cell phone." "Thanks," Will said. Will took a bite of his sandwich while Dexter said, "I used to laugh when I'd hear a middle manager with a degree in business putting down some guy who owns a gas station. The joke is, that the guy who owns a gas station manages just as many people as the middle manager with a degree, and he has much more influence on the bottom line of the business. It is kind of ironic, isn't it?" "Yes, it is," Will said. Dexter said, "I think in time, you'll discover that when the shit hits the fan, you'll want to be surrounded by a bunch of blue collar people." "Why?" Sarah asked. Dexter answered, "Because the guy with dirty hands knows how to do things. The intellectual elite looks down upon them and yet they depend on doers to save them. They look to firemen to rescue them from burning buildings. They call a plumber when their toilet won't flush. They're totally dependent on the blue collar, and, yet, the majority of educated people don't respect them. "We'd revert to the dark ages without engineers. Modern life would fall apart without the people who can fix things. It would be a simpler and better world if the lawyers disappeared. Fewer accountants wouldn't hurt. Every Harvard MBA could die tomorrow and people would still run businesses." "That was a good sandwich," Sarah remarked. Dexter looked down at his sandwich. He hadn't even taken a bite from it. Sarah was finished with hers and Will was nearly done with his. "I guess I should shut up and start eating," Dexter said. Sarah said, "I don't know. I've kind of enjoyed listening to you talk. You're saying some pretty interesting stuff. I never thought about what jobs are actually important rather than what just appears important." Will said, "You've made me feel a whole lot better about my decision." "You're at the start of your career. You could end up owning a chain of produce markets. That's not impossible," Dexter said. He took another bite of his sandwich. "Dad has a point," Sarah said. "I guess I didn't think that far enough ahead," Will said. Sarah commented, "You've got to learn the business somehow. There's nothing wrong with starting at the bottom and working your way up. Isn't that the American way?" "I guess so," Will said. The conversation died while Dexter finished his sandwich. Once everyone was done eating, they cleaned up the area and prepared to continue on with their hike. They spent some time examining the sights to be seen while following the trail around the pond. It was nice to pause long enough to watch the minnows swimming just off the shoreline. Water striders, skittering about for purposes unknown, defied drowning by virtue of the surface tension that held them above the water. Dragonflies passed by with a humming noise created by the beating of their wings. Birds sang from trees, marking out their territory in song. A bug touched down upon the water and then disappeared in the splash of a fish feeding. There were doe tracks that lead to the water's edge and then away. The kids watched nature unfold around them. It was like little secrets were revealed to them just by virtue of their attentive presence. They were quiet except for little exclamations upon seeing something interesting. Dexter enjoyed the shouts of 'Look at that!', 'That's neat!', and 'Check this out!'. To him, it was like applause for making this opportunity available to them. These were things that they should have experienced ten years ago. Maybe it was late, but it wasn't too late. Will remembered what his father had said about the cattails being edible. He looked around with an eye to see what food was available. It took him a moment to realize there were fish in the pond, birds in the air, and mammals on the ground. He thought back to what his father had said about a survival mindset and began to see the value of it. The three resumed their hike by heading back up the trail towards the parking lot. Each knew this was the real challenge of the hike. There was little talking while each recalled memories of the last time they had traveled that path. Before they knew it, they had reached the washed out section of the trail. Again, they were careful in crossing it. After a short break, they resumed the climb. They walked past the minor washout making note of it, but not dwelling on it. It came as a surprise when they reached the parking lot. The last time it had seemed much further than it actually was. "We're here," Will said proudly. "I can't believe it," Sarah said. "I'm not even tired." Dexter said, "I'd say that we did a lot of the right things on this trip." "No injuries," Sarah said. "We've still got water left," Will said. "I'm still standing," Dexter said. "This was great," Sarah said. "We ought to do this again," Will said. Dexter said, "There are other trails to challenge us. Maybe we might want to try one of them next time." "Yeah." "You bet." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 17: A Board Meeting In the Woods It was the beginning of October and a chill had settled into the air. The days were getting shorter and the sunsets were arriving earlier every day. The trees hadn't begun to change colors yet, this far south, although there were hints of it in little pockets. The state park was practically empty, except for two campers parked in adjacent camping spaces. There was a small campfire burning in front of one of the campers. The wisp of smoke rose lazily in the air. Two people huddled around the fire pit with hands out seeking the warmth of the flames. The third joined them. Dexter leaned over and picked up a small pot that was warming by the fire. He filled a mug containing hot chocolate mix with the hot water. He held up the pot to see if anyone else wanted some. Ed and Janet shook their heads in the negative. Dexter replaced the pot before stirring his cup to dissolve the powder. He took a sip and sighed in satisfaction. He wrapped his hands around the cup enjoying the warmth. Ed looked across the fire at Dexter with a grin and asked, "Where's your PA?" "I gave her the day off," Dexter said. "She's a feisty little thing," Ed said with a chuckle. "The first time I told her to interrupt your meeting, she told me that only God could do that, and he'd have to get through her first." "Sorry about that," Dexter said with a grin. "No, you're not," Janet said. "You're right. I'm not. In fact, I'm proud of her." "You should be. She didn't believe me when I said that I was God," Ed said. Janet laughed. "You weren't the first to try that," Dexter said. "That I would believe," Ed said. Dexter said, "She's got my time organized to the minute. She makes sure that I'm ready for every meeting. She's amazing. I don't know what I'd do without her." "I'm halfway convinced that Amber would take a bullet for Dexter," Janet said. Janet had watched Amber take to her job with a vengeance. Amber had total control over Dexter's schedule. She took notes at every meeting. She also kept a complete dossier on everyone who Dexter met with and would brief him before any meeting. She fielded telephone calls and monitored the emails intended for Dexter. There were times when Janet wondered when Amber ever got any rest. While his secretary made travel arrangements, typed letters, and handled the office for him, Amber made sure that Dexter's needs came first. His secretary only dealt with Dexter as it pertained to Legacy Coffee Makers. Amber essentially coordinated Dexter's activities for the coffee maker company and his website company. To be honest, she also managed a bit of his personal time. None of the three were drawing a salary from Legacy Coffee Markers. Dexter was still living off the income from the website. For that matter, Janet was living off the income from her investments. Ed wasn't actually working at the company on regular basis although he did facilitate the interactions with Daimler Plastics and did reach out to others for sales. They were owners and not employees. It made a difference in how they viewed the company. Ed said, "I guess we should get this meeting underway." Janet picked up a pad of paper and a pen to take notes. Her secretary would type up the notes later to form a quarterly report. She looked up and said, "I'm ready." "Same here," Dexter said. Ed said, "I just love idea of having a 'board' meeting in the 'woods'. There's just something 'punny' about it." Dexter groaned. Janet tittered in amusement. "How's product development going?" Ed asked looking at Dexter. "It is right on schedule. We had a minor setback with UL certification for the five and ten cup coffee makers, but we eventually got through it. The single cup coffee maker had no problems. We'll be entering production on the single cup-er soon," Dexter answered. That was just the summary of the situation. Dexter had put together a team of small and medium size firms that were desperately looking for work. Even Ed had been impressed when he met the people involved. There was real dedication to seeing the product succeed. Dexter had made arrangements for the coffee makers to be assembled by a start-up factory in Detroit, Michigan. A group of unemployed auto workers took advantage of some tax incentives and the availability of a large number of buildings at near fire-sale rent to locate a business there. The high unemployment in the area helped them to fill the factory with workers. Knowing the men applying for jobs, they could pick and choose the best of the best. They were assembling all kinds of products there so that the final product could be labeled, 'Made in America.' The operation was running lean, but Dexter was confident that with their business thrown into the mix that it would thrive. The heating elements for the various coffee pots were made by a firm located in Cleveland, Ohio. The owner of the firm had been ecstatic to get a new customer after having lost some of his business to Chinese firms. Dexter's initial plans weren't quite up to the level of demand they had previously, but it was enough to keep the firm busy so that they could see further opportunities for sales. Dexter wasn't sure where the rest of the electronic parts were manufactured. He left the American distributor from whom he bought the parts with instructions to buy American where economically feasible. One day, Dexter wanted to be able to put a label on the coffeemaker to identify the total number of people who was involved in making it. A glass company that had once made the glass portion of headlights for an automotive parts company made the coffee pot. The glass company was on the verge of bankruptcy when its customer was put out of business by having its product illegally reproduced by a firm in China. The owner was ten minutes from taking his life until Dexter approached him about producing coffee pots. Of course, all of the plastic parts were manufactured by Daimler Plastics. Ed Daimler had banged on the table in the boardroom and said, "Do it." The current crop of executives scurried around to make sure it got done. A future as a door greeter, forced to wear a pink tutu, was the punishment for anyone foolish enough to argue. No one even wanted to speculate what would happen if someone lied. The fear was only at the top level. Promises of performance bonuses energized the lower levels of the company. They'd had a trial run of a hundred units of each product six months earlier. Those units were used in testing, certification, and distributed to a handful of users. Dexter had been impressed with the products. It felt funny to hold the product in his hands, knowing that he had a part in its existence. Software couldn't be touched. He had always missed that small moment of validation that came from physically holding the product. Janet said, "I've been using one of the one cup prototypes for a while now. I love it." "We used one in the camper all summer. It's just a sturdy rugged little machine," Ed said. "Any problems with it?" Dexter asked. "We forgot to stow it one day. It fell off the counter and rolled around in the camper for an entire day while we drove from one campground to the next. We plugged that sucker in and it worked like a charm," Ed said. "That's good to know," Dexter said. He was a little worried about the twenty-year in-store replacement policy they were going to offer. Hearing that it could take a beating under less than controlled circumstances made him feel better. Ed said, "I have to say that the five and ten cup coffee makers are plain simple machines. It is hard to see a difference between ours and a dozen other brands out there on the market." "Have you used yours much?" Dexter asked. "We've used the five cup machine around the house. It's good, but nothing too remarkable about it," Ed said. Janet said, "We've been using the ten cup maker at the company. They've put a lot of coffee through it. It still brews just as good as when we got it." "That's a good sign, I guess," Dexter said. He had read the test results on the two coffee makers. The test results had been very positive. They had held up to passing water containing toxic levels of minerals. That allowed them to see the effects of long-term buildup of minerals in the tubing of the coffee maker. He didn't doubt the machines would easily last twenty years under even hard usage. Enough parts were replaceable that even abuse wouldn't be a problem. "Every office in our building has a five or ten cup machine. We haven't gotten any complaints yet," Janet said. "Are we in agreement that the products are good?" Ed asked. "Yes," Dexter said. "I think so," Janet replied. While the five and ten cup coffeemakers were good, she was really impressed with the styling on the single cup machine. It was a good-looking machine. Malcolm was proud of it and had given his grandfather one of the first machines off the production line. His name was imprinted on the side in cursive writing. Ed asked, "So when will we have our first full production run of single cup machines?" "Two months," Dexter answered. "We'll start small with a batch of fifty thousand coffee makers. The assembly plant can quickly scale up to larger production runs with a couple of weeks warning." "Good," Ed said. "How are we doing with respect to money?" Ed asked. Janet said, "We're on budget. Our biggest expenses so far have been payroll." Ed asked, "Is there any problem paying for the first production run?" "No problem," Janet said. She reached into a briefcase that was on the ground next to her and pulled out a stack of papers. "I've got the report here." She handed a copy to Dexter and another to Ed. Dexter glanced through the report knowing the numbers that would be in it. They still had a lot of their initial investment intact and a line of credit that would see them through any financial emergency. "How about paying for a double run?" Ed asked. "We have the money available for them. We'll need some income soon," Janet said. Dexter bit his bottom lip while thinking about it. Finally, he said, "Money might not be a problem, but I'll have to see if our suppliers would have any difficulties in delivering parts." "I need a hundred thousand of the one cup coffee makers," Ed said with a broad grin on his face. "Why?" Dexter asked. "I made a sale to a hotel chain," Ed said. "You made the sale to the Hinton Hotel chain?" Dexter asked with his eyes widening. "You bet. Closed the deal last night," Ed said with a grin. Dexter felt like a huge weight had lifted off his chest. He had been worried that they would create the best coffeemakers on the market, and no one would buy them. "What's that mean?" Janet asked. "It means that we've sold a quarter of a million units with delivery spread out over a two year period," Ed answered. Janet said, "Excellent." Dexter couldn't agree more. He had wanted to work up to five percent of the annual coffeemaker market in the first two years. That would require them to produce 750,000 units a year and would represent about twenty-five million dollars a year in retail sales. This initial sale would make it much easier to hit their target numbers. "What about the five and ten cup machines? Do we have any orders for them?" Dexter asked. "I've got orders for a hundred thousand machines of each size with one of the larger 'big box' stores," Ed answered. "That's a start," Dexter said. "Wait until we start advertising. I've got a feeling that we aren't going to be able to produce enough machines over the next two years," Ed said. That actually worried Dexter more than not getting enough sales. He was afraid that the company would grow too large, too quickly. For one, he was afraid that the assembly company wouldn't be able to handle the demand. It was also possible that the initial growth would make the inevitable decline in sales once the market stabilized, a serious problem. "How's that going?" Dexter asked. "I saw a markup of the advertising campaign. It is very impressive, but I don't think our product will be a hard sell. I've been talking to a lot of people this summer and everyone says the same thing, there isn't a decent coffee maker on the market. I wouldn't be surprised if we don't end up with a quarter of the home market," Ed said. That worried Dexter. He said, "I estimate that we'll only be able to produce about a quarter million units of each product line per year for the first couple of years. It sounds like a lot, but that constitutes just five percent of the market." "We can let price control demand," Ed said. "I don't like that," Dexter said. He felt that a lot of companies employed that strategy and always felt like he was being used. There was something dirty about knowing he was paying ten dollars extra just because the market would pay it. Janet said, "I agree with Dexter. People know when you are gouging them on the price." Ed said, "The alternative is for stores to have an empty spot where our product belongs." Dexter said, "Then we limit the initial market. Start with the east coast, expand to the west coast, and then move into the middle of the country." "That's not a bad idea," Ed said after thinking about it. "Let's do it that way," Janet said. "Great," Dexter said. "I guess we're in agreement," Ed said. "Are there any other issues?" Dexter said, "Our engineers have essentially worked themselves out of the job we hired them for." "What do you mean?" Janet asked. "Oh, that's bad," Ed said picking up on the consequences of what Dexter was saying immediately. Dexter said," We hired them to design a product. Now, we've got a product. From now on, it will be a matter of small incremental improvements to it. That isn't a full time job." "Oh," Janet said. "That is bad." "I'm transitioning them to production management, but they may not be too happy about that," Dexter said. "Are they liable to quit?" Janet asked. "I don't know. It will be interesting to see how they react to going to the assembly plant to watch the process. I figure that the next improvement to the product is going to be in simplifying the assembly process," Dexter said. "It would be great if we can cut down our costs there," Ed said. Dexter said, "We don't have time lines on releases of future versions of the coffee makers. We'll only introduce changes when it makes sense. It doesn't make sense to introduce changes that aren't really needed just to introduce changes." "We're all agreed on that," Ed said. Dexter said, "I'll explain to our guys that our engineering emphasis is on quality improvement. I hope they'll accept that." "I don't see why not. Their names are on their products," Ed said. Janet said, "I never realized how important that was until I saw them look at the first few machines coming off the assembly line. There was no mistaking the pride on their faces when they looked at their names, in clear script, on the sides of those machines." "It's all about pride. You'd be surprised how people respond when you let them take pride in their work," Dexter said. "We've got some very proud people working for us," Janet said. Dexter said, "Now we have to reward them with shares in the company." "How many?" Janet asked. She felt like she was giving up control over the company by giving away shares in it. It surprised her by the kinds of feelings that invoked. In a way, she was rather embarrassed by her reaction. "A thousand shares," Ed said. "Fifteen hundred," Dexter said. Janet asked, "That much?" "Yes. We want them to be owners, not just feel like owners. There's a difference, and they'll know it," Dexter said. "We'll give the other employees a hundred shares." "That seems reasonable," Ed said. "I guess," Janet said. That gave the employees a total of stock that represented about half the amount of stock that she held in the company. "What's the matter?" Dexter asked. "I just feel like we're giving up too much control," Janet said. Dexter replied, "That's the whole point. We don't want to have to dictate from above. We want people who are interested in the company's well being to be driving the innovations, the cost savings, and the process improvements. There's no way that you or I can spend the time and energy to improve all of those areas. For one, we're too far removed from the problems. For another, I'm not that creative." "I didn't think about that," Janet said. "Our company is about as big as we're going to get. We will continue to contract out assembly. We'll continue to buy our parts from our suppliers. The accounting firm can continue to handle payroll and taxes. We'll only be adding a handful more employees. Right now, our only real gap is a salesperson and someone to deal with customer support," Dexter said. "Just a few more employees?" Janet asked. She looked over at her report. Her mind projected the numbers forward over the next few years taking that into account. They were going to be making money hand over fist. Dexter said, "That's right. We've got our three products. Our engineers will stay around to improve them over time. We've got secretaries and a purchasing agent. We'll hire someone to manage the daily business, but it isn't going to be that demanding of a job." "I thought we'd be employing hundreds of employees," Janet said. Dexter smiled. "We will. It's just that only a few of them will work at our company. The assembly company will have to hire a number of people, so will Daimler Plastics. There's no reason that we have to manage them." Ed frowned. "It may not be that simple." "Why not? We're going to be producing those coffee makers for the next twenty years. Why would we introduce a product to compete with our own product? Why would we want to expand into other areas?" Dexter asked. Ed asked, "How about an iced tea maker?" "An iced tea maker?" Dexter asked stunned by the suggestion. "Sure. It is basically a coffeemaker, but it brews tea," Ed said. "I hadn't thought about that," Dexter said with a frown. "We could hire an engineer to add that product. It wouldn't bloat the workforce that much. Maybe one engineer and another secretary." Ed said, "I agree that we need to keep the number of employees low, but that doesn't mean that we can't look to the future." "What will we be doing?" Janet asked. "We'll be making coffeemakers," Dexter answered. "No. I meant the three of us," Janet asked. She had basically been working nearly full time in getting the company up to speed. Most of it had been spent putting the business processes in place. She coordinated activities between the accounting firm and the company accountant. She knew that Dexter had been putting in long hours as well. Of course, most of his work had been tracking schedules, monitoring the agreements with the providers, and basically serving as final decision maker on technical decisions. Ed said, "I'm going to be camping with my wife during the summer." Dexter said, "I'll continue to work part time on my website and come in one or two days a week to see how things are progressing with the coffee makers." "That's it?" Janet asked. "Why would we want to do more, once things stabilize at the company? Now that we've got the business going, we can hand the day-to-day operations to others. It's on to the next challenge," Ed said. Janet said, "You didn't do that with your plastics company." "That's because things at the plastic company were much more dynamic. We were continually coming up with new plastics and setting up manufacturing lines for a variety of new customers and new product lines for existing customers. I had thousands of employees. Managing that was a full time job," Ed said. Janet said, "It just doesn't seem right." "It's not going to happen tomorrow. There are still a lot of things that we have to do before we can reach that point. We're talking about a year or two down the line," Dexter said. Ed said, "Maybe not that long." "I'm kind of disappointed," Janet said. She was having a hard time identifying why this conversation was upsetting her so much. It dawned on her that she had enjoyed working with Dexter on a daily basis. The relationship between the two of them had really improved to where there had been a mention or two of getting remarried. She knew that part of that was Amber's influence. Amber scheduled two lunches a week for her and Dexter. Those lunches had started out as primarily discussions about business, but over time they had become much more personal. Dexter was again doing engineering and had become much happier as a result. That had allowed him to relax with Janet. They also had weekly dates. Their kisses had become much more passionate as time went by. It was almost like they were in high school again with awkward fumbling about in the car at the end of the date. Even the kids commented that it was kind of strange that they parked in the driveway for so long before she came in the house. They still hadn't made love although there were the occasional sessions that included fondling of private parts that led to orgasm. She was more than ready to go the next step. She was just waiting for Dexter to make the move. Dexter asked, "Why are you disappointed?" "I don't know," Janet answered. "I guess that I kind of expected to be more involved over time." Ed said, "That's the part about having money that people don't really get. You make an investment in a business, but you can't tie yourself only to that business." "That doesn't make sense," Janet said. Ed said, "You're going to make a lot of money as a result of this company. The question is, what are you going to do with that money? You can't really put it back into the company, because, quite frankly, it isn't going to need it. You'll need to put it into something else." "I guess you're right," Janet said. She didn't see herself as being all that rich. Maybe it was following Charlie's advice about not changing her lifestyle as a result of the money. She did realize that once their stocks started paying dividends, that she would be getting back many times the amount she invested in the company. Ed asked, "Are there any other points of business?" Janet said, "I think we might want to have Charlie come in and talk to all our people about managing their money." "That's not a bad idea," Dexter said. "Why?" Ed asked. "They are going to be getting a sudden influx of money, once the stocks start paying dividends. It would be horrible if they got into financial trouble because they couldn't deal with it," Janet said. "That's a good point," Ed said. Ed appreciated how much time and effort Dexter and Janet spent making sure that the employees were happy. They did things to improve moral. This included surprise picnics in the summer where they shut down the office and went to a park for hamburgers. It was a tight integrated group that had emerged as a result of those efforts. Ed asked, "Is there anything else?" "No," Dexter said. "Not that I can think of," Janet said. "I call this here meeting to an end. It's time to pass out the marshmallows," Ed said. The bit about the marshmallows was a joke. They didn't have any there. Dexter said, "There's a steak house not too far from here. What do you say we go there for dinner around six." "It's only four. What will we do until then?" Janet asked. Dexter looked over at his camper and then back at Janet. She was staying at a local hotel. "I was thinking of taking a nap," Dexter said. "A nap?" "Want to join me?" Dexter asked. Ed grinned. His wife was waiting for him in his camper. "Sure," Janet said, turning bright red. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 18: Wedding Bells Dexter tugged at the collar of his tuxedo, while watching Calvin lead Samantha down the aisle to the church atrium. She was a beautiful bride ... as most brides are on their wedding day. He didn't know how it was, but it was a fact that even the most plain looking woman could look good on her wedding day. It had to be some sort of magic. Of course, it didn't require any magic for Samantha to look spectacular. Now that the newlyweds were out of the church, he relaxed a little. He had successfully discharged his responsibilities as best man, for the ceremonial part of the wedding. All he had left was the toast at the wedding reception. He wasn't looking forward to that. He didn't like public speaking. He looked over at Amber and held out an arm for her to take. Best man and maid of honor marched down the aisle after the bride and groom. Calvin had thought it was kind of fitting for the two of them to be members of the wedding party. After all, they had been on his first date with Samantha. Dexter glanced over at Janet seated in the back row. She was his date for the wedding. He could only imagine the kinds of thoughts going on in her mind. He was pretty sure that she was thinking about how it should be her turn next. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He sighed wondering when he would have to bite the bullet and ask Janet to marry him. It was only a matter of time. His kids were seated next to Janet. They looked bored, but it was nice to know that they were doing things together as an almost family. Cycling had become a regular activity. The city had a couple of cycling and hiking trails in local parks. They were making the rounds, trying one and then another. Some of the trails had given them quite a workout. Others were simple flat trails that allowed a little speed. Mary, from the apartment above his, was there with Charlie. They weren't dating, but she didn't feel right about attending something like this alone. Charlie had gone along with it, knowing that Dexter and Janet would be there as well. It never hurt to make an appearance at a social event with your clients. Xavier, the reclusive next door neighbor, had come with his boyfriend, Timothy. Over the course of a few evening patio conversations, Dexter had learned that Xavier had been the target of a number of bullies through high school. While in college studying art, he had been beaten severely coming out of a gay bar one night. Since then, he didn't trust many people. It was a big step for him to come out in public with his boyfriend. Dexter was rather surprised that he recognized so many people. A number of select clients from the gym were in the audience as well. At best, they were acquaintances of his, but still the number of people he recognized from there surprised him. Janet and the kids joined him for the drive over to where the reception was being held. He was still driving the same old car that he had while working at the old firm. It was well past its prime. Dexter had just finished buckling his seat belt when Sarah said, "It sure is going to be strange going to our parents wedding." "I agree. There's nothing like having your mom and dad get married when you're eighteen," Will said. "It makes you feel kind of illegitimate." Janet said, "Your father hasn't asked me to marry him, yet." "He's going to," Sarah said. "Why do you say that?" Dexter asked while backing out of his parking space. "We know you two are doing the nasty together," Sarah said. "What!" Dexter asked hitting the brake and turning back to look at Sarah. "You're having sex," Will said. Embarrassed, Janet asked, "Why do you think that?" "Well, let's see. You come home from your dates happy," Sarah said. Dexter turned back to drive towards the reception. Fortunately, it wasn't far and they would be there within ten minutes. If he was a little heavy with the foot, they could make it in seven or eight minutes. "Our dates have been very pleasant, so of course I'm happy," Janet said. "Mom, we know you and dad have been doing it." "Why are you so sure of that?" "You've stopped making out in our driveway at the end of your dates," Will said. Dexter nearly drove off the road on hearing that. He thought they were hiding their dating activities better than that. "Your clothes are actually on straight when you come in the house after he drops you off," Sarah said. "It used to be that you'd come home with your blouse done up with one button off," Will said. "And you'd be looking all hot and bothered," Sarah added. "Now you walk in like nothing has happened," Will said. "But we know that something has happened," Sarah said. Falling back on a trick that worked when the kids were a lot younger, Dexter pointed out the window and said, "Hey kids. Look at the horse." "That's not going to work," Sarah said rolling her eyes since she hadn't fallen for that trick since she was five. "There aren't any horses in this neighborhood." "So when are you going to get remarried?" Sarah asked. "Or are you going to live in sin for a while?" Will asked. "Impressionable minds want to know," Sarah said causing Will to burst out laughing. "I'm in a hurry and get stuck behind granny," Dexter muttered. Janet said, "It's not up to me, kids. You're going to have to ask your father." "Your father is busy driving," Dexter said. Dexter followed Granny all of the way to the place where the reception was being held only to learn that Granny was actually Charlie. He kind of figured that Charlie would be a faster driver than that. Charlie and Mary were laughing about something when they exited his car. They all went into the reception. Dexter was busy mixing socially with a number of the guests there. As best man, he felt it was his duty to know a little about the parents of the bride and groom, as well as other guests. Janet stood by his side meeting the others. Many things surprised Janet about this event. Dexter spent a lot of time talking with an openly gay couple. She hadn't thought he would have been so accepting of that alternative lifestyle. Of course, that situation had never arisen before, so she would have no real reason to believe that he would have reacted any differently. Still, he was so 'old school' in a lot of ways. She wasn't entirely surprised when he had come across like a protective father whenever he was around Amber's date. Despite knowing the guy for many months, he was always questioning the guy about his intentions and warning him not to hurt her. Amber had been embarrassed and pleased by Dexter's attention to her future happiness. Janet would have been upset, but she could see that it was concern for Amber rather than jealousy of her date on Dexter's part. In a way, it had been years since Janet had seen the social side of Dexter. When they had first married, he had been an engineering geek and uneasy with idly chatting about the weather. He had been a private person. Now, although he still claimed to be a private kind of person, he was much more forthright. He asked questions about life and listened attentively to the answers. People often asked others about what they did for a living as a polite conversation filler, but when Dexter asked the question, it was clear that he was truly interested in the answer. He asked about what they liked about their jobs, and what displeased them. He listened to their answers, and asked follow-up questions. Janet was impressed with the way he managed to get people to open up and discuss their lives. She spent fifteen minutes listening to some guy explain to Dexter the ins and outs of a recent lawsuit that had been filed against the guy. The man was angry about the matter. A young couple had changed lanes in front of him nearly clipping his car in the process. As soon as their car was in front of his, they had slammed on the brakes despite the fact that there was no reason for it. Of course, he had no time to react and his car had hit their car. The young couple testified that they now suffered from whiplash and claimed lifetime compensation. The court agreed with the young couple. Janet understood the man's outrage. At first, she didn't understand why Dexter seemed to take it so personally. Then, he started talking about how lawsuits like that were costing everyone money. It wasn't the first time that he had heard stories of individuals setting up accidents and then attempting to retire off the money they received in the settlement. Sure the money came from the insurance companies, but everyone with insurance was paying for it. After the conversation with the man had finished, Janet asked, "Are you going for tort reform, next?" "I wouldn't even know where to begin," Dexter answered sadly. "I fear that is one area where even God would fail. The whole legal system is set up for ever increasing judgments, and less and less application of common sense. That young couple intentionally created an accident and got millions for doing it. There's something wrong about that ... something very wrong about that." "There's got to be something that can be done," Janet said. Dexter said, "Common sense would have ruled against them, but common sense appears to be a dirty word in the courtroom. The emotion of their pain and suffering trumps everything and anything. They should have gone to jail for endangering that man's life. Instead, they are rewarded." "Do you really think they should have gone to jail?" Janet asked. "Definitely," Dexter answered. "You've used the courts to get pretty good settlements against your old company," Janet said suggesting that there was a little hypocrisy involved here. "I know I've used the courts to punish my old company, and I have encouraged others to do the same to companies that are abusing them. The point is that the companies have been abusing us. No one takes a job hoping that their employer will steal money from them or abuse them in some way," Dexter said. "That's true," Janet said. Dexter said, "I object to people suing others because they are stupid. There's that woman who fell into a water fountain because she was busy texting and not watching where she was walking. Her first reaction was to sue. Others have stepped in front of cars and gotten hurt while texting. They sue the driver of the car. It's impossible to protect yourself from the stupidity of others. "It costs everyone money, and not just the poor sap who is sued. Car insurance could be a whole lot cheaper without fraudulent and ill-founded lawsuits. Businesses spend tremendous amounts of money protecting themselves from frivolous lawsuits. Some guy files a million dollar lawsuit against a dry cleaner for not adequately cleaning a pair of pants? Give me a break." "Complaining about it isn't going to solve anything," Janet said. "I know. I don't think we'll be able to reform the legal system. At best, we might find a way to make failure to utilize commonsense by a claimant to be a legal defense for the person being sued," Dexter said. "Now that would revolutionize the legal system," Janet said. "I think so," Dexter said. Janet said, "Sometimes you surprise me." "I do?" Dexter asked. "You weren't always so good at talking with people," Janet said. Dexter replied, "I guess I woke up and realized that I needed people." "When was that?" Janet asked. In a way, asking that question was an admission that she hadn't known what was going on in Dexter's life when they were married. In the hospital Dexter had told her that the old Dexter was dead and buried, she hadn't accepted that. Dating him had convinced her that he had been more right than wrong about that. There were elements of the old Dexter, but he wasn't the same person. He had changed, and in some ways he had changed for the better. "About the time when you sent me that text message," Dexter said. "You might say that that was a pivotal event in my life." "I'm sorry about that," Janet said. She still felt guilty about sending that text message. She wasn't going to take all of the blame for the state of their marriage or the series of events that led to its dissolution. There was blame enough on both sides. Still, she knew she could have approached him in a better manner than she had chosen. Dexter shrugged his shoulders as if to dismiss her apology as being unnecessary. "I had been putting all of my energy into my job. When I knew that I was going to lose that job, I looked around thinking that I would turn to my family for support. In a way, I had already realized that I had lost my family. Your text message just forced me to accept that," Dexter said. "The fact is, I hadn't been paying attention to the people around me. I guess I needed that wake up call." Dexter was silent for a moment and then continued, "One of the things that I've come to realize in running that website of mine, is that I'm nothing special. I put something on the web and hundreds of people write to me saying that they've experienced exactly the same thing. Others write to me saying that those kinds of things don't happen. "In a way, it is kind of humbling to realize that there are a million other people out there just like you. I mean ... it's easy to think you're special and that you really matter. But ... that's not the case." "Everyone is special," Janet said. Dexter shook his head in disagreement. "Did you know that there are an average of six thousand weddings a day in this country?" "No," Janet said. "How do you know that?" "I looked it up on the web," Dexter answered. "Okay," Janet said. Dexter said, "The point is that we're at one of those weddings. If you were to video tape all of the weddings taking place today and play them side by side, you'd be hard pressed to find this one amongst all of the others. You see, even something that is so special and significant as a wedding is for the people involved, it is really a rather commonplace event." "That's a depressing thought," Janet said. "Yes and no. It tells me that people have a lot more in common with other people than you might think. We share common experiences, we desire the same things, and we suffer from the same kind of tragedies. There's a kernel of hope in that. We've allowed ourselves to become isolated from others around us, but we have so much in common that we can band together and end our isolation. We can regain ... our humanity," Dexter said. "Do you really believe that?" Janet asked. "I have to," Dexter answered. "Why?" Dexter said, "I think Michael is going to propose to Amber tonight." Surprised by the sudden change in topic, Janet asked, "Why do you say that?" "I've been subtly nudging him in the side," Dexter said. "I think he's gotten the hint." Janet burst out laughing. Once she recovered enough to talk, she gasped, "Subtle? You call badgering the guy about getting married every time you see him, subtle?" "I'm not that bad," Dexter protested. "How many times have you asked him when he was going to propose?" Janet asked. "A couple," Dexter said. "Every time you see him, that's your official greeting," Janet said. Imitating Dexter, she said, "Hey Michael, when are you going to marry Amber? It sure would be a shame to lose her to some other guy." "I don't sound like that," Dexter said. "Yes, you do." "No, I don't." "It's time to get to our table," Janet said. The pair made their way to the table where the kids were already seated with Amber and Michael. Dexter pulled out the chair for Janet. She sat down. She looked over at Amber and then squealed in excitement. Amber was grinning broadly. "Hey, Michael, when are you going to marry Amber? It sure would be a shame to lose her to some other guy." "Hello, Dexter," Michael said. "You sound like you're her father." "Somebody's got to look out for our little girl," Dexter said while taking his seat. "Was I supposed to come ask your permission before proposing to her?" Michael asked. "That's not necessary, but I'd be pleased if you did," Dexter said puffing up like a peacock. Dexter became aware of the excitement being generated by Janet and Amber. He tuned into the conversation in time to hear Janet say, "So there's hope for me, yet." "Definitely," Amber said. Dexter asked, "What's up?" "Amber's engaged," Janet said while Amber held up her hand wiggling her fingers to show off the ring. "Who's the lucky fellow?" Dexter asked. "Me," Michael said. "What's the rush? Shouldn't you wait until you know her a little better?" Dexter asked. Michael groaned. Amber giggled. Janet burst out in laughter. Will said, "That's what you've got to look forward to, Sarah." "Oh, God," Sarah said with a look of horror on her face. "Yeah." Sarah said, "Someone should do that to him. Maybe he'll learn his lesson before it's my turn to suffer." Will grinned. "Hey Dad, when are you going to marry Mom? It sure would be a shame to lose her to some other guy." "Huh?" Dexter asked. Sarah piped up, "Yeah, Dad. When are you going to marry Mom?" "Uh ... Ah ... I think it's about time for me to make my speech," Dexter said. Amber said, "No it's not." Taking a little pleasure in seeing Dexter squirm, Michael joined in and asked, "So when are you going to marry Janet?" Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 19: Cumulative Effects Dexter sat at the computer reading an article about the new climate of business. It was a fascinating chronicle of the changes that had taken place in the business community over the past two years. According to the article, it had all started with a workers revolt, triggered by some guy by the name of Dexter James. After he finished reading the article, Dexter sat back, looking thoughtful. It had been interesting ... not because it had given him a lot of credit for the changes, but for the changes that were documented. The weird thing was, he hadn't even been aware of some of the changes that had been taking place. He knew part of the reason for his ignorance was because he wasn't actively in the workforce any longer. Companies no longer allowed people to travel on their own credit card. The lawsuits employees had filed to reclaim interest had proven too expensive. The days of using employee money in that manner were over. In fact, a lot of companies now wanted everything charged on the corporate cards. The company provided credit cards had lower interest rates than those levied on personal credit cards. One consequence of that change in credit card policy, was that expense reports had changed tremendously. They were simplified to facilitate rapid submission, and to reduce the cost of reviewing them. Since companies were now paying interest on balances, they wanted the expense reports processed as quickly as possible. Major corporations had also transitioned to a tactic used by the taxman to prevent fraudulent use of the card. Rather than verify each and every expense report, many companies would randomly select one report to audit. Employees found to have used the card for personal use, or to have used it fraudulently, were prosecuted. This actually saved companies millions of dollars. Many companies had transitioned to a per diem approach for paying for meals during business travel. Now that people had corporate credit cards, they discovered that they could just charge all of their meals using the corporate cards, and the need for receipts disappeared. Even fast food places took credit cards, these days. Travelers pushed the envelop on what they spent on meals. In response to the increased food expenditures, many companies gave employees a per diem, and insisted that meals no longer be charged to the corporate card. Going to a per diem had been a cost saving measure. Sunday and evening travel had been cut back, although early morning travel hadn't been affected. In cases where Sunday travel was necessary, companies actually gave comp time. It had taken several lawsuits to make that happen. There were still some problems, in places, with the comp time being honored. However, there were court cases pending on them. Several individuals, on having terminated their employment, demanded getting paid for their unused official comp time in the same manner in which unused vacation days were paid. After having hundreds of empty flights on Sundays, and not enough planes to put in the air during normal business hours; the airlines realized they, too, had to respond to the changes in business travel patterns. Businesses who now had employees traveling during work hours, were not pleased with the airlines' overbooking practices. Even after a year, the airlines hadn't found a reasonable scheduling solution. One beneficiary of the travel chaos, was the train system. Someone had come up with the brilliant idea of scheduling late night trains with sleeper cars among the major business destinations. The idea was that traveler would board the train at ten or eleven at night, sleep through the night, and then disembark from the train at a reasonable time in the morning. Even though the train ride might only be four or five hours in duration, the travelers weren't asked to leave the train until seven in the morning. The price was higher than an airline ticket, but it was cheaper than an airline ticket and hotel room. A lot of business travelers took advantage of it. Hotels also experienced a major drop in Sunday night bookings. Different hotel chains were pursuing different strategies. One chain offered discounted Monday nights with a Sunday night stay. Another chain went after the local market by trying to create a 'Sunday Romance Special' for lovers. There were some failed strategies, and some not so successful strategies. Some companies reimbursed data plans on cell phones. Other companies just stopped the practice of sending corporate email to the private email accounts of employees. It was found that employees weren't answering their emails until business hours the next business day, anyway. One of the cellular companies came up with a plan to lease cell phones to corporations as a means to replace the landline systems they had. It was a good idea, but too expensive, and the effort failed. A second company tried the same thing, but targeted small and medium sized business. They relied upon their flat rates being lower than the higher rates that land line telephone companies placed on businesses. It succeeded. Home office allowances actually worked to the benefit of the companies. The amounts of compensation offered, were far less than the actual costs that most employees incurred in setting up a home office. However, in order to receive that money, the employee had to demonstrate that they worked from home enough to justify the expense. Companies ended up getting unpaid overtime, for what was basically pocket-change. A few companies were experimenting with giving technical groups greater secretarial support. Much to their surprise, productivity went up significantly. Dexter's numbers had been proven to be correct, time and time again. It left some executives wondering how previous cost-benefit studies could have been so wrong. Despite the many positive changes, not everything had improved in the corporate workplace. The refrain that 'people should be happy they have a job' still echoed through the hallowed halls of the cubicle farms. Instead of demands to work later, it was to work harder and smarter. Office politics didn't change all that much. The service industry had undergone just as many changes as the corporations. Again, Dexter was credited with bringing about much of that change. His articles on demanding service while being willing to pay for it, had struck a chord with readers. It had also changed the way that some service businesses viewed themselves. The biggest change was that a lot of service businesses had actually taken the time and effort to study their customers' desires. What they found surprised many of them. It turned out that customers were complex. They wanted different things in different circumstances. It was not a 'one size fits all' world. The variations among customers expectations of service, was rather shocking to them. A lot depended upon the socioeconomic situation of the customer, but that difference was not as great as many had thought. There were also differences based on what part of the country that was surveyed. There were differences between the east and west coasts, the north, the south; as well as rural, suburban, and urban area differences. The most significant factor dictating service expectations, was age. Older people remembered a completely different level of service than did the young folks. It might have seemed obvious to some, but to the large chains it hadn't been. A rather large restaurant chain changed its advertising, to target a specific sector of the dining market: fast and efficient service. It didn't promise the kind of 'friendly service' that many equated with 'good service.' It promised that you'd get seated, your order would be taken, and your food delivered, in as quick and efficient a manner as possible. It had recognized that there was a market of individuals who wanted a quick meal, without having to accept the poor nutrition of fast food restaurants. A lot of family owned places went for intense service, with the expectation that the customers would spend a longer time at the table. In some cases, they advertised that 'your table' was your table for the night. Prices were a lot higher for the meal, and the tips were expected to be better, but they discovered that this was a significant market niche. Some retail chains figured out that having independent service help actually made economic sense. It kept their staffing down, while providing customers with the level of service they desired. The person who wanted additional help could hire someone, while another person who knew exactly what they wanted, could satisfy their shopping needs directly. This led to an interesting blend of self-service, alongside of full-service. Shopping malls and large stores often set aside areas where independent shopping assistants could wait for customers. Often times there were posted rules on expected behavior of both parties. These rules prevented scenes where a shopper was overwhelmed by a dozen shopping assistants, all shouting: 'Pick me. Pick me.' Many customers established relationships with some of these people. They began making appointments with them, well ahead of actually going shopping. A lot of teenagers sought those kinds of jobs, particularly in malls where they knew the inventories of every store in the place. In many ways, this was a perfect job for some of these kids. They didn't have to get permission from their school to work, and they weren't bound by any labor laws that prevented them from working during the mall hours. Additionally, the malls were never open very late, so they got home at a reasonable hour. In some cases, where married couples both worked, people actually hired women to do their grocery shopping for them. This was a wonderful job for women with children in school. They could shop while the kids were in school and then deliver the groceries once their husband returned home. Quite a few single mothers sought this kind of work, as well. Some stores even set up separate lines for customers with a train of shopping carts, recognizing that these shoppers represented three or four customers at a time. "Interesting," Dexter said. "I thought you would find it interesting," Eric said. Dexter asked, "What do you think?" "I think the article missed a lot of other changes," Eric said. "Like what?" "Did you know that my credit score went up after I paid off the credit card debt I was carrying on behalf of our previous company?" Eric asked. "No!" "Yes. My apparent personal debt was higher before I paid off the company debt. My payments on my other cards were good; but the one which I used for company business, had a history of erratic payments, because of when I got reimbursed. Both of those things killed my credit rating," Eric said. "I didn't even look at that," Dexter said. Eric said, "I was throwing my personal money away, paying interest on that credit card. Once it was paid off, I used the money to pay my other cards. That knocked my personal debt down as well. Now I'm getting lower interest rates, and I'm able to pay things off quicker." "I guess the cost of carrying corporate debt was higher than just the interest payments," Dexter said. "Exactly," Eric said. "What else did the article miss?" Dexter asked. "There's been a shift in spending habits among the young," Eric answered. "What?" "Well, a lot of teenagers are working independent service jobs. They are being paid in cash. Their money isn't being reported to the IRS. There are no payroll taxes being taken out of it. As a result, they're making pretty good money. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that they are spending it. What a lot of people may not realize, is that they are spending their money rather than their parent's money," Eric said. Dexter said, "And as a result, the parents have more money to spend." "Exactly ... and what are they spending it on? Elimination of their debts," Eric said. "That is interesting," Dexter said. Eric said, "They missed another trend that you started." "What trend?" Dexter asked. "Higher quality products," Eric answered. Confused, Dexter said, "We haven't been selling coffeemakers for all that long, for it to establish any kind of trend." "Your article woke up some smaller companies that had niche markets in a number of 'household goods' areas. They've started pursing a long-term high-quality product strategy. Their goods are coming on the market, and they are selling well." "I guess I should pay a little more attention to other products. I've been so wrapped up in the coffeemaker," Dexter said. "I bought a folding lawn chair last week that I swear I can beat with a hammer all day, and not break it. I can jump up and down on it without ripping the fabric," Eric said. "It has a ten year 'no questions asked' warranty." "I want some of those for camping. My little folding camp chairs are coming apart. I bought four of them last spring, and two are already broken." "I know what you mean. I bought some chairs for the backyard last summer. The fabric ripped on one chair about the third time I sat on it. The frame bent on another when one of my neighbors sat down on it. The colors faded on the other two and they wobble." "You know, we spend a lot of money replacing junk," Dexter said. Eric said, "I think those days are coming to an end." Dexter asked, "Is there anything else that the article missed?" "The biggest change of all isn't in the workplace," Eric said. "What's that?" "Manners." Dexter knew exactly what Eric meant. It seemed to him that people were generally being nicer to each other. People were saying please and thank you more often. Folks had always held doors for others. However, even that had changed. The minor exchanges of thanks had become a bit more expressive. Drivers didn't seem as aggressive. It was as if people realized that they had time for courtesy. Maybe being treated nicely at stores carried over to the rest of people's lives. Dexter said, "There's been a big improvement, there." "I was at the movie theater with my wife the other evening and some guy was being a little pushy. I noticed that a lot of people looked in his direction with frowns on their faces, in clear disapproval. A couple years ago, people wouldn't have thought a thing about how he was behaving," Eric said. Dexter said, "I told my kids one day that hello was the most powerful word in the English language. I really believe that." "Hello?" Eric asked. "Yes. Let's write an article about the word, hello," Dexter said. "An article on the word, hello?" "Do you remember that television series that took place in a bar? Someone would enter the bar and everyone would greet them," Dexter said. "I saw it a couple of times." "Well, that whole act of everyone greeting each other was part of building a community. That's what's been missing in our world. How many times did you walk into work at the old place, and have someone say hello to you?" "That almost never happened," Eric said thoughtfully. "We spent ten or more hours a day with our coworkers, and we didn't even greet each other in the morning." "There is something wrong with that." "You know, I used to see you more than I saw my wife. We hardly exchanged a word of common courtesy during the last five years at that company. That's not right. We were supposed to be colleagues, but there was nothing collegial about our relationship," Dexter said. "It was definitely a toxic environment," Eric said remembering those miserable days. "Part of it was that old 'you should be glad you have a job' atmosphere. However, a lot of it was just coworkers being nasty to each other. I think the simple act of having people say hello to a couple of coworkers on arrival to work, would change things tremendously," Dexter said. "Not that much," Eric said doubtfully. "I think it will create major changes," Dexter said. "I can work on that for the next few days," Eric said. Dexter said, "Along the lines of 'hello, ' there was something else I noticed. A lot of email that I received didn't include a 'Dear Dexter' at the beginning. The emails launched directly into telling me to do something or describing some problem. The overall tone of emails like those was demanding. "Maybe 'Dear Dexter' isn't appropriate in a business setting, but how about 'Hello, Dexter' instead? Just that act of acknowledging the other person at the very beginning might change the wording used in the rest of the email." "I never noticed that." "When speaking, if someone points at Joe and shouts, "Move that barge!" it comes across as a demand. On the other hand, if you shout, "Hey, Joe, would you move that barge?" it comes across like a request. If it is the boss doing the shouting, the barge is going to get moved regardless of which way he words it. The point is that Joe will react differently to the two statements." With a trace of humor in his voice, Eric said, "With the first, he'll be pissed at his boss. With the second, he'll be pissed at the barge, for being so much work." "There's a lot of truth in that," Dexter said. "All I'm saying is that our emails have degenerated to being of the first form, rather than the second form." "I'm going to read over some of my old emails that I have archived." "Do that. I think you'll be surprised," Dexter said. "I guess we have a good topic for the next article," Eric said. Dexter picked up the article that he had read earlier. Looking a little uneasy, he said, "I think this article gives me too much credit for what's been happening in the world." "I think you didn't receive enough credit," Eric said. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 20: Guilty As Charged Dexter was seated outside the courtroom waiting to testify. The trial of the man who had tried to kill him was in its third day. Even after all the time that had passed between the shooting, and the beginning of the trial, Dexter still had no idea why the man had wanted to kill him. The press hadn't been interested in the man's motives, only that the target had been Dexter. It wasn't until the opening statement by the prosecutor, that Dexter learned the man had lost his business because his employees had sued him. The judge had slammed the guy, and had ordered additional damages to be paid to the employees. The man didn't have the money to pay the fines, and his business had died. On hearing the details about the initial lawsuit, Dexter felt that the judge had done the right thing. His sales personnel had been carrying monthly balances of over ten thousand dollars on their personal credit cards. With sales slipping due to a bad economy, he had delayed reimbursement for an extra month. Suddenly, they were carrying twenty thousand dollars on their credit cards. The sales people were slammed with interest charges and late fees. The cards they were using had interest rates raised to nearly thirty percent. It wasn't just the cards they were using for work that had the high interest rates, either. All of their credit cards had their rates increased. Of course, the man blamed Dexter when his employees sued him, and he decided that Dexter had to die. The end result was the scene in front of the courthouse. Hopefully the whole episode would come to an end within that same courthouse. With so many members of the press there, the trial quickly became a three-ring circus. Everyone was putting on an act for the cameras. The prosecutor's opening speech had taken almost an entire day. The defense's speech had lasted just as long. The judge had also pontificated. Dexter had sat there, bored out of his mind, getting angrier with each hour that passed. Pundits on television were arguing about how good of a job the prosecutor, the defense, and the judge were doing. There were all kinds of legal opinions. It was all kind of stupid, because there was a film of the entire incident. It clearly showed the man shooting at Dexter, in front of a hundred witnesses. The first witness in the trial was not Dexter. It was the cameraman who had captured the entire event on the television camera. The video was entered as evidence. Of course, that wasn't so easy. The defense had argued that the video contained prejudicial statements made by the reporter on the scene that were not founded upon fact. It contained speculation and hearsay. The prosecutor argued that it captured the event. The judge called a recess so that he could consider the legal implications of the reporter's commentary. Dexter earned himself a contempt of court warning when he had piped up, "So play the damned thing with the sound turned off." The judge retired to his chambers for fifteen minutes and then returned to the courtroom with the decision that the video could be entered into evidence. Dexter knew that little decision was going to be worth a half hour of discussion on the news that night. The next few witnesses were experts who testified that the video showed that the gun was actually aimed in Dexter's direction. Dexter earned a second contempt of court warning when he had said, "Any idiot with eyes can see that." Dexter decided that it would be better if he were to wait outside than get found in contempt of court. He left the courtroom knowing that his exit would make it on the news that night. There would be all kinds of speculation about his behavior. Seated on the bench, Dexter watched people rushing to and fro pursuing business about which he could only speculate. It seemed to him that there were just too many people there. They were there because of traffic tickets, crimes, lawsuits, and divorces. He wondered if there were any civil weddings taking place. He wondered about the financial burden on society that this level of activity represented. He decided that a courthouse was a more depressing place than a hospital ... and Dexter found hospitals very depressing. A young man sat down next to Dexter. "I'm Jack Alexander. I'm a journalism major at the local college. I've got a job as a reporter for the college newspaper." "Hello, Jack Alexander. I'm Dexter James." "I know. I was wondering if I could interview you." "Go right ahead," Dexter said. "May I record it?" "Yes, you may," Dexter said. "Thank you," Jack said. "You're quite welcome, Jack," Dexter said. Jack asked, "Why are you out here rather than inside the courtroom?" "I'm out here because I couldn't sit there and watch that tragedy unfold any longer. I'd call it a joke, but it isn't funny. It's sad. It's tragic." "Why do you say that?" Jack asked. "We have emails that he sent threatening my life. We have a video of him planting a bomb inside my office. There was an explosion in which my office and several other offices in the building were destroyed. We have a video of him trying to shoot me. There's no room for reasonable doubt other than establishing that he was, in fact, the person in the videotapes. Of course, since he was arrested on that same video and then booked, there aren't any doubts about him being the person on the video." "He has a right to defend himself against the charges," Jack said. "A right to defend yourself against the charges?" Dexter said, and looked thoughtful for a second. "Yes, that is a right under our Constitution. Every accused person has a right to face their accusers. That's not what is going on in there." Jack asked, "What is going on in there?" "It's a show by the lawyers and the judge. A defendant is trying to avoid the consequences of his actions. A press corps is trying to gain a fraction of a percent of a market share. There are a lot of things going on in there other than an accused facing his accusers. "You see, there's only one question that has to be answered in that courtroom." "What question is that?" "Is the defendant the perpetrator of the crime that was captured on the video tape?" "It's got to be more complex than that," Jack said. "The tape shows a crime taking place. It shows an armed man firing a pistol at an unarmed man who is making no aggressive acts. That is a crime. It is called: attempted murder. "Is the defendant the perpetrator of the crime or not? That is the question. All of the rest of the garbage going on in that courtroom, is posturing." Jack said, "There can be extenuating circumstances." "Those don't affect whether the defendant is found guilty or innocent. Extenuating circumstances affects whether the full weight of the law should come down on the guilty person or not," Dexter said. "That seems too simple," Jack said. "It is that simple. That's why what is going on in there is a tragedy. Everyone in that courtroom has forgotten the purpose of having a trial. A trial has two parts. The first part is coming up with a verdict stating the guilt or innocence of the defendant, with regard to a specific crime or crimes. The second part is the sentencing of the guilty party. "The first part of this trial could have been over in ten minutes. I'll admit that the second part could have taken a couple of hours. Was the defendant insane or not? If he was insane, then send him to a hospital for treatment. If he wasn't insane, then send him to jail for the legally proscribed time." "If he's insane, then he's not guilty," Jack said. "That's true according to established legal practice. That defense has been around for thousands of years. Not guilty by reason of insanity is a compromise between punishing someone for performing a criminal act, and the need to treat someone who is mentally ill. It is a humane compromise, although it is one that isn't well thought out. It isn't a statement that the person didn't do the crime, just that they were insane at the time." "I disagree with you on that. An insane person isn't guilty," Jack said. Dexter said, "It's interesting that you say that." "Why?" Dexter answered, "Because guilty really has two meanings. One is a judgment that someone has done something wrong. The other is the feeling that one should have for having done something wrong. Not guilty by reason of insanity is saying the person did something wrong, but shouldn't feel guilty for having done it because they weren't sane at the time. "Like I said, I think that it isn't a well thought out compromise. Now, that is my opinion. To be honest, my opinion doesn't mean a damned thing. You can quote me on that." "I will," Jack said. "I'm sure that a lot of people will think that I'm a hardhearted bastard for having that opinion. Let them feel that way. I don't care. Well, I do care, but ... there's nothing I can do about it except change my opinion. There'd be others who'd think that I was jerk for changing to a different opinion. You can't win the popularity game." "What do you think should happen to the man on trial?" Dexter answered, "To tell the truth, I think that they should send the guy in there to a hospital for treatment, if he's crazy. I don't want to see him punished if he was seeing things, or voices were talking to him. Although some people might argue otherwise, I'm not a complete jerk, and I do care about my fellow humans. "If, on the other hand, he was just so mad that he couldn't think straight ... send him to prison, and get him some anger management therapy. Don't forget, if he had been successful in his attempt to kill me, then I'd be in a grave pushing up daisies. I'm sure that if you were in my place, you'd feel much the same about someone trying to take your life." "I'd like to think that I'd be a little more forgiving than that," Jack said pointedly. Dexter laughed. "If I was an eye for an eye kind of person, I'd say let me chase him around while I'm waving a gun and trying to kill him. Now that would be an interesting punishment." "You can't be serious," Jack said with a horrified expression on his face. "I'm joking." "That's not something to joke about." "Did someone forget to teach you about humor?" Dexter asked. "You don't joke about serious matters." "Are you kidding me? Haven't you ever heard of 'gallows humor'? The more serious something is, the more you need to joke about it. Otherwise, you go crazy. "Someone should write a comedy skit about what is going on in that courtroom. I could just see it now. The prosecutor says that he'll play the video of the shooting. The defense objects on the grounds that they haven't established that is actually a video. Expert witnesses are called to validate that it is indeed a video. The defense objects on the grounds that the expert isn't really an expert, so the prosecution calls an expert to testify that the expert is actually an expert. The cycle repeats infinitely." "That's stupid," Jack said. Dexter said, "That's my point. What is going on in there, is absurd." Jack asked, "So what do you think is going to happen?" "I don't know. What should happen, is that they find him guilty of attempted murder, and sentence him to jail. What will happen? Who knows?" "So you want him to go to jail?" "Do you know why we incarcerate individuals convicted of theft or violent crimes?" "To punish them." Dexter shook his head. "No. If we wanted to punish them, we could just flog them, and be done with it. "I can tell by the expression on your face that the idea of flogging someone is horrible. Think about it. One flogging, and a month of recovery ... the punishment is over. You think that is too violent and degrading? Is it any more violent and degrading than getting anally raped repeatedly in prison? I don't know, but I think I'd rather be flogged." "So why do we incarcerate them?" "The reason we incarcerate them to protect everyone else from them." Jack said, "Not everyone in jail is a violent criminal or guilty of theft." "That's right. We've got a lot of people who are in prison who should be in a hospital instead. Drug addicts? They need medical care, not incarceration. That's not going to happen, because it's a whole lot easier to put them in prison. "Even then, that misses the point. Our prisons aren't supposed to be warehouses for storing humans. They are supposed to be correctional facilities. We don't have correctional facilities, although there are a lot of human warehouses that are called that. Our prison system would be a lot cheaper if we really had correctional facilities. We wouldn't have repeat criminals. We wouldn't have criminals whose crimes escalate in violence. That's not going to happen." "You sound kind of pessimistic," Jack said. "In fact, it sounds like you don't really think highly of the legal system." Dexter replied, "The shooting happened two years ago and it is only now coming to trial. He's been out on bail all of that time. No one has informed me of what he's been doing during those two years. I don't know if anyone actually knows what he's been doing. In the meantime, I've wondered if he was going to try again, to kill me. It's not that it was always on my mind, but the worry was there in background." The guard at the door of the courtroom said, "Dexter James! They're calling you to testify." "Okay." "Thanks for the interview." "You're welcome." Dexter went inside and testified. He told about getting death threats, calling the police, talking to a private detective, the bombing of his office, and the episode outside the courthouse. It was a pretty short story, although the prosecution tried to stretch it out as long as possible. His memory of the events was challenged several times by the defense since it had happened two years previously. Dexter finally pointed out that he didn't need to remember things, since there was a video that showed the events quite clearly. He reminded them that he had watched that video in the courtroom, along with everyone else, less than two hours earlier. There was an awkward moment of silence after Dexter had pointed that out. He had also been asked questions about his trip to Nevada, upon accepting that the death threats were serious. Fortunately, he hadn't done anything on that trip that he couldn't testify to in court. There was nothing illegal or immoral about hiding in a hotel room. All in all, Dexter's testimony boiled down to this: the defendant was the guy who tried to kill him, and he had done nothing to provoke the attack. It was on day five of the trial when Jack Alexander's article was published in the college's newspaper. The article was unique, in that after a brief introduction, it presented ... verbatim ... the conversation that he'd had with Dexter. For a short time, Jack Alexander was a celebrity for having the first and only interview with Dexter James about the attack. The secondary reports generated by other news establishments were of a very different nature. They had great headlines. Dexter James believes in flogging criminals. Dexter James is critical of the judicial system. Dexter James wants insane punished. Dexter wants 'eye for an eye' justice. Dexter read the headlines in disgust. He had read an initial draft of the article and had been pleased with it. Jack's introduction had been a very nice and unbiased piece of writing. Since the majority of the article was a transcription of the conversation there wasn't much he could say against it. The circus that was called a trial, wrapped up two days after the article had been published. This was much earlier than some pundits had expected, but no one gave support to the belief that it was the article that had sped things up. A guilty verdict was handed down along with a sentence of five years in prison. The judge did recommend that anger management therapy be provided. The only real change that Dexter noticed, was that he was sleeping a little better at night. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 21: Pillow Talk Dexter opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Janet snuggled against him and rested a hand on his chest. "Good morning," Dexter said. "Good morning." "It's been a long time since I woke up with you snuggled up against me." "Remember when we used to spend all day on Sundays doing this." "That's one of my favorite memories of our marriage." "Mine too." "What happened?" "We had children. They won't let you stay in bed all day." "That's right. I guess it has been eighteen years since we spent all day in bed together." "It's hard to imagine that much time has passed." "I don't want to bring up a touchy subject, but we've been divorced for almost two years and separated for three." "We've never talked about that day except for the text message that I sent you," Janet said quietly. "I know. Do you want to tell me about it from your side?" "Do you really want to know what happened that day?" "Yes." "I had really had a bad morning that day. Nothing had gone right. I was mad at everyone and really needed to vent my anger. There wasn't anyone I could get angry at. You know, you can't yell at your boss and quit. You can't yell at any of your coworkers or you'll get fired. So who was left? The only name on the short list was you." "I guess I should feel honored, but I don't," Dexter said. "You didn't even know I was mad at you, did you?" "I had no clue." "I sent out that text message figuring that I'd get a call from you within two minutes. I waited and nothing happened. Then I figured that maybe you were in a meeting and couldn't call, so I waited some more. Thirty minutes and nothing. I really started getting worried. "I waited an hour. There was still no call from you. I wondered if you had gotten the message. I tried calling you, but there was no answer. I tried calling a couple of times and then my calls went straight to voice mail. I knew then that you had turned off your phone. "Needless to say, I wasn't getting any work done. My boss came over and started giving me a hard time. I told him that I had a bad case of PMS and that he should give me some space before I bit his fucking head off. He backed away so fast it was incredible. I should have used that threat earlier. "I went home expecting to find you there. You weren't there. I looked around the house. You can't imagine how I felt when I discovered that your stuff wasn't there. I was shocked. I went to the bathroom and threw up. "I knew you were gone. That wasn't what I had wanted. I couldn't understand how you could leave me like that. I couldn't understand why you left without telling me. "I spent the evening in bed crying. Every time a door opened or closed I hoped that it was you, but it was one of the kids. I grabbed the cell phone every time it rang thinking you were calling me. My boss only called me once that evening. His secretary only called me once. I was a basket case. "That was my day. It was actually better than the month that followed it. I didn't know that anyone could cry like that." "Sorry." "So tell me about your day." Dexter was quiet for a moment wondering how to explain what he had felt. "You've seen the video of me getting fired." "Yes, I have." "Well, I knew the minute I walked into that meeting that it was the last day I would be working there. It had been coming ever since the day that Mark died while talking to me on the phone." "I didn't know he was talking to you when he died." "Yes. I heard the crash. I didn't know what the weird noise was at the time. It wasn't until I got called into Mr. Morris's office that I learned Mark was dead. That's when I was temporarily offered Mark's position. I turned it down." "I didn't know that," Janet said. "Mr. Morris was not happy that I turned the temporary position down. In fact, he took it as a personal insult. If I had known that, I would have been much more insulting. I knew, at that moment, when I walked out of that office, that I was going to be fired ... and soon. "I spent the next two months downloading every confidential memo that I could find on the company server, knowing that there was some major dirt buried there. I gotta tell you, I found it by the truckload. Every one above me, had been lying to me. They were making promises they had no intention of keeping. "It was criminal. I really couldn't believe that so many people had absolutely no morals. I was at a point where I didn't trust anyone. "Anyway, I was fired at that video-recorded meeting, and escorted out of the building without even a chance to stop by my office, for my personal items. I can't really tell you what I was feeling the moment I stepped outside of that building. I was worried about what was going to happen next. I was ecstatic that I had actually stood up to those lying bastards. "I was thinking about starting a small computer repair company just to be doing something until I was able to arrange for something a little more substantial. I knew I was going to sue the company for everything under the sun. They had screwed the wrong guy and I was vowing vengeance. "Eric called me and told me he was leaving the company. He had thought things were looking up with the kind of changes I had been making in my department. He was going to replicate them within the other departments. My firing killed those plans. He was fortunate that he had been offered another position. "I had just basically hung up after talking to him and gotten into my car when I got your text message. You were the only name on my short list of people who I trusted. Reading that text message, I felt like someone had grabbed me by the scrotum and twisted my nuts clean off. "One moment I was making plans on how we could get through things and the next moment I had nothing. I looked around and didn't see any friends on my side. You had abandoned me. The kids weren't talking to me even when I tried to engage them in conversation. All of a sudden, I didn't even have a place to live. I kept wondering what the fuck I was going to do. "Well, I went my lawyers office and told him to file for divorce. You wanted it, you got it. I did all of the financial shit. I took half of the money and closed out all of the credit cards. Hell, I was unemployed and was sure that I couldn't even depend upon you for a place to live. "I stopped by the house and grabbed my stuff. I drove off and found a cheap motel. Then I went to dinner. I don't remember the evening that well. I was kind of numb." Janet said, "Let me guess, you had a steak dinner." "Yes." "You're the only person I've ever met whose 'comfort food' is a Porterhouse Steak." "What can I say?" Dexter said. Janet asked, "Why did you assume that I was having an affair?" "I had no idea that you were mad at me. Since I didn't know that, then what was the only probable explanation for why you wanted a divorce? An affair. No other explanation came to mind." "I guess it is a reasonable assumption," Janet said. "I think so, too." Janet said, "You know, I never thought about how hopeless things must have seemed to you when you discovered that I wanted a divorce right after you had been fired. In the space of thirty minutes, you lost your job, your family, and your home. No wonder you were pissed at me. In my defense, I didn't know you had been fired." Dexter said, "A lot of anger and pain was because you chose to text me. I felt like you didn't respect me enough to tell to my face that you were leaving me. I was hurt. Deeply. I didn't feel like I deserved that kind of disrespect. "There was a lot of anger there, but it was mostly pain. Every time I had to deal with you, that pain just exploded in my chest. I wanted to retreat into a cave and lick my wounds, but that wasn't possible. I spent some time out in the woods alone, but that only allowed me to heal enough to deal with other people. There was no way I was ready to talk to you or even about you. I wanted to erase you from my life. "That day in the sandwich shop was really the first time I could take the pain and even then it slipped out. I apologize for that. I was really trying hard to be civilized." "I understand your anger a whole lot better now," Janet said. "For a while, I thought I didn't deserve that kind of raw anger directed at me." "You didn't deserve as much anger as I felt, but I didn't know that," Dexter said unwilling to give her a complete pass on her actions. Janet said, "There's one thing that I'm curious about." "What?" "Why did you call me to park your camper in the driveway?" Dexter said, "There were only two people I could have called. You and Eric. I really thought about calling Eric. I knew he would let me park it at his place on the condition that he could use it every once in a while. That would have been fine with me. "I didn't know about you. I was curious if your attempts to repair our relationship actually had any truth to it. I didn't really trust you. I figured that it would be a good test of your sincerity." "What if I had said no?" "I probably would never have called you again." "I had no idea," Janet said only now realizing how much had ridden on the answer to one seemingly innocent question. Dexter said. "You must have been mad at me when I didn't call you after you texted me." "Mad? I felt every emotion under the sun and anger was the least of them. Fear, bitterness, hate, and disappointment were almost constant companions. The problem was that I blamed myself as much as you. "I was really angry at you when I was in the hospital and you wouldn't even come up to see how I was. Then Sarah told me that you believed that I'd had an affair. That was a surprise. The idea that you would suspect me of having an affair had never crossed my mind. "I knew that we had to talk so I could explain myself to you. My few attempts were not very successful." "I wasn't ready to talk to you. Did you know that I got a ticket for disturbing the peace and littering after that little scene in the hospital when Sarah and you bushwhacked me?" "Bushwhacked?" Janet asked. "That's what it felt like," Dexter said. "Sarah pinned me down and you took cheap shots at me." "I'm sorry about that," Janet said. "It's over and done with," Dexter said. Janet said, "You really tore me apart with your little speech when I visited you at the hospital. I think that was the first time that I really began to realize just how hurt you were. I mean ... I knew you were hurt. I just didn't realize how bad. In fact, I don't think I ever understood how much I hurt you, until just now." "I'm not that sorry about what I said in the hospital. I was actually being honest. I could have worded things a little more gently, I suppose. I will say that I was under a bit of stress at the time. That isn't exactly the kind of discussion you want right after a heart operation and having an ulcer taken care of. "I know that I didn't give you a chance to say much, but I couldn't have taken any more pain." Janet said, "That was rather unfair of me. I figured I had you in a place where you had to listen to me. I didn't think you would lash out at me like that." "I nearly fired Mark over it," Dexter said. "Why?" "He helped you," Dexter said. "He didn't help me." "What do you mean? He left the nurse call button out of reach, so that I couldn't call them to get you tossed of the room," Dexter said. "I didn't know anything about your call button. I ran into him on my way into your room. He had just left your room. I talked to him when I left to let him know that I'd sign the papers," Janet said. "I guess I'm glad I didn't fire him. I was really pissed at him." "No wonder you lashed out like that. You felt trapped," Janet said. "Yes." Janet traced the scar on his chest. "Why is your scar so small? I thought that heart surgery required them to open your whole chest." "It was a minor blockage. They pushed a stent through one of my blood vessels to the heart without having to cut open my chest. I guess it is kind of tricky and takes some time, but you heal a lot faster," Dexter answered. "I didn't know they could do that," Janet said. "I didn't either," Dexter said. "The worst part of it all was getting over the anesthetic. That really screws up the body." "I know. I went through that with my appendix." "I didn't know that ulcers were caused by a bacteria. I'd have gone to the doctor for my stomach a year earlier if I had known that all I had to do was take some antibiotics," Dexter said. "I think I knew about that," Janet said. "It was on the news or something." "I'm pretty sure it was," Dexter said. Janet sighed. "This is really nice lying here like we used to do when we first got married." "It is nice." Janet asked, "So what about us? Where are we going from here?" "Where would you like to go?" Dexter asked. "I want to know what you want," Janet said. Dexter said, "This isn't a proposal, but do you want to marry me again?" "Yes, I do. Do you want to marry me again?" "Yes, I do. But, I'm afraid to take that step," Dexter answered. "Afraid?" "I know men are supposed to be big and tough. We're not supposed be hurt when we're shot. The problem is, I'm not that way. I guess I'm pretty emotional for a guy. I may not show it, but I do have strong feelings. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm terrified of getting hurt again." Janet said, "I know there's nothing I can say that will convince you that I won't hurt you again in the future. No one can make those kinds of promises. I'll do my best to be open and honest with you." "I know you will," Dexter said although it was closer to hoping she would rather than knowing she would. "I never thought I would say this to a man ... I wasn't raised that way ... but would you rather live together for a while before we talk about marriage?" Janet asked. "I wasn't raised that way, either." "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" "Yes, we are," Dexter said. "Do you have to go home anytime soon?" "No." Dexter said, "I guess we can spend all day in bed talking about it, then." "I guess we could." "Hungry?" "A little." "I think in the future I'm going to put a little five cup coffeemaker on the nightstand and stash some fruit cups in the drawer. That way we won't have to get out of bed to eat." "That's not a bad idea." "Let's eat. We've got the rest of the day to spend in bed." "Good idea." Dexter got out of the bed and headed towards the door. "Aren't you going to put on a robe?" Janet asked. "No. I've become a nudist," Dexter answered. "Really?" "Just when no one is around. I'm not an exhibitionist," Dexter said. "Oh." "You should try it," Dexter said. Janet asked, "You mean, I should just walk around the house with no clothes on?" "Yes." "Okay, I'll try it." "Great." Janet asked, "Did you ever walk around naked with someone else there?" "Uh ... Yes..." "Who?" "Amber. That was back when I hired her to take care of me, after I got out of the hospital. Nothing happened, if you were worried about that." "Actually, I trust Amber. Anyone else?" "No," Dexter answered. Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 22: Meeting the Press "Hello, Dexter James." "Hello, Phil Xander," Dexter said while fidgeting around on his chair. "It's a pleasure to have you back on the show," Phil said. "It is?" "Sure, why wouldn't it be?" "I thought I was banned for life from your show," Dexter said. Dexter reached under his butt to feel the seat of the chair. He frowned and twisted around. He pushed around the seat bottom. "Would you stay still?" Dexter got up and moved to the other chair on the set. There was now an empty chair between him and Phil. "There's busted spring in your chair. It was poking me in butt," Dexter said. "It's kind of hard talking to you with you seated all of the way over there," Phil said. Dexter sat back in his chair and smiled. Phil's comfort meant very little to him, in comparison to his comfort. "It's kind of hard talking to you with a spring poking me in the butt." "Sorry about that," Phil said. "So you were saying? Oh wait ... I had just finished saying that I thought I was banned for life from your show." "Not at all." "Okay," Dexter said. He looked around the set. There was a guy standing by one of the cameras holding a sign. The sign said, "Don't bring down our servers." Dexter grinned. "I promise I won't bring down your servers today." "Thank you," Phil said, irritated by another distraction. "I'm sure our IT folks appreciate that." "Is that one of them over there?" "Yes." Dexter gave a thumbs up to the guy with the sign. He shouted, "I won't bring down your servers, today." "Thank you!" "You're welcome." Trying to get control over the interview, Phil said, "I asked you to come today to talk about your company, Legacy Coffeemakers, Inc." "I like talking about that company," Dexter said. "I've got to say that I'm pretty impressed with your coffeemakers. They really are tough," Phil said. "Why do you say that?" Dexter asked. "We had a couple of interns play broom hockey with your one cup coffeemaker behind the set to see how tough it is." "Did they manage to break it?" "No. It still worked perfectly," Phil said. "We've had a lot of people try out our warranty on that coffeemaker. We've gotten a lot of letters about how rugged it is," Dexter said proudly. "They don't try the same things with the five and ten cup coffeemakers." "What's your secret?" Phil asked. "What secret?" "The secret to getting such a tough product out," Phil asked. "That's not a secret. I give people the authority necessary to do their jobs. Responsibility coupled with authority. If something goes wrong, it is the person with the responsibility who is at fault. It is that simple," Dexter said. "So where does that leave you?" Dexter said, "I have a responsibility to ensure that my people meeting are their responsibilities. I have the authority to fire anyone who isn't meeting them." "How does that work out?" "Let's take the case of the engineer whose name is on the coffeemaker. He has total responsibility for the design. He has the authority to do what is required. I don't go in and change his design or overrule his design decisions. That's not my job. You see, if I meddle in his design then I become responsible for any problems that I introduce. As soon as you have a dilution of authority, you have problems with assigning responsibility." "You designer doesn't work alone. He doesn't design everything," Phil said. Dexter said, "That's right. He does the overall design and contracts out some design tasks to others. He gives them requirements and they design to the requirements. They have total authority over their designs. He can say that their design didn't meet the requirements and that becomes their fault. He can point out flaws in their design. They have to fix the design. Of course, his requirements could have been bad and that is his fault. He has to fix the requirements. It is really very simple. "That's what happens when you delegate responsibility and authority. It clarifies things tremendously. If you don't have the authority to make something happen, you really can't be held responsible if it doesn't happen. Then things get murky. Who did what? Who didn't do what? Where's the problem? Why didn't someone step in and fix the problem? "When the answers you get are: 'I can't do this because I'm not allowed, ' but the person who is allowed isn't responsible for getting it done ... then you have real problems. Those kinds of problems can't be solved by blaming people." Phil said, "I guess that makes sense. "Our designer wanted a tough rugged machine that would last twenty years under hard use," Dexter said. "In my opinion, he met that goal." "Has anyone managed to break one?" Phil asked. Dexter answered, "You know the answer to that question." "You are referring to the lawsuit your company has filed against one of the other companies that makes coffeemakers." "Yes. They bought five thousand of our coffeemakers using an intermediary group. The group that accepted delivery of the coffeemakers then destroyed the machines. In some cases, they drilled holes through the sides of coffeemakers. They then tried to return them under warranty expecting us to replace all five thousand coffeemakers with new ones. The idea was that they would then do the same thing with the replacement coffeemakers and keep doing it until we were out of business," Dexter replied. "They drilled holes though them?" Phil asked. "Yes. Right into the water reservoir. There is a line in our warranty saying that we would prosecute Warranty Fraud to the fullest extent of criminal and civil law possible. We view that as Warranty Fraud." "I would say so. Still, five hundred million dollars is a pretty large amount to be suing them," Phil said. "Why? This was a clear attempt to put us out of business. If they had been successful, we would have lost that much in sales over the next three years," Dexter said. "I think it is quite reasonable to sue for that amount." "You do have a point, although a lot of people were rather surprised by the amount." "I'm not surprised that they were surprised." "How did you discover they were doing this?" Phil asked. "I'm not at liberty to say," Dexter answered. "All I can say is that there are a lot of honest people left in this world who won't take money to perform criminal acts." "That's good to know," Phil said. "A lot of companies should remember that. The days of big companies doing whatever they want are over," Dexter said. "I will admit that there has been a major change in corporate ethics," Phil said. Dexter said, "We've got six executives out on bail because of this. There are a lot more in legal trouble than that in other cases that have nothing to do with me or my company. A lot of employees have become whistle-blowers." "Why would you say that is happening?" Dexter said, "People are tired of watching the company they work for go down the tubes because of criminal acts by upper management." "Won't your lawsuit damage the company and put employees at risk?" Phil said. "Not as much as you would think. You see, in our lawsuit we are requesting that all settlement money come out of executive compensation," Dexter answered. "I'm not sure the courts can force them to do that." "I don't know if they can or not. However, we can request it and make that request known to others. It really looks bad to shareholders when the executives get big bonuses after a settlement like that. It causes them to lose confidence in the management of the company," Dexter said. "You say that as if you know it for a fact," Phil said. "We're not the first to make that request," Dexter said. "Executive compensation in some of these large companies will often run over a half billion dollars. I mean, you'll hear about some executive getting a bonus of fifty million and you think that's all the company paid out. That's not the case. That's the bonus for one executive. There are hundreds of other executives from the director level on up who are getting sizable bonuses. It adds up very quickly." "I know that's particularly true in the financial industry where the majority of compensation is in the form of bonuses," Phil said. "Personally, I feel that level of compensation is criminal. Considering that the median salary of an American worker is fifty thousand a year, five hundred million is the equivalent to the salaries of ten thousand employees. Or you could give a hundred thousand employees a five thousand dollar increase in pay. "In our past conversation, you said that the American worker is too expensive. I suggest that the American executive is the real threat to profitability." Phil smiled. "You are now a corporate executive. Are you saying that you are a threat to profitability?" "Yes, I am. As an executive, I could pull so much money out of the company that I could kill it. As an owner, I'm not going to do that," Dexter answered. Phil said, "I see that it is time for a commercial. We'll be right back." "You're off the air!" The makeup ladies came out to do their job. Phil shouted, "Would someone replace that chair? I can't stand talking to him while he's seated so far away." "You can just swap chairs," Dexter said. Things were a little hectic on the set. There was a small game of musical chairs while the stagehands swapped chairs. While that was happening, the makeup woman was trying to get at Dexter who was standing around making it a little difficult to properly apply the makeup. When the new chair had been put in place, Dexter tried it and gave a nod of approval. "We'll talk about your website after the break," Phil said. "Okey-dokey," Dexter said earning a giggle from the makeup woman and a confused stare from Phil. "Back on air in five, four, three..." The makeup women managed to get off the set before the count hit zero. Dexter was seated in the other chair, which had been exchanged. Phil said, "We're back talking with Dexter James." "There is some good news," Dexter said. "What?" Phil asked. "Your servers didn't go down this time," Dexter said. "Yes," Phil said. "Speaking of which, your website hasn't been in the news in ages. What's going on with it?" "It's still getting heavy traffic." "It seems to have changed tone," Phil said. Dexter said, "Not really. The website has always been about people getting treated fairly. It started with pointing out some of the ways in which corporations were exploiting people. Make no mistake about it. People were being exploited, degraded, and treated worse than animals by the businesses that employed them. We identified ways in which employees could demand humane treatment in the workplace." "That was quite controversial," Phil said. "Of course it was controversial. Corporations had gone unchallenged from salaried employees for so long that they figured they were sheep. The idea that the sheep could rebel was just absurd," Dexter said. "You've stopped posting those kinds of articles," Phil said. Dexter said, "As problems with worker exploitation eased back, we looked at other areas of life in which people were being treated poorly. That basically focused on the service industries. Service has improved tremendously." "That is an understatement," Phil said. Dexter said, "Service has become much more flexible. Places now span the whole breadth from self-service to platinum service. In fact, I'd say that platinum service today means a lot more than what it meant five years ago." Phil said, "I live in a state that had mandated only full-service at gas stations. All they did was pump gas. It wasn't until I went out of state that I discovered what it meant to have full-service. It was an eye opening experience." "I'm sure it was. That day when I encountered the independent full-service gas station was a shock to me. That's when I realized just how much service had truly eroded." "Now your website deals with manners," Phil said. "That's a long way from attacking corporations." "Not really. You see, corporations were not the only ones abusing people. We were moving into a nation of cultural abuse. Rudeness, impatience, and outright rage at times, was becoming normal behavior." "I read your article on email etiquette. It was startling, but I disagree with much of what you wrote," Phil said. "People are treating an exchange of email like it was a conversation. The problem, as we saw it, is that email isn't a chat program. You are exchanging letters and all of the etiquette associated with a letter should apply to an email," Dexter said. "I use it as a chat," Phil said. Dexter said, "It isn't a chat programs. We have chat programs." "It can be used like a chat program," Phil said. "I'd say it can be misused as though it were a chat program. But that's what it is, a misuse of the program." Dexter paused while organizing his thoughts. "You send me an email. I reply to it. Now you read my reply and it is blunt because I'm treating it like a real-time discussion. The problem, it isn't real-time. Between you composing your email and then reading my reply, you may have read a dozen other emails. You may not remember all of the details of what you wrote in the original email. "Including your original email in a reply doesn't really help. It just doubles the length of the email and makes it more effort to deal with. It's even worse if comments are interwoven within the original text like a lot of people do. After a couple of exchanges, the emails can get quite long and horribly confusing." Dexter said, "Now in the old days when communication was by snail mail, a month could pass between composing a letter and receiving a reply. Think about that. A whole month could pass. At a minimum, two days would pass between writing it, posting, transport from one place to another, delivery, and then reading the letter. The reply would take another two days to get routed to the originator of the initial letter. That's four days. That's a lot of time. "In those days, we didn't include the original letter in our response. No, our response was a letter that reestablished the context of the discussion. There were no assumptions about the other person remembering what they had written in the original letter. It was a complete communication and there was an understanding that circumstances may have changed. So each letter had to be a complete stand-alone product. "Email has nearly instantaneous delivery, but that doesn't mean that it is instantly read and acted upon. Hours and even days may pass before a reply is generated. To me, that means that the old letter paradigm should still apply." "You're forgetting that emails can get distributed to a lot of people while letters were one-to-one communication," Phil said. Dexter snorted in disgust. "Group email can be used to send out a general announcement. That's a great use of it. You send out an email announcement and people read it for information purposes. It's like printing up a brochure or invitations and mailing them out. If there is a need to respond, people should respond directly to the author and not to the rest of the group. "Group discussion by email is a horrible use of that technology. It is just not suited for a group discussion. The tone of the emails can quickly degrade into harsh words, and outright insults. One email can generate a bunch of disconnected replies. All of a sudden, you're trying to piece together a hundred different threads. Nothing makes sense. Arguments break out. "It's absolutely the worst way for a group to interact when trying to solve a problem. There aren't any rules. There isn't a moderator. It's pure chaos. It reminds me of baby birds all squawking at the same time to get fed. Nobody is really listening to what anyone has to say. More time is wasted with group email discussions than any form of communication. "There are electronic chat rooms, forums, blogs, and video conferencing for those kinds of discussions. Those mechanisms at least provide a structure for the discussion. Is there room for improvement for those programs? Yes. Still, they are much better than email." Phil said, "You feel strongly about this subject." "In a way I do. You see ... I think that the tone taken in email often translates into the tone that people take with each other in real face-to-face conversations." "I've never thought about it that way," Phil said. Dexter said, "I think a lot of people feel that cultured means that we are cold and impersonal with each other. I don't think so. When I think of someone being cultured, I think of grace and elegance. We've lost a lot of that in pursuit of an electronic culture. "If you want to invite someone to lunch, call them on the telephone. It takes a minute over the phone to make the invitation and to arrange the time and place. It takes a dozen email exchanges to accomplish the same thing. You end up wasting fifteen minutes in the process. Even worse than that, is that it is impersonal. The fact is, a lot of our communication is not in the words we use, but the way we say them." Phil asked, "What do you mean?" "If I ask you in an email if you want to go to lunch, all you really know is that I've extended an invitation to lunch. You don't know if I'm depressed and need a friendly ear, or I'm happy because I've got some good news to share. Sure, I could include in the email that I'm happy or sad, but we don't do that and for very good reasons. Who knows what will happen to the email? No one does." "Everyone knows that you have to be careful about what you say in an email," Phil said. "It's very easy to send an email off to the wrong person. We've all done it. That's one of the problems with email," Dexter said. "In a way, a lot of things that you've written on your website gives the impression that you don't like our technical world," Phil said. "Some people believe that I'm a Luddite. I'm not. I'm an engineer for crying out loud. I honestly believe that technology can solve a lot of our problems. I just think that we're using the technologies that are available to us in the wrong way at times. "ATMs work and when you're in a hurry for a little cash, they are great. However, ATMs shouldn't replace people in a bank. That isn't a condemnation of the ATM technology. Rather, it is putting a boundary on the extent of its use in our society." "I personally like the convenience and speed of using automated tellers and checkouts," Phil said. "That's your choice," Dexter said. "However, your choices shouldn't affect my ability to choose." "I'll agree with that," Phil said. "Thank you." "We are approaching the end of this segment. Is there anything you want to say before we head off to commercial break?" "Not really. I'm sure that listening to me prattle on about the state of our society for thirty minutes is more than most people can stomach," Dexter said. "You are an unusual man, Dexter James." "Actually, I'm pretty average." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- Chapter 23: Tuesday Morning The alarm clock, making an infernal buzzing noise, woke Dexter. He opened one eye and reached out to turn it off. His hand found the switch. He breathed a sigh of relief when quiet returned to the room. "Good morning, honey." She ran a hand across his back in a tender caress before snuggling in closer to him. She gave a contented sigh. "Good morning, Janet." He rolled over and kissed her cheek. He always felt a little uneasy about kissing with a bad case of morning breath. "I don't want to get up," Janet said. "Let's just stay here," Dexter suggested. Janet said, "I would love to, but I've got to get Sarah off to school." Dexter sighed. "I suppose we should get up. 'Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.'" Janet kissed him and then got out of bed. She took a moment to stretch. Dexter took a moment to appreciate her naked body. That was one of the changes that Dexter had come to enjoy tremendously. Janet was much more open to walking around without any clothes when the kids were out of the house. Seeing that he was watching her, she said, "We can come back here after Sarah has left." "How about we go in the backyard and get a little sun?" "We should probably take advantage of the warm temperatures. The weather will be too cool to do that before long," Janet said. "We can always warm each other," Dexter said. Janet smiled at him. "It'll take a lot of warming when it is forty degrees outside." "That's true," Dexter admitted. She went into the bathroom while he slowly sat on the edge of the bed. He looked over at the clock wondering how six minutes had already passed. He went to the door, grabbing a robe on the way. The kids were still at home and there would be no walking around naked until they left. He went into the kitchen and started the coffeemaker. It was one of their ten-cup machines. Janet came out and said, "The bathroom is all yours." "Thanks. The coffee will be ready in a minute or two," Dexter said. Dexter returned to the bedroom knocking on the doors to wake Will and Sarah along the way. He did his normal morning routine. His memories of performing that routine in this house were not pleasant. This time, there were no calls, emails, or text messages interrupting him. After finishing his routine, he put on his robe and returned to the kitchen. There was a cup of coffee waiting for him on the table. He took a sip of it and turned to watch Janet preparing breakfast. "Do you want any help?" "I'm almost done making the fruit salad. You can toast some bread for everyone," Janet answered. Dexter slipped two slices of bread into the toaster. He glanced over at the clock on the wall thinking that at one time, he would have already been on his way to work at this time of the morning. Today, he didn't need to be at work until eleven. Will shambled into the kitchen walking like a zombie. He had worked the evening shift the previous day. They had a late delivery that had required him to work late. Will yawned. "Good morning." "Good morning," Dexter said. "How's the produce business?" He fished the two slices of toast out of the toaster. He put in two more, and started to butter the toast. "I had to work late last night, because the delivery truck had a flat tire on the way to the store." Janet said, "The fruit you brought home so looked good that I decided to make fruit salad for breakfast." She had found it rather convenient to have Will working in a grocery store. She would text him if she needed anything from the store before he got off work. It saved her or Dexter from having to go. They were also saving a lot of money. Will would bring home items that were on special. Some of the sales on meat were so good that they had bought a freezer to store it. He also brought home a lot of fruits and vegetables. In the old days, she hadn't bought fresh produce since their schedules often kept her from using it before it spoiled. Now, they were eating a lot healthier. Gone were the instant breakfast foods and microwave meals. The reduction in salt and high calorie foods, coupled with a moderate exercise program, made keeping in shape a lot easier. "We got in some pretty good looking stuff last night," Will said. He had discovered that he enjoyed his job although he didn't want to do it forever. His boss was a fitness nut and often gave his opinion on the nutritional value of a lot of the food carried in the store. Will had to admit that he was learning a lot by working there. He had started taking two classes at the local community college: a literature class and a history class. He still hadn't made up his mind if he liked college, but it was early in the semester yet. He had class that morning and would have to leave shortly after breakfast. It was amazing to him how few students had signed up for early morning classes. Sarah entered the kitchen. "Morning," she said. "Good morning," chorused Dexter and Janet (Will had his mouth full with a bite of toast he had liberated from Dexter). "I hate mornings," Sarah grumbled before taking her seat. Janet put a large bowl of fruit salad on the table. It contained slices of two kinds of melons, apples, oranges, bananas, kiwis, and passion fruits. Janet had mixed a little orange juice with honey, and poured it over the fruit. Dexter brought over the plate of toast. "Hey, fruit salad," Sarah said looking into the bowl. "Compliments of your brother," Janet said. "My acne really has cleared up since we started eating healthier," Sarah said while loading her bowl. "That's good," Janet said. "I'm riding my bike to school," Sarah said. "That's good," Dexter said. He wiggled his eyebrows at Janet. Sarah made a face and said, "Don't start with the lovey-dovey stuff. At least, not until I've gone, please!" "You should be happy your father and I are back together," Janet said. "I am, but still ... you aren't married," Sarah said. "So what?" Dexter asked. "It's just kind of weird," Sarah said. "My friend Ann doesn't know anyone else whose parents are living together after being divorced." "We're thinking about taking up swinging. What does Ann say about that?" Dexter said. "Oh, gross!" Sarah exclaimed. Janet said, "No, we're not." "I'm just teasing," Dexter said with a grin. Will chuckled. He kind of liked the new versions of his parents. They joked and laughed, unlike before, when they were stressed and tired all of the time. The family continued chatting while they ate breakfast. Plans for the day were discussed. It was actually a very pleasant morning. After Sarah and Will had gone off to their respective schools, Dexter and Janet went out to the backyard. It was a little cool, but the sun was out. Dexter slipped off his robe and settled onto one of the two lounge chairs. Janet, as always, took a moment to look around before removing her robe. She sat down on the lounge chair next to him. "The kids are growing up," Dexter said. "They're good kids," Janet said. Dexter nodded his head in agreement. He said, "I wouldn't have said that two years ago. Of course, I couldn't have said too much about them one way or the other, then." "I'm glad you've gotten to know them a little better," Janet said. Dexter said, "It took getting them disconnected from the internet and the cellular network to do it." "To tell the truth, I think that is a good thing," Janet said. Dexter sighed. "What?" Janet asked. "I was just thinking that I used to be at work for an hour by this time of the morning. Now, I've gotten enough sleep, eaten a great breakfast, and still have time to sunbathe before heading into work." "There's been a lot of changes since those days." "Isn't that the truth? The whole world was out of control. We were running headlong into disaster." "There are still problems," Janet said. "Unemployment is still high. Executives are still mismanaging companies. Politicians are still incompetent." "Still, things are a whole lot better." Dexter said, "I'm still going to keep pounding away that we should care more about people, than we do about things." "I think getting rid of some of that disposable society garbage will help that along." "Looking back at those times, it was like we were swimming against a raging torrent. The harder we swam the faster the current flowed. We weren't making any headway," Dexter said. "I know what you mean. We were swimming so hard that we couldn't pay attention to each other." "We used to call it the rat race when I was younger, but those days were actually pretty sedate compared to how bad things got. We weren't being controlled by electronic leashes. Bosses might have been demanding, but their demands stopped once you got out of the workplace." His father used to complain about the rat race, all the time. It was that they were being driven to produce more and to work harder. Still, his father had evenings and weekends free, not to mention real vacations. He wondered what his father would have thought of how the workplace had changed. Janet said, "I haven't heard the term, rat race, in ages. I wonder why." "I don't know. Maybe we were so busy that we didn't even have time to complain," Dexter said. "I'd almost say that we didn't have anyone to complain to," Janet said. "That's a very good point, too," Dexter said. The sun beating down on his body felt wonderful. The warmth just managed to offset the cool breeze. They wouldn't be able to do this after the next week or two. "I never thought I would be doing this." "Doing what?" "Laying out in our backyard without a stitch of clothing on," Janet said. "It feels good, doesn't it?" "Yes, but I'd die of embarrassment if anyone else saw me," Janet answered. Dexter chuckled. "I take it you aren't ready to go to a nudist club." "Never," Janet said firmly. "How did you discover that you liked to walk around naked?" "It was when I was hiding out at the cabin in the woods. I was really depressed. One morning, I got up and just didn't have the energy or inclination to get dressed. There were no neighbors around to see me, so I decided not to get dressed. About the middle of the afternoon, I realized that I enjoyed walking around naked. I didn't get dressed for a week." Janet understood the part about being too depressed to get dressed. She had spent a lot of weekends at home wearing her old bathrobe. It had just seemed to be too much work to put on clothes. "A whole week?" Janet asked. "Yep. I stayed outside getting sun and trying to get my act together. I think I pissed on every tree and bush around the cabin." She turned to look at Dexter. She couldn't imagine him doing something like that. She knew that she'd probably break out laughing if she saw him pissing on a tree. "You didn't?" "Yes, I did. I was thinking about buying it and started marking my territory. Then I realized that I would have been buying a fantasy and the reality would have been disappointing." "Why don't you buy it now?" "I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it." "I wouldn't mind trying out being naked for a whole week." She had never thought of herself as the kind of woman who could walk around outdoors like that. That was for jungle women or models out of a magazine for men. She wouldn't want to ever explain that kind of behavior to her parent or even her kids. Nice middle class women didn't do that. "I'll think about it," Dexter said. "You could buy some land in a wooded area. You don't really need a cabin since you have the camper. You wouldn't have to worry about maintaining another house." "That's not a bad idea." Dexter could see that he would enjoy having a private camping area. All it would take was a concrete slab, electric connection, and a septic system. Clear off a little land around the concrete slab and he could have a very nice little getaway spot. "Let's do it," Janet said. "Would you like to go to Hawaii?" Dexter asked thinking that Janet would enjoy a more traditional vacation than camping. "Actually, I wouldn't. I have bad memories of our last vacation there." "I can understand that. It was a pretty bad trip," Dexter said. "When we got back from that vacation, someone asked me what sights I had seen. I answered, 'the hotel room telephone.' It was meant to be a joke, but it wasn't all that funny." "I had the same kind of thoughts about that vacation," Dexter said. "If it is all right with you, I think camping is a perfect way to spend a vacation." "That's fine with me," Dexter said. "I never thought of myself as the kind of person who would enjoy camping. I always thought of camping as roughing it like our caveman ancestors. It wasn't at all like I thought it would be. It's strange to discover, at my age, that I like it." She had very good memories of time when they'd had the board meeting in the woods. She had rented a hotel room, but spent all of her days at camper returning only late at night to sleep. There was something rewarding in sitting around a campfire watching the flames. It wasn't romantic in the same way that sitting in front of a fireplace was. It had a more primitive feel to it than that. Maybe it was the fact that there stars overhead; she didn't know. All she did know was that it had resonated with something deep inside her. That afternoon spent in the camper had marked a major turning point in her relationship with Dexter. That was the day when she was pretty sure that they would become a real couple again. They still weren't married and for all she knew they might never be. That wasn't important to her. It was more important that they were together. Dexter said, "As horrible as our separation was, I think we both are better people because of it. I mean ... I learned a lot about myself, both good and bad. I think you learned a little about yourself." Dexter had learned a lot about himself. His intelligence in solving engineering problems didn't translate too well into solving matters of the heart. It had taken others to point out to him what should have been obvious. He was sure that there were some men who would scoff at him for returning to Janet. Their opinion meant nothing to Dexter. He was the one left sleeping alone at night. His memories of long lazy Sunday's spent in bed with Janet kept reminding him of what he had lost. "I agree, but it was a painful lesson. I never want to go through that again," Janet said. "I agree that it was too painful," Dexter said. Janet said, "In a way, things are better now than they were after we just got married. We've got more time to spend with each other and enough money that we aren't stressed out over paying the bills." Was her life perfect? No, but it was better than it had ever been. Was his life perfect? No, but it was better than ever. Their relationship was much more honest. She had come to appreciate that. In fact, she had been surprised at the consequences of being more open and honest. Honesty wasn't always easy. The first time that Dexter had told her that there were times when he just wanted to have sex without worrying about pleasing her, she had nearly exploded. Amber had set her straight by suggesting that Dexter visit prostitutes for that kind of sex, if Janet wasn't willing to do as he had asked. That suggestion had gone over like the proverbial lead balloon. Giving Dexter his desire had not been quite the ordeal that she had imagined. She had thought it would be degrading, but it wasn't. It was rather rewarding to see him enjoying himself. A few randy suggestions of what he could do to her and he was off to the races with a grin a mile wide. Sometimes, she even initiated those kinds of sessions. Amber also suggested that Janet would be in a good position to ask for a whole lot of pampering at times. She did appreciate long luxurious bubble baths complete with champagne, soft music, and an attentive attendant. Sometimes it ended with Dexter making tender love to her. Other times it ended with her wrapped up in a comfy bathrobe, drifting off to sleep feeling warm and pampered. In the end, Janet decided that she had gotten the better deal. "It's more than just time and money," Dexter said. "In a way, that was our mistake. We thought that time and money would solve all of our problems. Our pursuit of financial security just made our life more miserable. We ended up isolated and alone." Softly, Janet said, "We have to remember that." "I know. Do you know what the best thing is?" "What?" Dexter said, "Having someone to share my life with." Edited By TeNderLoin ------- The End ------- Posted: 2011-04-23 Last Modified: 2011-07-30 / 10:57:10 am Version: 1.10 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------