Chapter 1. Choices
5:32am, Thursday, April 11
Crazy!
Awesome! Life-changing!
Crazy
- because that is what I must be, being awake so early.
Awesome
- because of who we’re meeting.
Life-changing
- because that is what money does.
This
is my story...
Here
I’m up, at this unearthly hour, starting a blog. Why I've decided to start a
blog now is beyond me. Maybe I'm having a midlife crisis at 31. Is 31 too early
for that? I dunno. Or maybe it’s a new chapter of my life? Whatever the reason,
I’m sure I’m crazy! It doesn’t matter, because today I’m going to meet a man
who is going to make it all worth it. Today all those years of building our
business are going to pay off. Finally!
To
think that it started off as just a two-man, part-time animation business.
Randle rocks! He has put together this deal with a big investment company
that's going to see Dana and I living the good life. My Dana. My beautiful wife
who has sacrificed so much while I've worked. Now I can't wait for today's meeting.
We are finally going to cash in on the last 7 years of hard work, no holidays,
late nights and stress. Hey, but now it's payback time!
7:19 am, Thursday, April 11
OK,
I'm now running late. The stupid iron burns my shirt and I can’t find a single
pair of matching socks. Here's hoping black and dark navy are close enough to
appear the same.
"Malo,
its your mom on the phone," Dana calls.
Damn!
I’m so stressed and rushed. I really should speak to her. It seems I haven't
made the time to talk much to mom lately. No time for her or Dana these days.
"Please tell her I'll call her this afternoon. I’m running late," I
shout back as I hurriedly make a mess of my tie for the third time. Gotta go!
Money time! The future awaits!
9:12 am, Thursday, April 11
Damn
it! I have never seen traffic like this. And to make it worse I discover some
idiot with a flat tire is the cause. As I am finally almost past the car door
flings open, nearly causing me to smash into it. A woman steps out, seemingly
oblivious to the chaos she is causing. Typical female driver. Only after I give
a long blast of the horn does she suddenly see me and shut her door.
9:22 am, Thursday, April 11
I
arrive at Platinum Investments International. Man alive, this is an amazing
reception area. There's a huge sculpture of an eagle swooping down to grab a
fish from a pond that is dominated by a nearly 10 foot high waterfall. It's
almost like being by a lake. We really need to get away. I can hardly remember
what it's like to be at a lake.
Where
is Randle? We are meant to start at 9am.
Just
then Randle appears coming down the palatial looking staircase. "Hey
Randz," I call, "where have you been?" He looks up, almost
surprised to see me. "Hey Malo," he replies. "Um...just been
checking things out."
A
movie-star gorgeous secretary appears informing us that "they" are
ready to see us. "Here we go Randz. This is the moment. If they buy us, we
are set for life."
9:32 am, Thursday, April 11
If
the entrance of Platinum Investments International was palatial, then the
boardroom needs to be on the bucket list of “places to see before you
die." Frosted glass double doors emblazoned with their trademark PI
(change all) logo slide open automatically announcing the unabashed importance
of the room within. Inside, a massive boardroom table makes it clear that this
is the place for important decisions, by important people. Yet even this is
overshadowed by the spectacular paintings on all the walls. The artwork in this
room alone is worth more than our company. The smell of expensive leather and
fresh coffee hangs in the air. As we enter, Mr. Dewati, the CEO looks up from
where he is seated at the head of the table.
He is flanked by two other suits, and they all have an air of corporate
importance and power.
Randle
and I stand there for a few moments in complete silence as Mr. Dewati fixes his
steel grey eyes on us. I feel as if we are either an alien species, or simply
not expected. I am about to nudge Randle to say something when Mr. Dewati
suddenly rises and in two long strides is before us shaking hands.
"Welcome Randle and..," he pauses as he shakes my hand with a
steel-like grip. I quickly say "Malo. Malo Bel." He looks quizzically
at me, so I hastily add, "Malory, like the explorer."
Silently
I'm cursing my parents for the millionth time for giving me such a stupid name.
No one knows who Malory is, and I'm certainly no explorer. Maybe they had great
dreams for me. In truth, my birth certificate only has "Malo" on it.
Mom said she hates long names being shortened, so now I have to lengthen it
instead. "Aah yes, Malory," he says, enunciating the “lo” in a sort
of dismissive way, leaving me feeling like a fly under a microscope. I glance
at Randle but he is not looking my way. Soon we are seated and a thick file
emblazoned with the Pi logo and "CONFIDENTIAL" is before us.
Mr. Dewati, flanked by the two unnamed suits,
begins: "You boys have a nice little business here." His steely stare
and calling me "boy" with a "little business" instantly
irritates me. "Nice indeed. The animation game is full of wannabes and
kids. I must be honest," he continues as he leans back in his chair,
"I wasn't interested in looking at your company when it was brought to my
attention. This industry is filled with boys playing with toys for no profit.
We are in the business of making money, and could care less about pretty
cartoons."
I
am wondering why we are here with this idiot and glance again at Randle. He
seems enraptured by the diatribe. "However," the booming CEO’s voice
continues, "I decided to have a look. Glad I trusted my gut," he
says, rubbing his slightly protruding stomach as he says it. "I'm seldom
wrong. There is potential in your little business. Our offer is on the table in
front of you. You have 60 minutes to decide. After this, the offer is
withdrawn."
I
look at him in shock, blurting out, "60 minutes? But we need time to go
through the offer. We need time to think about things,"
"You
have time. Exactly one hour. If you can't make a decision in one hour then you
are not the sort of quick thinking, innovative company we are interested
in."
"That's ridiculous," I retort.
"We are..."
"...more
than happy to look at your offer over the next hour," Randle interjects.
"Good,"
booms Mr. Dewati, "I was beginning to doubt my gut," irritatingly
rubbing it again. "You now have 58 minutes remaining," he says as he
turns dismissively away and starts speaking to his hovering suits.
I
can feel my face getting hot, but before I can say anything, Randle grabs my
arm and pulls me out of the boardroom.
9:56 am, Thursday, April 11
"What
the heck was that all about?" I demand. "He is such an arrogant
moron!" "Relax Malo," Randle soothes, "this is our big
payday, lets just stay cool and see what they are offering." Armed with
our thick copies of the contract we flop down into a soft leather couch in the
corner presided over by yet another beautiful painting of a mountain lake
scene.
"Randz,
how are we going to read this massive contract in less than an hour? It's
impossible. I just don't have a good feeling about this."
"We
have worked for years to build this company Malo,” Randle replies, “and for
months to secure this deal. We are not going to easily find another investor
like this. They are a reputable company. They aren't out to rip us off. They
want to make money, just like us. Lets just look at the offer."
"OK.
So how much are they offering us?"
"Well,
it seems to be ummm...six mill...here on page six?" Randle answers as he
pages through the contract.
Quickly
I turn to page six, my heart beating quickly. Six mill. That was more than I'd
expected. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. And yes, there it
is..."acquire a 51% share of RandMal Studio for the sum of six million
dollars ($6,000,000). One hundred thousand ($100,000) payable on signing and
the remainder over the next twenty four months..."
"Wow,"
I gasp, my heart still beating with excitement. "Wow. Six mill. It's
almost too good to be true."
"I
told you Malo this is our payday and these guys are for real. Let’s sign this
thing and get what we deserve."
"Yeah,
but I think we still need to try and see if there are any surprises hidden in
this encyclopedic contract," I reply.
Randle
has always been a bit of a “jump first, ask questions later” kind of guy, even
if its skydiving he's trying for the first time - and that's a real example.
But I'm a bit more careful. I wouldn't say I'm overly cautious, but I'd like to
at least ask a few questions about how we land and what happens if the
parachute doesn't open. Hey, but I'll still jump.
This
deal was beginning to feel a little like our first skydiving experience. Randle
leaping out during the countdown at 3 and shouting "Kamikaze," much
to the shock of the instructor and me, who was still asking about the wind
speed and the appropriateness of jumping today.
10:41 am, Thursday, April 11
Glancing
at my watch, I realize we have about 10 minutes to make a decision that will
undoubtedly change the course of our life.
A
door nearby bangs open. I look up, irritably, to see a flustered, middle-aged,
lesser minion of Pi, darting out. He’s carrying a stack of papers, undoubtedly
destined for some other hopeful entrepreneur. His face is carved with worry
lines, and his hair is streaked with silver, as though time’s hand has painted
him unfavorably.
As
he rushes past us he bumps the corner of our couch and manages to lose his grip
on the stack of papers. Papers proceed to fly skywards and slowly flutter down
like one of those snow globe scenes. His look of shock makes me feel happier in
some weird way. I turn my attention back to our contract, while the disheveled
Pi minion scrambles to collect his pages.
10:49 am, Thursday, April 11
Just
then the boardroom doors open spewing out one of the suits. "Five minutes
left gentlemen," he says in a monotone nasal voice, and promptly turns and
vanishes behind the hiss of the closing boardroom doors.
"I
haven't had a chance to read even a quarter of this thing Randle. I dunno. What
if we are missing some catch clause? I don't like being pressured like
this."
"Mellow
Malo," Randle replies, using his favorite refrain when I get stressed.
"This is our dream. We have taken many risks along the way, and looking
back they have always paid off. This is the big one."
"I
know. I know. But why the rush? Why the pressure?"
"I
think it's how they work here," Randle replies, "from the outset they
are testing our mettle. Lets make our last big play. You and I. Lets do it.
Let’s jump!"
10:54 am, Thursday, April 11
The
hiss of the sliding doors opening, jerks our attention. Out emerges the same
stiff suit. "Time," he chimes like a robot. "It's now or
never," he says as he turns sharply and disappears back into the
boardroom.
Randle
jumps up. "Come on Malo. Let's do it. We've dreamed it. We've lived it.
We've earned it. Let's take it!"
"You're
right,” I say. “You're right. We’ve earned it," I stand up while glancing
at the disheveled guy, gathering the last of his pages. We make brief eye
contact and a sense of something strange passes between us. Do I know him? He
looks strangely familiar. But I can’t place him. His eyes seem to say
"Please!"
Please
what?
"Please
help me" or "Please save me from this job" or maybe "Please
don't sign!"
Just
then the doors slide shut hiding him from view and sealing my choice.
