Weathering The Storm

The two sides of what appears to be the boss from hell.

Darius Foreman sat at the head of the table, his coffee steaming in front of him. He listened impatiently to Jones, the head of marketing explaining (or to Foreman’s mind, making excuses for) the sluggish procession of sales for the third quarter.

‘…and realistically, that’s to be expected in the current climate.’ finished Jones who looked at Foreman with an apologetic, if hopeful look on his face as he prepared to reseat himself in the uncomfortable, hard, chair that was impossible to slouch or relax in-and that was just how Foreman liked it.

‘The current climate,’ repeated Foreman, his fingers placed lightly on either side of his coffee mug, ‘and so we shouldn’t expect too much, should we?’, His hard glare kept Jones from taking his seat, suddenly appearing as if a statue, caught between sitting and standing, ‘we’ll just go along with “the climate”, shall we?’ Foreman’s voice began to rise slightly with a subtle tremor, ‘until it bites us on the f*****g arse?’

Jones wasn’t the only one in the room to visibly flinch at the sudden bark; the other suits perched on their stone seats around the table were currently glad that it wasn’t them about to receive a “verbal twating” as it was known in the offices, corridors, kitchen and toilets of Foreman International.

Jones placed one hand on the table and the other out before him as the colour began to drain from his face, ‘Darius, you know as well as I do,’ he was standing now, shoulders a little rounded, ‘that it’s become increasingly difficult to compete so aggressively in the market place as it stands at the moment-‘

‘And so where do we stand at the moment, Roy?’ asked Foreman, raising his eyebrows slightly.

‘Well, at the moment it would seem, and I’m sure everyone here would agree with me,’ Jones quickly scanned over the gleaming table, hoping in vain he could win the argument by getting the others onside with him, but they seemed more interested in examining their nails and documents at that moment, chicken s**t b******s, he thought, ‘that we simply have to weather the storm.’ Jones’ words came out of his parched mouth sounding less than convincing.  

Foreman surprisingly said nothing, and took a sip from his coffee. Maybe he was actually forcing Foreman to see sense, with or without the backing of the marketing team. Jones ploughed on; ‘Sales are consistent, and we are one of the few companies that have not had to make personnel cuts, so far.’

Foreman pushed his mug away-never a good sign, ‘No, you’re quite right about that, Roy.’ Foreman held Jones in a steely gaze, ‘no cuts so far,’ bottoms shuffled on hard seats, ‘but I don’t pay you to “weather storms”. I pay you to make them.’ Foreman looked around the table at the other suits as they shuffled uncomfortably.

Once the meeting was over, Foreman asked Jones to stay behind “for a word”. Having a “word” with his boss was something that Jones had come to treat with dread over the last two years.

Foreman told Jones in no uncertain terms what he expected from him, and that he should be pushing his team harder if he expected to have a future in the company; ‘So you’ll be working over the weekend,’ said Foreman turning his attention to his computer, “tell Larson and Drake to cancel any plans they have.”

‘But I’m away this weekend,’ said Jones.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Foreman said, and a faint glimmer of hope rose in Jones’ heart, ‘going somewhere nice?’

‘I’ve booked a cottage in the lakes for Janet and the kids,’ beamed Jones.

‘Cancel it.’

C**t, was the best word Jones could find in his heart at that moment to describe his boss.

So Jones braced himself before going into the marketing office and bollocking the team for their performance. He told himself he had to be a b*****d in that instance, he was “asserting” himself. Larson and Drake, on being told the good news, started to argue with him about how they would struggle to find the childcare over the weekend. Jones shouted them down, ‘I don’t give a f**k!’ he said before charging out of the office to and into the toilets where he wept quietly.

He knew his team thought he was an incompetent b*****d, and was universally hated, almost as much as Foreman. And now there would be the screaming match with Janet to look forward to as well.

***

Foreman told his secretary he was going to lunch.

‘Yes, Mr Foreman,’ she managed, and silently thanked f**k it was Friday.

Foreman strode down the high street towards his favourite Deli. He walked through the under pass, at the end of which he saw a young, dishevelled man shivering against its filthy wall. There was no cardboard begging sign at his feet, yet Foreman, without hesitating, crouched in front of him and peeled from his wallet a twenty pound note. He took the man’s hand and pressed the note into it, ‘here,’ Foreman said, ‘I know it’s not much, but I’ve been where you are right now.’ Foreman placed his hand briefly on the young man’s cheek, ‘I’m sure you’re a good lad,’ his voice thickened with emotion, ‘now do something good with this.’ Before the man could reply, Foreman straightened up and carried on out into daylight.

Reviews

[Robert Vicens]

First, what I liked:

I liked seeing two sides to the boss. The idea is solid. I even wanted to like the piece. I love business and have been a business owner and mentored by phenomenal businessmen and leadership experts. So business is a strong suit of mine and a second lover.

The action and the dialogue flowed from the beginning to the end. I had more of a formatting issue. It's difficult to read your work when the paragraph breaks aren't clearly distinguishable (because you haven't indented the new paragraph).

Points for improvement:

I found it confusing to open your piece with a brief characterization of Darius Forman when Jones is your limited third person hero for the first 3/4ths of the story. I understand you wanted to give Darius more importance/ prominence, given he is the real heart of the story; put his name in the title of the piece instead. "Weathering Darius Forman"

I wanted to see a stronger P.O.V. character. Jones was a wimp, and so are Forman's entire staff. For me, this made Forman's entire staff immensely unlikable and incompetent.

No excellent businessman would allow the team to slacken the pace when in the lead. When you're in the lead is the time to experiment and innovate, to create a further gap with the competition; so I instantly want to relate with Forman. But he's a dick, instead of an inspirer.

I want him to give a speech and encourage his team not to drop the ball, even to use a horse-racing metaphor about the horse in the lead not being able to slack off, or quoting Steve Jobs, or telling a sage story, or saying something that is misunderstood by Jones but understood by the reader.

I had no one to root for. So when the end came, and we see Forman gift the homeless man, it wasn't enough to make me like him. It helped, but it wasn't enough.

I think with a little tweaking, this story could become a favorite. As I told you, the subject matter and the ideas were solid.