I feel great. I never sleep like this. All warm and toasty and swaddled in goose down. Wow. What’s better than sleeping late? I may never get out of bed.
What time is it?
Nine thirty. I bet it snowed last night. Probably need to shovel the driveway. No way. I’m going back to sleep. I love my bed.
Hey wait a minute. What day is it?
Blinking awake.
It’s not Saturday. It’s not Sunday. It’s— It’s— It’s Worst Case Wednesday. And I just slept through, uh-oh, I just slept through my presentation to “Big T.” My number one client. The presentation I’ve been working on for the last week. What happened to my alarm clock. Am I crazy?
I’m toast.
Sitting up in a panic.
What do I tell Big T? Traffic was bad, Big T. The “Hutch” was bumper to bumper, not a parkway but a parking lot. I had a flat. I was fogged in. The dog ate my steering wheel. I was abducted by extraterrestrials and—risking life and limb—jumped ET, grabbed his phaser, and shot my way out Rambo style. It’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
I doubt Big T buys that explanation. Too over the top.
Maybe, I should take it like a man and ‘fess up. “Big T, there’s no excuse. I missed the appointment. It was a good old-fashioned screw-up. My bad. But I’ll meet you anyplace, or any time, if you’ll see me. I inconvenienced you and am so terribly sorry.”
Pulling the pillow over my head.
Hmmm. I could lose Big T just by being so honest. I’ve got to figure out something,
Maybe I should offer him an olive branch. What could it be? Ah, I’ve got it. Why not a ticket to the Superbowl this weekend? We can sit together. How can anybody fire me if I spring for the epic clash between Indianapolis and New Orleans? Sounds more like a bribe than an olive branch.
I’ve got to do the right thing.
PS. Special thanks to George Bradt of PrimeGenesis, who discussed this post with me last night en route to the red-eye from LAX to JFK.
The New York Times describes my novels as “money porn,” “a red-hot franchise,” and “glittery thrillers about fiscal malfeasance.” Through fiction I explore the dark side of money and the motivations of those who have it, want more, and will steamroll anybody who gets in their way.
I became really engaged in your writing, but I am a little disapointed you didn’t tell us what you were going to do?! *angry face*
Sorry, Steven. 🙁
Bottom line: I’d suck it up and ‘fess up.
Assume the client says, “Adios, don’t ever call me again.”
I’d ask to make a reservation on his/her next airplane flight, to anywhere, but in the adjacent seat, even if it means traveling to Antarctica. Personally, I think braving commercial flights is the biggest form of penance out there and perhaps the most sincere form of apology.
Still angry?
Norb
Norb – thanks for the shoutout. Remember my first choice solution to this problem is not to sleep through the appointment in the first place.
Failing in that, I think you’ve got to take the hit, come clean, fess up. Better to lose the client with integrity than keep them with deception of any sort.
George
You got that right.
Although, right now I like the go back to sleep option.
Thanks so much I really learned allot of good things by stopping by here today.