Jim Gavin - Middle Men - Stories

“The question is, first and foremost, can you deliver? Or to put it another way, can we deliver? Either way, delivery is key. I want to emphasize that we’re not being reactive here, just opportunistic.”

“I want to hear about the conference,” said Mike.

“You bet. Nora can give us a rundown in a minute. But first I’d like to say a few things to get us started.”

“Did you talk to anyone from Pinnacle Asset Management?” said Mike quickly, ignoring Dave. “I’ve been priming them for months.”

“No,” said Nora.

“So you guys basically went down to L.A., passed out some hats and water bottles, and then went to the beach.”

“Pretty much. I spent the whole week snorting coke off George Clooney’s ass.”

“Okay, okay,” said Dave with a nervous laugh. “Let’s try not to have a tone here.”

“Did you talk to anybody ?” Mike continued, rising up in his chair. “I haven’t heard a word from you guys all week.”

“As a lover, George is both tender and thorough.”

“That’s great. Thanks, Nora. My guys are in the trenches all day, trying to sell—”

“ Trenches ? Is that a bar in the Marina?”

“No, I’m talking about actual trenches.”

“Like World War I?”

“No, of course not,” said Mike, rolling his eyes. “I don’t mean actual trenches.”

“Like All Quiet on the Western Front ?”

“Look. I would never compare myself to a soldier. I have too much respect for what those guys are going through with the wars and everything. I’m just saying that right now all the pressure’s on us. On sales.”

“There’s a passage where one character is trapped down in the trenches and the only way he can get out is to take a knife and tunnel his way through the corpse of a dead comrade. He literally digs his way through the guy’s intestines.”

Dave put down his juggle balls.

“Mike, Nora. There’s a lot of different ways to look at things, but we can’t let a lack of clarity get in the way of our focus.”

“Actually, Mike, I did talk to Pinnacle. Did you know they changed their name to the Randers Capital Group? Did you even know that? They want to upgrade their multicurrency capabilities.”

“That’s great,” said Dave, “but going forward, our core challenges are still accuracy and efficiency. Are we accurate? Are we efficient? These are important questions, and from a business justification perspective you guys need to understand the role you play. Right now there’s a disconnect between them and us about what ‘commitment’ means.”

The room went quiet, and then Mike, with his eyes closed, said, “Who’s ‘them,’ Dave?”

“Them is everyone. I know that sounds vague, but again, I’m not talking in specifics here.”

“Let Nora talk. I want to hear about the conference.”

“Who said that?”

“It’s Gabe in Chicago. I want to hear about the conference.”

“Hi, Gabe! While I’m thinking about it, I have a question on the finance side of things. And I’m throwing this out there to everyone, but mainly finance. What is the process in the event that cost basis information is not available when the action becomes effective? Do we get notified and reprocess internally or does the corporate action service prepare cancellation and rebook transactions to the blotter?”

“It goes both ways.”

“Is that still you, Gabe?”

“Yes, it’s me. It goes both ways. The door swings both ways.”

Dave looked around the room. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s Ghostbusters ,” said one of the sales guys. “He’s talking about Gozer the Gozerian.”

“Who?” said Dave.

“John Belushi was supposed to be in that, but then he died,” said a mysterious voice in either Chicago or New York. “Bill Murray took his place.”

Another voice said, “Eddie Murphy was supposed to be in it, too. He was going to play the African-American guy.”

“Winston Zeddemore.”

Gabe’s voice said, “So Nora was going to tell us about the conference.”

“Let Nora talk,” said several voices all at once.

“Listen,” said Dave. “I know things are a little… right now. But still. We’re trying to create a go-forward scenario, so we have to get out in front on this. We need confirmation on how our brand is being structured. And if we’re serious about sustaining an effective solution environment, then we need to create a strategy for platform leveraging that prioritizes integration. That’s the reality.”

Nora’s presentation didn’t last long. She handed over a very small list of “promising potential prospects”—that’s how she phrased it — and Mike and his sales team walked out in disgust. Afterward, Jill followed Nora back to her office. The brick corridors were dim and quiet. There wasn’t a single phone ringing anywhere in the world.

“Are you okay?” Jill asked.

“Please stop asking me that.”

“What’s Mike’s problem?”

“He needs prospects. That’s our job.”

“What about Randers?”

“Who?”

“The guys who used to be Pinnacle.”

“I made that up. I wasn’t going to let Mike ambush me like that.”

Jill leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not sure that was the best idea.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re fucked.”

“What do you mean? Do you know something?”

“Go call your mom,” said Nora. “Tell her to fluff the pillows on your bed.”

Jill looked at Nora with a sudden and superior calm. “I know you’re upset right now, and I know you don’t like me. But there’s no reason for you to talk to me like that. It’s totally unprofessional.”

“Fuck off.”

Nora’s screen saver was a picture she had taken last winter in Ireland at the Cliffs of Moher. She went late in the day and had them all to herself, except for a group of young Russians, who hopped over the safety rail and pranced right along the edge, goofing around with each other, daring the wind to blow them into the ocean. A seven-hundred-foot drop, jagged rocks and crashing waves, but these Russians carried on, brave and merry in the face of death. She checked her email and in the minute that had passed since the meeting ended, Dave had managed to schedule another meeting with her at the end of the day.

There was a brief note from Bobby, saying he was excited to see her tonight. For a while she tried reading his previous email, the six-thousand-page epic. Parts of it made her laugh — what the hell was the Man Handle? — but most of it didn’t make any sense. The worst part was that he seemed to know which parts didn’t make any sense. She knew where this was going. The first time it happened, in college, campus security found him in the Life Sciences Building, throwing pine cones at the giant skeleton of the Tyrannosaurus rex . A couple of his fraternity brothers brought him to the emergency room. He told the doctors he couldn’t sleep. His grades were terrible, his girlfriend had broken up with him, he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life… the same stuff everybody worries about, but he couldn’t get a handle on it and everything snowballed. It happened again four years later, after he got fired from his hotel job. Nora saw this one coming. As his situation got worse, he became more and more cheerful, and his phone calls started coming later and later. She brought him to her apartment and got him to sleep, and later demanded that this time he get on some regular medications, or at least get some regular therapy. Bobby told her he was fine and for a couple years he was, but then he broke up with another girl, lost another job, and it happened all over again. He didn’t have health insurance and Nora paid his emergency room bill. Three months ago, when he threw the champagne bottle out the window, she probably should’ve seen it coming, but even if she did she no longer felt any urgency to do anything about it.