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| Cancel Christmas |
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| Written by Editor | |
| Wednesday, 09 December 2009 | |
 Cancel Christmas The Plan “Cindy, this is superb,” Sam said as he finished reading her report. “I can see the editorial changes you made and they have improved it tremendously.” Sam looked directly at Cindy. “Cindy, I’m beginning to realize that your skills are as great as your good looks.” And here, Sam blushed a little. Cindy was startled. She didn’t expect it, and she suddenly began to realize that she was having an effect on Sam. Inwardly, she beamed, but her smile was very subdued. She was even somewhat demure as she looked down and said, “Well, thank you, Sam. That’s the most wonderful thing you ever said to me.” They both paused. By force of habit, Sam was almost going to hook his thumbs into his suspenders, but decided not to. It seemed so old fashioned. Maybe it was about time he stopped looking like a buffoon. He had let himself go after his wife died but needed to start taking care of himself and his appearance. Abruptly, changing to a more businesslike voice, he asked, “Have you any suggestions for this meeting I am having?” He and Cindy had been working for the last two hours going over the report and making minor changes before Cindy printed the final versions, which he now had in his hand. It was 7:30. He continued, “If not, I’ll just mosey down to my office.” Cindy sensed the opportunity, “Sam, let’s talk about it. You can go directly into Bleakheart’s office from here, you know. Maybe I could give you some ideas on how to present. In fact, I can make us a cup of coffee. Would you like that?” “Cindy, that would be great.” Cindy took two cups, put some coffee into them, went over to the water cooler, filled both up with hot water, and handed one to Sam. “I’m afraid it will have to be black. That’s how I keep my figure.” Sam laughed. “I wish I had a figure like yours- or at least a waistline.” “Sam, you can. Why don’t you try? It’s easy.” Cindy almost blurted out, “And while you’re at it, get rid of the haircut and suspenders and get a new suit.” Instead, she bit her tongue and just smiled. Sam sipped his coffee. It had been a long time since he had had black coffee. He certainly preferred it with heavy cream and a lot of sugar, but, thinking of the old Chinese proverb, “A walk of a thousand miles starts with the first step,” he decided drinking black coffee was perhaps the start of getting rid of the gut that was starting to be embarrassing. He was only in his mid thirties and he had taken on the bad habits and slovenly appearance of somebody much older. All of a sudden, he decided that he wanted Cindy to think better of him. He sipped again and said in a jocular mood, and with a rare twinkle in his eye, “How would you approach him? Do I just hand him the report and summarize it for him? Or do I try something else?” Sam was surprised when Cindy took his suggestion seriously. She had more depth than he expected. She was very mature, probably due to growing up without a father. Cindy looked thoughtful, thinking of her many meetings with Bleakheart and what seemed to turn him on and what seemed to turn him off. While she really hoped and prayed that he would be turned off by the whole project, she was concerned that he must never think of Sam as slacking on the job. She thought for a moment more and then told Sam, “I think you should give him a quick summary and then suggest that you read the report together word by word. You know he is a very thorough man and appreciates thoroughness. Sam, you did a fantastic job in putting together a very strong brief—almost a legal brief—on how to proceed. While I tell you I can’t agree with his motivation, and I don’t know if you agree with him or not, I see that you have an excellent plan.” And Cindy thought to herself that hopefully an even better plan would emerge to counter Bleakheart. Sam was very thoughtful. He continued sipping his black coffee, thinking about the various meetings he had had over the past four years with Bleakheart, and he saw the wisdom of the approach. Cindy certainly had a brain to go along with her good looks—and ability. Sam began to feel a glow and he wasn’t sure if it came from the coffee or from having spent more time with Cindy in the last two days than in the last two years. “Cindy, I think you’re right and I’ll try it.” He looked at the clock and saw that it was two minutes to eight. He finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the wastebasket, took two copies of the report in his left hand, and walked over to the door to Bleakheart’s office. He turned the handle, walking in as he heard Bleakheart’s clock chime 8 o’clock. “Good morning, sir,” he said as he walked over to Bleakheart’s desk and handed him a bound copy of the report. Timber looked at it and raised his eyebrows. He knew from its appearance that a great deal of work had gone into the report. As a perfectionist, he appreciated good work—and even demanded it—but he could see that this request had been met even more professionally than he had expected. It was beyond his nature to be very complimentary to anyone for anything. As a matter of fact, he felt it not only unnecessary but a sign of weakness. And yet, he couldn’t help but look at the buffoon before him while realizing what a sharp mind Sam Flint really had. For one of the few times in this life, he said, “It looks like a lot of effort went into this. Thank you, Sam.” Sam was startled. This was totally unexpected. He took a chance and asked, even daring to do so, “Sir, may I extend your thanks to Cindy as well? She worked all last night well past midnight and met me here at 6:00 this morning for any last minute changes. We just finished as I came into your office.” Inwardly, Bleakheart was surprised. He could not understand someone like Sam admitting that he was helped in any way, but to ask him to extend his thanks to Cindy seemed almost an affront. Inwardly, he bristled. Cindy was only his assistant. She was supposed to work hours and hours. That was her job. But then again, he had to show his leadership. “Well Sam, thank you for explaining that to me. I leave that to you to take care of,” and with that, Bleakheart picked up his copy of the report and started reading it, totally ignoring Sam. Damn it, thought Sam. He is a hardhearted son of a bitch. Nothing seems to get through to him. He expects everybody to just do what he wants. Maybe I screwed this up by mentioning Cindy, but now I have to make sure I get this on track. In a very uncharacteristic fashion, Sam cleared his throat. Bleakheart looked up. “Sir, if I may interrupt. Let me suggest that I give you a quick summary of the report and then we read it together. I think you will find there is much in it and I can provide the explanations as we go. Hopefully, that will take less time and I know with your decisiveness, you will grasp the concept very quickly.” Bleakheart suddenly became aware that Flint had steel in his character, as well as brains. That could be a great asset for him or a great danger. He needed strong-willed people to do his bidding, but he couldn’t afford to have strong-willed people thwart what he wanted. He would bear that in mind. “Okay, Sam. Give me a quick summary and then sit down and let’s start reading the report together.” Bleakheart pushed his chair back a couple of inches, leaned back, and put his arms behind his bald head. Sam began, “In an effort to eliminate Christmas as a paid holiday, why not change Christmas to a Saturday? With this realistic plan, the probability of success will greatly increase.” “Damn good idea, Flint.” Sam detected a hint of a smile on Bleakheart’s face as he continued, “After researching the history of Christmas, I found that there is no historical reason whatsoever for Christmas to be on December 25th.” After Sam explained the reasoning of the Church fathers in the 4th century, he continued, “Our aim is to eliminate waste. After reviewing the total amount of money lost for the paid Christmas vacation period last year, it is evident that things need to be changed in order to derive maximum efficiency. A reduction of unnecessary waste will lead to lower costs of operations, and a more competitive international economic posture. That in turn will increase our strength and improve our national security. We may use the following example as the basis of our rationale for the plot to move Christmas to a Saturday. Whenever we have a day off work, we not only lose that day, but we lose time in catching up. For every day that we take off our regular cycle of work, we lose maybe another ½ day. If we multiply this by the total number of people working in this country, close to 200 million, this becomes a significant economic burden on the country. There are estimates that for every day off, or for every lost day of production, the cost to the national economy is between $50 and $100 billion. When you add the fact that there is an additional half day or so lost in order to get over the day off factor, restarting processes where they left off, and if you take into account the decline in the work effort close to the end of the day before the vacation day, then the cost could very well be one and a half to two times that. That is significant.” As Sam continued to summarize the report, he saw a smile occasionally flit across Bleakheart’s face. He noticed the sparkle in Bleakheart’s eyes and almost an indrawn breath as he seemed to sense victory. He knew that Bleakheart expected to win and he thought he saw Bleakheart’s appreciation that this was a workable plan. Sam concluded, “Moving Christmas to the last Saturday of December makes sense, ties in with our national security needs, and will certainly enhance productivity.” Sam continued. “So we have the rationale. The method of achieving success is to convince Congress that such a move is in their best interests.” Timber blurted, “Re-election you mean.” “Yes sir,” added Sam. “But they will be able to hide the real reason with the rationale I laid out. National security is the issue and not their re-election.” “Damn good, Sam. Now how do you get them to realize this?” Sam continued, “By creating a groundswell of support with heavy PR.” Sam noticed that Timber was about to raise an objection, probably about cost. He raised his hand to hold him and continued, “We get free publicity by holding forums all over the country that we manipulate to get our message across.” Timber looked engrossed. The idea was taking root. Sam continued driving home the key point that he knew would get Timber’s support. “Our expense is only to direct the lobbyists and the PR. The forums could be funded by an earmark.” And here Sam stopped as he saw Timber beam. “That will be easy enough to obtain,” Timber said as he grinned. Sam knew he had him. When Sam finished, Bleakheart leaned forward, pushed into the desk, and beckoned him to sit. “Okay Sam. Sounds like a plausible plan. I hope you have all the details in this plan.” And Timber waved the plan in his hand at Sam. Then Sam stated quite clearly and forcibly, “Yes, sir!” Timber smiled broadly. “Okay, Sam. Now let’s start reading this word for word.” They spent the next two hours going over the report in detail, occasionally modifying and adding to the report. Once again, Bleakheart pushed his chair out and leaned back, but not as much as before. “Sam, this is definitely a national security issue. We have to make sure that as we launch the public relations efforts with the advertising, paid bloggers, and television appearances, we stress national security. You didn’t mention it in your plan, but get a bunch of high ranking military officers and get them to start making speeches about national security needing a fixed date for Christmas and that Saturday is the best day of all to do this. You can even have them say that hopefully every 5th or 6th year, Christmas and New Year’s Eve will be on the same day, which will cut down the national security risk even more.” And here, he paused and became very thoughtful. Sam was scribbling rapidly, making notes. “And another thing, Sam. We have to stress the fact that even though military people have Saturday leave…,” and here Bleakheart couldn’t help thinking what a waste—military people should be 24/7 at all times-, “… but with so many people off on Saturdays, it should be easier to move around if a military emergency occurs. So have the generals and the admirals in our back pocket. Stress that very hard—that Saturday is always the best day to have a holiday since that will minimize any disruption and keep national security at the highest possible level.” Inwardly, Sam was annoyed. This guy was sure nasty. He thought he could buy and sell anybody, but then again, a lot of people might even like Bleakheart’s idea. The plan he had put together was quite logical, and if he weighed strictly on the merits of the idea, he could see how some people could be swayed to go along with it. “Sir, if I might suggest immediate action. In the report, I recommended starting work with media specialists and lobbyists and getting them involved and working on their contacts in the House and the Senate. We have to change the national holiday to the last Saturday of December or just get it abolished. I think that would be more difficult than just changing the date for national security reasons,” Sam added. Then, Sam very quickly added, “Do you agree with the 25 million dollar budget?” Oliphant Timber Bleakheart winced and grimaced—not spending a cent on this would have been his preference. Then again, it was an investment if he could save $50 to $100 million a year by reducing time off at Christmas. Then it was well worth paying a few dollars in order to accomplish the aim. “Sam, $25 million is the budget, but let’s look for donations. Don’t spend more than a couple of million of our own money. Try to get most of the money from the merchants. And think of ways that we can get that back as some kind of earmark from Congress. Invent some kind of reforestation project calling for planting a lot of trees. You know, job creation. All part of this stimulus effort.” And here, Bleakheart snorted. The only stimulus he believed in was his profit improvement. With a gleam in his eye, he continued, “We would do that anyway, but those idiots would never know the difference. It makes good business to plant new trees as we cut the old ones down. But let’s see if we can get government funding for this reforestation project in the interest of creating more jobs to stimulate the economy and more chlorophyll to clean up the greenhouse gases.” Bleakheart even smiled inwardly at this, as he thought how smart it was to get the government to fund his business, leaving the profit entirely to him. This was certainly possible and this great idea now had to be pursued. National security depended on clean air and clean air depended on lots of trees. And the economy depended on jobs. Bleakheart pounded the desk. “Damn it, Sam. The country needs this! Go for it! Our very existence as a nation and world economic power depends on this idea.” “And while you’re at it, get Senator Christian’s support. Promise that idiot the moon. Work on his puffed up image of himself. Tell him we’ll put his picture on every paper in the country and get him an interview on any channel that has an audience. Promise him that we’ll spend millions publicizing him so that he will be unassailable in any election campaign. In fact, Sam, promise to make him a media star. But don’t forget Sam, do it for nothing.” Sam used all his self discipline to keep from sputtering. “But Sir, you promised a 25 million dollar budget. With all of the support mechanisms and advertising we have to do anyway, we would probably have at most only a couple of million dollars left over for the senator.” “Sam, that’s your problem. I set policy. You handle operations. If I say jump, I don’t expect you to say anything except, ‘How high?’ So Sam, that’s what I want done. Make it happen.” Inadvertently, Sam almost blurted out that now he was sounding more and more like Senator Christian and his Oink Quartet. Sam even visualized Bleakheart as a sow wallowing in a food trough filled with government funding. Sam made a major effort to clear his mind. He concentrated on thinking happy thoughts. The image of Cindy floated into his mind. Sam smiled, and soon his face lit up. Timber saw the growth of the smile and took it as a reaction to his words. This was great confirmation. Bleakheart was satisfied that he had a workable plan. He put his pen down, looked directly at Sam, and said, “Okay. Let’s move on this. Have Cindy make the corrections we noted and I want to see it corrected as a final report and on my desk after lunch. You can go now.” Apparently, the “thank you” was over. Bleakheart was back to being the hardhearted, power-driven, self-indulgent miser he always was. #######
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| Last Updated ( Friday, 22 January 2010 ) |
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