79: Mistaken Identity

"Sammy boy, I haven't seen you in three weeks. Where have you been hiding yourself? They've been sending us some worthless snot with the morning bagels. I swear he's been bringing us two day old bagels as bad as they've been."

A man in a navy blue double breasted suit steps into the elevator. He sees me with the box of bagelsand assumes I'm the bagel delivery guy. He doesn't notice I'm wearing a finer quality suit than he is or that I've seen this Sammy before and I don't have the piercings nor the unkept hair to make the confusion valid. The only thing I have is the box of bagels I took off of Sammy this morning.

"Hey, boss. Big weekend planned?" I mimick the excited nervousness Sammy exuded when I apprached him. He would definitely use the same tone for Dave Merrit even if he doesn't know he's the CFO of the company.

"You know it, my pastry peddling friend! I've got a 90 foot yacht waiting for me on Lake Superior. It's a bit colder up there in the winter, but just as nice as anyplace else in the summer. I take a few sick days each July and just sit out there with a margarita in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. There's almost nothing like it." He laughs at his own story wide enough that I can see the gold cap in a molar in the back.

"Do they charge that much less up there for docking and storage to make it worth the drive?" I shift the box awkwardly trying to draw any attention to the fact that I'm wearing a suit. Dave doesn't notice.

Dave leans in close to me and glances at the corners of the elevator as if spies lie in every corner. "Between you, me and the fence posts, Sammy, I'm hiding it up there. There's less chance someone from the office will see me all the way up there to question me aboutthe boat. The less they know, the better my life is."

The smile I give him is genuine. "They get jealous because you make the big bucks to afford it."

"Well, I don't make quite that much, but nobody buys what they can actually afford these days, right? Granted, I'm not taking out a mortgage for my BMW or the Rolex. I have my ways of making the money I deserve here. I'm the CFO. I know what we're going to do before the market does and I have friends very appreciative of that knowledge. Over the past 10 years, I've made an extra two million dollars through investments thanks to my position here. Like Mel Brooks said, it's good to be the king."

I smile and end the game. "Is the CFO king? I thought the CEO was the big boss."

Dave laughs just condescending enough to confirm that I'm still not recognizable to him. "Well, that's an appointed position by the board. I'm CFO. I earned this role. I control the finances here and that makes me the big boss. Besides, they just appointed a new CEO this past week. Some snivelling pain in the ass from one of the oil companies. I haven't met him yet, but I don't expect him to affect how I work here."

The doors opened to the 38th floor. Debbie, the finance department's administrative assistant, looked through the doors at the two men exiting. "Oh good. Mr Philips found you, Mr Merrit. He was hoping to get on your calendar to discuss his new role as CEO."

Dave Merrit, in all of his well kept persona and fine clothing, fell apart. He stammered out a few syllables before I cut him off. "Yes, Debbie. I now know my new role. Can you post an opening at the CFO position? I believe we are about to have an opening. Bagel?"