I want to stop having to suck up to every boss I work for because they are either insecure, dumb, or politically wired at the top. At A&J, I’m nothing more than a well-paid hired gun. When I’m used up, I’ll be discarded like the legions of forty-somethings before me.”
“I’m confused; weren’t we just thinking president when Gordon retired?”
“That’s a dead issue. The other day Gordon told me he decided to anoint Rhoda Barbuto his heir apparent.”
“Rhoda Barbuto? As a woman, that’s a great thing to see. But that vicious tart? I thought A&J was the blueblood of bluebloods.”
“It still is, but meeting Franklin has given me cause to rethink who I am. I’m not sure I’m meant to be an organization man. I may be running away from my real roots. Down deep, I think I’m an entrepreneur, just like my Dad.”
~
“Wasn’t your dad a butcher?” asked Sandra.
“Not by choice. When I was a kid, my dad had built quite a wholesale meat business. He and his partners expanded into retail, opening gourmet butcher shops in major cities around America.”
“I don’t want to seem mean or disrespectful, but what happened to the money? As I recall, it was my dad who helped us pay for most of the wedding.” Sandra had touched a delicate nerve ending.
“I know my dad was embarrassed that he contributed so little. What happened was sad. I barely got the details before he passed. In his late thirties, Dad took our family's life savings and went into business with a childhood buddy, Nino Marucci, who had made big money on the black-market during America’s World War II meat rationing. Nino supplied the well-to-do with the finest cuts of meat every day of the week at premium prices, while the unwashed masses were limited to hamburgers and cheap cuts of meat a few times a week. Eventually, the FBI caught up with his illegal activities. But Nino served only a minor prison term because he was clever enough to hide the vast majority of his profits in a labyrinth of financial institutions.
“My dad knew Nino’s expansion capital was tainted,” continued Victor. “But he saw the partnership as the chance to leverage his expertise and industry reputation to make a small fortune quickly. Unfortunately, Nino had other plans. Thanks to Dad’s retail experience and a lot of hard work, by the end of the second year, the operation turned cash-flow-positive. Three years later, the venture owned sixteen stores and was generating significant profits. While my dad worked in the stores, Nino worked the books! Dad never knew what hit him. Nino’s crew professionally and efficiently embezzled millions, bankrupted the business, and left Dad with virtually all the tax liabilities.
“By the time you and I met, my dad had been forced to go back to work as a part-time butcher and Mom, after spending thirty years as a stay-at-home mom, was forced to work to make ends meet. That’s how she wound up a telephone operator.
“Finally, after seventeen years, I get the whole story,” said Sandra sweetly.
“There’s more. Remember when my dad died of a sudden heart attack just twelve months after we married? He left Mom with a real mess. The IRS slapped Mom with a claim for $249,547 in back taxes, plus twice that in penalties and interest.”
“She’s never said a word.”
“Personal pride. She’s a tough old bird. The IRS harassed her for years, believing she hid the money in Switzerland.”
~
Victor kept pouring it on.
“Franklin’s been around the block. He wants to teach me what he knows about Wall Street. About being a real entrepreneur. That would never happen at an organizational behemoth like A&J.”
Sandra protested weakly. “I’m a little confused. When did you develop this infatuation with Wall Street? Other than A&J, what stock do we own?”
Victor dodged the question with another question. “What would you say if I told you in less than five years, we’d have enough never to be concerned about money again?”
“Suppose Franklin’s brilliant plan doesn’t work?” grilled Sandra. “What happens to all the monthly bills, the kids’ private-school tuition, country-club dues, and our brand spanking new $1.9 million mortgage? Just thinking about the size of it sends chills up and down my spine.”
Victor became defensive. “Are you trying to say I coerced you into a bigger house with a bigger mortgage?”
“Not at all. We agreed, we both wanted more. But, we made the decision based on the assumption that we both had great jobs.”
“We still will.”
“Don’t we lose the unvested A&J stock options and those other deferred plans you keep raving about?”
“Honey, those deferred corporate things are all paper assets. Virtually all our cash is locked up in this house and our illiquid A&J shadow stock programs. I, for one, would like some breathing room. Franklin is making me a founding stockholder. That means I will own ten percent of the company with no adverse tax consequences. As the company grows, that stock will be worth significantly more than any A&J stock program. We’re talking $50 million, maybe more within a few years.”
Sandra wasn’t convinced but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. They were exploring possibilities, and Victor seemed to have a passion. Besides, she was also starting to like the sound of $50 million.
She also remembered something she repeated to friends when asked, “How do you do it? Your marriage seems like a storybook.”
Her answer was always, “Victor and I have based our marriage on a simple premise: ninety percent of everything is not important. That eliminates squabbling and bickering about non-essentials. We know when one of us feels strongly about something, we respect that request.”
“You really, really want to do this?” she asked, knowing she would follow Victor anywhere, anytime. Theirs was a magical marriage based on mutual trust and respect.
“I really, really want us to do this. And as a bonus, I get to learn big-time finance from the master.”
“Does that mean you’ll also take over paying the monthly bills?”
Chapter 8
Cream Rises to the Top
Knowledge, , professionalism, and sensitivity are hard to ignore.
Doreen Gray, Greenwich Hospital’s brusque, business-like Director of Surgical Services, asked Sandra to share a cup of coffee in her office.
Doreen got right to the point. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Bernadette’s (Doreen’s assistant manager) husband Tom has decided to head the biogenic research facility at the Scripps Research Center in San Diego. He got an offer he couldn’t refuse. I’m thinking; maybe you’d like to interview for Bernadette’s position?”
Sandra was pleased with the recognition and concerned about her qualifications. “I’m a registered nurse. I don’t have any management experience.”
“I know that, but I’m also aware you know your way around the hospital and have the respect of the doctors, which is no small task. Management is not exactly rocket science. I can teach you what you need to know.”
“Could I think about it?”
“You mean you want to talk to Victor?”
“Yes.”
Doreen pushed her granny glasses down her nose and stared at Sandra. “Dearie, you know this is the twenty-first century. Women make their own career decisions.”
“It’s not about that. I’m perfectly capable. But Victor and I have been partners from day one. He’s always asked my opinion and, equally importantly, listened to my hopes, fears, and concerns.”
~
Sandra