“Good going, Case.” I gave him a “Hang loose” and added the index finger before declaring my computer a worthless piece of junk.
Most of my days were now spent following my father around like the company mascot. Sometimes, we’d engage in deep conversation.
“Quarterly profits, base rate, actuary, commodity, externalities, Son.”
“Vertical merger, PE ratio, equity derivatives, guarantor, Dad.”
I hated the suits. I hated the artificial lavender smell of the elevator and the color on the walls. I hated my office. Big enough for six desks, it felt so desolate with only one.
* * * *
After a particularly depressing week, I decided to share my inner turmoil with the only confidant I had close by. Out of all the candidates the agency had sent over, the eighth had finally seemed perfect.
“Hi,
