“Hope,” the man said, offering his hand, “Foster Hope.”
“Jeff McGrath.” As they shook hands Jeff was struck by how clammy Hope’s palm was. Like shaking hands with a corpse, he thought. And is he kidding with that name?
“Since I’m sure you’re wondering,” he said with a wry smile, “yes, that is my real name. You don’t honestly think I’d make up such a thing, do you?”
“No, sir,” he answered, attempting a smile of his own.
Hope released his hand and motioned to one of the chairs. “Take a seat.”
Jeff slid into the chair closest to the door as the old man sat in the other. Hope shifted his position so he was facing Jeff. With a small frame and pale complexion, he was rather unremarkable, except for a pair of piercing green eyes that were so bright they looked artificial. Jeff figured them for contact lenses.
“So you’re looking for work.”
It wasn’t a question but he answered it anyway. “I am.”
“Hardly uncommon these days, I’m sorry to say.”
“Rough economy right now,” Jeff agreed, “lots of people out of work.”
“I’m actually semi-retired,” the old man said. “As luck would have it I did quite well for myself, but my time’s passing. There comes a day in everyone’s life when it’s time to step aside for the next generation of go-getters.”
“Plenty of go-getters,” Jeff said, “just not enough jobs.”
“Of course it was a different time when I was coming up. I went to war when I was young, but once it was over and I came home my father built a house for my new family and me and we settled in nicely. Things were different then, easier, not so complicated as the world’s become since. At any rate, he was quite talented in that regard, my father, one of those men with a natural gift for building things, you know the type. I always envied him that, as I had absolutely no skill in those areas whatsoever. I’d always been a good talker, though, had the gift of gab as they say, and I’m a good negotiator, so I became a salesman. Ms. Bell told me you’re in sales too.”
The very mention of Jessica brought visions of Eden crashing down on him again. Guilt struck him like a baseball bat to the back of the head.
“Well at least up until a few months ago, eh?” Hope smiled as if pleased. “Car audio, wasn’t it?”
Jeff nodded.
“Are you feeling all right?” Mr. Hope adjusted his already perfectly positioned necktie. “You look a tad peaked.”
“I apologize. I’m just tired, haven’t been sleeping particularly well.” Jeff cleared his throat and sat up straighter in the chair.
“So what exactly does your company sell?”
“Oh, I’ve been in sales for years now, little of this, little of that, but a long while ago I found my niche in insurance.”
Inwardly, Jeff cringed. In sales circles the only thing worse than selling cars was selling insurance. It was the end of the road for most salespeople, and unless you were exceptionally good at it and more than a little lucky, insurance was one tough way to earn a living. “I don’t mean to be rude, but if it’s a position in insurance sales you’re offering, I-”
“I don’t recall offering anything.”
Jeff drew a deep breath. “I understand. I’m just not interested in-”
“Tell me about your last job.” The old man put an elbow on the table and let his chin rest in his hand, those severe green eyes glittering like emeralds.
“I worked for a company over on Tremont Street,” Jeff explained.
“Unfortunately the big discount chains made it impossible for us to stay in business. Twelve years and just like that I’m out on the street.”
“Dreadful,” Hope sighed, “positively dreadful. Do you have a family?”
“I’m married but we don’t have children.”
“Does your wife work?”
“She’s a receptionist.”
“At least you’ve got her income.” He seemed more upset with the situation than Jeff was. “It’s unforgivable the way companies treat people nowadays. Shameful, particularly in this economy, or lack thereof, I should say.”
“Well, I like to think that any good salesman isn’t unemployed long.”
“That’s a sound philosophy, young man.” Hope looked away a moment, as if he’d slipped into deep thought. “I understand you’re not interested in selling insurance, and while that is part of what we do here at International Facilitator, Inc., it’s only the tip of the proverbial iceberg. We sell many things and offer many services.
Tell me Jeff, do you have your heart set on a sales position, or might you be interested in a slightly different line of work?”
“Sales and sales management are the only things I’ve ever done.”
“Then maybe it’s time to try something new.”
“Maybe it is.”
“Remember the old tale about the man that discovers a genie in a bottle, frees him, and is granted three wishes?” He smiled warmly, revealing a large set of chalk-white teeth that were obviously dentures. “Have you ever thought about the wishes you’d make if you were that man?”
Oh spare me, Jeff thought, here comes one of those lame scenario deals where he makes a point, shows you how clever he is then thinks your answers will actually give him some deep insight into who you are . “Not really, no.”
Mr. Hope slowly blinked his eyes. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s actually a good way to gage a person. One’s answers tend to reveal an awful lot about the individual.”
Fine, just play along. “Makes sense.”
“If you could have only one wish, Jeff, what would it be?”
“You mean besides world peace?”
His answer seemed to amuse the old man. “Yes, besides that.”
“I’d like to be financially independent.”
“Go on.”
“If I never had to worry about covering the rent or credit card bills, car payments-all of it-if I could live without having to worry about all that stuff and just be financially independent, I’d be the happiest man in the world.”
“You want to be rich then?”
“That’d be nice, but I’d be happy just being comfortable enough to be able to pay our bills and live life without constantly having to worry about money.”
“And what would you say if I told you I could grant such a wish?”
“Let me guess. You’re a genie.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” The old man laughed heartily and waved a liver-spotted hand in the air. “No, no, I’m just a businessman, Jeff. Although, at the risk of sounding rather crude, a very successful, wealthy businessman.”
“Well you certainly have my attention, sir.”
“Good, because the position I think might be right for you pays quite well. If you’re able to perform your job successfully, it could easily yield a level of compensation that would make your wish for financial independence a reality. So as you can imagine, we don’t just interview anyone for this kind of position. It takes someone special. Are you special, Jeff?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“You seem like a nice young man, a bright, articulate, hardworking and conscientious fellow, someone who could not only use a break, but someone who deserves one.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.”
“Jeff, I’ve spent my life reading people. In sales you have to immediately discern a person’s strengths and weaknesses, you know that yourself. The best salespeople are excellent judges of character, and use that to their advantage. I’ve been around a long time. I know a good man when I see one. You’re just down on your luck, that’s all.”
Jeff crossed his legs and attempted a relaxed posture. “So what kind of position are we talking about then?”
“Specifically, I have an opening for a negotiator. My company employs several to handle negotiations with clients when it becomes necessary or when it’s beneficial for us or both parties. I’ve found those with sales backgrounds tend to be perfect for the positions.”