“Those computers you tinker with every day,” Dysart said. “Our customers are always screaming for more applications. First it was ATMs, then home banking. Now people want to pay their bills while they’re walking down the street. If we don’t provide this stuff, then our customers will take their dollars to another bank that does. But technology has little to do with making the bank work. You tell me — what’s our single most important success factor?”
Rob thought for a moment.
“We offer competitive rates,” he said, “and convenient locations so that …”
He trailed off when he saw Dysart shaking his head.
“It’s all about people,” Dysart said. “We treat big city Boston like a collection of small towns. Our branch managers and senior loans officers live in the areas they serve. They go to church with their potential customers. They take their kids to the same little league games and ballet lessons. So when a local retailer needs some cash to get ramped up for Christmas, who do they turn to? The people they know, that’s who. You remember that, son. You can have the hottest skills and offer the greatest products under the sun, but ninety-nine percent of business folks make decisions based on their comfort level. And there’s nothing more comfortable than dealing with people you know.”
Rob nodded gravely to show he had stored this nugget of advice away for all eternity.
“From what I’ve seen so far,” Dysart went on, “Grantham Savings works the same way. They like to be part of the community. But that’s not the only reason they’re a good fit for us. According to Kelleher they have strong technology products in the areas we’re lacking — like this mobility stuff he’s been going on about lately. So a merger is win-win for us. We end up with more revenue to support a single, centralized technology department. You with me so far?”
“Yes sir. Makes perfect sense.”
“Good, because you’re going to help assess the feasibility of the merger.”
Rob gaped at Dysart, too astonished to say anything.
“Obviously a critical part of the due diligence will be to determine how our systems fit with theirs,” Dysart said. “I’ll tell Kelleher I want you involved.”
“That’s incredible, obviously … but I don’t know much about mergers and feasibility studies.”
“Then this is the way to learn. You’ll be working with a group of more experienced people and we’ll carve out a role you can handle.”
A delighted smile spread across Rob’s face.
“Awesome,” he said.
“Besides, the knowledge you gain is not the most important part. I’m putting you face to face with some movers and shakers. Howard Siebold, for instance, the CEO at Grantham. By the time this merger is done, you won’t be able to count the number of meetings you’ve had with executive types like him.”
“Won’t they think it’s strange to have a young guy like me there?”
“You want to be a junior programmer all your life?”
“No, not really,” Rob said.
“I’ve had my eye on you ever since you and Lesley arrived in Boston to go to college. When I talked you into coming to work for me, it wasn’t just because you’re my favorite niece’s boyfriend. You have terrific people skills and according to Kelleher your work has been outstanding. So I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to jump-start your career and this is it.”
Rob felt like jumping up and bouncing around the room. “That’s amazing. Thank you.”
Dysart made a waving gesture with his hand. “We’re going to be family someday, and if you’re going to take care of my Lesley, you darn well better do okay for yourself.”
Rob couldn’t help but chuckle. “What makes you think Lesley and I will end up getting married?”
“It’s only a matter of time. At least that’s what Sheila claims every time you and Lesley come for dinner. The two of you are no sooner out the door at the end of the night and she’s going on about the beautiful children you’re going to have.”
“Sounds like I don’t have any say in the matter.”
Dysart’s face grew serious again. “Now you have to realize, I can’t make success happen for you. I can only put you on the merger team. After that you’ve got to do your part, bring value to the process.”
“I’ll do my absolute best,” Rob said. “I can promise you that.”
“I bet you already have some ideas about how to assess Grantham’s I.T. capabilities.”
Rob stared at the glass table while he thought for a few seconds.
“We’ll need an inventory of their computer applications,” he said, “as well as an up-to-date list of our own systems.”
He stood up and started pacing, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Heck, yeah,” Rob continued. “I bet we could put together a comparison chart that shows areas where we overlap and others where we—”
Rob stopped when he noticed Dysart shaking his head and grinning at him.
“What?” Rob said.
“I was right about you,” Dysart said. “You grab the world by the tail and yank hard, just like me.”
Rob tried to conceal a widening smile but he couldn’t. He flashed back to the feeling he had when he walked into Dysart’s office. Rob wondered if that was a premonition of impending good luck.
He had no idea how wrong he was on that score.
When Tim finally got an ATM, he had to try twice before he entered his PIN correctly. Then he chose to transfer. From savings to checking. One, two, three, four. He pressed the OK button.
The slip of paper seemed to take forever to pop out of the slot. He grabbed it and read the time printed on his receipt. Four-fifty-eight. He made it!
Tim suddenly felt lightheaded. He stowed his bank card in his wallet and hurried out to the Tremont Street sidewalk.
Standing to one side of the stream of people on their way home, Tim closed his eyes and tried to relax. The elation he had expected did not come. Instead his stomach clenched and he started to shake. Hugging both arms to his chest, he shuffled to the edge of the sidewalk and leaned against the concrete wall of the office tower, struggling to take a normal breath. He gasped repeatedly, nearly doubled over with the effort to draw air all the way into his lungs. Within moments he was panting rapidly. It felt like nothing was making it past the top of his throat.
What had he done? My God, what if this backfired? His job would be gone, and even worse he’d lose any chance of ever regaining what was rightfully his. He jammed his eyes even more tightly shut and willed himself to get a grip. He had planned carefully. Everything would work out fine.
“Hey man, are you all right?”
Tim lifted his head and squinted enough to see a teenager with dreadlocks standing in front of him. The guy had a backpack draped over one shoulder and was carrying a well-worn skateboard almost completely covered with decals. The look on the young man’s face made it clear he was concerned. Behind him a small group was starting to gather, three or four business people carrying briefcases and purses, all of them looking at Tim as if he were a carnival sideshow.
Tim couldn’t stand for anyone to see him like this. He felt naked and exposed, without the emotional suit of armor he wore every day to keep people from seeing the loneliness inside. He tried to tell them he was fine so they’d leave him alone but he couldn’t work up enough air pressure to make any sound come out.
With one elbow he pushed himself off the building wall and roughly shouldered his way past the teenager.
“Hey,” the guy said indignantly, “what the hell’s your problem, asshole?”
Tim didn’t even glance back. He staggered down the sidewalk as quickly as he could, still fighting to take a full breath as he headed for the subway.