“Who’s your dad writing to?” Kyle asked Jenny.
“That’s my mom. My dad has given me a lot of names over the years but ‘dearest heart,’ well, that’s only Mom.”
“Wow! So his journals are...like love letters to your mom?”
21. PRESENT DAY – AT THE HOTEL
“So I guess the real question is, how will each of us face the challenge of this change? But, I also acknowledge that this change will, of course, take time. If we want the three companies to feel as if we are one team, then we must move forward with patience,” Greg said, trying to end his speech with energy and flourish.
Greg was not prepared to begin the day this way. He had hoped to have both Metronome and Linkup’s presidents on stage with him for this speech. But ten minutes ago, he was informed that Mario Romano from Linkup was delayed and would be close to an hour late. Greg knew he could not wait an hour, so was attempting to energize the room, then do the one-hour work session, and follow it by Robert’s talk. After lunch, he would bring the other two presidents on stage with him and present the bigger message.
Yet, it had been rough going so far. Right from the moment he opened his mouth to welcome everyone, he felt a very obvious lack of excitement in the room. So Greg pulled out his famous “I’m-the-Boss” joke, which always proved to be very effective with new employees, showing them that he didn’t take being the boss too seriously. Greg smiled as he spoke.
“Do you know what happened to me yesterday?” He asked the question like an old vaudevillian comedian would, hoping the audience would all ask, “What?”
But the room was still unfocused, people at some tables were whispering to each other and not all faces were even facing the stage. So he spoke a little louder, in a more pronounced way, to get everyone’s attention.
“Do you know what happened to me yesterday?”
No one answered him, but at least the room was now quiet.
“Yesterday, I was complaining in our staff meeting that I wasn’t getting any respect. So later that morning, I went to a local sign shop and bought a small sign that read ‘I’m the Boss!’ and just before lunch, I taped that sign to the middle of my office door. I wanted to give people a chance to read it while I was out of the office and then see if anything would change. Well, anyway, later when I returned from lunch, I found that someone had taped one of those post-it-notes on my ‘I’m The Boss’ sign. And do you know what it said?”
Greg could see all eyes were now on him. So he paused a moment before hitting the punch line. And with a dead-pan voice he said, “The post-it-note said, ‘Mr. Wong, your wife called, she wants her sign back!’”
Greg had told this joke a handful of times at work and it always got a hearty laugh and he thought since the room was two-thirds full with people that didn’t know him, the joke would go over well.
Yet other than a few polite haha’s and Lou’s overly forced laugh, the room was awkwardly quiet.
Greg felt the blow of this silence and so he went off course and started spouting generic ramblings about how happy he was that the day had finally come for him to meet all the people that he and the Elevation team were going to climb to higher heights with. The more he spoke, the more he felt he was losing the room.
Greg was used to public speaking and had even taken a three-month Dale Carnegie course two years ago, when Elevation had gone on the stock exchange. As he was rambling, the other side of his brain was madly recalling what he had learned in that course about what to do when your speech was on a quick nosedive and crashing.
Just as he got to the point of saying that he and the Elevation team were going to climb to higher heights, it hit him! Make it personal. Make it real!
“Sorry everyone, I guess I’m rambling. You see, I’m quite nervous today. This new adventure excites me, but scares the hell out of me as well. Reminds me of when I was a little boy growing up in Hong Kong and, well, I was the tallest kid in my class.”
Laughter! Ahhh, relief! This was probably due to the fact that Greg was barely five foot six. And the thought that everyone was shorter than him would seem funny to anyone listening.
Greg smiled and acknowledged the murmuring giggles. “Yeah, can you believe how small we all are back home if I’m the tall guy?” Again, laughter, he felt as if the room was warming up to him.
“Anyway, being the tallest kid in class, I was chosen to be on the basketball team. Now I’ve never played basketball in my life but I was chosen. Chosen for something...me! And boy, was I excited about that! So, I shot out of school that day, and just flew home. The moment the door opened I shouted out to my mom, my dad, my little sister and a couple of her friends, ‘Guess what? I was chosen...Me, Gregory Wong, is going to be a basketball extraordinaire!’ I don’t even think my dad knew what basketball was but, man, he was just ecstatic...his son was chosen. I’m sure my father didn’t really care what it was. Just hearing his son was chosen for something was like fulfilling his prophecy that his son would come to great things someday.”
Greg then played the part of his father shaking his hand.
“My dad came to me grinning and shaking my hand up and down so fast, like he was trying to get that last drop out of a stubborn ketchup bottle. And my sister and her little friends were squealing with delight saying things about how I was going to be famous. And then my mother, who actually did know what basketball was, put her hand on my shoulder and said, ‘Greggy, you don’t play basketball, do you? Greggy, be realistic: you don’t even play sports, do you?’ Suddenly, the vision of me riding in that championship parade disappeared. My father stopped shaking my hand, my sister and her friends ceased the glorification of my celebrity status. Everyone froze and stared at me, wondering if their adoration of me was a little bit premature. But, I wasn’t about to let the reality of my life interfere with the fame that awaited me. After all, I was the chosen one! I turned to my mom and said, ‘Don’t worry, Ma, I’m going to learn,’ and then I shouted out with glee that I was going to be the first kid from Hong Kong to play in the NBA! The parade was back on. My dad started shaking my hands again and I think I was asked to sign a couple autographs for one of my six-year-old sister’s friends.
“Now my mom was right. Reality was going to show its ugly face sooner or later. She was dead on: I’d never played sports. My exercise consisted of having to constantly fix that nagging cable behind the monitor of our family computer that was always falling out while I was playing one of my computer games. Yet, being a chosen one was something new to me. That title...Well, it kind of thrust me into action. So, being the nerdy kid I was, if I was going to play basketball, I had to know everything about basketball: how it was played, its rules, how it evolved. I needed to know the complete history, the whole existence and evolution of basketball. So I went to the library, I studied and looked up everything I could get my hands on about basketball. I knew all the stats of every famous player, what a double dribble, a three pointer and a technical violation was. And then, one week before my very first basketball practice, my parents asked me how my road to the NBA was going. I told them everything I learned...Oh, my dad was so proud. He was absolutely blown away to learn that the last two months since being called ‘the chosen one,’ I had not wasted my time. He just kept repeating, ‘my son...this is my son!’ as I spouted off some unknown stats that would have made any NBA sports analyst proud. But my mom, even after hearing me shout out some of the most incredible, intricate stats of the game itself, was...well, let’s say, a little...no, actually, a lot...she was...ah, well, quite shocked to find out I had yet to even touch a basketball!”
The room roared with laughter and Greg was on a roll.
“That’s when my mom, who always had a Chinese saying for everything, said...” Greg said something in Chinese then continued, “which means, how can you get the tiger’s cubs if you don’t go into the tiger’s cave? Which, translated is ‘you may see what you want but that doesn’t make it easy to achieve it. But in a less complex version,
she was trying to tell me, ‘get a ball, you idiot, and learn how to use it!’”
Greg laughed at himself and had fun imitating his mother’s high-pitched voice.
“So, my mom walked me directly to the school. We got a ball and I started practising. And I started to understand what my mom meant: it is not easy getting close to those tiger cubs with the mother around because, despite the fact I knew who held the Guinness world record for everything related to basketball, I was completely unable to dribble the ball and run at the same time. And after three days and maybe six hours of trying to run and dribble the ball in the back alley of our building, I gave up and kicked the ball in frustration so high that it landed with a splash inside one of those garbage dumpsters in the alleyway. It made a big splash because that dumpster was filled with the garbage from the meat plant behind us. And, well, that was it. Chosen one or not, basketball was over and there was no way I was even going to go near that smelly dumpster. So, I cursed my way into the house in total impatience and pronounced, ‘I quit!’
“My mother, who had apparently been watching me from our apartment window, stopped me right at the door and, of course, had another Chinese saying: ‘Be not afraid of going slowly, be afraid of standing still.’
“‘Come on Mom, I can’t play!’ And then my mom kind of hit me with a sucker punch: ‘I know, I have been watching you...’ and said something that shocked me...she actually quoted something that wasn’t Chinese! She said, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day. Now you get back out there, pull that ball out of all those chicken guts and don’t ask your little sister to do it for you! Now go Greggy, you get that ball and start learning how to play something you have been chosen for.’
“And I did and I played basketball for the next six years.”
The room cheered and applauded. Greg raised a hand to quiet them. The story was not finished.
“Now, unfortunately more reality came to show its face in one short year. Me, I, the tallest chosen one! Well, that changed! Everyone else grew, except me. Yep, I became the shortest guy on the team and I was usually the last player on the bench to ever get to play. I got on if we were losing badly, real bad...BUT they kept me on the team for the next five years. Do you know why? Because...the chosen one had still found his passion! Well, let me tell you...I was the best damn statistician that team ever had!”
The audience laughed and gave an applause, which made Greg blush.
“And my mom’s saying is quite apropos for all of us today. Here in this room, three teams coming together to form one. We must all remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither will this team be. We need to be patient, design the city, the team that we all want to build, then slowly form a strong foundation, and raise it up to be somewhere that we all want to live.”
As the applause filled the room, Greg thought maybe, just maybe, his desire to start building the team was happening because, for the first time, everyone in the room was doing something together. Yes, Greg thought, as he looked out into the room, yes, it does seem as if everyone is clapping.
Greg looked at Amir, who played a rousing upbeat song. Chanting voices filled the room along with celebratory and exciting drumbeats: “...getting stronger...like a waving flag...”
Robert raised his head in recognition. This was the song that played during the entire tournament when he and Jenny watched the 2010 FIFA World Cup of Soccer. Robert and Jenny had watched soccer together ever since she was a little girl. He had even coached her team for a couple of years. The two of them sang that song at the top of their lungs in the final ten minutes of their favourite Spanish team’s victory over the Netherlands. And how sweet it was that day when Monique came home and father and daughter squeezed her tight the second she stepped into the house. They told her to keep her shoes on because they were going out for Spanish food and dancing. Dancing, Robert thought as he shook his head. He hadn’t even thought about dancing! Another thing to add to the list of things he’d never do again.
Monique, standing beside Amir, was not listening to the music. She had one hand over her ear and the other was listening to her cell phone to Jenny’s voicemail. She heard her daughter’s crying voice: “Mom, Daddy’s journal...he sent it to me...It’s here, I have it. Right here, Mom...in my hand...right here! The thing he said he would never show me and only give to me after he died...Why did he do this, Mom?...Daddy’s changed, Mom...We need to...and...and...and okay—Why does Daddy have a gun? What the hell does he need a gun for, Mom? Mom, I think it’s a bad idea today—You should see the letter he sent with the journal...Mom, please call me...Daddy doesn’t want to talk to people! I don’t think you should let him talk today...”
22. 6 WEEKS AGO – SEEMA’S OFFICE
“And at home, what are some of the changes you find most difficult?” Robert looked at Seema as if she was speaking another language. “Like, getting into the house or...”
Robert cut her off. “She built a ramp! I don’t know how the hell it got there so fast. Like she had it stored in the garage all winter and just pulled it out...like we do with the patio chairs each summer. I mean, did she already have that ramp knowing I’d be needing it someday?”
“You mean, Monique, your wife?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“You mean the ramp for the...”
“Wheelchair, yes!”
“So, seeing the ramp upset you?”
“Is this how you want to talk?”
“I’m sorry, what do you mean?”
“Did seeing the ramp upset me? What the hell do you think? Of course that thing upset me—I never needed a goddamn ramp before, did I? How do you think I’d feel seeing my house set up for an...an invalid! And knowing I’m the goddamn cripple?”
“I’m sorry, Robert. I’m not trying to be insensitive. I need to ask you these questions to assess if you have any other needs that are not being taken care of.”
“How long have you been doing this, Miss Pourshadi?”
“You mean here at the centre?”
“I mean how long have you been asking questions like ‘how does that make you feel?’”
“Well, Robert, I’m not really sure what you are asking me.”
“Does it really matter how I feel? Really? ‘Cause so far nobody asked me if I wanted that damn ramp or that handle on the toilet...the bench in the bathtub...You see, asking me how I feel is pointless ‘cause, it doesn’t matter how I feel, does it? All you people...everyone...you all are...are going to do what you think I need anyway, right?!”
Robert then looked at Seema with a smiled snarl. “Oh, and I bet you’re just dying to ask me ‘how I feel’ about all that, aren’t you?”
Seema leaned her head on one hand and rubbed the back of her neck with the other. She tried not to show any emotion and definitely did not want to give Robert any indication that he had already answered her question quite acutely. He was telling her exactly how he felt and she wanted to keep him talking so she asked him, “Is that what you think, Robert? That we all take care of your needs?”
Seema’s question stopped Robert’s tirade for a moment. He paused and jerked his head back with a look like he just bit into a sour lemon.
“My needs,” Robert huffed, “my needs? You know, Miss Pourshadi, there’s a big difference between what you or anyone assessing my needs determines my needs to be and what I actually need...No, no, I’m sorry, I’m wrong. The thing is not giving me what I need but giving me what I don’t need!”
“And what is that, Robert? What are some of things you don’t need?”
Robert sadly lowered his head and spoke quietly. “Look, I had been climbing for over thirty years. Thirty years! And months before every climb, my wife would find anything she could get her hands on about that mountain. Any story of someone that got killed up on that mountain or maybe a picture of some hazardous cliff or crevasse. It got to the point where she would read more about that mountain than I did...and she always felt the need to point out every possible danger t
hat might exist...”
“And you didn’t need that?” Seema gently asked.
Robert looked up. “Of course I didn’t need that! I prepared extensively for every climb. I went over and over every detail...She knew that, she saw me doing that! You know, it’s hard enough doing all that preparation and then doing the actual climb...I didn’t need her...all her doomsday warnings...always sitting in the back of my mind.”
“Did she ever ask you not to go?”
Robert paused and thought about the question.
“Well, no...No. Not at all, really. Actually she was like a best friend about it all. It’s just...it’s just...what she’d always say...she’d always...” Robert stopped.
“What did she say, Robert?”
Robert rubbed his face as if he was washing it clean. Seema asked the question again. “What did she always say?”
“That she didn’t know what she would do if something ever happened to me!” Robert roared.
Seema allowed the echo of Robert’s words to drift off before she spoke again. “Do you mean like this? If something like this happened to you?”
“What the hell do you think? Of course like this! She didn’t want me coming back like this...like some mangled, half-man, cripple!”
Seema wanted to keep Robert talking so she went back to his question about needs. “And so, Robert, I still don’t understand. What is it that you don’t need?”
“Not knowing what she’d do!” Robert’s voice started to sound exhausted, like he had been talking for hours. “I can’t have her not knowing what she would do now, now that I’m like...like this!”
“And why do you need her to know what she would do, Robert?”
“Because! Because...I need her to—Oh, just forget it!”
“But Robert, your wife is as new to all this as you ar—”
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