X - Chapter Eleven "The Thirty Percent Solution"

 

"The Thirty Percent Solution"


Chapter Eleven 


      It was already eight thirty in the evening. Only a few of the associates and support staff remained, and the Winshire offices were starting to lose their daytime chaos and noise level. Steve Bucknell was seated at the desk in his office, which was of medium size and had a window, even though the view of Manhattan was not the most impressive – just a bit of a slice of the East River and a bit of sky, but for the most part the backs of a few buildings and a few service alleys at ground level. 

      Bucknell had planned to review the drafts of several client studies completed by his team, the Food Industry Practice. The documents sat there, in front of him on his desk. But he did not touch them. Instead, he let his mind wander. This was rare for him. He prided himself on his work methods: Plan, review, decide and execute.

      But this evening he began to think about his career at Winshire Associates. One phrase kept coming back to him: They don’t fucking appreciate my contribution. They just don’t. Especially that Ted Merritt, that midget! 

      After only two years at the firm, he had a record of winning almost ten new clients for the firm per year, and not only for his practice, but for practices serving other industry sectors. Okay, Bucknell admitted that he made more money than he could spend. And this is Manhattan! 

      And I’m always pushing for more, more for Winshire. He pushed his consultants to make their client work more and more incisive and useful to clients, and his practice was being requested for new studies from existing clients on a regular basis. Yet, the recognition just wasn’t there.  

      One deception: Ted Merritt had promised to promote him, but it hadn’t happened; there was just no word. He knew the firm’s history, and now he was starting to believe a Harvard MBA was more a handicap than an advantage.

      Bucknell was starting to feel claustrophobic. I give this firm so much, so much, and what’s in it for me? 

       And now, my idea – “The Thirty Percent Solution” – it’s brilliant, it’s revolutionary! It could make so much more money for the firm. What does Ted the Midget tell me? Ted needs time. He has to talk to the lawyers. He asked for brilliance, and I go beyond that. 

      I have to find a way to move it, he told himself. I have to force Ted to start implementing it. It can’t get lost in the shuffle. Or, there’s another explanation: Ted wants to move ahead without me, without giving me credit. All the stories about Ted, they’re true. He’s always out for himself. 

      And then, Bucknell thought about Gloria Merritt. He knew he was venturing out onto thin ice, ice that could fissure at any time. He thought back to the Christmas party for the New York staff six months ago. Of course, everyone had too much to drink. Gloria Merritt took a seat next to him, a bit close, he thought at the time. He couldn’t remember what she said; she just started talking. Then he watched her left hand, as she reached under the table, under the white tablecloth, and he felt her hand on his thigh. He was shocked, then embarrassed, as her hand moved up his leg. And he didn’t even think; it was just instinct, he put his hand on her leg. 

      Bucknell knew it was dangerous. They met a few times at hotels. In the beginning, it was like an adventure, a joyous adventure, if he didn’t think too much about it. It wasn’t like friendship, and Bucknell certainly didn’t consider it love. Simply, it felt good. And now, more and more, he thought about the dangers, and how she was getting bossy, and she talked so much; and he was thinking she just considered him a piece of meat, a little diversion, and a piece of meat.

      And he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think of a strategy for Gloria Merritt. 




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