Читать книгу Indiscretion - M.G. Crisci - Страница 19

The first taste of serious money.

The AFA management team constantly reminded employees that their attendance at our conferences, despite the glamorous venues, was work. It was everybody’s job was to enhance existing relationships by providing our guests, their families, and their significant others with a memorable vacation experience and new business ideas to grow their practices, thus increasing AFA’s gross revenues and their net take-home pay.

In the five days following that dance, Alexandria and I spent about sixty seconds together, as we stood in line early one morning with a dozen advisors at the cappuccino walk-through. A soft, protracted “helloooo” and a smile was the extent of our conversation.

Alexandria had invited about fifteen advisors and their families to the conference. When she wasn’t wining and dining or attending breakout sessions, she was researching outings and other free-time options.

As for me, when I wasn’t rehearsing my presentations and preparing for follow-up breakout sessions, Courtney had filled every waking minute with one-on-one appointments with our most important advisors. She acted as traffic cop, scheduler, waitress — she had food and beverages delivered, so I wouldn’t waste time at lunch or on a coffee break — and scribe because, as she explained, “Somebody has to take notes on what you promise, so we can actually get the work done when we get back to the office.”

Initial conference feedback appeared quite positive, but I had no idea how positive until Craft walked into my office and closed the door two days after we returned.

“Martin, that was a masterful selling job at the conference. Almost eighty percent of the advisors signed up for the new business building programs you developed and presented. You are one hell of a salesman. Before we arrived, I thought twenty-five percent would sign up, and we'd double the business next year. God only knows what kind of business the eighty percent sign-up will drive.”

And I was thinking, Yeah, that also puts a shit-pile more money in your pocket.

“I’ve been talking to Jeremy and Eddie, we’ve decided that now that the family squabbles are behind us, and we’ve bought the company, we’d like to share the wealth and make you an equity partner. After all, without you, we wouldn’t be where we are today, much less tomorrow.”

My response was measured. I figured I was about to be thrown a tiny bone. “That’s very nice of you; I appreciate that.”

“For a man who’s about to be wealthy again [Pete had shared my professional roller-coaster], you don’t sound very excited. We want you to have ten percent of the company at no cost to you, and a ten percent share of the annual profit distributions in perpetuity.”

“Holy crap!” That was twice what Pete and I had agreed, plus an unexpected profit distribution.

“I’m guessing you’re worth $20 million more this morning than you were worth yesterday, plus an additional half million per year in increased cash flow.”

I reached out to shake hands. He gave me a big warm hug instead. I said, “You guys have made me feel like family.”

“Pal, you are family,” he responded. “The attorneys will be sending over the agreement for your signature. It’s pretty much the same boilerplate Jeremy, Eddie, and I signed. You might want to have your attorney look it over for tax purposes and so that there are no misunderstandings.” Craft headed for the door. “Gotta go. I have my weekly Dave Lineman call in a few minutes.” Craft made sure he talked to key advisors regularly. He understood that ego-driven entrepreneurs craved recognition. A call from the president and CEO was just that. “Oh, I almost forgot. I told Amélie to organize a celebratory partner dinner. Just the eight of us: Amélie and Craft, Costas and Mona, Carr and Evelyn. Tell Lauren to look out for the call. Let’s do it real soon.”

I decided to break the news to Lauren after dinner with a bottle of champagne. She was as giddy as a kid. “Told you, told you, the cream always rises to the top!”

“Funny, that’s what all the doctors say about you.”

“Really? I guess we’re just two nice people.”

MJ heard the excitement and wandered in with the now- familiar scowl on his face, “Why the champagne?”

“Dad got some great news today. They made him a partner at AFA.”

MJ looked straight into my face. “How come I’m always the last to hear about everything?” He walked away.

“Goddamn it,” I said.

“That’s not your real son talking; that’s your other son. He’ll be better once he starts on the medication.”

“And when is that?”

“Dr. Sherry and I are discussing the right time.”

“With all due respect, we’ve been discussing that issue for the last $8000 in session fees. I’m starting to wonder, why do I have to put up with Sherry’s condescending attitude? The good doctor makes me feel like an insensitive, idiosyncratic fool who’s supposed to pay the bills and keep his mouth shut.”

Based on our recent history, Lauren knew our discussion was one step away from a full-blown argument. Again. So, she tried to lighten things up, “I understand the dumb, but idiosyncratic?”

“Listen to MJ next time I’m driving the car. ‘You’re too far right, too far left; driving too slow, too fast; turning from the wrong lane, turning into the wrong lane.’ I feel like a student driver being admonished by the instructor.”

MJ, Lauren, and I went to get a pizza at a local family-style Italian restaurant. The food wasn’t great, but the place was usually quiet, and the owners knew MJ by name. Traffic was heavier than usual. It began to drizzle, which slowed traffic even further. MJ started to squirm.

“Relax, son,” I said empathetically.

“Relax. How can I relax? You constantly pick the slowest lane, then you let everybody turn in front of you at the traffic light and beep your horn.”

I exchanged glances with Lauren. Nothing else needed to be said. MJ had made my point.

~

The next day, the stockholder’s agreement arrived from Craft’s attorney, Jonathan Friedman, the managing partner of Friedman and Matson, a midsized Bridgeport firm.

Courtney, who took her role as my executive assistant, mother protector, and personal confidant very seriously, opened the package (marked personal and confidential), marched into my office, and announced, “It’s official, boss: here are your partnership papers.”

“Don’t I have any privacy?”

“Whoa, don’t get so snotty. You told me to open everything, remember?”