My path to writing and publishing “Nikodemus” was long and twisty. It goes like this:
I took a job as the Accounting Manager for a corporation that
bought the rights to return a helicopter model that was out of production into
FAA approved production.
While every part design was approved, the current manufacturing process had to
be inspected by the FAA and signed off on before any part or aircraft could be
sold.
So, it amounted to going to work for a start up company. I was issued passwords and an office and put to work. The first bank reconciliation showed the company over $100,000 overdrawn. The accounting firm that placed me assured me this was okay. They said an EFT (Electronic Funds Transfer) was due any time.
They were right. A half a million dollars came in from Tokyo the next week. By the way, the owners were Naturalized Japanese/Americans. The half million didn’t last long. Accounts Payable ate over half of it immediately. Then payroll…
I settled into a routine. The account gets overdrawn. Then more overdrawn. Then an EFT covers it. We couldn’t sell any parts. They were in high demand and we had them in stock but the FAA hadn’t signed off on all the processes. Scheduling them to inspect assemblies and sub assemblies and fabrication procedures had to made weeks in advance and more than once they cancelled at the last minute.
I became close with the CEO. I’ll call him Mr. X. Sometimes Mr.X would have to go to Osaka on what he called “Marketing Trips” to raise money. I would track him after the fact when I itemized his AMEX. First LA Airport. Beer and ice cream(gag) then dinner in Osaka. Usually around $1,000. Then no charges for about a week. Then beer and ice cream in LA.
The time difference between Texas and Japan would throw him for a loop. Mr. X was sixtyish. Midnight here is two in the afternoon the next day in Japan. He would be wide awake at three in the morning. He would come down to the plant and wander through it. I knew this because we found his cigarette butts in every corner of it. He would be at his desk already when every one came in. But, he would crater around lunch and sleep on the floor of his office behind his desk.
I should describe how the plant was laid out. It was a thirty thousand square foot metal building with a fifty foot high ceiling. Offices were framed in a row on the west side. The east side held the store room and quality control. The Japanese mentality is that the CEO wants to be able to see people at their stations, working.
His office was in the center, with a large picture window facing the plant floor. All the offices had windows on both sides. From his desk he could look left or right and see all the way to the front door and the receptionist at her desk. Or, through accounting, purchasing and engineering the other way.
As time went on the FAA delays started to kill us. Instead of being a hundred thousand overdrawn and getting a half million, we would be two hundred thousand overdrawn and get an EFT for ninety thousand. Mr. X would make some overseas calls. Then go on a marketing trip. While he was gone an EFT would almost get us even. Then he would come back. We had lists of people wanting to buy parts we had in inventory but we couldn’t sell them. It was frustrating.
The bank was understanding. For a while. Mr. X became too embarrassed to go in and tell the banker we dealt with that he had to wait longer. So he started sending me. I would go in.
“Not only do I not have the hundred and forty that we’re hot, but I need thirty for payroll.”
The EFT’s got smaller and more time would pass between them. The banker started looking at me askance. Mr. X wouldn’t even show his face in town. I was getting ready to go do my dance at the bank. But, I needed firm information. So I asked Mr. X.
“I you don’t know when the EFT is coming in then just say so. I’ll deal with it. But, don’t give me a date if you aren’t sure. I don’t want to promise something and not deliver.”
He assured me the EFT would come in on Monday for at least $500,000. If the bank extended the credit we would be almost three hundred thousand overdrawn. Now Mr. X spoke English. Not well, his pronunciation left something to be desired. But, I came to understand him. I went to lunch with him everyday. We had talked at length on a variety of subjects. I knew he and I understood the concept of honor. Personal honor is a cornerstone of Japanese society.
So I dance.
“Okay, no we don’t have the two seventy. But, we are going to get a half a mil on Monday.”
The banker look at me and sighed.
“Okay, we’ll cover payroll. What else can we really do at this point? You come in here Monday and we’ll sort this out.”
I nodded at him. There were a couple of Vice-Presidents listening. They looked at mew skeptically. I smiled at them.
“See ya’ll Monday.”
Two days later I cut thew payroll checks. I enjoyed my weekend. I went back to work on Monday. Any EFT would show incoming in the morning and release around two in the afternoon. Nothing was showing. Mr. X avoided looking at me. I sat at my desk and looked right. I could see to his desk. Has facing away from me. When I walked in front of his window on the plant floor he was looking out his window at the parking lot. When I walked by his outside window to my car he was sitting at his desk facing the plant.
I drive back from the bank at twice the speed limit His words still bouncing around my brain.
“I figured your word wasn’t worth shit. Now I know. Don’t I.”
I locked up my brakes in the parking lot and slid to a stop so close to the fence I thought I was going to hit it. I went in and slammed the door so hard that the whole plant was staring at me as I walked to Mr. X’s office. I gently opened the door to his office and went in. I softly closed the door. Like a civilized person. The picture window was at my back. Then I lost it.
“Goddammit! You are fucking with my honor! He told me my word wasn’t worth
shit!
I you didn’t know………..why?”
I walked back out and left the door open. I went to my office and sat down. Mr. X got up and lit a cigarette. Something prohibited and he had never done it during operating hours. Then he walked out onto the floor of the plant. Everything had stopped. The entire plant was staring at him.
Then he had a heart attack right there on the floor of the plant. He died a week later. It was the first time I was a pall bearer. Japanese wear white to funerals.
Something started happening in the weeks after Mr. X’s death. The plant motion detectors started going off every night at three in three in the morning. The security guard would have to go check the plant. And walk through it alone at three in the morning. Not being one to let an opportunity like that to pass me by I asked him one day at lunch. In front of most of the workers.
“Hey, when you see Mr. X tonight ask him where he put the key to his desk.”
The guard quit the next day.
True Story by James MonkresPost Views : 84