It's A Wonderful Life?

This story has nothing in common with the famous old Christmas movie.

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On a beautiful spring day as I was travelling to a suburban hotel near the airport to pick up some technical drawings from a client of the company that I work for I was smug. I don't normally feel smug because I learned long ago that when you do feel smug something unexpected arises to bite you in the ass. I was feeling smug while driving to my rendezvous because I was thinking back on where I had come from compared to where I was now.

I, Ben Ackley, was a hard-nosed asshole up to about the time of my 19th birthday. I was big, tough, accomplished at fighting, and nasty. I didn't realize at the time that I had innate intelligence; my worthless parents had never given me any positive feedback, encouragement, or even love so I became a hard ass in response. Within a month of my 19th birthday I thought that I was the biggest hard ass within three counties and no one even dared to challenge me at that juncture given my track record for sending people to the hospital and skating on any assault charges that were filed.

On the day of my drive I was 48 years old. Despite having only a High School degree I was now wealthy and worked only because I liked my job and felt beholden to Barry Swinton, the majority stockholder and CEO of the public company that I worked for. I had successfully raised three kids who were now married, and I was still married to my first wife, Brenda. I'd call her my High School Sweetheart, but that isn't entirely accurate.

Not only was I still married to Brenda but we were enjoying sex -- and life -- more than at any time in the past. Brenda is one of those rare women who got better-looking as she got older. Some was genetics because her mother and older sister are lookers, but she also worked hard at it and in view of our stable financial situation could throw money at it too. She has a hard body, complements of six day a week workouts (cardio, yoga, cross-training, bicycling, weightlifting -- you name it, she does it). As a result she looks better now at 48 -- although obviously much more mature looking -- than she did when we got married when we were both 19. While of course we went through sexual ups and downs when raising three active kids we always were attuned to each other and even though now we may not make love with the same frequency as in our early twenties we still do it often, passionately, creatively, and zealously -- it's fucking great!

I caught my client's engineer just as he was about to get a cab to the airport. He briefly explained the drawings to me -- he was a great engineer so they actually were self-explanatory -- shook my hand and then got in a cab with his luggage and left for the airport.

I saw a florist in the hotel lobby so I bought a dozen roses for Brenda -- which would insure that tonight's roll in the hay would be even more spectacular than normal -- and as I was walking out of the hotel lobby my smugness bit me in the ass.

My youngest daughter Sophia was approaching the reception desk dressed more like a slut than a father could stand and on the arm of a guy who definitely was NOT her husband Craig. The guy must have already been checked in because he just picked up an envelope from the desk then he and Sophia walked to the elevators and got in, exchanging a kiss as they did so.

I normally am quick-witted and act accordingly but this was one of the most startling things that I had seen in my 48 years and I was riveted in place until the elevator doors started to close. I finally came to my senses and rushed toward it -- too late, and clearly Sophia didn't see me. Since Sophia and her "friend" were the only ones on the elevator I watched to see what floor they got off on, hoping that it was the 2nd floor because there were only conference rooms and ballrooms on that floor. No such luck; the elevator stopped at floor six -- which has only guest rooms -- and then came back down.

Before I relate what happened next I need to tell you more about my family and my background otherwise you won't believe it -- maybe you won't anyway, but I'm still going to give you some context which you can skip over -- to the second set of dollar signs after this sentence -- if you're easily bored.

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As a result of my non-upbringing and asshole tough-guy attitude I was a bully and malcontent during my senior year in High School when I was 18 and approaching 19. One of the girls in my class was the aforementioned Brenda Ackley nee Lorry. While I was essentially white trash, Brenda was the youngest daughter of a fairly well-to-do and respected family in the town. Her father was a bank president or something and her older sister and older brother were legendary at the school having been past valedictorians, star athletes, prom queen and king, etc. Brenda was the rebellious black sheet of the family.

It wasn't that Brenda wasn't as smart or as physically gifted as her siblings; she just didn't give a shit. No one knew where her bad attitude came from, but she had it.

Being young and reckless Brenda enjoyed fucking -- and fucking (with women) and fighting (with men) were my two favorite pastimes -- so we got along well; too well; and too careless. About two months before graduation she ended up pregnant.

While wild and rebellious, Brenda also had a rigid (even if some parts were very unusual, such as the fucking part) moral structure that did not include terminating a pregnancy unless the health of the mother was at risk or the child wasn't viable. I wanted her to have an abortion, but she wouldn't hear of it.

Of course Brenda's parents found out and her father demanded that I come to see him. I was threatened with a lawsuit if I didn't so I showed up at his house one Saturday morning with my normal bad attitude. Brenda and her mom were out.

I should have known that something was up when Norman -- I kind of thought that was a pussy name at the time, consistent with my view of him as some pussy banker -- insisted that we meet in his empty garage and he closed the overhead door when we were both inside. I was a little surprised at how big he was -- I was (and still am) six foot one and one-half inches (187 cm) tall and 227 pounds (103 kg). He looked like he had me by about three inches (7 cm) and thirty pounds (13 kg) but I assumed that it was fat and after all he was an old man (44 as it turns out).

After an exchange of nasty words when he told me that I wasn't worth a shit and wasn't good enough for his daughter but that I'd pay through the nose for the kid I, the toughest guy in a three county area, went after him with my best one-two-three combination, a fist, elbow, and knee. Next thing I knew I was waking up on the concrete garage floor flat on my back and blood staining my shirt. It took me a good two minutes to get into a sitting position. When I finally regained my bearings my supposed-pussy was staring at and through me.

"Listen asshole, I eat chumps like you for breakfast. Do not under any circumstances try anything physical with me again or next time I put you in the hospital for a week. Understand," he snarled pushing his left index finger into my chest; it felt like a tool in was so hard.

After having lost my first fight -- if you could call it that -- since I was 16 I was at least smart enough to say "I understand," especially because the roll-up garage door was closed and the garage side door and the button to activate the roll-up door were behind Norm. In view of having just woken up from having my clock cleaned without even knowing how I didn't like my chances of going through Norm to get to the side door so I just agreed with him.

Then, while making me stand, Norm sat down on a chair and pulled out three folders from a briefcase that I hadn't noticed was sitting there; maybe he got it when I was out cold. Anyway from the covers of the folders it was clear that one was my school record, one was my arrest record (I had never been convicted but had been arrested three times for assault), and the other a P. I.'s report. I was going to ask him how he got my school and arrest records but at that point in time I wasn't going to do or say anything that might land me out cold on the garage concrete floor again.

"From your school and arrest records it's clear to me that you're a lazy bully who's never made even the slightest effort to reach your potential. From your test scores and from what my P I gathered you're smart but completely unmotivated. Unless you immediately make major changes in your fucked-up life you're going to end up in prison, as a derelict, or dead. Today is the start of your new life asshole," Norm sneered.

I apparently temporarily forgot that Norm was a bigger hard ass than I was because I snapped "You can't fucking talk to me like that old man." I think that I remember him catapulting himself off of his chair, but not clearly. I do remember waking up from being out on the concrete floor drenched with cold water and Norm holding a bucket.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut because I'm still not certain that I'm going to try to save you as opposed to just fucking killing you; asshole," Norm snarled.

After that I was a compliant as a little lamb.

Norm talked to me for the next half hour about what changes I needed to make to a) become a good father, b) ultimately get a decent job, c) improve my attitude in general, and d) treat people properly. At first I had no choice but to listen even though I resented the hell out of it; but after a while I listened because I wanted to hear what he was saying. No respectable male of an age that he could be my father had ever taken an interest in me before. I realized that I felt honored that someone would take the time to actually care about me -- whatever the reason -- rather than just treating me like the hard-ass white trash I considered myself to be.

I could write more than a hundred pages going into detail of what my life was like the next seven months until little Alicia was born but suffice it to say that I had a metamorphosis under Norm's tutelage while Brenda was having her own transformation due to carrying a baby in her belly.

Although it was one of the toughest and most unpleasant things to do at the time, it turned out to be the most worthwhile. Norm made me go to the houses of the eight kids that I had bullied the most and not only apologize to them but to give them an IOU that said "As a minor way to make up for my past treatment of the bearer, the bearer is entitled to call on me in the future for one favor which I will gladly grant as long as it is legal and no one else will be hurt or humiliated." Norm dictated the wording to me.

The responses of the kids that I had bullied -- then all 16, 17, or 18 years old -- was astounding. One, realizing that my bullying days were over, verbally abused me and ripped up my IOU. Three were overwhelmed and started shedding some tears, and actually thanked me. Two asked me to perform favors right away, the first one simple, the second one a little more complex. I'll digress now and explain the second favor I granted.

Some real asshole (undoubtedly like me before Norm gave me "religion") was coming over to collect on some bogus debt with the threat of beating my former victim up. I stayed around until the other guy -- with a friend of his -- showed up. I informed them that the debt was illegitimate and that they were never to bother my charge again or I would intervene. The bully knew me and was willing to back off; his friend did not know me and took a swing at me. I did to him what Norm did to me and after he recovered the bully took him away and promised never to bother my charge again; my former victim might have been the happiest he had ever been.

The eighth person I had bullied -- who happened to be the smartest kid in the school, but a total nerd -- actually invited me into his house to talk. He told me that he had big plans and that I should learn sheet metal work because after he graduated from MIT he was coming home and starting a company where he would need sheet metal workers. "I'm keeping your IOU and cashing it when I start my business Ben."

I was impressed and called him by his name -- "Barry" rather than "nerd" which I did when bullying him -- as we shook hands goodbye.

With both Brenda and me changing our lives we actually started having a real relationship rather than just fucking, and we got married in a simple ceremony when she was eight months pregnant. We lived in a mother-in-law suite above the Lorry's three car garage and stayed there the first year we were married.

Using a contact of Norm's -- at his insistence I always called him "Norm" after our garage encounter -- I did start working at a sheet metal shop a month after I graduated (barely) from High School.

After Alicia, Bradley and Sophia came along each sixteen months apart. Alicia and Bradley turned out to be as accomplished as both of Brenda's siblings. They were both either valedictorian or salutatorian of their High School classes, all conference in a sport, and ultimately graduated from a top twenty rated University in the U. S. Sophia was more like Brenda and me than her siblings.

Sophia is the best looking member of our family, but was a real challenge to raise. We ultimately must have done a decent job because she got through High School without getting pregnant or doing drugs or alcohol, and ultimately graduated from a top fifty rated University in the U. S. What started out as an awful situation turned out to work in our favor in keeping control of Sophia when during her freshman year in High School we had a home invasion.

Fortunately Brenda and the kids were out of town at the time of the home invasion. When they are out of town I usually have most lights off so the miscreants might have been under the impression that it was a burglary rather than a home invasion. In any event I caught them red-handed after they broke through our back sliding glass door. I caught them completely by surprise so despite the fact that two had knives and one a gun I beat the shit out of all three. While I didn't seek it, the local newspaper and several TV stations went all-in on the story. After that all boys in Sophia's High School were scared shitless of me -- which meant none of them messed with Sophia -- sometimes to her consternation.

Barry was true to his word. He graduated MIT in three years and started a business in town and I was his third hire. I actually had to take a small ($10 a week) pay cut to join him but since he cashed in my IOU and told me that I'd get stock options I jumped at the chance.

With three kids and one fulltime paycheck Brenda and I had some tough times financially but we tried our best to put some money -- even if a small amount -- to work buying stock in Barry's company since Barry matched us dollar for dollar. It helped that Brenda had a part-time job that she could work at while still being the primary care-giver for the kids. While Brenda made little more than minimum wage in the 10-15 hours a week that she worked outside the home she must have had a very generous boss (I never met him) because once a quarter or so she'd get a bonus -- usually $300-$500 -- which we would always put toward stock in Barry's company.

Our boat figuratively came in shortly after Alicia turned 16 when Barry's company went public. Our stock was suddenly worth more than $15,000,000, and we could sell up to $1,500,000 immediately (which we did). Barry stayed on as CEO and I stayed on as manager of the sheet metal division. I committed to at least five years, but I enjoyed working and my job wasn't that tasking so even though at the start of this story I had been working ten years since the company went public I still enjoyed it. As soon as our boat came in Brenda immediately quit her part-time job but she starting doing lots of charity work including being the president of two worthwhile organizations.

Especially in order to keep up with Brenda I have stayed in excellent shape and am still the same height and weight of when I was 19. I hadn't actually brawled in years -- since the home invasion -- but I was confident that I still could.

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After watching the elevator stop and the sixth floor and then start back down I suddenly snapped out of my stupefied state and quickly decided what to do. I walked over to the young female receptionist who had given Sophia's companion an envelope and turning on my 1000 watt smile while holding out the roses I had just purchased for Brenda I said "I just screwed up young lady. I was supposed to approach the gentleman who was just at your desk and give his companion these roses but I missed him. Can you have a bellman bring them to his room please?" With that I placed the flowers, with the stems still wrapped, on the reception desk. Then I continued: "You and the bellman can split this tip any way that you want to," as I handed her two $10 bills.

"I'd be happy to, sir," she grinned.

"Thanks," I said as I quickly vacated the reception area and took the stairs -- remote from the elevators -- to the sixth floor.

I waited in the sixth floor stairwell -- with the door cracked open -- until I saw the bellman exit the elevator with the flowers. I was going to wait until the door was answered and then leisurely stroll nearby so that I would be sure to see the room number, but I got lucky and didn't have to do anything to get the right number. The room the bellman went to was 600, right across the hallway from where the stairwell was.

The bellman had to knock twice before the door to 600 opened. I couldn't see what was happening very well because I didn't want to be seen, but through the small opening between the stairwell door and frame it was clear that Sophia's companion was pissed at being interrupted and the only garment covering his top was a T-shirt. He finally took the flowers and I heard him say something to Sophia and heard her response but I didn't actually understand what was said because of the distance and the door to 600 closing.

After I saw the bellman get back on the elevator I pounded fiercely on the door. This time when the guy answered it he was shirtless and had the security chain on. "What the fuck do you want?" was his pleasant greeting.

"I want to talk to Sophia; get her to the door," I snarled.

"Fuck you," he said and then started to close the door.

I hit the door with my shoulder as hard as I could which snapped the chain and sent him flying backwards.

As I entered the room Sophia was sitting on the edge of the bed with her top off, but she quickly grabbed her blouse off of a chair and covered herself. "What the hell are you doing here, Dad?" she yelled.

"Trying to prevent you from making a really big mistake," I loudly

replied.

By then the guy was back on his feet and snapped at Sophia "Is this some sort of con where I pay you for a fuck and then this clown comes in and rescues you and you steal my money?"

"Pay?" I blurted out; shocked.

"No, I don't know what the hell my father is doing here," Sophia replied, seemingly both very upset, chagrined, and angry at the same time.

"Get the fuck out bozo before I hurt you bad," the guy said moving toward me with his fist raised. He was about my size but fifteen to twenty years younger; but I knew that I could wipe the floor with him.

Sophia yelled at him "Don't provoke him, Tom; he'll beat you up; he's really tough; trust me," she yelled at the guy who I now knew was named "Tom."

Apparently it was not just what Sophia said, but how she said it, that caused Tom to think; and he stepped away. I was watching him as Sophia quickly put her blouse back on, not bothering with her bra, reached into her purse, pulled out a roll of bills, and through them on the bed. "Here's your money back; sorry;" she wailed as she stormed past me and out of the room heading toward the elevator.