Overmatched - Pt. 01

Overmatched

Couple deal with uber-rich assholes

We've all read these stories of some rich asshole thinking he can lay claim to a wife, often with the wife's blessing. It got me thinking: What if we were talking about the richest assholes on the planet - the two percenters, as I refer to them (AKA, one percenter). What sort of chance would a normal guy have against that? What if the wife went along for her own well-being, or possibly for her husband's, instead of lust-crazed insanity? Even with love and trust, what would it take to break them?

That's what we'll find out. (Shut up Bill Shatner).

WARNING: The use of mega-corporations intertwined with the food industry is purely fictional and intended to enhance entertainment value and aid in the suspension of disbelief. That said, if you choose to comment regarding some politicization of the piece or suggest in any way that it contains 'conspiracy theories,' then refer to this warning. I've been to the fields in Salinas and Yuma, most of the stockyards, slaughterhouses, and feed lots in North America as well as, the Alaskan fishing and crabbing ships. That's because I've been in the food industry for fifty years, with one of the largest food companies in the world. I've mentored some of today's successful executives in brokerage, manufacturing, and distribution, which I'm grateful for. Not a brag as I consider myself extremely fortunate, but rather to ensure you know that your opinion on all things food is simply that - an opinion - which does not mean you can't provide it.

Relax; it's just a story, people.

The holiday party, slash awards banquet, slash higher-ups backslapping bunch of bullshit was in full swing. For me, this year's event was just as boring as all the others I'd attended. The big difference was twofold: first, my two friends from IT didn't attend this year, so I had no one to get drunk and BS with. Second, that meant I had to watch my wife, Katie, schmoozing and dancing with the big wigs. It seemed she was up for a big award this year, based on the table we'd been placed at. I didn't like what I saw.

Me, I'm Andrew Weston. I go by Andy to my friends, family, and my wife. Don't let the lofty name fool you. I'm not rich. My lineage can be traced to the British Lt. General, Aylmer Hunter-Weston, who served in World War I. Later, he was involved in the union worker trade in Scotland.

Worldview, Inc. was the company I worked for and the party I was attending. We'd become acquainted under nefarious circumstances. You see, I'd used my advanced hacking skills to find a backdoor through their firewall and then emailed their head of Information Technology, asking for a meeting. A meeting, not an interview.

That's how I got the job, nonetheless. The VP was so impressed when I showed them the few simple lacking lines of code that he offered me a job there and then. I accepted and was in my fourth year.

Worldview was a major international conglomerate. They had tendrils into almost everything. Major land development was their big market. Tech, food, and weapons systems were among the many other arenas in which they dabbled. They had offices in fifty-nine countries. I worked here, in Spokane, at our US-based headquarters. We had offices in Portland and Seattle as well as a few dozen between the Rockies and the Pacific Ocean all the way south to Mexico City.

I hated the higher-ups. They treated me like a servant. Sure, I could get away with snide and demeaning remarks while working on mid-level managers' workstations. They weren't allowed to counter with inappropriate behavior, per our HR guidelines, and I knew just how to skirt the line of inappropriate.

Speaking of inappropriate, my largest problem that evening was Jack Powers. He was the Executive Vice President for Pacific North American sales and operations. A bloated title fitting the bloated man perfectly.

He was monopolizing Katie's time and I didn't like the way he looked at her. I didn't much care for the way he danced with her either. I was on my way to intervene when the house lights flickered and all the employees were asked to take their seats. The music stopped and Katie and Jack arrived at our table about the same time I did. Katie introduced Jack as if I didn't work at the same company. I looked at both of them like they were nuts, as Jack extended his hand.

"It's good to see you could make it, Andrew," he said with that infamous fake smile. "I'd heard there was a bad bug going around in your department." He let go of my hand and turned slightly to take Katie's. "I'm so happy that you are here to share in your wife's success tonight. We have a big announcement."

I didn't like that either. Katie hadn't said a word about any announcement and at least she wore a surprised expression. I seated Katie with a wan smile and took my seat next to her. Jack sat on her right. He was a single executive, one of the few at our corporation.

At our table sat the who's who of our branch. Pierce Botswani was our CFO, his name a result of his mixed British-Indian heritage. He rarely said a word to me so I assumed he didn't like me. In my book, that made the feeling mutual.

Claire Eastmond was surely another award winner. She sat stoically in her seat, a sickening smile on her face as if she was all-knowing. Her smaller-than-life husband sat at her side, wiping his eyeglasses with the tablecloth.

Claire had closed three incredible deals during the year, negotiating the sale of two large ranches in Montana and one in Wyoming. One was sold to Bill Gates and the other two to a large Chinese multinational. The combined sales were in the ten-billion range. It was rumored that people in both states, associated with their respective livestock commissions, had put a price on her head.

Then, of course, there was Mortimer Biggs, CEO of Worldview, Inc. He was a tall man, larger than life as you might imagine. I pegged him to be in his early seventies but it was hard to say with his good looks, health, and larger-than-life presence. Bigg's wife, Elenor, sat proudly at his side, saying little even when spoken to. I received a couple of strange looks from her during our meal that bothered me, even though I put them out of my mind.

As the dessert plates were being bussed away, Jack left our table and headed up to the stage. I noticed Katie's hand seemed to fall away as he stood and left the table. Had she been holding his hand? That didn't make any sense to me so I tried to brush it aside. What I did do was lean forward trying to read her face as she watched him walk away.

Jack announced that the awards ceremony would begin in half an hour and that everyone should enjoy the open bar - not too much - was his flat attempt at humor. The band struck up some lively dinner music and I reached for Katie's other hand.

"Shall we?" I smiled and nodded toward the dance floor. She returned my smile with a genuine one of her own and stood with me as I led her over to dance with a few other couples. We'd taken ballroom dancing classes - twice - and while not experts, we could hold our own.

"What's with the award, Katie?" I had to ask. "You never mentioned anything."

Katie looked a little unsettled at my question. She seemed to consider her words carefully.

"I wasn't sure," she said in a little voice. "I knew I was in the running but... well, I guess Jack figured with me sitting at the chief officers' table the cat was out of the bag."

"What kind of award is it?" I followed. That brought about a bit of rapid eye movement before Katie regained her poise.

"I guess for the McMillan deal," she replied vaguely.

"But you're his personal assistant, not sales," I said matter-of-factly. "Not sales."

She had no answer forthcoming. Concern turned to sheer worry then. I felt a light tap on my left shoulder and turned to see Jack smiling a bit sheepishly.

"No fair hogging all of our Katie's time, Andrew." He said it so possessively that I almost lost my temper right there.

"May I have one more dance before the awards program begins?" At least he asked. He wasn't doing anything publicly out of bounds. No smirk on his face. No cheesy lines. Something hadn't seemed right since we'd arrived but he was being a perfect gentleman, which made me hesitate. I certainly didn't want to embarrass my wife and I worked there, too.

Instead, I gave Katie a long look, to which she gave a wan smile and looked coyly at the floor. She had to have known what I was thinking.

"Uh, okay," I said to Jack, unsure. "I'll be monopolizing her time though after the awards are announced."

I realized how stupid I sounded as I walked off in the direction of our table. Eleanor was watching me again with a look that said... what? I decided to avert my direction and head to the bar.

Jack and Katie took up dancing in earnest again. The twelve-piece band played a spicy number, finding Powers twirling and dipping Katie. After the song ended, he whispered something to her and she followed him to the stage area without even looking my way.

I knew there was a problem. Katie stood off to the side of the stage by the stairs leading up there. Two other women who may have been personal assistants or perhaps admins for execs in our locations in Portland and Seattle stood with her. I didn't know them.

Claire did indeed win 'salesperson of the year.' She received a hefty check to a roaring applause and said a few words, thanking some people who helped her, probably to write up and do the paperwork on the land deals. Other salespeople up and down the Pacific Coast won lesser awards.

Finally, Katie and two of the women near her were called up on stage. The first, an administrative assistant from Seattle, was awarded a promotion to Personal Assistant to the site director. She beamed with pride. The other, from Portland, was also promoted. Her assignee, some guy named Alan Butler, was the VP of Sales and Marketing there. I didn't think the kiss on her lips, by Butler, when she finished making a little speech was appropriate but, looking around, I didn't see anyone else with a scorned look.

Jack Powers stepped back to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he cleared his throat. "For our final award this evening..." he paused reaching for my wife's hand to help her up the few stairs. "It is my pleasure and honor to announce the promotion of Katie Holmes-Weston to Executive Personal Assistant of US headquarters, here in Spokane." He stopped to allow for the applause.

"Katie has been invaluable in helping our corporation with the merger between Worldview and Ian McMillin Limited, which will nearly double the size of our operations in Europe and eventually the entire globe. Katie not only kept this multi-faceted merger on track but found several small errors along the way that could have torpedoed the merger or, at least, set it back several months. I am honored to acknowledge Katie's attention to detail and perseverance. Katie will assume her new role, reporting directly to me, starting next week, as soon as we both return from the final document signing with McMillin executives this weekend in Belize.

I couldn't have heard that correctly, I remember thinking. I sat in shock. But as my wife came up to the mic to say a few lovely words about her boss, I watched as Jack stood at her side, his arm around her waist! He kept it there as they both turned to exit stage right.

I was immediately out of my seat. But so was everyone else in the room, just for a different reason. As I started for the stage, I felt a large hand firmly on my shoulder. I went to brush it off, laser-focused on my wife and Powers, but the strong grip tightened. I turned quickly to stare into the face of Mortimer Biggs.

"May I have a word with you, my boy?" He jovially asked.

"I uh..., I need to see..." I stammered, knowing what I'd just seen between my wife and Powers, but mostly surprised that Biggs himself had not. He cut me off.

Biggs saw the hesitation and conflict. He put his arm around my shoulder. "We have something quite important to discuss," he sure made it sound that way. "Let's allow Katie to enjoy her moment in the spotlight for now while you and I find some privacy."

Mortimer led me with his arm toward the ballroom exit. I turned to look over my shoulder at my wife. Powers was now standing a few feet away as some of Katie's co-workers chatted and were likely congratulating her.

Biggs removed his arm as we walked down the hallway and then he turned left into a private room. The large oval table told me it was a conference room. As I entered behind him, I immediately noticed two Worldview security guards standing on either side of the door. A chill ran down my spine.

"Have a seat, young man," Mortimer's tone remained authoritative yet friendly. He saw me glance left, then right. "Pay them no mind." Easy for him to say.

"Mr. Weston," he got right to it. "You're quite the intelligent fellow. I'm reminded of how you came to be employed with us." He gave a slight chuckle. "I'm sure by now, your head is swimming with all kinds of thoughts and questions, am I right?"

The change in his expression told me I'd been ambushed. Whatever important something he had to say, I wasn't going to like at all. I did have more than a few questions regarding what I'd seen, but also what I'd just heard about this weekend in... where was it, Belize?

In the milliseconds I had to cultivate a response, I decided to play it cool. Losing it would make things worse for me and maybe my wife from the looks of the two goons. Let him do the talking, I thought just before I nodded at him.

Mortimer's smile turned to a full-fledged sneer. He'd been in this position before, if I had to guess.

"Well, then," he said, walking around to the far end of the table. "Let me help you with some of them. Yes, you heard correctly. Your lovely wife will be flying to Belize tonight and returning Monday evening. It will be just her and Mr. Powers. Of course, they do have some things to button up on the McMillin deal... I'd say probably about an hour or two worth of work. How do you feel about that Andrew?"

"I'm fine with it," I said keeping my emotions in check. "If that's all, and Katie and I can spend the weekend reconnecting, I'm more than fine." I had a bad feeling I knew what was coming next.

"Oh," Biggs laughed at me, not with me or anything else. "You disappoint me. Andrew, you aren't going to Belize. It's just Jack and Katie." He was enjoying the game, and I no longer felt compelled to play it cool.

"Like hell, she is," I didn't scream. I stated it as stoically as possible. "Or it might be the shortest-lived promotion in Worldview history."

The sneer turned to a pitiful smile. The pity was directed at me with everything he had in him. Without the security men, his face would have already been obliterated. He sat on the edge of the table, looking sideways at me.

"Young man," he changed directions, "do you know how we operate at the ten-thousand-foot level? We buy and trade land. Pay land developers on the front and the back end. We put up fifteen thousand square foot processing facilities, usually within a mile or so of that land. We do it all over the globe. We grow the raw material for our plant-based foods and then we process them nearby. Then, our world-class marketers make sure we change people's eating habits. Thinking habits, too. We're fully integrated, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, I'm quite familiar," I tried a smirk of my own just to see how he'd respond. "I'm not sure what that has to do with my wife or Belize."

"Oh, we're getting there, my boy," his demeanor changed again--the executive straight face. "I'm sure you're aware as a member of our IT department but we also own and move people. Take the Spokane office, for example. We've owned the city leaders there for eight years. When we need permits rushed through or we have an issue with the Native Americans, we have people for that.

"Now, forty minutes east, those fucking redneck cowboy conservatives in North Idaho, well, they've been a thorn for many years. This past year, we moved some of our best people to the largest cities there. They've been elected to city and county office at great expense to Worldview, I might add. It's the same story across the western US. The merger with McMillin isn't only going to increase our portfolio by another one point four million acres, it will provide us with some much-needed muscle when these ranchers and Indians try to sabotage our efforts... mercenary muscle."

"Is there a point Mortimer?" I spat indignantly.

"Of course," he said. "Indulge me. We move people from South and Central America., from Africa and the Middle East. Good cheap labor. Billions in profit. More resorts and playgrounds for the fortunate like me, all across the wild frontier. That's our future. We own the majority vote in Congress. Sometimes, we even own the White House. That's Worldview, my boy."

I didn't understand his direction. "So, you're telling me all this why? Are you offering me a job? Some warped promotion to get me into the fold so I'll look the other way while Powers is screwing my wife?"

Biggs laughed again. He'd had some amount of practice with this speech. "Heaven's no! "Mr. Weston, by the time your wife returns you'll be unemployed. That will happen Monday morning."

I just looked at him, stupidly. "We may buy important people but not people like you, Mr. Weston. Let me explain it in terms you can understand.

"Katie will work for and accompany Mr. Powers for a period of two or so years. She's getting a thirty-eight percent pay increase. After that period, she will be released from Power's employ and given another raise and promotion, which should get her close to two hundred grand per year. Then, the two of you will be able to start that family you've been planning. The best part is she will continue to make nearly a quarter million with bonuses until your youngest enters the third grade. She'll need to work remotely for ten or so hours per week. Your family will be set up very nicely.

"Of course, you'll have to comply with your wife sexually gratifying Jack Powers during that time. She's perfect for the job and we reward perfection. In a way, our research on you tells us that you're the kind of man who can play along, who's able to see the big picture. Mr. Weston, you don't want to prove our research wrong."

"Is that a threat, you fat prick?" I couldn't hold back. I came straight out of my chair and Mortimer didn't flinch. He just looked over my shoulder. Remembering who he was looking at made me hesitate just a moment too long. I quickly found myself in a neck-crunching headlock. I was carried like that right back to my seat and dropped hard.

"There you go, my boy!" Biggs said excitedly. "Show some bravado and aggression. Fight for your woman!"

He came around the table to get closer. "Right now, your personnel file shows a very different man from yesterday. You've been an HR nightmare, mostly to do with your jealousy surrounding your wife's success. You've been acting like she's sleeping her way to the top, making baseless accusations. There's a full psychological work-up in there, from the licensed psychologist we sent you to, on our dime. You are bipolar with psychotic and possessive tendencies. Because the entirety of management knows of your... troubles, we were on our guard about Katie's promotion tonight. That's why I pulled you away. That's why we're here now. You've officially become a risk too high to keep employed."

He leaned closer as the men held me. "Listen to me, you little shit. The people I associate with own some country's entire governments. I spend vacations with my wife, sipping tea with some of the world's most influential people. I made Mitt Romney a two handicap on the golf course. I could end your ass, here and now, and not one other human would ever care that you even existed - orphan."