“Good morning, TC.”
“Morning, RH.”
TC, sitting awkwardly on the counter in the men’s room on the seventh floor of the Blammo Building, had just taken out a cigarette. “Got a light?” RH asked, rolling one of his own. The two puffed eagerly for several seconds.
TC smiled. “This is all rather silly, don’t you think?” he asked.
“What?” RH responded, filling his lungs with a long drag.
“Sneaking off to the bathroom to have a smoke,” TC said. “I mean, teenagers are supposed to do this sort of thing, not successful stock brokers and accountants.”
“What choice do we have?” RH sighed. “Now that they’ve banned smoking in the office, we have to find another place where we can indulge ourselves. Besides, you shouldn’t think of this as an inconvenience – think of it as a new business opportunity…”
“A new business opportunity? In what way?”
“Haven’t you heard of power smoking?”
“No.”
“Well -” Just then, BG, the head of the firm, entered. With a nod to his two inferiors, BG took up a position on a wall next to the stalls, undid a button on his constricting vest and lit up a fat Cuban cigar. “Watch this…” RH commanded TC.
RH walked up to BG and, leaning forward, stated, “I’ve found what I think may be discrepancies in the Outlandish Portfolio, BG. If you have a free moment this afternoon, would you please look it over and tell me what you think?”
BG, also leaning forward, responded, “Certainly. Oh, and, what are the odds of collecting the outstanding balance on the Murgatroyd, Evans Thu Account?”
RH took a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. “Difficult to say, I’m afraid. Murgatroyd is vacationing in Jamaica…no telling when he’ll be back. That is, if he’s coming back. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Very good, then,” BG straightened up, indicating that the discussion was at an end. RH returned to TC.
“See how it works?” he asked.
“Why were you leaning over like that?” TC responded. “I thought for sure one of you was going to fall over!”
“That’s the power smoking position,” RH explained. “Assuming the position is a way of intimidating underlings or showing superiors that you have the backbone to stand up to them. In the right circumstances, it can indicate a great interest in what the person you’re talking to is saying. On the other hand, if you don’t care what the other person is saying, assuming the position makes it easier to blow smoke in his face.”
“Wow,” marveled TC. “And, I always thought that I could go to the bathroom to get away from business for a while!”
“Got time for another?”
“Don’t mind if I do, thanks.”
XQ stuck his head in the door. “Anybody in here mind if we hold a smokonference?” he asked. TC and RH looked at each other and shook their heads. BG ignored him.
A half dozen executives filed into the bathroom. Within moments, the air was thick with business babble and grey-blue smoke.
“Getting kind of crowded, isn’t it?” RH asked.
“Yeah,” TC answered, stifling a cough. “Pretty raunchy, too. You think we could make money renting this bathroom out to politicians?”
“Naah,” RH stated. “If they can’t get their own smoke filled room, what good are they?”
LN opened the door and gagged. “What the hell is going on in here?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Smokonference,” XQ told him.
“This place is disgusting!” LN moaned. “How can you stand it?”
“It’s one of those sacrifices we’re prepared to make in order to get ahead, I guess,” RH, a soupcon of irony in his voice, replied.
“But, what if somebody has to go to the bathroom?” LN insisted.
XQ was shocked. “During business hours?” he asked.
LN stuck out his chin defiantly. “I have to go to the bathroom!” he indignantly informed the assembled group.
“Try the next floor down,” RH advised.