My Story
The commuter train flew down the tracks along the river. The beautiful scenic Alps rose majestically to his left, letting his window play peek-a-boo with the sun with every valley and peak they passed. The business class seats on high speed European trains were wonderful, spacious, and roomy. A much better way to travel than those airlines in the US where you were cramped, had to turn off all your electronic devices for long periods, no cell phones, and even Internet connectivity was not available on all flights. But this wasn't one of them. This was a connecting commuter train, cramped seats like those American airlines, but at least it would get him to one of those high speed trains so he could complete his trip in better luxury.
As the train took a long curve Mario sipped his coffee which he had to cradle between his thighs, and typed away an email on his laptop. The Swiss Banking Consortium UBS was demanding his fourth quarter figures before releasing the loan he had applied for. Somewhere back at his office in Milan some useless CFO couldn't do his job, and Mario had to massage some bent egos and reassure them that as soon as he got to his destination in about two hours, he would have those figures for them pronto. Seconds after he hit the Send button a reply came back thanking them. Wow, they were sitting on the edge of their keyboards weren't they? But, he chided himself, it's the Economy stupid. Everyone is kind of jumpy lately. Loans were no longer made on good faith, but solid economic indicators.
His cell phone chimed and looking at the screen it was Lucia back from the office. "Ciao Lucia," he answered. "What's up my love?"
"The auditors are here. They demand to meet with you. They say unless they get to see the central ledger for 2009, they are going to file a negative report, as early as tomorrow."
"Oh, they're in the big safe behind my desk Lucia. The combination is 69-69-69-96. The last one I did just to try something a little different just for you my love."
"Mario," a distraught voice replied, "what are you ranting about? There's no safe behind your desk."
"Ah, the good old days," he chuckled, "when the books were in a safe. No, the central financial reports are in the Oracle Financials database. Tell them I'll be there in two hours. No, say one hour. Then I'll call them and tell them I'm stuck in traffic. They know how bad traffic is in Milan. I'm not telling you the password to the database because you'll go and make yourself another five billion dollar loan like last time."
"Ha ha, Mario. Very funny. This is serious. Just get your silly little passworded tush in here. They release a negative report and our stock prices will fall faster than your pants did on our last date."
"Lucia, Lucia, the 96 was just for you. I wanted to give you a chance to be on top for once. Doesn't that prove my love for you?"
"Mario, this is not a secure line, and if my husband heard you, he would kill you."
"Oh sure, he's listening in right now. I think he's investigating his own secretary right now, and not the secret combination we use."
"Bye Mario, and get your 6 in here pronto."
"Bye my little 9, smoochie smoochie, kissie, kissie, Lucia. Hold off the Vandals."
Sigh, those damn auditors never had any patience. While he had been talking, his cell phone had beeped a text message. He was now able to bring it down from his ear and read it. He hated those bluetooth devices. They made one look like a robot. This message wasn't particularly pleasant either.
General Electric wants to talk to you. Want reassurance we're in on the new engine design protocols. Need you to give thumbs up or going to Northrup Grumman.
Sigh again. Those damn Americans were so impatient. Hell, his company's entire existence was based on this contract to develop the next generation of Predator engine designs. His technical staff had spent the entire year refining these designs to up the horse power and increase the fuel mileage. Both impossible tasks but no one had told him it was impossible until after his R&D team had accomplished the task.
But the Americans wouldn't believe it until he showed them the plans, and he wouldn't show them the plans until they signed a preliminary agreement to use his design, which means buy it, and they wouldn't buy it unless they were certain the concept would work, and there was no way to convince them the concept would certainly work unless he met them face to face and charmed their pants off as well. Sigh, salesmanship was such a fine art of walking the high wire.
He texted back that he would call them when he got to the office in two hours and arrange a technical walk-through. Tell them this was better than sliced bread. Why Americans loved sliced bread he couldn't understand, tearing off a piece of bread from a loaf was part of the joy of eating bread. But they loved that strange cotton candy bread they baked. Go figure.
Geez, he had so many things to do when he got to the office in two hours. There was no panic, but everything was riding on his shoulders. He hoped he could juggle it all.
Suddenly the train slammed on its emergency breaks. Mario just groaned. Now what, cows on the track? He looked out the window and didn't like what he saw.
***
"Italian prosecutors are investigating whether water from an irrigation system could have caused a landslide that derailed a train, killing nine people."
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