real world update, part ten

The corporate calvary my father, The Bastard, sent to my aid has arrived. They showed up on my doorstep last night.

Last night as I was about to go to bed I hear a knock on my door.

I open the door slowly and see two tired looking guys in wrinkled suits standing there with briefcases and overnight bags slung over their shoulders. They have almost identical red ties and both have little golden bolt pins of the company logo on their lapels.

Sometimes my father, the Bastard, really is a prick. Is this his idea of a joke?

These are the allegedly top notch guys my father, The Bastard, sent to help me in my current predicament? Cripes man, is he just yankin' my chain?

Unfortunately the men need no introduction. I've known them both for years. I can't say I'm happy to see them. They are not exactly knights in shining armor.

One of the guys is Jacob Adelstein. They say he's family, but I'm not sure how. I think he's like a cousin or something on my mom's side of the family. He's around my age, I think a few years younger. I've seen him hanging out at large family events for years. He might be family, but he's not close enough to get a piece of the family pie. Having not being close enough to be given a piece of the pie he's trying to earn it by working for Barrington Industries. He's one of the herd of business lawyers who works on contracts for the company.

Don't go thinkin' I know all that because I care or know or even know that much about him or the family business. My only concern for the family business is that the monthly checks keep coming. As for knowing about him, well. . .

He's the kind of guy you always try to avoid, but somehow Jacob always found a way to slither up to me at family gatherings and make casual chit-chat. And by chit-chat I mean him blathering on while I politely smile and nod until I can find a socially polite way to walk away. His hair and demeanor are dark and slick and his shoes are as polished as his personality. He's an ingratiating little weasel, generally over eager to suck-up to me. My Lord, is he ever annoying.

And he's standing at my front door.

The other guy is Don Richardson. I've known him since I was a kid because he works for my father, The Bastard. He was usually the guy that answered when I tried to call my dad growing up. In a weird way that makes him almost more of a father. He's a tax attorney by trade. He exploited some loophole in business tax law during the 1970's that saved The Company millions and millions. As a reward, my father, The Bastard, promoted him to his personal staff as one of his chief assistants. As near as I can tell he hasn't done dick since.

I always got the impression that he was so surprised by his original success he was too scared to move lest he screw things up. Plus he's spent the better part of the past thirty years working directly under my father, The Bastard. The experience has left him as submissive and loyal as a beaten old dog. I would guess he's probably somewhere in his mid 50's, although the stress of spending his prime years working for my father, The Bastard, makes him look like an older man. I hear he's divorced. He should have retired years ago but they say he's got another 10 or so years of child support to cover.

These are the guys that are here to save me?

Great, fucking great.

I'm doomed.