New Math

“The women are coming.” He leaned in discreetly and whispered this seemingly pleasant warning for my ears only. His two very robust secretaries were giggling. I thought maybe at me. I waited for the punch line in somber silence. What choice did I have?

Here was a man holding my social and financial well being in his tight little fist. A big, fat ballpoint - like the kind they give you after 25 solid years of company service – the universal symbol for contract negotiation – poised agonizingly over the line that was dotted. A hair away from funding a deal – this amazing deal that I had sniffed out on my own – a multi-media entertainment deal worth roughly 10 million dollars. (1 million of which was mine for securing the match) If he would just write his name…

It’s always difficult to concentrate on much else when you’re on the verge of such a rich reward. About the only thing in the world that might be considered the least bit distracting is probably women. And this was a wise man before me. Worth about 970 million. I thought…he wants to tell me something about women…so be it. I will be the patient grasshopper. There could even be some value in this very painful pause he was making me endure. The anticipation could be good for my character. I waited. Suspended. My mind running like a mad man.

The women are coming…the women are coming…okay…got that…where are they? Are they stashed in a closet somewhere? In a cab down the street? Some special gift to commemorate our business partnership? The women are coming?! What next?! For God’s sake, man…spit it out!

Between the deal itself and the thought of the women coming, the tension was palpable. I wiped a single bead of sweat from my upper lip as he opened his mouth, ever so slightly, and prepared to speak again: “And when they come…”

Yes?! Yes?!

“Don’t take the ten. Take the one, and treat her like the ten.”

What the hell? I must confess, for a minute, my mind became fixated on the mention of the ten. Ten women? Coming for me? I like the way this guy does business. Immediately following this cryptic challenge, it was as if time sped up. He signed off on the deal. Signature. Notary. Copies. Contracts to folders. Folders to portfolios. Follow up handshakes. All the while my mind was banging out sexy chords from some Motley Crue song. I kept diverting my eyes. I couldn’t look anyone in the face. I didn’t want to miss the official entrance of the women. But we were quickly down to the final handshakes. Well wishes. Corporate pleasantries. And the two robust secretaries were whisking me quickly away. I could not interfere with the next scheduled meeting – where the man who had just given me 1 million dollars was set to meet with Jamie Foxx, Forest Whitaker, and Denzel Washington. (Which, no disrespect, I love those guys. Seen all of their films, but…where were these women?)

In the cab, I rode, in disappointment, back to my hotel. I was rich beyond my wildest dreams, but yet, something was missing. Guess you’ve figured out what. But then…it hit me. The mystery revealed as the cabbie pulled up to the Plaza’s lobby: THEY’RE HERE! At the hotel. Probably waiting for me in my room. In big fluffy robes and various body lotions. Ingenious. I should definitely spend more time in L.A.

Then…the big let down. I think I must have checked the Jacuzzi about 5 times. No women. I couldn’t believe it. A completely empty suite. Not at all living up to its maximum potential.

I watched pay-per-view and emptied the contents of the mini-bar until a great slumber overtook me. I had neglected to secure a wakeup call for the next morning, and barely made my plane at LAX. Yesterday’s troubling events wore on me as I sat in first class for the first time in my life. I should have been ecstatic, but I felt like shit. I couldn’t enjoy a thing. Not even my fresh million. I tried to tell the guy next to me about my great windfall, but he wasn’t impressed. Seemed he was the CEO of Starbucks International or something. This life was really beginning to suck.

I tried to go over the mogul’s words in my head: The women are coming. Treat the one like the ten. Despite my lengthy hibernation the night before, I was exhausted. And these words were bringing me no comfort. I reclined my luxury airline chair in preparation for more rest of the wicked. My eyes never even shuttered. She knelt by me. That quiet, peaceful, soothingly sweet voice: “Sir, I just thought you might want a fresh cup of coffee. I also brought you a blanket and an extra-soft pillow, in case you wanted to take a nap. And I want you to know that if you need anything…anything at all…you just ring me. My name is Chantel.” She didn’t just pass off these items. She wasn’t some machine. She put them in my hands. The coffee. The blanket. The extra-soft pillow. She took her time with me. Each one with warmth. And, I believed, with love.

I looked into her soft green eyes as she leaned in further to secure the pillow behind my neck, and I realized something. My little epiphany, you could say. This lady…this kind, beautiful lady works a thankless job – day after day – miles up in the sky. Who’s going to treat her right? Who? Certainly not this cocky, arrogant bastard from Starbucks. I clutched her hand firmly, before she could remove it. I looked at her, and I spoke: “You know what Chantel…you are a precious child. You are appreciated and loved, and I thank you today. I thank you and commend you for adjusting my pillow.”

She looked scared. She quickly regained control of her hand and scurried over to her other little flight attendant friends. She spoke in very quickened and excited tones and they were looking in my direction. They all seemed very scared, but I knew in my heart – right then – I had made a difference in that young lady’s life. And the mogul’s mysterious challenge finally became clear: The women may indeed be coming, but right now, Chantel was the one.