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The Golden Boy, the novel

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The Golden Boy, a novel

Fiction Online Book, By Oliver William

Chapter 19  

Being Monday, in the mid morning, it was busy at the Senator’s office.  People were running around everywhere, as if they had their week’s duties lined out from their morning meetings and were now scrambling to get to their offices to get it all done.  There were people of all ages working there.  Some were very young looking, pimple faced kids.  I figured they were Pages, trainees for the future leaders of our country.  You could see they worked at dressing for the part, very conservative, slacks and jackets with white blouses for the girls, as well as sport jackets and white shirts with ties for boys that we saw.  Very flat double Windsor knots too!  I chuckled to myself.  Some of the boys had jeans and tennis shoes, making me think about the years it took me to gain that kind of confidence.  I figured they were not first year Pages, now gaining their level of confidence in what they were doing.  With all the highly publicized stories of Page abuse, it would make you think that would be a job that no one would want.  I guess in anything, the few stories we hear are a small part of the big picture, probably a great program for these aspiring young politicians to be, pure in thinking, there for all the right reasons of helping their country.  The grooming that goes into politics was a lifetime process for many.  For me, well, quite a different story.   

“Mr. Simms?”  “Yes, I am Golden Simms.”  She called out my name as she approached me, after I had given them my name at the receptionist desk upon arrival.  “Are you Ms. Reeder”, I asked?  “Yes, Mr. Simms.  How was your trip?  Uneventful I hope?”  “Any trip with my wife is eventful, in a good way of course”  “How nice”, she replied, as she broke into a smile from what seemingly was a very strict and staunch environment that she worked in.  It was like a human popped out from her starched face look.  I could see she had a Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde life too.  I wondered at that moment what she might be like in her home element, probably bright and cheery, and very casual.  I could see it was in her; as we continued our conversation.  “It will be a few minutes and Senator Noble will see you.  He asked about you this morning, to see if you were coming.  I told him I believed so and that you had the eleven o’clock.”  I figured he stacked appointments up for the days he was in the office, what I assumed was a politician’s life of meetings.  “I believe he is anxious to talk to you.  Take a seat for a few minutes and I will call you when he is ready.  As I looked around while waiting for the eleven o’clock hour I thought to myself, do I really want to do this?  

Ms. Reeder, Fran, approached me at the top of the hour on the dot.  “Mr. Noble will see you now.”  My heart took that heavy thump again that I get when life gets exciting.  Again life felt bigger than I.  What was going to happen in that room, and what did he want with me?  Was he going to be in approval, or was he going to slam me and send me down the road crying for messing with his highly important and strict political system I had stated I was entering. Was he about to tell me that I had no business being there, was frivolous and demeaning of the system in my efforts, and that I had no business running for the office of President of the United States? My lack of college degree was once again giving me those familiar moments of insecurity, not being good enough to be there.  That feeling returned that I had felt more often in the last few months of nervousness.  I was breaking out in a sweat, hands getting clammy, knowing I had to shake his hand when I met him.  Firm handshake, I thought.  This was second nature for me as I always thought a limp handshake was a sign of an untrained individual in the business world.  My father taught me that when I was very young.  No limp fish in this handshake, but definitely a wet one.  I couldn’t help that.  Again as we walked towards those big doors to his office I thought of Margie’s past words now waiting in the RV for me to get home, “Be careful what you say Goldie, think before you speak.”  Again those words rang out in my head.  I could not turn around to see what her response was this time.  I couldn’t try to read her eyes this time to see if I was doing the right thing.  I was on my own this time.  I had been on my own in my work life my entire career.  This was different.  Each comment, each meeting, critical junctures in this wild endeavor of ours.  Whatever he though, as important as it seemed to me, I was about to find out.  

Fran Reeder introduced us with the perfection of a true professional.  “Mr. Simms, I would like to introduce you to our Texas State Senator, the honorable Ben Noble, and proudly for the state of Texas the Senate Majority Leader for the United States of America . This is Mr. Golden Simms sir from Missouri , at your request.”  It was the longest and most thorough introduction I had ever heard.  It immediately added to the intimidation factor for sure, almost giving him the immediate upper hand in any subsequent statements of this negotiation, or meeting, whatever his intent.  He definitely had initial control of this meeting, taking it any direction he wanted.  I figured he did have an agenda with me.  I just did not know what it was.  It was then, I shook his hand.  He was a large man, must have been 6 foot 6, towering over most all individuals, definitely me.  His mere presence was statute in appearance.  He had a beautiful suit on, tailored to perfection, and cologne that was pretty strong.  His handshake was indeed firm as mine usually is, but closed his hand a little early so that I did not get full entry for a handshake grip.  He squeezed and smashed my fingers together so that I couldn’t get any grip.  I knew this trick to enter a handshake with your hand partially closed so that would happen.  It kept any firm handshake from happening from your negotiating opponent, and a negotiating trick well played.  He squeezed my hand with his large hand, dry as a bone I noted, and crushed my fingers together.  His other hand reached up and grabbed my forearm.  He held my forearm through this agonizing moment as if to prevent any retraction through this handshake, also a technique for a sense of affection to some, and a sense of control to others.  It all worked.  He was good.  It was a powerful moment for a simple handshake and he played it like a pro.  Politicians meet and greet constantly and use all the techniques to convey what they want.  This guy had it down to a tee.  This was definitely a meeting of negotiation, not a mere welcome and thanks for your vote.  That handshake would have been all very similar, but with other obvious and gentle attributes.  He held it there for a moment as to remind me that I was a subordinate, and with piercing eye contact, he finally spoke with his deep voice.

The Golden Boy, a novel - Page 20

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