Legacy Rewritten

I have a folder in my left hand as I enter the conference room. I stop to survey the continental breakfast.

“Excuse me, could I get some hot water?”

A pudgy guy in a tailored dark-gray suit asks me this. The reason I know it’s tailored is because a suit jacket off the rack would never fit his awkward frame. I look at him for a few seconds, then survey the breakfast area again. The decision to offer breakfast was intentional to identify the whiners. I intentionally told the restaurant to minimize a few items, like the amount of hot water available and the creamer, along with only spoons for the fruit salad. I want to know how many are overly concerned about eating with the correct utensil versus adapting to the situation. I still have not addressed Mr. Pudgy.

“Are there any forks?”

That’s what I was waiting for. I turn to see who asked the question: the tall guy with dyed black hair who is eating his fruit salad with a spoon. Apparently, they must believe I’m the hired help. I don’t have on an apron or any attire to indicate I’m here to worry about breakfast. How do they know I’m not a vendor? Maybe because I’m blessed with color in my skin? If they wanted breakfast, they should have eaten at home like I did or like they probably do every other day. I look at him and a few others making requests. I wave them aside as I head to the front of the room.

“Bitch,” I hear in a low whisper.

I’ve asked my assistant to inconspicuously take pictures to capture me in the conference room. She also took pictures of everyone as they entered. I need to know my allies and my enemies. I don’t have problems with enemies as long as they know I’ll never do business with them and if they come for me, I will dissolve their business. Or I will have Zealand kill their client base with a competitor.

Jewels has headshots of all the individuals and matched them with their names prior to the meeting. I like to do my homework before meeting with anyone. Information is knowledge and if I want to keep a business viable and employees employed, I can’t be blindsided. I head to my assistant in the front corner. She has an elaborate desk setup that I guess also allows for pictures to be taken with hidden cameras. I whisper in her ear and she tells me the information I need. I then head to the front of the conference table. Someone had the gumption to put a binder and a portfolio at the head of the table. I never put anything past an ignorant white man.

“Mr. Danforth? Mr. Richard Danforth?” I ask calmly.

“Here. I’m here.” A white hand goes up in the back of the room. “Are we getting started?”

“Yes, it’s nine fifty-five a.m.” I check my watch. I always start on time. “Are these your items?” I point to the binder and portfolio at my place.

“Yeah.” He walks toward me.

Some are watching our interaction, while others are still talking among themselves as they find seats.

“Do you have plans to sit here?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

He winks at me. He has the audacity to wink at me. I let out a slow calming breath. If he says, “Little lady,” I’ll probably snap. I open my folder to find his information.

“You’re with Soaps and More. You’ve had a contract with the Rosen International hotels division for the past twelve years supplying small soaps, shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and other toiletries. Thirty-three percent of your revenue is from Rosen International and our affiliate companies.” I meet his eyes once again after reading my information on his company.

“Yes, little lady.” He puffs out his chest when he says it. He said, “Little lady,” and he didn’t think it was offensive.