including the paperwork and the urn.”
“Paperwork? I thought we got to leave that behind.”
“Death certificates. Believe me—they get you any which way they can.” He chuckles. “Death may come, but taxes never die. On the other hand, the dead never age.”
His friend chuckles. “You’re too much. What about a service?”
Before I can hear his response I am interrupted by the white-hat-headed deli guy. “What will it be young lady?”
“Oh, um, one quart of matzo ball soup, three pieces of noodle kugel and a lemonade to go, please,” I reply, then quickly turn back, hoping to catch the rest of the conversation.
“Maddy! Maddy Banks!”
I look over and see Jonny Bright across the room, the venture capitalist whom I had approached with Artists International. He’s still as skinny, taut and wired as when I met him six months ago. He smiles at me, but something feels funny. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He rapidly motions for me to come over to where he’s sitting with a few good-looking guys.
I oblige. “Hi, Jonny.”
“How are you?” he exclaims, appearing to be genuinely happy to see me. “Everyone, this is Maddy Banks, entrepreneur on the rise. Maddy, these are some of my buddies from the firm, Bobby Garelik and Victor Winston. Maddy’s always got home-run ideas. She’s quite the efficient one.” Victor politely nods hello, while Bobby glances up between inhaling bites.
“Nice to meet you both,” I say. “I’m not just efficient, I’m also effective,” I add with a grin.
“Yeah, right. What’s the difference?” asks Jonny as a platitude, while cocking his mouth to load it with slices of brisket.
“Efficiency is about doing the thing right, effectiveness is about doing the right thing, ” interjects Victor, the only one eating at a natural pace. Everything about him seems methodical and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He adds,“It’s a pleasure meeting you, too. Did you study with Peter Drucker?”
“I couldn’t afford to, but I’ve read every one of his books.”
Victor casually glances at my hands.
“What about his credo,” Victor asks, “does it apply to all aspects of your life?”
“Professional for now. My mission statement is to get one business off the ground, then roll out the plan for my personal pursuits.”
“Interesting strategy,” Victor says.
“Hey, Mad. I saw what happened with your last endeavor. I’m really sorry about that art thing. You were so on the money, too,” says Jonny.
“Yeah, well, timing,” I utter. It’s all I can say without getting choked up.
“So when are you coming to pitch us some more of your ideas?” Jonny asks.
“Not for a while. I’m in stealth mode right now.”
“What sector are you in?” he asks, a little too eager and keen for my taste.
There’s a slight shift in his energy and I feel myself clam up in defense of something, but I’m not sure what. “Well, I’d rather not say at this time. I’m still in an embryonic position.”
“Wise move,” pipes in Bobby. “The girl certainly knows how to play the intrigue card,” he tosses out, unaware of the dollops of ketchup and mustard around his mouth.
Victor looks me over with a perspicacious glance and then quietly adds, “Something tells me this woman’s not playing at all.”
I look back at him, the weight of his words capturing my attention. The replacement of “girl” with “woman” is no accident. And there is, no doubt, a high dose of integrity attached to what he says, far surpassing the verbiage from his colleagues. “Well, when you hit your trimester, be sure to give me a call,” instructs Jonny. “I want first dibs on delivery. Promise me, Maddy.”
“Okay, I promise.” Then I pop the big question, because the serendipity of ideas crossing camps is too high for me to ignore. “Hey, Jonny, you don’t happen to know Derek Rogers, do you?”
He covers a sudden cough and wipes his hands clean on his
“Paperwork? I thought we got to leave that behind.”
“Death certificates. Believe me—they get you any which way they can.” He chuckles. “Death may come, but taxes never die. On the other hand, the dead never age.”
His friend chuckles. “You’re too much. What about a service?”
Before I can hear his response I am interrupted by the white-hat-headed deli guy. “What will it be young lady?”
“Oh, um, one quart of matzo ball soup, three pieces of noodle kugel and a lemonade to go, please,” I reply, then quickly turn back, hoping to catch the rest of the conversation.
“Maddy! Maddy Banks!”
I look over and see Jonny Bright across the room, the venture capitalist whom I had approached with Artists International. He’s still as skinny, taut and wired as when I met him six months ago. He smiles at me, but something feels funny. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He rapidly motions for me to come over to where he’s sitting with a few good-looking guys.
I oblige. “Hi, Jonny.”
“How are you?” he exclaims, appearing to be genuinely happy to see me. “Everyone, this is Maddy Banks, entrepreneur on the rise. Maddy, these are some of my buddies from the firm, Bobby Garelik and Victor Winston. Maddy’s always got home-run ideas. She’s quite the efficient one.” Victor politely nods hello, while Bobby glances up between inhaling bites.
“Nice to meet you both,” I say. “I’m not just efficient, I’m also effective,” I add with a grin.
“Yeah, right. What’s the difference?” asks Jonny as a platitude, while cocking his mouth to load it with slices of brisket.
“Efficiency is about doing the thing right, effectiveness is about doing the right thing, ” interjects Victor, the only one eating at a natural pace. Everything about him seems methodical and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. He adds,“It’s a pleasure meeting you, too. Did you study with Peter Drucker?”
“I couldn’t afford to, but I’ve read every one of his books.”
Victor casually glances at my hands.
“What about his credo,” Victor asks, “does it apply to all aspects of your life?”
“Professional for now. My mission statement is to get one business off the ground, then roll out the plan for my personal pursuits.”
“Interesting strategy,” Victor says.
“Hey, Mad. I saw what happened with your last endeavor. I’m really sorry about that art thing. You were so on the money, too,” says Jonny.
“Yeah, well, timing,” I utter. It’s all I can say without getting choked up.
“So when are you coming to pitch us some more of your ideas?” Jonny asks.
“Not for a while. I’m in stealth mode right now.”
“What sector are you in?” he asks, a little too eager and keen for my taste.
There’s a slight shift in his energy and I feel myself clam up in defense of something, but I’m not sure what. “Well, I’d rather not say at this time. I’m still in an embryonic position.”
“Wise move,” pipes in Bobby. “The girl certainly knows how to play the intrigue card,” he tosses out, unaware of the dollops of ketchup and mustard around his mouth.
Victor looks me over with a perspicacious glance and then quietly adds, “Something tells me this woman’s not playing at all.”
I look back at him, the weight of his words capturing my attention. The replacement of “girl” with “woman” is no accident. And there is, no doubt, a high dose of integrity attached to what he says, far surpassing the verbiage from his colleagues. “Well, when you hit your trimester, be sure to give me a call,” instructs Jonny. “I want first dibs on delivery. Promise me, Maddy.”
“Okay, I promise.” Then I pop the big question, because the serendipity of ideas crossing camps is too high for me to ignore. “Hey, Jonny, you don’t happen to know Derek Rogers, do you?”
He covers a sudden cough and wipes his hands clean on his
Similar Books
