The Fast Rising Billionaire

A Look At The Notice

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Christopher looked around. It was early, and smoking publicly was frowned upon, but he had had quite a day, and dealing with all of the day's happenings sober was more than he could do.

Exhaling the cloud of smoke, he hung up the call and decided on what to do next in order to make the ultimatum possible. His next stop was the corporate headquarters downtown. 

One of the largest companies in San Clemente, it was the best place for him to begin to attempt to meet his goal. 

It was one of his most frequented places, especially since he had been frequenting them for months, responsible for distributing flyers to their offices. 

Before going into the building, he smoothed down his clothes, and looked at himself in the mirror, making sure that none of the stress he felt was evident on his face. 

Upon getting down from his car, he walked into the reception area and went to meet the receptionists, a saccharine set smile on his face. They had always given him a hard time, and he had found that at least smiling disarmed them. 

Their smiling dispositions fell away as he got there, and they laughed. “Listen sir, you are not welcome in our offices. As at the last time you set foot here, we had not decided on what to do just yet, but we have a notice out for you.” 

Pointing behind them, they showed him a black and white photograph of himself, pinned to the green surface, with a large red font calling him a troublemaker. 

“You really have some nerve coming here over and over again,” said one of them, her condescension evident in her gaze. 

“Are you slow? You are not allowed here anymore. Take a look at the notice,” she paused. “Or are you illiterate? I can read it out to you.” 

Taken aback, Christopher raised an eyebrow. What a smear campaign! he thought. What would either of them gain from tarnishing his name? He had never done anything to either of them, and if he fed into the anger he was feeling just then, he would be the very troublemaker he had been labeled as on the noticeboard. 

Even before it was public knowledge that he was a failure as a salesperson, these receptionists had been cruel to him, even when he had done nothing but give them the respect he gave every single person.

Ignoring them, he made his way to the third receptionist, “I would like to meet with Mr. Davies, the company's president.”

A balding middle-aged man, Mr. Davies's assistant stepped forward, immediately recognizing Christopher. “Christopher! Is that you?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “What are you doing here? I know you.. You're the flier boy, aren't you? You work on the other side of town for the Philly group, don't you? What are you doing here? You're not trying to sell your own property, right?” he laughed at his own joke, cheeks puffing up. 

Taking this as a cue, the women at the desk joined in, mocking him. “Maybe you are here to sell your own property. If you had any, surely it would be on the smaller side. Very small,” sneered the receptionist, a wicked smile on her face. 

It was obvious to all that she was making mockery at his financial status from the way she stared him down, eyes condescendingly inching up and down his skin and outfit. 

Ignoring the rude receptionist, Christopher took a deep breath in and then exhaled, revealing his true intent. “Good morning, sir. I am not here to sell one property to you, but instead I want to sell you one hundred of them. Please take me to your boss. I have business with him, he should be expecting me.” 

When they ignored him and burst into laughter, Christopher took out his phone and placed a call to Mr. Davies, making eye contact with his assistant. “Good morning, Mr. Davies. Please make yourself available for a meeting in the next three minutes." 

Smiling, he hung up the call and watched the three people in front of him stand with their mouths agape. Unable to speak, they laughed, almost choking on the air. 

“Surely, he is not that foolish,” laughed Mr. Davies's assistant, nodding at the receptionist.

“He just might be,” laughed one of the receptionists, “he thinks he can bluff his way into seeing Mr. Davies. Some of work here and see him only once a day, when he resumed for the day!” 

“And he is nothing but a flier boy,” laughed the second receptionist, developing hiccups from her laugh.  

Piping up just then, the assistant added sarcastically, “maybe if you want to sell the boss a hundred properties, you should be realistic. Looking like you do, you would never make it. In fact, if you manage to succeed at selling the boss a hundred properties, we will all go on our knees and lick your shoes in everyone's presence.”

Laughing again, the first receptionist said, “he will not even get the chance. I am getting sick ad tired of this nuisance's presence in the office. I'm going to be calling security.” 

Unfazed, Christopher watched as she picked up the receiver and dialed the extension for the security room. Rushing in, the security guards came in, two pairs of them, waiting for identification of the threat. 

Nodding at Christopher, Mr. Davies's assistant said, “Remove this man, and take note of his face. He is not to be allowed to enter this building again.” 

Turning over to Christopher and recognizing him from the many posters that had been made in the building, the guards approached him, determined to ensure that he did not leave. 

“Look, I don't want any trouble. I'm just here to sell Mr. Davies some property.” 

“Not today, nuisance,” said one of them, referencing one of the names he had been called on the poster. Picking up his nightstick, he swung it at Christopher, and shifting away at the last second, Christopher left the impact of the baton to hit the top of the receptionist's desk, causing the glass to shatter. 

Impatiently, Mr. Davies's assistant waved his hand at Christopher dismissively. “Take him away. Or do I have to do your jobs for you again?”

Just as the guards placed their hands under Christopher's arms to lift him out of the room, a loud voice boomed out. “Stop! Unhand that man this instant!” he bellowed. 

Recognizing their boss's voice, the guards let go of Christopher's hand and sit him a blank stare. Walking out of his office, David Davies, the president of the company came out. 

“I have been in the shadows, silently watching the chaos that has been going on here, and this- this bunch of idiots might just be the reason why the company struggles to stay afloat sometimes. 

Do you have any idea who this man is?” he asked, looking around at them, waiting for a response. When it was evident that none of them had an idea who Christopher was, he hissed.

“You had better think, and think fast,” he frowned, tapping his feet impatiently.