The Green Eyeshade

The hallway to McLaskey and Turner Financial on the Wilmington, Delaware Stock Exchange (WiSE), bustled with people. The shuffle of papers made a whooshing sound.

“1979 already?” Leroy Turner asked as he poured some whiskey into his partner’s coffee mug.

“Yes, it is,” Delton McLaskey said, flipping his calendar to the date, January 4.

“I’ve got something for you,” Turner said. He pulled a visor from the waistband in the back of his pants. McLaskey grinned and chuckled.

“You’ve got the shade!”

“Think of it as a late Christmas gift. Technically, we’re on the tenth day of the holiday anyway,” Turner said.

“Where the hell did you get this goddamn thing?”

“It was my father’s. He worked his way up from janitor in the bowels of this building, to the head of the accounting firm at Hedley Business Systems. That’s the green eyeshade he wore for twenty years. He retired, got a pension. That goddamn thing supported a wife, two sons, and a daughter.”

“You’re giving it to me? Oh, no I couldn’t possibly take it!”

“Sure you can. I bequeath it to you,” Turner insisted.

“Now, you’re getting all fancy on me. Why are you doing this, Leroy?”

“No particular reason. I just thought you should have it. It meant something to me, now I’m giving it to you.”

“You want something,” McLaskey replied, eyeing his partner suspiciously.

Turner relented. “I do. I want to renegotiate my contract. I want more shares.”

McLaskey smirked. “You know that shares are proportional. You should keep that eyeshade just in case you’re ousted as a partner, which is very likely. Happy New Year.”

Turner’s hands glued to the sides of his head. He arose from his seat. “My name is on the side of this wall. I didn’t start it, you did. I get that, but I’ve been putting in work ever since. I've been pulling my weight for this firm. You’ve always been the show horse.” Turner soon paced the room, fuming like some steer stepping up for a slaughter.

McLaskey now pivoted in his chair and brought his fists up, almost in a fighting stance while still seated.

“Leroy, I don’t mean to put a damper on the festivities, but you have been hemorrhaging dollars for the last seven quarters.”

Turner suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth, acidic, like rancid orange juice. He held the eyeshade in his left hand. He stopped pacing and looked McLaskey directly into his eyes.

“I’m going to sue you for breach of contract, take my clients, and start my own firm.”

“I know that you’re frustrated. You don’t have to show it with bluster. What we do is trade in everything from fiber optics to pantyhose companies. You know that the contract is legal and binding. I don’t want this to be voted on as much as you don’t.”

“You say that now, but do you really want to go up against me, knowing all I know, what I’ve seen?”

“You’re worth eighty million dollars. You have a corner office in one of the largest financial firms in the state. Hell, the country. That’s not bad for a retired accountant’s son. Realize how good you have it. I appreciate your greed, but relax. There should be more champagne from the party. Take some sips, sir.”

Leroy sighed. “I hate it had to come to this. I’ll be meeting with my lawyers to arrange the cash out. You leave me no choice.”

“Do what you must. Remember, though, you will be going up against a formidable foe. You should know that you will be faced with a non-compete clause to do business in the tristate. I’d rather keep you on, honestly. Give yourself twenty four hours. Otherwise, there will be a battle.”

Turner chuckled. He shook his head. “Okay. If it’s war then let it happen.” He dropped the eyeshade on the end of MCLaskey’s desk and walked out. McLaskey took up the green eyeshade and placed it on the out box section of his desk and returned to signing checks.