Upon A Pale Horse

ELEVEN An Offer

Jeffrey’s first day back at the office was surreal, the everyday tedium punctuated by bouts of apathy that washed over him like emotional tsunamis. He found himself staring out his window for long stretches, doing nothing, as if transported elsewhere, and by the end of the work day he’d accomplished no more than fifty percent of what he’d set out to do.

As he was closing down his computer, an email from a headhunting firm hit his inbox, asking him to call one of their account executives as soon as possible about a unique opportunity. Jeffrey had never gotten one of those before, and his curiosity was piqued. He was relatively happy at his firm, but it never hurt to listen, and he found himself dialing the 800 number on his cell phone so it wouldn’t show up on the company bill.

A deep voice boomed from the phone when the call connected. “Roger Anton. Can I help you?”

“Yes, Roger. My name’s Jeffrey Rutherford. I got an email from your firm asking to contact you as soon as possible about an opportunity?”

“Jeffrey Rutherford. Hmm. Just a second. Let me check my files.” Roger rustled some papers on his end and then returned. “Ah, here it is. Yes, something’s come up, and you were identified as a perfect candidate for the position. Specialist in international asset strategies for corporations, some mergers and acquisition background, young, but suitably experienced…”

“If you don’t mind my asking, who’s the opening with?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential at this juncture, Mr. Rutherford. We would need to have an interview with you in order to divulge the details beyond generalities.”

“Well, thanks for thinking of me, but I’m not interested in jumping through a bunch of hoops only to discover that it’s someone I wouldn’t want a job with,” Jeffrey said. “I’m very happy with my present employer, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Yes, well, I can see your point. Perhaps I can share a few details with you that would sway your decision making. First, it would require relocation to the East Coast. Second, it would require signing confidentiality agreements over and above attorney-client privilege. And third, it would boast a substantial increase in pay over whatever you’re making now.”

“I don’t really have any interest in relocation.”

“Perhaps you could be persuaded.” He named a figure that was more than double Jeffrey’s current salary. “Bonuses have been running twenty to fifty percent of salary with this firm.”

Jeffrey quickly did the math. He sat up, his attention now fully focused on the headhunter.

“And your fee?”

“Paid by the client.”

Jeffrey digested that. “What’s the mechanism for interviewing? I can’t miss work. I recently had a death in the family and I’m already running behind.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. We can do this two ways — I can fly out and meet with you tomorrow after work, or you can fly to my office the following day, on Saturday, and be back in time for cocktails Sunday.”

“That’s aggressive.”

“They want the position filled by next week. You’re on a short list we culled by surveying our contacts. The firm is prepared to make a decision by the end of the weekend, and would like the new hire to start as soon as possible. Which brings up a delicate question — how much notice would you need to give your present employer?”

Jeffrey considered the question, his heart rate increasing as the discussion became more serious. “Probably two weeks. But I could see about cutting it shorter. As long as I offered some sort of a transition plan where I could offer guidance to the team, they might let me go sooner.”

“We have considerable sway, Mr. Rutherford. If you’re selected as the candidate, I’ll make a phone call. I know your senior partners very well. That likely wouldn’t be a deal killer.”

Jeffrey hesitated. “I think it would make more sense for me to fly out on Friday night or Saturday morning, so that if this proceeded to consummation, we could knock it out over the weekend. If you fly out here, I’d still need to meet the group you represent before they hired me, correct?” Jeffrey asked.

“True. Very well, then. I’ll make travel arrangements for you and email them. Figure on a very early flight on Saturday, which would put you here by two, and meeting with me by three. If all goes well, we can do a dinner meeting Saturday evening, and have you back in San Francisco by mid-day Sunday.”

Jeffrey thought about the proposition. That was insane money as a guaranteed salary, given his age and experience, and the bonus made it even better. His throat clenched as he imagined the increase — no more riding a bike to work and trying to nurse his ten-year-old Honda Accord along for a few more years. The car had been a gift from his mother and Keith when Jeffrey had passed the bar, but even then it had been three years old when they’d bought it, with forty thousand miles. Now, with a hundred and twenty, it was limping more than running.

He looked out at the skyline, the sun sinking below the tops of the neighboring buildings, and made a snap decision.

“Sounds like a plan. By the way, where’s the firm located?”

“I’m sorry. I thought I mentioned that. It’s in Washington, D.C.”