obviously approving, Then he put his hands behind his head and leaned back. He gave every appearance of being expansive, gestured benevolently and spoke at some length, with genial simpers here and there and even, in conclusion, a wink. Finally he stood up and put his outstretched hand across the desk.
Phipps really had no option but to accept it and return the warmth of the grasp. He was willing to consider that he had misjudged Fallon in the past: after all, the man was always under unbearable pressure from his own superiors. Though Nebling had been a nice guy today, it was unrealistic to assume he had gotten where he was by kindness. Surely he had been at least as rough on Fallon as the latter had been on Phipps. Maybe Fallon was a better fellow than could be expected. Phipps found his own apparent success, in a situation that could have been calamitous, made him more generous to his fellow man.
He returned to his own desk, where a stuffed In-basket awaited him. One by one, he found the documents therein to be as undecipherable as the oral language that he had been hearing all day and saw that he had no choice but to dispose of them in the same cavalier fashion as he had dealt with the spoken word. Some papers he initialed forthwith and tossed into the Out-basket. Others that bore densely printed texts he simply slipped into the waste-can, but anything showing a graph was first defaced with a felt-tipped pen and anything with numbers he crushed and balled before discarding.
Occasionally such work was interrupted by the buzzing of the telephone. As he had no idea of what the caller said, Phipps showed ever less patience with each, until finally his response was simply to lift the receiver, say, “You’re talking absolute crap,” and hang up.
The strain of so performing, however, had begun to tell on him by lunch time, and though John C. Nebling had sent for him to come eat in the corporate dining room—an invitation he understood only after Barbara had led him there—he had no anticipatory appetite.
His mood changed when he recognized some other guests who had arrived before him: among them, the governor of the state, the mayor of the city, and a number of the best-known local businessmen, including several to attain celebrity across the nation if not the world. Phipps was no longer depressed. He was now terrified.
But the governor, a large silver-maned man with an outsized set of sparkling teeth, seized Phipps’s hand with both of his own and pumped it, then acted as his ambassador to the others, each of whom naturally addressed him in gibberish, but it was obviously benign.
The dining room, which he had never seen before except in photographs, was quite a splendid, chandeliered place and large enough to seat several hundred persons. He found himself at the long head table, on a dais at a right angle to the tables of the other guests. He was flanked by the governor and the mayor. Across the wall behind him was stretched a huge white banner displaying a legend in blue letters. He could make no sense of the words thereby formed, but in a moment he had remembered seeing a recent report on TV news to the effect that as one phase of the strenuous effort currently being made to dissuade businesses from leaving city and state, an Outstanding Executive of the Month would be chosen from among the local firms for public commendation. The reporter did not fail wryly to note that the meal served at such ceremonies would be paid for by the company receiving the reflected honor, and not the taxpayer.
Phipps’s inclusion in the event was an unexpected benefit of the new esteem in which he was held by John C. Nebling, who until a few hours before would barely have recognized his name. It was very satisfying to be in the company of those to whom success and power were routine, even if nothing said by any of them was comprehensible to him. His terror began to ebb. He chuckled at what were surely supposed to be the witticisms
Phipps really had no option but to accept it and return the warmth of the grasp. He was willing to consider that he had misjudged Fallon in the past: after all, the man was always under unbearable pressure from his own superiors. Though Nebling had been a nice guy today, it was unrealistic to assume he had gotten where he was by kindness. Surely he had been at least as rough on Fallon as the latter had been on Phipps. Maybe Fallon was a better fellow than could be expected. Phipps found his own apparent success, in a situation that could have been calamitous, made him more generous to his fellow man.
He returned to his own desk, where a stuffed In-basket awaited him. One by one, he found the documents therein to be as undecipherable as the oral language that he had been hearing all day and saw that he had no choice but to dispose of them in the same cavalier fashion as he had dealt with the spoken word. Some papers he initialed forthwith and tossed into the Out-basket. Others that bore densely printed texts he simply slipped into the waste-can, but anything showing a graph was first defaced with a felt-tipped pen and anything with numbers he crushed and balled before discarding.
Occasionally such work was interrupted by the buzzing of the telephone. As he had no idea of what the caller said, Phipps showed ever less patience with each, until finally his response was simply to lift the receiver, say, “You’re talking absolute crap,” and hang up.
The strain of so performing, however, had begun to tell on him by lunch time, and though John C. Nebling had sent for him to come eat in the corporate dining room—an invitation he understood only after Barbara had led him there—he had no anticipatory appetite.
His mood changed when he recognized some other guests who had arrived before him: among them, the governor of the state, the mayor of the city, and a number of the best-known local businessmen, including several to attain celebrity across the nation if not the world. Phipps was no longer depressed. He was now terrified.
But the governor, a large silver-maned man with an outsized set of sparkling teeth, seized Phipps’s hand with both of his own and pumped it, then acted as his ambassador to the others, each of whom naturally addressed him in gibberish, but it was obviously benign.
The dining room, which he had never seen before except in photographs, was quite a splendid, chandeliered place and large enough to seat several hundred persons. He found himself at the long head table, on a dais at a right angle to the tables of the other guests. He was flanked by the governor and the mayor. Across the wall behind him was stretched a huge white banner displaying a legend in blue letters. He could make no sense of the words thereby formed, but in a moment he had remembered seeing a recent report on TV news to the effect that as one phase of the strenuous effort currently being made to dissuade businesses from leaving city and state, an Outstanding Executive of the Month would be chosen from among the local firms for public commendation. The reporter did not fail wryly to note that the meal served at such ceremonies would be paid for by the company receiving the reflected honor, and not the taxpayer.
Phipps’s inclusion in the event was an unexpected benefit of the new esteem in which he was held by John C. Nebling, who until a few hours before would barely have recognized his name. It was very satisfying to be in the company of those to whom success and power were routine, even if nothing said by any of them was comprehensible to him. His terror began to ebb. He chuckled at what were surely supposed to be the witticisms