The Millionaire Myth Read Free Page B

as I returned from lunch-I eat in my car, where I can listen to the radio and not be judged for the mayonnaise on my sandwich and calories in my soda-and sat down behind my desk, he appeared from nowhere.
                  Leaning over my desk-and invading my personal space-he looked at me with sympathy.  I met his eyes and waited for him to speak.  I knew he wasn't here to bark a new order at me.  He had “sell it” face on.  He looked into my eyes for a few seconds, which wasn't entirely unpleasant.  Weasel that he was, he was also incredibly good looking, as you'd expect from someone so successful in this business.  His brown eyes looked warm for the first time as he let out a deep breath and whispered, “I just wanted to see if there was anything I could do for you.  I heard about...”  He shook his head at the tragedy of it all.  “What happened.”
                  I shrugged and gave him a weak smile.  “It's so sweet of you to check on me.”  I sighed and touched his hand.  Come on, can you blame me? I might as well take full advantage of the situation.
                  Surprised at my gesture, he looked down at my hand.  Recovering quickly, he gave it an encouraging squeeze, then met my eyes again. “I feel for you.  Believe me, I've been there.”  He paused and looked down as though he was struggling to remain composed before continuing, “I lost my grandfather almost three years ago.  I still miss him.”
                  I gave him my best sympathetic, “Awwww”, then told him I'd be okay once a little time had passed.  He finally peeled himself off my desk, but not before reminding me that he'd do anything to help.  As I watched the back of his tailored suit disappear down the hallway, I wondered if his dead grandfather was as imaginary as mine.
                  The last couple hours of my workday passed with little incident.  I did manage to corner Cathy in one of the conference rooms.  I asked her why she told everyone about my grandfather.  How could she take my tragedy and turn it into mere entertainment?  Who would do something like that? 
                  You know, besides me.
                  She apologized and told me that she had just been so upset that she had to tell someone.  Such a sensitive soul, to be heartbroken over my grandfather's death.  She must have a heart of gold.  Or more likely, a mute conscience.
                  I wasn't surprised by her excuse.  I knew she'd been confronted about spilling secrets more times than I could count.  She had mastered the art of spin.  Little did she know, that was the exact reason I picked her.  After she apologized, I told her I understood.  Then I thanked her for being there for me, and being a real friend.  I know, I have a serious knack for this.
                  By the end of the day I was tired of acting depressed.  In reality, I'd had one of the best days of work since I'd started there over a year ago.  I knew the hardest part was over.  I'd still have to act a little sad, but I would slowly edge that off, and get into the fun part; watching these hyenas fight to the death over me.
     
    * * *
     
                  Tuesday morning I arrived at work looking a little better.  I had my kinky hair up in a ponytail again, mainly because it was really nice to skip the hairdo ritual.  Back in high school, my hair was my favorite feature.  I'd pretend to be jealous of my friends' straight hair, but secretly I loved watching them struggle with home perms, just to get hair like mine.  Oh, how the tables had turned.  Now the women with straight hair have it made and it's my turn to suffer.
                  So, my hair was still a mess, but I had managed to iron and correctly button my clothes.  It was quiet all day, which was typical for a Tuesday, but it also worked great with my