The Oxford Canadian Dictionary of Current English defines future as a “a time still to come” or “events or conditions existing in the future.”
This is mostly true: when you’re driving to work, doing your taxes, or playing with your kids. But falls apart when you’re suspended over the board of directors’ pit with their distended jaws gaping up at you, eyes bulging in hunger at your every twist and slip. The future feels pretty fucking immediate in that moment.
I let out a nervous cough and reach into my jacket for my recipe cards. Kudos to past-me for making sure I had them, just in case. To the board I was just a young exec in over his head, asking for more rope. They saw me standing in front of a blank whiteboard, voice shaking, gesturing at nothing. But I knew this was it for me. Life or death.
“So just to summarize these findings…” I said, quickly skimming the first two cards for bullet points. “Q4 year-over-year profit is actually up this quarter when compared to similar conditions in 2016, so we believe the Keys project will be profitable by Q3 of next year. In the meantime, I propose–” I looked up to make eye-contact. This was my big play to save my own skin, “that to make up for the temporary–” emphasis mine, “market… sensitivity–” some eyebrows arched as I sought eye-contact – they liked that word. Holy fuck, was this going to work? “by expanding our marketing to include” I mustered up all the sac I could and locked eyes with Robert, head of the board… “the demons.”
I expected a bunch of consternation at that point. Board members jumping from their seats to shout me down for my treachery. But they just sat there, looking around at each other, wordlessly establishing consensus. The closest thing to derision was a short nasal exhalation from Gunther – though I couldn’t guess if it was directed at me or my proposal.
At the head of the table, Robert’s (silent ‘T’) inscrutable gaze never left mine. The sensation of dangling over a pit returned, and I knew this wordless exchange would determine whether I would spend the rest of my life in a cozy little apartment, or in a task centre – consciously sublimated, performing whatever cognitive tasks a business automation fed into my frontal cortex.
One of the board members made an intake of breath, as if to speak, and I realized the board’s exchange had reached an inflection point.