I caught sight of Wilson when I passed his office as I was roaming the halls wasting time. The man looked distraught. Sitting behind his desk with his head in his hands. I was no expert, but his body language said something was the matter.
I stepped inside and stood there, not sure what to say. I gave it a second and decided to get out while I could. I turned to leave and he let out a sob. It was a little spooky. I wasn’t even sure he knew I was there in the first place. I couldn’t leave now.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked, sitting down in one of his guest chairs.
He shook his head no, then shook his head yes before sighing and taking his hands away from his face. He looked awful, eyes tired, forehead wrinkled, hair disheveled. The only thing that looked decent was his facemask. Crisp and clean. Wilson was the only person I knew who ironed the damn thing.
“I can’t believe I did what I just did,” he said.
“Me neither. What did you do?” I asked.
I gave him a little nod of encouragement to let him know it was okay to proceed. Not that he needed it. Wilson was an over-sharer and didn’t have much of a filter. Once the verbal floodgates opened, they stayed open.
“Such a stupid mistake. I’m done, it’s over, no way I survive this.”
This was getting good and I leaned forward in full rubbernecking mode. “This mistake,” I said, “It was a big one?”
He nodded. “You know the Lurky Jerky account?”
“Of course,” I said. “The beef jerky for when you’re just hanging around. Love the stuff. The watermelon is fantastic. And I hear the kiwi jerky is pretty good as well.”
“Well, Roz gave me oversight on the loans tied to the company,” Wilson said. “She’s away for a few days and asked that I make sure the lenders got their interest payments.”
“So what’s the big deal, forget to send it to them, or maybe sent it a little late? Don’t worry about it. Give ‘em some jerky and all will be forgiven.”
Wilson hung his head and his shoulders quaked as he choked back a sob.
“Oh, how I wish it were that easy and simple.”
It was times like this that I was glad I minored in psych way back in the day. Gives you a good foundation, a baseline if you will, of how to work with people. What to look for and how to respond. I quickly assessed Wilson’s situation and took decisive action to help him.
“So you screwed up, big deal. Get over it,” I said.
Wilson started bawling and banging the desk. Not exactly what I was expecting. I remembered now that this psych stuff can be messy. I was glad I choose to focus on business after all.
I glanced around the office for tissues but saw none. I went over to the printer and got a sheet of paper and slid it across the desk to Wilson.
“Here blow your nose and pull yourself together and tell me what happened,” I said. “Come on, let’s go. It’s time to put your big boy pants on.”
Wilson sat up, took a big breath and composed himself. He turned and stared at his computer monitor. Then he poked at a point on the screen. Continually. It was like watching a rabbit in a lab experiment.
“The money I sent, it was a lot,” he said.
“Yes, corporate loans usually are,” I said. “It’s not like you and I borrowing on our home equity lines for a vacation.”
“I was suppose to send eight-point-one million,” he said, sniffing.
I nodded as it all became clear to me. The pressure of the task may have been too much for a corporate finance novice to bear. Roz no doubt meant well, entrusting Wilson with the job, but eight million may have been a few mil too many for him to handle.
He was no doubt uncomfortable moving that kind of money around and probably shortchanged the lenders. Someone made a stink, and now the poor man was exposed, shown to be an imposter.
He was still poking the screen and I got up and went around the side of the desk to get a look. I was staring at lines and numbers and data and all sorts of corporate finance mumbo jumbo. But one thing stood out loud and clear.
Total paid out from account: $810,000,000.00
“Good heavens,” I said, staggering backward and putting a hand on the desk to steady myself. “This looks like you sent eight-hundred million dollars. Surely a mistake. Nobody in their right mind would do that.”
Wilson started swaying like we were at a religious revival and poking himself in the chest.
“I…I…I did,” he mumbled. He followed that up with several more “I dids,” while beating his breast, literally. Then he rambled. “Too many zeros. On my phone. Not paying attention.”
I turned and looked at the door to the office. It was open. Why on earth did I come in here in the first place?
Wilson pulled himself together and looked up at me. He needed help.
“That is a heck of a lot of money,” I said. “Mucho dinero, no?”
He put his head back and let out a cry while staring at the ceiling tiles.
“Awwwwwwwwwwwww.”
My mind raced with possible solutions and excuses for him, none of which seemed to have a chance of helping. I settled on the obvious.
“Maybe if you call the lenders, just say you made a mistake. I’m sure they’ll understand, wire you the money back and we can have some jerky and laugh about it.”
“I tried one already, a hedge fund,” he said. “Some guy named Rob laughed at me. Then he put me on speaker and a bunch of people laughed at me.”
“Hmmm. It is a sharp-elbowed business,” I said.
“Now they keep calling back and laughing at me,” he said.
Wilson’s phone rang and he glanced at the number. “This is them. They’re going to laugh at me again, I know it.”
I got a wave of energy. “Let me handle it. We’re going to teach these guys a little lesson. Go ahead and answer it.”
Wilson hit the speaker button and a voice came on.
“Hey, I already spent my two-hundred mill, can I have some more money?”
The room on the other end of the call burst into laughter.
“Yeah, pal, you can have some more money,” I said.
Silence. Then the voice.
“Who is this?” he asked. “Where’s the putz?”
“He’s on his way to collect his money,” I said. “And I’m with him.”
To be continued…