Reciprocation

Gratitude

Mr. Fernandez! Mr. Fernandez!" Lisa's voice blared into the room, as she struggled to jog in her six-inch high stilettos.
"Oh come on Lisa! How many times have I told you not to hyperventilate?" Timothy questioned.
"Pardon me sir, but our shares have fallen in value by fifty percent! Moreover, all the new construction projects have been given to a new company from Brazil!"
That was news enough to shake Timothy out of his fantasies.
Lisa silently kept the file on the table and walked out, cursing those Chanel heels.
Timothy looked out of his window, over the Manhattan skyline, thinking if he should take that big a step. But as they say, some decisions need not be pondered that much, but executed at the earliest. Soon, Timothy was rummaging through his drawers for a visiting card.

A few days later, Lisa knocked at the chamber door, wearing a triumphant smile.
"Yes Lisa?"
"Sir, Mr. Arthur's secretary has confirmed your appointment with him at the Ritz. He'll meet you there at 5 p.m. sharp."
"The man took a week to confirm his appointment with me! Me, of all people! “Timothy’s ego was clearly bruised.
But if he had read Lisa's face correctly, a disheartened Timothy knew he no longer held the title of 'Important Personality ' in the eyes of colleagues.
"Uhum, well, okay. Thank you Lisa."



At quarter to five, twenty feet of gleaming metal parked itself outside the Ritz. Timothy disembarked and made his way into the hotel.
At exactly five p.m., Timothy heard commotion outside the hall's door.
The door opened with him being blinded by camera flashes and indistinct chatter. Yes, Mr. Arthur was in the house.

Mr. Joseph Arthur, head of the Council of Construction Companies. A septuagenarian with thick grey hair and impeccable dressing: cuffs links in place, a tie complementing his age and the makings of a gentleman.

He seated himself across Timothy. His face bore a warm yet formal smile.
" Good Evening Mr. Arthur! Thank you so much for being here, I-I don't know how to thank you..." Timothy could feel the words falling from his agape face.
" Good evening Mr. Fernandez. I do not see the need for us to be that formal with each other. Let us talk turkey, shall we?"

"Oh of course sir! So you see, sir..."
Timothy's monologue lasted for five minutes.
" On top of that sir, all the new projects are being given to a new company from Brazil. I request you to have the matter looked into. This is sheer injustice!"
" Mr. Fernandez, you do accept that the quality of service your company is currently providing to its customers isn't satisfactory."
" Sir we are looking into that but-"
"I haven't completed yet," Mr. Arthur pinned Timothy down with his piercing gaze.
" You see, Mr. Fernandez that the owner of the Brazilian company believes in perfection, just like his father. His father was a U.S. Navy Seal, who saved the life of a comrade while sacrificing his own. That man, who was saved, is still alive today, but only one injury: an amputated left leg."

“My sincere apologies sir, but I do not see how an amputated leg-"

"Of course you don't Mr. Fernandez. That is what gratitude is."

 

With that, Mr. Arthur, stood up on his crutches, and left the hall. Timothy was left to stare at the trail of paparazzi flashing cameras at Mr. Arthur, who was limping with an amputated left leg!