Jimbo

After playing around with Angie, both of us had no trouble getting to sleep. Despite getting to bed with ease, I was still the first to wake as my eyes opened just after four-thirty in the morning. As usual, I manged to slip out of bed without disturbing Rachel. She's a sound sleeper so I rarely wake her up when crawling out but am still careful none the less. I slip into some green joggers and a black wife beater before leaving the room and going downstairs. I enter the kitchen without making a sound, moving about like a ninja to not disturb anyone. I immediately descend upon the coffee maker that I spotted the day before, and put that bad boy to work. I have no idea how many coffee drinkers are in the house, and I honestly don't give a flying fuck as I put on a full strong pot of liquid gold. If no one else touches it, I will pick at it as the morning progresses. I jump up onto the island, and sit there with arms folded as I patiently watch my drug of choice filter into the pot one precious drop at a time. While some people would find the process annoying slow, I enjoyed it as the aroma of the java filled my nostrils with pleasure, and teased me of the joy that was to come. I know I had told Rachel the previous day that I was cutting down, but this wasn't the right time to do it. Getting into a rage fueled by coffee withdrawal wasn't going to help her win that promotion, so it was in her best interest if I didn't fight the urges and just gave my body what it was craving. It was while I was waiting when someone else entered the kitchen, which surprised me a little. I didn't hear that person coming, so he or she had similar stealth abilities. Just based on that fact alone, I shouldn't have been surprised to see Mr. Parsons stroll in as he who was obviously drawn downstairs by the smell and the sound of the brewing pot.

"Smells great," Mr. Parsons said as he took a peek. "Will there be enough for me too?"

"It will be enough for everyone," I informed the bossman, "I'm brewing a full pot."

"That's ambitious," my host replied, "Are you sure none of that will be wasted."

"Coffee is never wasted whenever I'm around, Sir." I informed him.

"Duly noted," Mr. Parsons said, "That means if I ever wake up first, I can brew a full pot and not have to worry about it."

"Early riser, Sir?" I asked him, trying my best to make small talk.

"I am," he confirmed, "Habit I guess, but you know all about that... don't you?"

"Affirmative, Sir." I replied, aware of his angle. "It doesn't matter when I go to bed, the body is just used to waking up at certain times. Old habits, but I don't need to tell you."

"No, yo don't." Mr. Parsons said, as he popped a slit bagel into the toaster.

"Habit is hard to break," I said, not taking my eyes off my objective. "I couldn't sleep in even if I wanted to."

"I wish you had," Mr. Parsons said, "This morning is going to be tiring. If you didn't sleep well last night, you will tonight... I guarantee it."

"Is that so?" I asked him.

"That is so." Mr. Parsons confirmed. "We have a hike planned, something we added to our schedule since everything went off track last night. You don't have to come along if you don't want to, but I have a feeling you won't back down."

"The phrase backing down isn't recognized in my system, Sir." I confirmed for him. "I don't mind a good hike. I usually take long walks with the dog every morning, so it's alright. I take it this area has some nice trails to follow?"

"Yes, it does." Mr. parsons confirmed.

"Sounds good," I said, walking over to pour the first cup. "How do you take it, Sir?"

"Oh," Mr. parsons said, surprised by the gesture. "Two sugars and some milk, please."

"Here you go," I said, giving him the first cup of the day. Truth was I didn't like skimming the top of a pot, so I always offer the first cup to others. Rachel always took it as a sweet gesture, and I could tell her boss did as well.

Mr. Parsons took his coffee out onto the back deck, something he probably did every morning, and while I wanted to stay inside... a part of me felt it might be rude to be so anti-social during a weekend meant to help people socialize. I finished mixing up my coffee and following the bossman outside to the back deck.

"Sorry about last night," I started, "Once I felt that meeting slip out of control, I couldn't help but toss in my two cents."

"It's alright," Mr. Parsons replied, "Regardless of what happens, I still learned a great deal about everyone. My objective was to gather Intel, and I got a fair bit of it last night."

"Fair enough," I said, sipping the hot java. "I'm sure you got a trove of good Intel."

"I suppose you don't approve of my methods," Mr. Parsons suggested.

"I don't, but this is your house... so your rules I suppose." I responded, "But if you don't want the employees to act like children, then I suggest you stop acting like a parent."

"I see," Mr. Parsons said, still looking away from me. "I coddle them too much?"

"You're trying to be their friend," I said, being brutally honest. "That isn't possible when you're the person that controls whether or not they remain gainfully employed. Stop worrying about their fucking feelings and do what's best for your company and the god damn shareholders, and they'll all do what's best for them. Make a decision and stick to it, and they'll all respect you more for it. But games are for kids, and they're adults. So my real advice is grow the fuck up."

"Don't hold back Jim," he said, finally turning to face me. "Tell me how you really feel."