Page 22 of Truth or More Truth
“I thought you were going to ask about my girlfriend, since you were obsessed with that topic earlier in the day.”
“I wasn’t obsessed!”
“You were.”
I don’t respond, because he’s right.
He clears his throat. “So my job, huh? You definitely picked a topic that doesn’t have an easy answer.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He almost sounds defeated.
“You don’t have to tell me, you know.”
“I know. But I want to. Ineedto.”
eight
. . .
“Why do you need to talk about your job?” Melissa asks me.
What is it about darkness that makes people want to spill their guts? I shouldn’t be talking to her about this. I should be talking to Ash or Randall or even Diego, who’s my client but also my closest friend. But here I am, about to open up to a woman I’m not sure even likes me, though I hope I might be growing on her a little.
“Because I’m not happy,” I admit. I haven’t said this to anyone else, so why am I admitting it to her?
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Why?” she asks softly.
“Because I’ve discovered I hate being a jerk all the time, but I have to in order to do my job well.” The word “jerk” isn’t the word I’d use for myself—I’d use something a little more colorful—but since this is the word Melissa loves to use to describe me, I’ll stick with it. It makes me sound not quite so awful as reality dictates.
“Are you sure you have to be a jerk?” she asks.
I think silently for awhile. “I don’t know how to do it any other way. I barely know how to attempt to be nice when I’m not working.”
“I disagree with that, because you’ve been mostly nice to me today. But anyway, can you try to do your work a different way?”
I’ve thought about this a lot, and I don’t have a solution. “What if I do, and it backfires on me? I’ll be letting my clients down. They hired me to be ruthless—to do whatever needs to be done to get them what they want. What if I can’t get them what they want without that attitude?”
“Could you make small changes? Test the waters? Or just focus on not being a jerk everywhere except at the negotiation table?”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see it. “I don’t know. I’m afraid any kind of change toward being less ruthless will be seen as a weakness. And if there’s anything that’s exploited in my business, it’s even the slightest hint of weakness.”
“Kindness isn’t a weakness, Bobby.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a story there?”
The woman is perceptive. “Maybe there is,” I say, “but it’s not a story for tonight.”
“Okay.”
I’m surprised by her willingness to drop the topic. “Okay?”
