Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

60 - HOW THE BIG BOYS PLAY

I’m on a plane, I’m on a plane.  And I’m sitting right next to Maggie Gato.  Can it get any better?

It was sort of like bein’ inside the Nudie View Theatre in the basement of The Fancy Pants Arcade, only with nicer lounge chairs that had seatbelts and an attendant that didn’t come by to sit in your lap.  (Good thing, too, since our attendant was a guy named Barry.)

All I could think about was being close to Maggie Gato.  Together we was off to see the folks who owned my Broken Heart Park.  When I wasn’t staring at Maggie I was checking to make sure my stock certificate was still stuffed down my sock.  Then Barry the flight attendant said something about how he’d be coming by with a refreshment cart after we took off.

I looked over at Maggie.  She looked so pretty all strapped into her seat like that.  I couldn’t help staring at her dark hair, her big brown eyes, and the way her dress clung to her so nice and tight.  The way she smelled so sweet drove me crazy.

Whooooaaa.  We started to move.  The airplane was getting ready to take off.  I could feel a vibration from my head to my toes, and a rumbling that seemed to start from right under my seat.  Everything began going by fast, and then we took off.  With the vibration and all, it was damn near as much fun as the Nudie View.

Finally we leveled off up above the clouds, and sunshine flooded in from my window.  Maggie peeled my hand off her knee and took it in hers and gave it a squeeze.  “Honeypot, listen to me.  When we get to corporate headquarters you’re going to meet with the big boys at RobbinsYUZ, and I think you need a quick lesson in corporate business.”  She squeezed my hand a little more.  My relaxed fit jeans got that much tighter.

Our noses was almost touching when she whispered in my ear, “Now, most people think business is just about buying and selling, and hopefully making a profit, so you can make a decent living.  Well, that’s your mom selling jelly curbside, that’s what that is.”

I thought I’d better set her straight:  “My Mama was a famous dancer, Maggie, she never made no jelly.”

I didn’t wanna say nothing, but her grip was starting to hurt.

“Honeypot, please don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.”

Maggie looked off into space, squinted a little, and began again.  “Now, you see, business, and I mean big business, is run by a bunch of boys.  And don’t be fooled, it’s always boys.  And it’s these boys who have convinced a bunch of other boys that they’re smarter than the other boys on the block and should be compensated accordingly.  These boys dip with a soup ladle while everyone else dips with dessert forks.”

Her eyes pleaded, “Do you understand?”

I tried to.

“Now, the truth is, it’s the grunts out there in the real world who are pushing the carts, day in and day out, and they’re the ones who do all the heavy lifting.  Now understand, I’m not saying the grunts don’t necessarily get a piece of the pie, but they sure don’t get their piece served up à la mode.”

I was sort of listening while at the same time I was keeping an eye out for Barry with that refreshment cart of his.  Getting tutored in business was giving me a hungry appetite, especially after Maggie started talking about all that pie à la mode.

She went on and on telling me more and more about business, and about our meeting with the big boys, but from where I was sitting, all I could think of was how the plane ride made her chestal region shake so nice.  I wanted to spend the rest of my life watching her fly.  Still, I had to admit, she sure could talk when she got on a roll.

“Now, when you’re talking billions, and RobbinsYUZ is talking big billions, these boys don’t know how to stop.  They got a good year?  They rake in their millions.  They got a bad year?  They rake in their millions.  The big boys have to work hard to cover the disasters they create.  I’m not just talking about RobbinsYUZ.  All the boys dip deep while the bucket’s springing a leak.  And you, as a shareholder, do you have any say?”

Maggie leaned into my face, her brown eyes blazed and her hot breath fired my cheeks.  She had me scared.

“I don’t know, Maggie.”

“No, you don’t have a say,” Maggie practically yelled in my ear.

“Well, actually, in your case you do.  You own a million and a half shares.  They’ll listen to you.  But little boys need to get out of the way when the big boys got checks to cash.”

Maggie grabbed my arm in her little hand, her surprisingly strong little hand.  “Well, that’s just how it is, and that’s how it’s always been.”

As her grip tightened my eyes began to tear up.  “There’s no use crying like a little girl about it,” she said.  “If you don’t want to play the game the way the big boys play it, go sell jelly off your mother’s front porch.”

Just then I heard the rattle of Barry’s pushcart.

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