Across the conference room table the white hair old man who had come out of retirement to handle the books is shaking.
"I said go get them now!" the jet black hair Bank President bellows.
Fumbling to his feet, the book keeper knocks over his coffee, grabs napkins and does his best to soak the stains from the papers spread out before him.
"I SAID NOW!" the banker snaps and the old man scurries away looking frightened and beaten.
Alone in the room, the Banker giggles to himself and focuses his narrow eyes on me.
Sitting at the end of the table, he's to my left and Chip's, the old man, spilled coffee and drenched papers are on my right.
"What did you do that for?" I ask. "You scared him."
Leaning back in the posh leather chair, "I have a gift of making people afraid."
"Not much of a gift," I mutter.
"Listen," he snarls, "he should be prepared! That's why we're in trouble! People aren't doing what they're supposed to be doing. My job's to make them."
I've never personally met Satan but am pretty certain the Banker has.
"There are better ways to get people to do things," I shrug.
"I am very successful the way I handle things," he says.
"No doubt," I say rising to clean up the spill.
"Sit down," he orders. "You didn't do that."
Wiping the table and dabbing the papers, I toss things in the trash and move Chip's stuff to a dry place on the table before resuming my seat.
The Conference Room is full of anger.
Chip returns with more papers and our meeting resumes though I'm not longer paying attention.
I'm remembering something Frederick Buechner, my favorite author, wrote:
“Of the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back--in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”
Standing, I grab my coffee cup as the Banker is in mid-sentence and make my way out of the room.
"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps.
"I need a break," I say continuing towards the door. "It's too emotional in here to think straight."
"Sit back down," he orders. "We're doing this now dammit!"
I keep walking.
There are certain things in life that are simply not worth walking back to and, for the most part, I've never stopped since.
