A Bargain with the Boss
“Get in line,” said Tuck. Then he regretted the sarcasm. “Dixon can’t be reached right now.”
“Of course he can. Call him.”
“He’s out of cell range.”
“Then, send somebody after him, write a letter, use a carrier pigeon for all I care.”
Tuck spoke slowly and clearly. “Dixon is gone. I can’t find him and I can’t get him back. That’s why I’m here.”
“This is nonsense,” Jamison growled. “Just because I’m here in this hospital bed doesn’t mean you can lie to me.”
“I’m not lying to you.”
“The business can’t run without Dixon.”
“It is running without Dixon, Dad. It’s been running without Dixon for nearly two months.”
Jamison opened his mouth, but Tuck kept on talking. “I’m here for your proxy.”
Jamison’s eyes bugged out. “My what?”
“I’ve held off as long as I can. But I need to make some decisions. I need to hire new executives and I need a proxy vote for your shares.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I give you control of Tucker Transportation.”
“It’s only temporary.”
“Where’s Dixon?”
Tuck leaned slightly forward. “Dixon’s gone. He left on his own and he hasn’t come back.”
“What’s going on? Why are you doing this?” Jamison groped for the nurse call button and pressed it.
Tuck pushed back the chair and came to his feet. “I’m not doing anything. I’m jumping in to run your precious company.”
“You don’t know how to run the company.”
“You’re right about that.”
The two men stared at each other.
A nurse breezed into the room.
“Mr. Tucker?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is wrong,” Jamison stormed. “My son is telling me lies.”
The nurse looked to Tuck and he gave a slight shake of his head.
“Are you in any pain?” The nurse checked his IV.
“I’m not in pain. My other son, Dixon, can you bring him here? I need to talk to him.”
“I’m going to check your blood pressure.” As she spoke, the nurse wrapped Jamison’s arm in a blood-pressure cuff.
“Dad,” Tuck began again, “you’re in no condition to attend a board meeting.”
Jamison tried to sit up.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said the nurse, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her tone was calm but firm. “Your blood pressure is slightly elevated.”
“Is that dangerous?” asked Tuck, wondering if he should leave.
“Only slightly,” said the nurse. She frowned at Jamison. “You try to stay calm.”
“I’m perfectly calm.”
The nurse moved to the foot of the bed, making notes on the chart.
“Harvey Miller resigned,” Tuck told his father.
“We have no finance director?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. He moved to a different company. People do that sometimes.”
“Where did he go?”
“That’s irrelevant. The important point is that I need to replace him. To do that, I need to formalize my position as interim president. So I need your proxy to vote your shares.”
“You can’t be president.”
“Okay,” said Tuck, thoroughly tired of this argument and every other one he’d had for the past decade. “I won’t be president.” He turned to leave.
“Dixon can be interim president.”
“Sounds good,” Tuck called over his shoulder. “Let me know how it all turns out.”
“Bring him here,” Jamison shouted out.
“Calm down,” said the nurse.
Tuck stopped and turned back. “I’m sure he’ll show up eventually. Until then, well, Tucker Transportation will have to survive without a finance director and without a president. I’m sure it’ll be fine. After all, anything’s better than having me in charge, isn’t it?”
“Insolent,” said Jamison.
“So you always say. I’m here. I’m offering to help. Take it or leave it. It’s entirely up to you.”
Jamison glared at him while the machines beeped his vital signs, the hospital hallway buzzed with activity and the nurse refilled his plastic water jug. Tuck almost felt sorry for his father—almost. Even when the man was all but desperate for Tuck’s assistance, he’d only grudgingly accept it. How was that supposed to make a person feel?