Chapter Seven
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The cloud of smoke levitating near the suspended ceiling created a haze, making the florescent lights appear dim within the small office. Nathaniel clenched his teeth while analyzing the figures. Since taking the company public, the numbers showed profits. The stock continued to grow, and industry reports were favorable. Rawls Corporation was in the black, and considering the current economic climate of the 1970’s, that was good. The problem was Nathaniel Rawls didn’t want good. He wasn’t content with black. He wanted more—a lot more. The sound of the furnace blowing warm air created a hypnotizing hum. He leaned back, took a long draw on his cigarette, and rubbed his temples. How could he make the figures in the profit column multiply? Hell, others were doing it. He wanted to too.
Punching the black button on the small box, he bellowed, “Connie, get Samuel in here, now.”
The crackling voice responded immediately, “Yes, sir, Mr. Rawls.”
*
Samuel entered the small paneled office inhaling the suspended cloud. The sight of his father hunched over the books and spreadsheets meant only one thing: he was in for the—We can do better—speech. “Yes, Father, did you want to see me?”
“Have you seen the latest figures?”
“Yes, sales to major distributors are up eighteen percent.”
“That’s chicken feed! Textiles can’t make shit in the United States. We have to revisit the idea of moving operations out of country. In Mexico we can produce the same merchandise for less than a quarter of what it costs here. Hell, the union s here in Jersey are costing us a fortune.”
Samuel learned long ago to pacify his father, let him blow off some steam and things would settle. “We’ve looked into that. The problem is that we would lay off hundreds of workers who’ve been loyal through the years. Besides, as I said, we are in the black.”
Nathaniel blew a cloud of smoke toward his son. “I’ve decided to hire Jared Clawson as CFO, chief financial officer. The man has some innovative ideas.”
“Didn’t he just leave New England Energy amid allegations of illegal activities?”
“Nothing was proven. Besides, I’ve seen the figures. When Clawson was assisting with finance at NE Energy, their profits were through the roof. Since his departure, they’re doing well to keep the grids going.” Samuel remained silent. “The man is a damn genius. We’ve met a few times. He believes Rawls has potential, and he has some great ideas.”
Samuel knew his opinion didn’t matter. If Nathaniel’s mind was made up, Jared Clawson was coming on board. The only thing he could do was watch, and do his best to stop anything illegal before it began. “The contracts with Huntington House are in their final stages. They have plans for a new clothing line. The potential for revenue is huge. They have distributors all up and down the East Coast.”
“Damn chicken feed,” Nathaniel grumbled.
A strong positive mental attitude will create more miracles than any wonder drug.
—Patricia Neal