Janson threw the FJ into park outside a relatively plain three story office building. Plain metal letters spelled out, “Sabotron” in full Arial glory. He said, “We’ll check you into the Radisson after the conference call.”
Steve grabbed his laptop from the Toyota and followed Janson inside. He continued to follow Janson as he was lead through the cubicle farm to the conference room. “Steve, there’s the conference room. Chill out there while I get the rest of the team.” said Janson.
Steve set his case on the mammoth conference table, this time just big, no tusks and he settled into a very comfortable office chair. Around the table sat three people. They all seemed to Steve to be short and stout. Janson came back in and was shortly followed by a troupe of similarly short, stocky people. The stubby people (not midgets or dwarves or whatever the political correct term was) filed in Oompa-Loompa style and took their seats around the table. A projector dropped out of the ceiling on pneumatic rails, the lights dimmed and the projector came to life.
A picture of two guys reaching the summit of a majestic peak filled the screen. An equally majestic sunset (or possibly sunrise) silhouetted the climbers. It proudly proclaimed, “Teamwork. Together we can reach the top.”
“Christ.” I muttered. Janson looked at me like I had just blasphemed.
The slide changed. Now a small fluffy puppy held a large bone in his mouth. “Happiness is wanting what you have.”
The picture flipped again and it was now displaying a kitten cling to a branch. “Hang in there. . .” it said in blocky Arial.
I was just about to curse again, at full volume. Suddenly Richard Franklin’s voice boomed over the surround sound system, “This is not Sabotron!”
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