i.
There’s something about how an English beer on nitro comes out on tap. That smooth white foam of the head, capping a sea of malty richness and dreams.
As John admired the beer before him, the world was turning. yet another war emerging in the far east. Posturing and pontification from bloviating “heads” of state with little grey matter in their containers. Lots of regular people understanding the nuances, but with little care to participate.
John was at the pub to meet up with the man from the ad. The ad promised escape from the dreariness of professional life. The ad offered the opportunity to run your own business, to be your own boss. This intrigued John, he’d always pictured himself as an entrepreneur, a guy who did stuff that most people didn’t do. A risk-taker. And this man from the ad was about to satisfy his urge to break free from his humdrum existence.
John was a bright man, who went to a good state school and majored in engineering. Of course, he ended up in a role slightly different than his major (so why the obsession with picking the right path?). After years and years of getting stuff done, and leading more meetings than he could count, he’d gotten tired of his role and started wondering if he couldn’t do more. He had more to offer than a refined briefing style and an artistic eye with slide shows.
John looked like the Englishman he was, and had the white hair of somebody who once could rock the length, but had started losing it in the back. The man who approached him at the bar was about a decade younger than John in his 40s, with slicked back dark hair and a begrudgingly fit frame.
“I heard you want to start a business?”
“Yes!” John shook the man’s hand.
“I am Raphael. I represent the Organization of Aligned Interests (OAI). You may have seen our ads.”
John though about it — he had seen them on the internet. Slick marketing campaigns with OAI in big white letters and a foreboding castle, and a question: “What is your money doing for you? or better known as, why are you doing for your money? Start a goddamn business and ride the wings of freedom!” and then the castle would zoom out while an eagle flew to the highest perch. The implication being you were the eagle, and this could be your castle. Silly, slick and it inspired John to leave work early for a meeting.
“Nice to meet you Raphael. How do I start? When do I start?” He may have been a little too excited.
“That’s great to hear! All in due time John. This is our first interview of a few. All I have for today are two questions; What’s your favorite kind of beer? Are people fundamentally good or evil?”
John thought. The beer before him was a delicious English beer. but did it have his loyalty? He’d drank too many IPAs to count. Did that make it his favorite? Ah! The deep dark richness of a barrel-aged vanilla and coffee stout brewed only at the Pueblo Vida Brewing company in Tucson, AZ. And he said as much.
Raphael cocked an eye brow. “Are you from Tucson?”
“No, but I lived there a few years. Something magical about going from cactus to alpine forest in the same hour drive. But it’s so goddamn hot.”
“Ah! My mom’s family loves it out there in Arizona. But you still haven’t answered the second question.”
The fundamental nature of human beings? This was very similar to the beer question; each one anchored a reality in the same ways that a certain style of beer garnered loyalty. He found the question lacking.
“It’s a false dichotomy. The world operates in shades of grey, and everyone makes exceptions for themselves. Which is why we needed Jesus. Evidently.”
Raphael flashed his teeth as he laughed. “You gotta go to confession, John! Well, thank you for your answers. I am but a humble messenger. We will let you know in a few weeks!”
A brief handshake, and Raphael was gone. John took a sip of his beer, excited to have something different going on.
