2. Rapporteur
The Rapporteur was on time. He was always on time. Just as the Head Exec of Body Execs was just about finished putting away his graphs which detailed the various heights of colored bars these days, The Rapporteur slipped through the door like a breeze you notice after its done caressing you.
Those on the left side of the room were relieved. They all knew he would be on time, but they all needed this deal to go through and they knew the Partner and Partner Company Firm weren’t able to pull it off themselves. Those on the right side of the room were waiting to be impressed, to be won over, to be told this deal was not just mutually beneficial, but also exciting.
“And now,” said the Head Exec, practically vomiting his sighs. “Our special report on…, um…”
“Hot dogs,” mumbled The Rapporteur, head down as he flicked open the latches on his briefcase.
“Hot dogs!” Cried the Head Exec. “The report on… hot dogs will be given by The Rapporteur shortly.”
Those on the left side of the room clapped in anticipation, much like children who are familiar with the work of a specific clown and then see this clown perform at a birthday party and maybe that’s the only reason they even bothered going to the birthday party at all. Those on the right side of the room yawned in arrogant unison, feeling – as a unit – threatened down to a juvenile level by the commotion on the other side of the room. They even began snickering and trading low-fives in a chain of chair-swiveling and hand-skimming until every last guest’s hand had been touched.
Then, well, of course:
The Rapporteur gave his report, which was only that of 6 or 7 minutes, yet seemed to be comprehensive of all detailed aspects of the modern hot dog, and even some supplemental material on the most popular kinds of sausages. The result: let’s just saw the maid would be pissed off again, cursing at The Rapporteur, because every time he leaves a room, she has to pick up all the jaws left on the floor.
And then he was gone before the closing applause could commence.
Until then, the meeting had nothing to do with hot dogs. The deal certainly had nothing to do with hot dogs. Yet no one from either side of the room decided to ask, “Why hot dogs?” They knew so much about hot dogs, they could only be grateful for such a gift.
The Rapporteur does not do market research. He does not do annual synopsis. He does not crunch numbers. He does not pitch and pander. He will not investigate any topic that does not drive him. When you hire The Rapporteur, you are not hiring a rapporteur; you are commissioning an artist for his next masterpiece, whatever that may be.
The deal went through.
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