Perfect Vice

The alarm shattered his peaceful world of dreams, splitting his ears. He rolled over and smashed the button with his hands. Time to wake up. The bane of every wage slave.

He rolled out of bed and staggered drowsily into the bathroom. Here he began his morning ritual of showering, shaving and brushing his teeth, soon completed in 15 minutes. Breakfast consisted of porridge and coffee; he still missed the sugary cereal that he had given up on a health kick. While eating, he turned the TV on to catch the morning news. A car crash had killed two people last night. A celebrity was divorcing his wife. Same old, same old. He slipped into his work suit,

Everything was proceeding as normal, until the doorbell rang – at this hour of the morning? He opened the door and was met with the sight of a woman in a purple dress, holding a briefcase.

“Hi… it’s George, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you?” He replied, wondering how she knew him.

“You’re about to go to work. But what I’m here for is far more important.”

Must be a Jehovah’s Witness, he thought to himself.

She continued: “I’m here to give you 1 million dollars in cash. Right now.”

He stared in disbelief. “… What?”

She lifted up the briefcase and opened it. Inside were rows of neatly stacked 100-dollar bills.

“Are you serious?” He asked, looking at her face for signs of insanity.

“I’m serious. No catches, no questions asked. Just take it, and I’ll be on my way.”

He reached out and took the briefcase. “Okay… sure. Thank you very much.”

With that the lady turned briskly on her heel, walked through the front gate, and then down the street nonchalantly out of his sight. He stood there stupidly for a moment, still holding the briefcase, but then quickly shut the front door and put it on the kitchen bench. Looking inside, his eyes widened at the sight of all the 100-dollar bills, and his mind began to whirl. How could a perfect stranger show up at his door and just hand over enough money to pay off a house? Surely the woman was lying – there had to be some kind of catch, the necessary cynicism required to live in the modern world insisted on it. He went back to the door of his house and opened it. No sign of the woman anywhere. Really, could it be this simple?

He thought to himself, what should his next move be? Should he put it in the bank? He imagined trying to explain where the money had come from to an investigator from the taxation department – no, he didn’t want to risk that. Also, was the money real? What if he’d just been given a suitcase full of counterfeit money? He didn’t have any 100 dollar notes to compare it to. He decided to drive to the petrol station and see if he could pay for a full tank with one of the notes. He closed the briefcase and went to his room, stashing it underneath the pillow on his bed.

Soon he was driving to the petrol station.

I’ve got my wallet, so if anything goes wrong, I can pay out of my own account. He thought to himself.

After filling up his car, he went to the counter and handed the 100-dollar note to the cashier. They casually took it and gave him the correct change. He could scarcely believe it. So, what should he do? Work was due to start in an hour, and he was after all, ready for it. Maybe he could call in sick, just for today – after all it wasn’t normal to suddenly be gifted a million dollars cash – yes, he could afford to risk it. He dialled his manager.

“John, I need to call in sick.”

Silence for a moment. “Yeah? You’ve had a clean slate for the last year. Alright, Sure. Will you be giving us a doctor’s certificate?”

“Uh… no. Not this time.”

“Alright I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he had the day off, and a million dollars cash to spend.

He decided to take 5000 dollars and deposit it into his card account. His bank had a branch in the big mall, so he got into his car and went for a drive.

Handing over the cash to the teller, he was nervous once again. This would be the ultimate test of whether this money was actually real. His stomach sickened. And yet, everything went by without a hitch. The teller simply took the money, and that was that. Now he was free to walk around the mall and buy pretty much whatever he wanted. But what did he want? Expensive clothes and jewellery? Special food? New appliances? Or should he leave the mall and start planning bigger? Travel? A Cruise? A new car maybe? He decided to think about it over a cup of coffee.

After paying and waiting for the staff to make it, he sat down and savoured the aroma. It was nice just to sit there. Sit there and sip his coffee and think about all that money stashed behind his pillow. He thought about the lady in the purple dress. Who was she? How did she know his name? Why did she give him all that money? But in some ways, he didn’t really want to know. He didn’t want to pull back the curtains on the illusion, and find that it was all a dream, or a test, or an experiment. It was simpler just to accept that something abnormal had happened, and make the most of it.

He went back to thinking – what did he want? Whatever he bought today, it was unlikely to change his life much. That was when he realized. He wanted to change his career, reinvent himself. Of course! He could use the money to fund study, or at the very least just to pay the bills until his next job. But he found himself wavering a little. Could he really do it? He was 40 years old, and the time one would usually spend equipping oneself was long since over. And even if he could succeed, what could he possibly want to do?

But a warm feeling began to well up inside him. This was like a freak accident, a miracle, the kind of twist of fate that normally did not happen – how could he pass up the gift he had been given? So, there was nothing else for it, it was time to call in and give his 2 weeks’ notice.

He dialled his manager again.

“Hi… John, it’s George again.

“Didn’t you just call half an hour ago? What is it?”

“I’d like to give you my 2 weeks’ notice.”

Silence again.

“Really, your leaving?”

“Yes, I’m looking to change my career.”

John’s voice became steely. “If you do this, I’m not going to give you a good reference. Your leaving when we really need you. You’re not really going to do this are you?”

He paused for a moment as his boss’s words sunk in.

“Yes, I’m leaving the job.”

“I think you’re making a huge mistake, George, but – it’s your decision. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The manager hung up on him abruptly.

A pleasant sensation rolled over his body in a wave from his head to his toes. 2 more weeks and it was done, finished! He bought a paper and another cup of coffee, took them both and sat down and had a look in the positions vacant section. Teacher? No. Enlist in the military? Haha, no. Not seeing anything interesting in the paper, he strained to think off the top of his head. What would he do if he could do anything?

He had discovered later in life, that education was not only a powerful asset to have for getting a good job, but also it could enrich life. This was after he had started his career in data entry. He had made his way into the job market by securing a junior position in an office, and then had racked up enough experience to stay employed. However, when he realized how soul crushing it was to do this kind of work, day in day out, he had tried to keep his mind active by reading. His reading habit was a source of modest pride, and as part of staying sharp he had gotten himself to read, amongst other things, the books that had earned the outdated accolade of being a part of the western canon of literature.

He wondered, if he had enough time, could he make it as an author? Never having gone to university, he did not have an arts degree – or any degree to speak of. It would be against all odds to succeed in this endeavour, but what was a million dollars in cash for if not taking chances? With a plan and a dream, he was invigorated with something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope.

The final 2 weeks went by quickly. His manager was constantly passive-aggressive, but George was invulnerable. He had enough money to finish paying his mortgage if he wanted, and it wasn’t as though his new direction was going to cost him much money. When the final day came, he invited all his team out for drinks, his shout.

The establishment was dimly lit, with warm mood lighting on each of the tables, and the bar itself was streamlined and modern, with a colourful array of bottles standing on shelves behind the bartenders. George stood at the counter with his colleagues.

“Alright guys, tell me what you want!” He turned to the bartender. “For myself, can I get an espresso martini.”

One of them, a married woman of 40 named Nancy spoke up first. “Well, if were allowed to order fancy drinks, can I get a long island iced tea?”

“Totally fine, and the rest of you?”

Soon they were all sitting down at the table. Jack raised his glass to George.

“Well, George I don’t know what gave you the guts to do this, especially in today’s job market, but I wish you all the best.”

Paul also raised his glass. “To new beginnings!”

They all clinked their glasses together and took a sip.

Eventually, Nancy looked at George wryly. “So, what led you to do this George?”

George had already worked out a story that was close enough to the truth without exposing the naked unfairness of it all. “I inherited a large amount of money from one of my grandparents, and I decided to pursue something I might actually enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“Writing.” Replied George levelly, but his enthusiasm still seeped out. “I know that a lot of people want to do this and never make it, but I thought, if I want to try, it’s now or never.”

“That’s a big risk to take George.” Replied Nancy. “But I’m glad to hear your going to give it a go. I think if I were in your situation I’d probably quit too. But I don’t know if I’d try to make it as a writer.

At that moment, George noticed a lady at the bar behind Nancy. It was the woman who had given him the money. She looked at him and smiled knowingly, raising her glass.

“Are you alright George? You’re looking at bit pale.” Said Nancy in hushed tones.

He looked again, and the lady was gone.

The rest of the night went of without a hitch, but George was disturbed by what he had seen. She had said there were no catches, so what was she doing in the bar? Lost in thought, he walked to the tram station to catch a ride home. People were standing about avoiding eye contact, most of them snugly wrapped in coats to keep out the winter chill.

The silvery chime of the tram alerted everyone to its arrival. Once the door opened, George climbed aboard and took a standing position, steadying himself with one of the trams poles. Just before the doors closed a woman walked in. Glancing at her, he realized it was his benevolent benefactor, the lady who had been wearing the purple dress. She grasped the pole he was holding, then looked him straight in the eyes.

“We need to talk.”

“We do?” He replied. “Didn’t you say the money was mine with no strings attached? What are you going to ask for it back?”

“I want you to meet the man who gave you the money.”

“But you gave me they money.”

She smirked. “I was just assigned to drop it off. The money came from my boss, Mr Trapeznikov.”

“That sounds like a Russian name.”

“It is.”

He paused for a moment then sighed. “Alright, even though this is not what you said it would be, I’ll meet this, Mr Trapeznikov.”

“Excellent, I’ll tell him to meet you out the front of your home.”

She pulled out a mobile and began to make the call.

A heft of cold depression lingered over him. That morning, he had gotten the impression he would never see her again. Was this some kind of test? He imagined the man who would be meeting him, and in his mind the image of the monopoly man formed. What did rich people look like anyway? And perhaps this particular man was deranged, handing out money to strangers. Maybe all rich people were crazy. He tried to summon his courage, watching the woman out of the corner of his eye as she finished her call.

They got of the tram and walked to his house. Out the front a Rolls Royce was parked. As they neared the car the passengers rear window slid down, revealing a mustachioed and goateed man with a shaved head.

“Are you going to invite me in?”

George sighed. “Certainly, come in I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

The man turned to the woman accompanying George. “Wait in the car Janet, we shouldn’t be too long.”

The door opened and the man walked out of the car and followed George to his front door, while Janet sat herself inside the car.

While fumbling with his keys, George addressed his guest. “Mr Trapeznikov – “

“You can call me Anatoly.”

“Anatoly then. I’m a little surprised you decided to show up, especially after what Janet told me when she gave me the money.”

He found the right key and opened the door, and the man followed him in to the kitchen counter.

“After the generosity I’ve shown you, the least you can do is make me a cup of coffee surely?”

“… sure.” He closed the door behind him as Anatoly sat down on one of the kitchen stools. “How do you want it?”

Anatoly stroked his goatee. “Black and no sugar thank you.”

He put the water on the boil, and filled two mugs with instant coffee.

“It seems as though you are not in a hurry to spend the money I gave you; I didn’t see a new car out the front, and there’s nothing conspicuously expensive in here. Tell me, what did you decide to do with the money?”

“You really want to know?” Said George, standing by the kettle as it began to heat.

“Humour me.” Said Anatoly, looking him in the eye.

“I quit my job two weeks ago. I plan to spend at least the next year trying to publish a novel.”

Anatoly immediately laughed exaggeratedly. “A novel! I have to say, that is not what I was expecting. Well, this explains the lack of a new car!”

George’s body tensed ever so slightly. “Yes. Now that I have enough money not to work, I’m pursuing my dreams.” He looked down and paused for a second. “Which I have you to thank for.”

Mr Trapeznikov’s eyes were still filled with mirth. “So, I’ve funded an aspiring novelist! Tell me George, what will you write about?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Do you think you have a novel in you?” Asked Anatoly bemusedly.

George considered this. “Even if I haven’t got one now, I will eventually.” He said, trying sound confident.

Anatoly laughed. “Why don’t you start a business? At least you’d be creating jobs! Do you think I got all my wealth writing novels?”

George felt his fists clench a little. “Well why did you give me the money in the first place? To spend it as you see fit? When you sent Janet 2 weeks ago, she said it was mine to keep, with no hidden clauses or conditions. Do I have to spend it as you see fit?”

Looking serious all of a sudden, Mr Trapeznikov replied. “Your right, you can do with it what you want. I just wanted to see what the average man would do. And it seems you are determined to take a risk on unfounded ambition.”

“Hey! If this is what I wanted, then what are you going to do about it. Just watch me! I’ll show you what I can do with your money!” He replied half yelling.

Anatoly continued in a level voice. “I’ll tell you what, would you mind if I dropped in on you again in a year, just to see if you really do make good on your ambition? I’m curious, to see if you really can do this.”

“Fine.” Said George, rubbing his closed eyes. “Come back in a year and see what I’ve done. I’ll show you.”

Anatoly left shortly afterwards without drinking his coffee. George now was doubly motivated to make something of himself. He had one year. Time to make it count!