Page 63 of It's Not PMS, It's You

Who was this guy? My non-appointed, annoying career counselor and spiritual guru?

He cocked his head to the side. “You don’t like your job, do you?”

“Whether or not I like my job does not determine how good I am,” I said. “I’m the best in my field. How many people can say that?”

“Congratulations, but I didn’t ask you if you were good at your job, I asked you if youlikedwhat you did for a living and if it makes you happy. I already know you’re successful. This house is amazing, you wear nice clothes, and drive a fancy car.”

I glared at him.

“Okay, forget about that. Forget I even asked.”

Thank God the interrogation was over.

I took another sip of my wine, wondering why he was analyzing me in the first place.

How much have I had? I was starting to feel tipsy.

Nick put more pasta onto his plate. “This second scoop is for fixing your table. Your account is now paid in full.” He winked. “What do you do, by the way? I know you said you wanted to be managing partner, but what are you doing now? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Finally, something I don’t mind talking about. “I’m partner at a consulting firm, a corporate takeover specialist.”

“Oh, that sounds intriguing. And what does that entail?”

“I find undervalued companies with superior products, but inferior business or marketing skills. Because they’re having issues, we buy them at a fraction of what they’re worth.”

He nodded. “And after you find these companies and buy them, what do you do with them?”

“We gut them and sell them for a profit.”

“Like a hostile takeover?”

I lifted my wine glass to my lips, but then paused. “No. A hostile takeover happens when an entity attempts to take control of another companywithoutthe consent or cooperation of the target company’s board of directors. Duringourprocess, the board of directorsagreeto sell to us. It’s one hundred percent consent and cooperation. It’s more like a friendly acquisition.”

“And do people lose their jobs in the process?”

“Yes. Always.”

He took a sip of his wine, nodding. “Doesn’t seem very friendly to me.”

“We aren’t the ones who put the company in that position in the first place. If they don’t sell to us, most of them will go bankrupt or die a slow death, unless someone else comes along to snatch them up.”

“Okay, but let me ask you this . . . why don’t you go in there and help them turn the company around instead of gutting it?”

I crossed my arms. “Because that’s not my job. It’s not what my company does. That’s like asking a professional tennis player why she doesn’t kick the fuzzy green ball with her foot instead of hitting it with a racket.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” He took a sip of his wine, deep in thought, eyes on me. “Boy, there’s one thing for sure, you and I are like surf and turf.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Come again?”

“I am the land and you are the sea.”

“If you’re trying to be philosophical, you’ve completely lost me.”

“You. Me.” He gestured to me and then to himself. “We’re complete opposites. I build things. Andyoutear them apart.” He shrugged and grabbed the serving spoon. “I think I’ll help myself to more of this delicious pasta.”

What the hell?

Why was Nick criticizing what I did for a living? And why did I suddenly feel like crap? Normally by now I would have been putting a guy in his place if he’d said something like this to me. Was it because what he said was partially true? I was confusing myself at the moment, but one thing I could clearly see: Nick didn’t like what I did for a living and had no problem telling me.