“It looks like translation differences.”
“It looks like you provided materially softened disclosures to a foreign counterparty.”
“They are American.”
“The chairman’s directors requested Mandarin materials.”
“That doesn’t make them foreign.”
“You know what I mean.”
The lawyer lowered her voice.
“Were any representations intentionally altered?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
She stared.
“I need access to every translation instruction.”
“You work for me.”
“I work for the company.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
That was the first time anyone said no to him that morning.
He looked genuinely surprised.
His lawyer continued:
“If there is deliberate discrepancy, I have obligations.”
His expression hardened.
“Careful.”
She almost laughed.
“Do not say that to your lawyer.”
He walked away.
The waitress spent the break alone in a small conference room.
Her hands shook.
That irritated her.
She opened and closed them.
Then her phone buzzed.
Her mother.
I SAW YOU ON THE INTERNET.
A second message.
YOUR HAIR LOOKED NICE.
The waitress laughed aloud.
Then:
ARE YOU IN TROUBLE?
She typed:
Not yet.
Her mother replied:
THAT MEANS YES.
The waitress put the phone down.
A knock.
The chairman entered.
She stood.
He motioned.
“Please.”
She sat.
He remained standing near the window.
“I want to say something before we resume.”
“Okay.”
“You are not responsible for deciding whether the transaction is dishonest.”
“I know.”
“You are responsible for language.”
“I know.”
He looked toward her.
“Do you?”
She smiled faintly.
“Trying.”
The chairman nodded.
“When I was thirty-two, I negotiated my first major supplier contract.”
“I spoke Mandarin better than the other side knew.”
“They discussed me in front of me.”
The waitress raised an eyebrow.
“What did they say?”
“That I was young.”
“Inexperienced.”
“Desperate.”
“Also that my tie was ugly.”
She smiled.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
He continued.
“I used the information.”
“I won the negotiation.”
“For years, I told that story as proof of cleverness.”
“Then one day my daughter asked why I was proud of people humiliating themselves because they underestimated me.”
The waitress listened.
The chairman looked toward the conference-room door.
“Being underestimated can become addictive.”
“What do you mean?”
“You begin wanting the reveal.”
“The moment faces change.”
“The reversal.”
He looked back.
“It feels like justice.”
“Sometimes it is.”
“But if you begin performing for that moment, other people’s ignorance still controls you.”
The waitress thought about the check.
The executives standing.
The video.
“You think I performed.”
“No.”
“I think you answered.”
“There’s a difference.”
He smiled.
“I’m reminding both of us not to enjoy the reversal so much that we forget the work.”
The waitress nodded.