The president is pacing the perimeters of the expansive executive office on the seventh floor of Emerald Footwear, looking out over the lake, past the glittering buildings on the other side of the water, guaging a break in the clouds and wondering what it's like out on the north eighteen of the golf course. He needs to exercise, to work off the stress of the continuous decision making, steering the giant supertanker, all of the little course corrections that keep the ship safe and headed to the distant port, through the storms and bright weather, knowing you never really get there.
Needs to exercise, longing for the early days, testing and adjusting new products back on the track in Eugene, selling shoes out of the back of his car to college student runners who came to the meet from all over the Northwest - and, all of the idealistic and motivated young people who had come to Emerald over the years, a few of them staying but most of them moving with their focused inertia beyond Emerald out into to the wider world to become industry competitors, and marketing managers for companies that sold toothpaste, or high school coaches, or - what was Jim doing now that he had walked with nearly a million in cash? The president smiles, good for him, smart kid, he got out and now he's looking at world from beyond this corporate tower at Emerald.
One of the things that the president most enjoys about Jim is his spirit, he cares but he doesn't care too much. Like me, I'm not afraid to take my hands off the ship's wheel, but I what would I do with myself if I wasn't growing the company that gave form to my own creative energy, and love of life?
The other thing about Jim is that he listens, and he tells you whatever he is thinking. After a couple of hours on the squash court, exhausted from the battle with the other man, bounding up and down the small court until you fall and lie in a small puddle of your own sweat, and the other man stands over you smiling, and pokes you in the chest with his raquet, and later seated in the small executive bar on another corner of the campus, a couple of beers in to the early evening, you can pitch the guy your most pressing question, and watch his reaction, carefully putting his own thoughts together and asking you questions and getting more information, and drawing you out until you finally give him that answer that you knew was what you were planning to do in the back of your mind all along.
For the first time since Jim left the company - five short months ago - the president dials the familiar phone number, and invites Jim over for a game of squash, and a drink and dinner at headquarters.
