Joseph Daniel Zukiger looked at the pimple-faced reflection in the mirror and sighed. Six months spending half of every working day with a nutritionist, a physical trainer, a personal coach, a hair stylist, a dermatologist, and an image specialist to clean up all his social bumps, and one full day back on the job had wrought havoc on all that had been accomplished.
Of course it wasn't the emergency eight-hour shift he had worked that had really wrought the havoc. It was the opera in the evening. The opera was quite good, but the woman he had spent the last month courting, one Millicent Alfreda Porsche, had not appreciated his vocal appreciation of the cast and chorus's work.
He wasn't the only one standing, whistling, calling, "Olé". But she had been quite put out about it. Not even willing to discuss whether the performance was good enough for him to cheer so vocally.
The (very expensive) dinner after and the chauffeured trip to her apartment had been an exercise in arctic exploration. He assumed she was putting pressure on him to apologize for the scene he had made and promise not to repeat it.
His mother had spies in the audience, in the five-star restaurant, and even watching outside her apartment. So, rather than return home where she would be waiting on the phone to analyze the entire evening, he had told his chauffeur to take him back to work, where he joined his core staff diving into the bug he had left half fixed so he could go on the date. And they had fixed it. At some cost to his complexion and his suit.
Of course it wasn't the emergency eight-hour shift he had worked that had really wrought the havoc. It was the opera in the evening. The opera was quite good, but the woman he had spent the last month courting, one Millicent Alfreda Porsche, had not appreciated his vocal appreciation of the cast and chorus's work.
He wasn't the only one standing, whistling, calling, "Olé". But she had been quite put out about it. Not even willing to discuss whether the performance was good enough for him to cheer so vocally.
The (very expensive) dinner after and the chauffeured trip to her apartment had been an exercise in arctic exploration. He assumed she was putting pressure on him to apologize for the scene he had made and promise not to repeat it.
His mother had spies in the audience, in the five-star restaurant, and even watching outside her apartment. So, rather than return home where she would be waiting on the phone to analyze the entire evening, he had told his chauffeur to take him back to work, where he joined his core staff diving into the bug he had left half fixed so he could go on the date. And they had fixed it. At some cost to his complexion and his suit.
He supposed he was disappointed for all the specialists he had hired, disappointed for the professional matchmaker, too.
Mostly he was disappointed for his mom. She had so many expectations and none of them were coming to fruition. She wanted grandchildren, and what she had was a pimply, socially awkward, single, adult son with a successful business and enough profits safely invested away to retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life -- as long as the economy didn't suddenly go belly-up.
Mostly he was disappointed for his mom. She had so many expectations and none of them were coming to fruition. She wanted grandchildren, and what she had was a pimply, socially awkward, single, adult son with a successful business and enough profits safely invested away to retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life -- as long as the economy didn't suddenly go belly-up.
His parents hadn't wanted the new house or the new car he had suggested. They wanted grandkids and a daughter-in-law.
But for himself, he wasn't disappointed at all. One more gold-digger retired. He was much more comfortable with all his personality bumps, edges, and awkwardnesses showing. And his opinion, not well accepted with his mother, was that any woman who would be persuaded by the artificial changes would be a woman he would not want to spend a whole lot of time with, much less the rest of eternities.
So he pulled off his suit and shirt, threw them over the back of his chair, set the alarm for 10:00 AM, gave a moment of appreciation to taking in the beautiful sunrise outside his window, and fell into his bed. He was unconscious before he hit the mattress.
At 10:15, he walked into the office in his wrinkled suit and without his tie, whistling "Let It Go" and grinning. All his staff cheered. James, his office manager and chief of sales, returned his grin and said, "Welcome back."
Sherry, his partner and second-in-command smiled broadly and gave him a thumbs up. She was also running on three hours of sleep, and looked it.
The door opened behind him and the cheering suddenly faded. He stopped whistling and turned around, his shoulders slumping.
"Joseph, I am disappointed."
"Mom, --"
From behind her, Jenny, his personal coach, a cheerful dancer of modern dance, interrupted. "Sister Zukiger, I'm not sure this is even a setback."
More than once, he had wished his personal coach were not already married.
"Quiet. I am taking charge now."
Something inside was rising, but he automatically suppressed it. Habit long in-grained took care of any rebellious thoughts.
From out in the hall, Sheliah, the matchmaker said, "I think it's time for a new plan."
Without thinking, he said, "Okay, what's your plan?"
In the sudden silence, you could have heard a feather drop, if his mother had worn one of her hats that shed feathers.
But she hadn't today.
She remembered to close her mouth and turned toward the door. "Yes. What's your new plan?" Surprisingly, her voice was neither querulous nor sarcastic. A collective sigh of relief could be felt, if not heard.
She remembered to close her mouth and turned toward the door. "Yes. What's your new plan?" Surprisingly, her voice was neither querulous nor sarcastic. A collective sigh of relief could be felt, if not heard.
"Reality TV. A contest. E-P-ist millionaire seeking wife."
Mentally, Joseph Daniel Zukiger put palm to forehead. But his mother had turned around, raising an eyebrow. It looked like she wanted him to agree.
Behind her, Sheliah was nodding, with a finger to her lips, and Jenny gave him a wink.
"Oh, whatever." He raised his hands in the air. "I need to make sure the bug we squashed a few hours ago will remain squashed, so all of my training sessions this morning are cancelled. Everybody take a day off."
His mother stood, arms akimbo, frowning.
"Okay, Mom, tomorrow morning. Sheliah can tell us about her plan then."
His mother thought for a moment, then nodded. "Eight o'clock, sharp." Then she turned and left. Jenny and Sheliah waved cheerfully and followed her.
He retired into the server room to check the last three hours' worth of logs, and Sherry joined him. "Maybe all this training isn't going to waste. You stood up to your mother today."
"Sort-of."
"It's a good start. Look at the transaction roll-back logs."
"What roll-back logs?"
"That's the point."
"Uh-oh, there should be something there for three hours worth of business." We dug in.
Mentally, Joseph Daniel Zukiger put palm to forehead. But his mother had turned around, raising an eyebrow. It looked like she wanted him to agree.
Behind her, Sheliah was nodding, with a finger to her lips, and Jenny gave him a wink.
"Oh, whatever." He raised his hands in the air. "I need to make sure the bug we squashed a few hours ago will remain squashed, so all of my training sessions this morning are cancelled. Everybody take a day off."
His mother stood, arms akimbo, frowning.
"Okay, Mom, tomorrow morning. Sheliah can tell us about her plan then."
His mother thought for a moment, then nodded. "Eight o'clock, sharp." Then she turned and left. Jenny and Sheliah waved cheerfully and followed her.
He retired into the server room to check the last three hours' worth of logs, and Sherry joined him. "Maybe all this training isn't going to waste. You stood up to your mother today."
"Sort-of."
"It's a good start. Look at the transaction roll-back logs."
"What roll-back logs?"
"That's the point."
"Uh-oh, there should be something there for three hours worth of business." We dug in.
This conversation on the LDS Beta Readers FaceBook group talking about the person calling himself a Mormon millionaire, proposing to find his wife by advertising on billboards and running what is essentially a contest was the spark for the flash piece:
https://www.facebook.com/groups/475461645922698/permalink/1552836624851856/
It looks like it may turn into a novel: https://joelrees-novels.blogspot.com/2019/05/jdz-millionaire-the-campaign-idea.html
And this is the flash piece as I originally posted it in the LDSBR FB group:
Joseph Daniel Zukiger looked at the pimple-faced reflection in the mirror and sighed. Six months with a nutritionist, a physical trainer, a personal coach, a hair stylist, and an image specialist to clean up all those social bumps, and one full day back on the job had wrought havoc on all that had been accomplished.
He was disappointed for all the specialists he had hired, disappointed for the professional matchmaker, too. Mostly he was disappointed for his mom. She had so many expectations and none of them were coming to fruition. She wanted grandchildren, and what she had was a pimply, socially awkward single adult son with a successful business and enough profits safely invested away to retire and live comfortably for the rest of his life -- as long as the economy didn't suddenly go belly-up.
His parents hadn't wanted the new house or the new car he had suggested. They wanted grandkids and a daughter-in-law.
But he wasn't disappointed for himself. He was simply more comfortable with all the personality bumps, edges, and awkwardness.
So he pulled off his shirt, set the alarm for 10:00 AM, took a look out the window at the beautiful sunrise, and fell into his bed. He was unconscious before he hit the mattress.
At 10:15, he walked into his office in his wrinkled suit, whistling "Let It Go" and grinning. All his staff cheered. James, his office manager and chief of sales, said, "Welcome back."
Sherry, his second in the software department gave him a thumbs up.
The door opened behind him and the cheering suddenly faded. He stopped whistling and turned around, his shoulders slumping.
"Joseph, I am disappointed."
"Mom, --"
From behind her, Jenny, his personal coach, a cheerful dancer of modern dance, interrupted. "Sister Zukiger, I'm not sure this is even a setback."
More than once, he had wished his personal coach were not already married.
"Quiet. I am taking charge now."
Something inside was rising, but he automatically suppressed it. Habit long in-grained took care of any rebeliuos thoughts.
From out in the hall, Sheliah, the matchmaker said, "I think it's time for a new plan."
Without thinking, he said, "Okay, what's your plan?"
In the sudden silence, you could have heard a feather drop, if any hats had been dropping feathers.
His mother remembered to close her mouth and turned toward the door. "Yes. What's your new plan?" Her voice was neither querilous nor sarcastic. A collective sigh of relief could be heard.
"Reality TV. A contest. E-P-ist millionaire seeking wife."
