The Syndrome: Based on a True Story (Book #1) by Paul Rega

Author:Paul Rega [Rega, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deep Blue Publishing
Published: 2014-07-03T04:00:00+00:00

18

Six months have passed. Not much has changed regarding my career. I feel more trapped than ever before. My money supply is down to approximately a year of survival time. I’m uncomfortable with that. I need some additional cash to expand the business. I may seek additional sources to raise the money I may need, but I don’t like the idea of more credit. My current debt load is sustainable.

We moved into our new office in March and I feel good about the extra space. It’s a great location—only a mile from our house. I love being downtown, near all the other businesses in town. Nikolas Jr. stopped by the other day, asking for some money to buy an ice cream. I loved that. We've had so many problems with the house. The builder has put us through hell and we've endured about as much bullshit as I’m going to take. My attorney says we may have to sue the bastard. I was hoping to avoid that.

Our fourth child is due soon. I hope all goes well with the delivery this time. I don’t think Maria could handle another baby with a cord wrapped around its neck. Please God let the baby be healthy. I'm working, but not quite hard enough. Nestle has given me a large assignment, with the possibility of another one. I must push myself now! My workouts are more regular and I’m getting back into the martial arts. I’m thankful I have this skill. It helps me to maintain discipline.

I desperately need to drum up more business and am expecting to hear something tomorrow, from one of my clients. This business is like that; it’s always hurry up and wait. By now, you would think I'd be used to it, but it drives me mad. There is always a damn delay. I don’t like the use of credit—not used to that. I need to stick to the plan of making some placements and then hiring a few people. Fast! This I know, will motivate me. At least it has in the past. Focus, I keep telling myself over and over again, focus. It's the only way.

Several more months have passed, and I’m in the office, loading Christmas gifts into black plastic bags to transport to the house. The feeling I have, is a lot of what I imagine Santa feels like when loading gifts into his sleigh. As a young boy, I was by far the best finder of the Christmas gifts my mother so carefully hid. Not a Christmas went by after I turned ten, when I didn’t already know exactly what I was getting. The anticipation drove me nuts. I had to know. Tonight, I'm Santa; in the morning, I'll be Dad.

I’m hoping my father will be better soon, but the prognosis is not good and his prospects of improving are slim. I pray he gets well, both physically and mentally. His mental capacity is not what it was, even just a few months ago.

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