“Rule number 12,” he said as he picked up the receiver to give me personal advice.
I left mine on speaker because I was angry and wanted the others in my office to hear what he said.
“Hope is for children. Hope is when your relative has an illness and you hope they get better. Hope is when you’re single and hope to find a mate. In business we deal in reality. Leave your hope at home.”
By the end, we were snickering on my side of the phone and he was stifling his own snicker.
That was comfortably more than a decade ago. A little hope still sneaks in sometimes.
Call me a child. Part of me is one.