“You can’t make me take over my father’s company! You can’t!”
I burst through the large oak doors of the Lincoln Industrial headquarters. I made an angry dash for the elevators, with a team of lawyers and company men chasing me.
“But Arnold, you have to. It was your father’s dying wish that you would take over.”
“And what about my living wish? Isn’t my own life plan worth something?”
They all stopped to take in my question. I was in the middle of pressing the down button on the elevator when I realized what I had said. What was my own life plan?
No, I didn’t want to run this cooperate giant. No, I didn’t want to punch in 9 to 5 for the next 45 years, wearing thousand dollar suites, hanging out with people that were trying to suck up to me. But what did I want?
The ding of the elevator’s arrival interrupted our thoughts.
I stepped into the elevator, hoping to put a close to this conversation. Some lawyer shouted from the back of the pack, “If you aren’t going to take over, then it goes to your sister.”
I jammed the door open button. “What?”