text: “Excuse me sir, are you using this chair” “Oh, I’m sorry. No, I am not. It is all yours Ma’m” Pulling the chair from my two top, the woman proceeded to awkwardly drag the leather seat back to her table of five. Tipping my hat in her direction, she received my gesture with a half hearted grin, as did her companions. They were an older group, gayly enjoying lunch. What they did not know was that they had just taken the seat of the hotel manager, Mr. Parchivald who I was expecting to meet with at 12:00pm. Or in other words, 15 minutes. Fortunately, I knew he would not arrive on time to our meeting. The manager would instead send over a member of his staff, to falsify his truth. This I estimated would all take place within the next 10 minutes. For all intents and purposes, I did not give a shit, about his absence. You see, when you’ve lived long enough with my condition, you learn to develop trust in the ways of the world. As it had happened over years of dealing with chronic deja vu, I have found that things always seemed to fall into place the way they were intended to. Mr. Parchivald would not arrive as planned, it was my job to accept this. 9 times out of 10, things usually worked out. The original plan went as follows. On this day, January13th, 1932, we were scheduled to meet at his hotel, The Bell View Baton Rougue. Mr. Parchivald was the manager of the establishment. He was a proud and dapper man, whose full name was William Robert Parchivald.. Full disclosure his mother called him little Billy for short. As the Vice President of Sales for Country Clear Bath Essentials, it was my job to sell this man bath products for his hotel. We would be agreeing on next years contract, and also introducing new products for our fine Shampoo, Soap, and Conditioner line. Mr. Parchivald did not know that we were having this meeting, he did not know that we were raising our prices equivalent to 2 cents a room either. He definitely didn’t know that I knew his mother called him little Billy. The following true story was all coincident. Or... was it intended to happen? ..... Understanding the difficult state of the economy, I knew I had brought a back up plan in case of desperation. In my suitcase, were two fine 2 bottles of Scotch, distilled 15 years off the native land. In addition, I had the ability to throw in a full year supply of our new body lotion if necessary. Pondering as to when and how this whole situation might unfold. I thought back to the vision I had earlier. When suddenly the messenger arrived. She was wearing a white collared shirt, with two pins. The top pin was circular, and read “SR,” while the second one read “Lobby” “I am so sorry, Mr. Writworth. Mr. Parchivald had an emergency, and will need to reschedule your meeting” “Hmmmm. I’m sorry who are you Mrs.?” “Oh, its actually Ms., and my name is Sue. Sue Randy.” “Nice to meet you Sue. When can I expect Billy to be available? I apologize but my schedule is quite busy, and I must be out by train first thing this evening” I responded quite directly. “Oh, did you mean Mr. Parchivald?” She said this with a puzzled look on her face. Sue was short for Susan, and Randy was a name given to her by her father. Sweet Sue is what he used to call her. “Yes, please tell Billy Parchivald that I can only meet with him today” “Right away. And Mr. Writworth, is there anything I can grab for you sir?” “Now that you mention it Sue. I would like a cappuccino and one of your chocolate croissants” “Certainly, Mr. Writworth” Walking upstairs into what I expected was Mr. Billy Parchivald’s office, I marveled at Ms. Randy Sue. She had worked for The Bell View for over 10 years, and this seemed to be the first time she would take matters into her own hands, pressing the urgency of my arrival. Most importantly, she would acknowledge Mr. Parchivald, and his true child like demeanor. &#x200B; If only 50% of the world was as dependable as her, maybe we’d be out of this great depression. &#x200B; ........ &#x200B; All would be well as soon as I got my cappuccino or so I thought. Stomping and climbing down the stairs, red like a chili pepper was a deranged Mr. Parchivald. Steam fuming out his ears, I took a deep breath, and hoped for a moment of deja vu to kick in, but nothing happened. Blazing Billy pulled out his colt 45 pistol, aiming the cold steel revolver to my head. “Who the fuck do you think you are, walking into my Hotel, naming me by my first name” The hotel fell silent, as gasps were heard around the dining area. Peering at the gauntly faces of the party across from me, I knew the joke was up. Staring up the metal shaft in front of my face, I traced it back to Billy's blood shot eyes. I could smell the whiskey under his breath. Normally a well put together, dapper man, Mr. Parchivald seemed to be all out of sorts. His grey hair usually fine combed looked thinner and unmaintained, sticking up in places that defied gravity. Trying to respond, I felt a lump in my throat and clog in my brain. I couldn’t help but admiring the man Billy Parchivald had become. Clicking the hammer back he looked terrifying, like a child who had forgotten how to dress himself. Every accent was askew. Notably were his missing cuff links, his crooked bow tie, and his stained white shirt. In his typical green and gold pin striped suit, he looked more like oversized lepraucan than a man. “God damnit answer me you good for nothing pansy ass!” he screamed. “Um, my name is William Writworth. I am hear from Clear Country Bath Essentials” I responded cautiously. Snarling back at me, he put his revolver back in its holster and attempted to retract his aggression like a psychopath. “Come to take more of my money I expect? ha ha ha ha” Laughing to himself, he terrified everyone around him, including Sue. Trying to meet his gaze, I couldn't help as my eyes kept drifting to his blistered red lip. Half of his mustache burnt away, my guess from a cigar that remained in his mouth after passing out. Yes, that was it. I could faintly smell the scent of burnt hair. Billy Parchivald was certainly having a hell of a morning. Tucking in his shirt, he looked down to see the missing chair. “Well then Mr. Whitworth, sounds like we got a bit of talking to doooo. How about you company’n me to my office where we can discuss the terms of our new deal” “Yes, why certainly Mr. Parchivald” I responded and we proceeded into his office. ....... Over the next hour, we would not discuss a dime of the actual contract or new agreement. Instead we would talk and drink the bottle of Scotch I had brought. What we did discuss was the price of travel out of the country and that I could only call him Big Billy, and I must always go by Little Willy. Signing our names as so, he agreed to the terms of our new contract, no lotion needed. As I closed the door to his office behind me I coughed abruptly as my lungs adjusted to the fresh air of the hotel. Walking down the stairs I smiled to myself as the world had once again worked out for the better. The last words I remember from Big Bill Parchivald were notions of fleeing the country. His two top destinations were Germany or Scottland. As I exited the rotating doors to grab a cab, a thought like the whisper of the wind came across my mind. It had been sometime since things had not worked out in my favor... 9 out of 10 I thought to myself. Then I heard a scream. “Wait ! Mr. Writworth!” Frantically I turned my head, and expecting the end of a gun. Peachy in the face, just as she was when I met here was Ms. Randy, croissant and cappuccino in hand. If only the rest of the world was as dependable as Sweet Sue.