Check Please

He walked into the room without so much as a rap at the closed door and without pause or invitation. Slouching into the soft leather upholstery, he claimed a seat of prominence at the long gleaming table. An assistant quickly and quietly moved to close the door left standing ajar in his wake. Sparing not so much as a glance at the folder silently slipped in front of him, he reached past several faces to the carafe of coffee. Unconcerned with the disruption created by his entrance, his presence or his usurping of position, he noisily selected a cup from the tray, the clatter of spoon on china deafening to all but himself. Cup finally to his liking, he reached into his carefully tailored jacket and slipped out the cel phone, fingers beginning to fly across the tiny keyboard as the attorney across the table continued to outline the demise of an empire cherished by his father ... now too long regarded as an amusement by the son.

With a sigh of exasperation, he slammed the phone to the table, looked up, lifted a hand to stop the flow of information and spoke.

"Right. Thousands of jobs lost, bankruptcy, doom and gloom, blah, blah, blah. Where's the check?"