Steven Jenkins was the kind of guy who asked to pee before going, not out of politeness but to actually ask permission. He always carried this soft, forced smile, seemingly always wanting approval and always searching for it. When you find out such men have trouble keeping a woman, that they complain of "doing all the right things," and the dames still leave, who's really that surprised? No girl wants to date a a guy who wonders if his balls are in the right spot every morning.
So it was shocking to hear he had been accused for leading a seven million dollar embezzlement from the firm. Some nerdy expense scheme whereby a few extra bucks was taken off the top of everyone who was traveling over a period of seven months. It was like the plot of Superman 3 or officespace, but without the android or Michael Bolton (not the "no-talent assclown").
Turns out that Steven was only accused and not arrested because he went missing two days before the release. And while I should have thought stealing was wrong, he should have been caught, and so forth, part of me was impressed and glad for his little illegal action. It was like he was finishing off some self-assertiveness program and completely misinterpreted the last step to becoming a "self-actualized" individual. But hell, if I were his life coach, I'd give him points for originality. Some men speak louder or risk their lives to prove their toughness; Steven committed white collar crime.
So it was with a half worried smirk when he gave me a call, wanting to meet at the stone fountain in front of Central Park in an hour. I'm sure there was some wise decision I could have made about contacting the police and helping the investigation, but it was a Tuesday at 2 pm and I could use the coffee break.
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