Dating : The Professional

“I can’t find it!”

“What?”

“I said I can’t find it!”

“I heard you. What can’t you find?”

“The phone number. I can’t find it!”

“Well, find it.”

“You’re not listening to me…I CAN’T find it!”

“You’re not listening to ME. Find it.”

“Look, I wrote it down. I put it in the folder. It’s not in there. I CAN’T FIND IT!”

“You wrote the number down on, what…a loose piece of paper, and put it in a folder…a folder that’s open on three of its four sides…and now that loose piece of paper with the one vital bit of information which we need for success tonight is somehow gone, in spite of being stored in a manila folder that’s completely secure on precisely one out of four sides. Is that what you are saying?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying. IT’S GONE!”

“Well, that’s a big mistake, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not a mistake, but it’s a problem! What are we gonna do?”

“Wrong answer, and wrong question. The lost phone number is a mistake, but it is not your real problem. In truth, due to your mistake, I am now your problem, and believe me when I say that I am a very big problem, and one that nobody wants to have. Now, as to your question ‘What are we gonna do?’… I didn’t lose the phone number, Einstein! You lost it! What are YOU going to do about it?”

“Dammit, quit being such a smart-ass! What are we gonna do?”

“I sense that you aren’t keeping up with me. Let me be clear. To that end, I would like to give you the big picture. I did not choose you for this mission. You were imposed upon me, against my wishes. I knew what you were when I met you: an amateur. For that reason I made it clear to my client that I did not need or want your assistance. And yet, here you are, by my side…because I relented. The extra money…you know. My client wished me to bring you along on this mission, I believe, because he desires that you might someday be like me, and therefore, useful to him. I presume that you are a nephew of his, or perhaps an illegitimate son. In all likelihood you have been imposed on him just like you have been imposed on me. I don’t know, but I am certain that he has overestimated your potential. I know your nature better than he does and I only just met you.”

“Enough about you. In the event that you continue your training in this profession, I will give you a simple but important lesson now regarding problems. In and of themselves, problems are acceptable in this profession. Actually, problems are the reason for this profession. Ultimate problems, even. Problems are imposed upon us all the time by others or by fate. They are to be expected. But problems resulting from our own mistakes…these are a much worse kind of problem.”

“Agreeing to your ‘assistance’ was my mistake, and you are now my problem. You, too, have made a mistake, and as a result I am now your problem. These self-imposed handicaps are very lamentable, aren’t they! Believe me, right now, I very much regret my mistake. Do you regret yours yet? I doubt it. Here is another important distinction between the two of us: I will live to learn from my mistake. You…, well I just don’t know.”

“Do I have your attention? Are you keeping up with me now? Please try to. You see, these next few moments are critical in terms of your future.”

“Now, back to this issue of our own mistakes and the problems that result from them. The difference between my mistake and yours is this: I have a tremendous incentive to forgive my own mistakes, because I care about myself, and I am also certain that I can solve the problems that my mistakes lead to. I’m quite good at problem solving. It’s my specialty. On the other hand, your mistake elicits no mercy from me. YOU elicit no mercy from me.”

“You have said nothing for quite some time. I have admittedly dominated the conversation. Forgive me. I realize that I have given you too much information to process, given your stress level. Sometimes when I get started with someone like you, I begin to take advantage. It is a cruel thing. I am not proud of that tendency. So, I will try to wrap this up now.”

“Bottom line: your mistake and your problem are exclusively yours…not mine. Therefore, you need to listen carefully to me. You need to correct your mistake by finding that slip of paper quickly, or overcome your problem by physically or intellectually overcoming me expeditiously. You could also get out of this van and quickly put some distance between you and your problem, because otherwise, in approximately one minute I’m pulling over and I’m solving my problem.”

A moment passed as the amateur sat staring, mouth open, and finally blurted out “What the HELL is THAT supposed to mean?”

“It means that I am prepared to put you down. Whether or not I do so is up to you: who now has less than one minute to either correct your mistake, or solve your problem.”

“Or what? Are you saying you’re gonna shoot me over a lost phone number?”

“Shoot you? No, that’s not necessarily what I’m saying. What I implied, what I’m explicitly saying to you now, is that I’m going to kill you, because unless you produce that phone number right now, then I’m certain that my chances at success tonight are significantly better without you than they are with you. So, all that you need to know is that I’m permanently solving my “you” problem in about 15 seconds, unless you find that phone number, or solve your problem first. You got that, Einstein?”

“You’re crazy! Goddammit! Just give me a minute, okay! Just give me a minute…God!”

“I’m taking this next right turn and pulling over. You should hurry.”

“You’re serious? You’re…shit! Shit! Oh, Fuck! Please! Just wait a minute! Just…here! Here it is! I found it”

“Let me see that. That’s my phone number, Einstein. Mistake number two. I told you yesterday to never write down my phone number. Do you remember that? I wonder what else you have done to compromise my privacy.”

“Come on, please! Just put the gun away, please! Come on, man, you said you weren’t going to shoot me.”

“Mistake number three. I said I wasn’t necessarily going to shoot you. You really aren’t very good at minding the details, are you, Einstein?”

The missing slip of paper with the crucial phone number was actually in the amateur’s front right pocket, and as soon as his fingertips made contact with it he knew what he had found, before he had even put eyes on it. In a fraction of a second he frantically produced the paper, holding it out, then proudly waving it like a victory banner. The silly smile that spread across his face conveyed the joyous relief that accompanies a last second reprieve from a death sentence.

“Ha, ha…just in the nick of time! Oh, my God, I almost pissed myself. I thought you were really gonna do it. I swear, I thought you were really gonna…WAIT!”

The suppressor on the Kimber 1911 .45 pistol did its job, but still, it wasn’t like in the movies. There was considerable noise in the close confines of the boxy vehicle. The greater sound actually came from the fat, heavy slug as it impacted and tore into Einstein’s skull and brain, rather than the retort of the round going off. The professional knew the difference between the two components of the resulting sound, even though it all blended together, because there was such a short distance for the lethal slug to travel.

“Mistake number four. Your minute was up a bit ago, Einstein.”

He lit a match and burned the piece of paper that had his own phone number written on it. Then, he picked up the slip of paper with the “critical” lost phone number and dropped it out of the van window into the road. The slip of paper was only a bit of unnecessary trash to him, for he had memorized all of the information the night before, well before their mission had begun. In fact, he was only cruelly toying with Einstein about the missing “vital bit of data”, intent only on killing nothing more than some boring drive time, that is, until the slip of paper with his own phone number written down on it had materialized.

Professionals don’t stake a mission’s success, or their life, on a slip of paper or the occasional imbecile they encounter.

“Amateur!” spat the Professional.