2
We had just adjourned from a meeting with the firm's biggest client. I had labored day and night for weeks to get the designs to match his exacting requirements. Each meeting before had ended in page after page of changes to make, making me wonder if I would ever see the end of it. But now he had finally signed off on the final design and given the go ahead to begin construction. Walking back to my office, it was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
I keep a bottle of scotch in the bureau behind my drafting desk for just this sort of occasion. Jim, my immediate superior at the firm, and I had just poured ourselves two fingers each when Helen, my admin, stuck her head in.
"Tim, there's a Mr. Bartleby here to see you," she said. "He says he's an old friend of yours."
I blin
