| "So, Charlie, what have you been up to since high school?" they'll ask at my ten-year reunion. I'll say, "This and that. Did I mention the curse and the eight companies I've destroyed?" I don't know how I got cursed. At Vanguard, I mentioned my résumé of destruction and the ill fated companies left in my wake to coworkers one day over lunch. That's when they jokingly named it the "Corporate Curse." My co-workers from Vanguard aren't laughing anymore. Vanguard was two toppled companies ago. Now, I work for Simucalc, while they work for other companies not associated with me. We may have joked about my curse, but it was serious. The momentum behind the failures of the companies were all things beyond my control. I tired of constantly keeping my résumé up to date and looking for a new job every couple of years, if not sooner. What could I have done? I finally did something about the Corporate Curse while working at Simucalc. Dorothy and I ate dinner with Joe. Joe and I reminisced about times at Vanguard, and laughed about the Corporate Curse. My wife did not. She asked, "What's this about a curse?" "Your husband's cursed. He destroys every company he works for," Joe said. Dorothy dropped her fork to her plate. A loud clank rang across the restaurant. Other patrons looked around, disgusted at who interrupted their meal and pleasant dinner conversation, as if the home-style cooking, family restaurant was that type of dining establishment. "What! You never told me this! Why didn't you tell me you were cursed? What kind of curse is it? Are you going to die? Am I going to die? Tell me about this curse," she said. "Calm down. You're not going to die. I only destroy companies," I said, "I think it started with Wham Burgers. Wham Burgers was my first real job earning a real paycheck. They documented six cases of food poisoning in less than a week. Rumors spread like their outdated mayonnaise. Business dropped off and they closed. "Next was Splitsville Bowling Center. They lost business to and were bought out by a competitor across town. They remodeled new, auto-scoring machines over the ancient mechanics of the pin sweeper and ball return. Late one night, old tech and new tech had a fight and started a fire. "Then, Groovy Tunes, a local arts and entertainment newssheet, was hit by the Curse. They hired me to replace the previous music reviewer. One of my articles was printed. The other two, and my paycheck, were held hostage in a writers' strike. By the next issue, my articles, my job, and the newssheet were history. "I interned with Morning Storm Studios the year they lost millions in bombed movies and shelves packed with unsold merchandise." "Ugh. I remember that year. Not pretty," Joe said. "You remember the movie The Juggernaut's Wife?" I asked. "I'd rather not," Joe said. "Uh, hello? You were telling me about the curse?" Dorothy said. "Yeah. So, then I also part timed at Theater of War. They designed hex-style, battle simulation software based on the classic, board games of historical wars." "Oh yeah. I remember playing those. I forgot you said you worked there," Joe said. "I did, until they declared bankruptcy, were bought out, and declared bankruptcy again. The CEO took the money and ran. Or, I should say, 'drove.' We heard he spent the company's money on a convertible and ocean front property in California." "Sweet," Joe said. "Not really. The rest of us in Texas didn't have enough money to release software patches. That's it, really. I think the other companies you know about." Dorothy had not touched her food since the first mention of the word "curse." My trail of destruction had never come up during our relationship. She knew of the misfortunes with a couple of companies, the ones since we started dating. With the entire timeline drawn out, it painted an entirely different picture. "This is serious. You are cursed. You should look into having the curse removed," she said, as if the curse were a tumor and I should see a doctor for a cursendectomy. My wife took the Corporate Curse very seriously. More seriously than I did. Curses, luck, fate, voodoo--all of it was a very serious topic for her. She took to the unexplained the way Baptists took to the Bible. "Can you find gypsies in the yellow pages?" I asked. "Sure, under R for rip-offs," Joe said. He and I laughed until we saw Dorothy's cold gaze. I wiped the smile off my face with my napkin. "Okay, Dot. Who do you want me to call?" "You remember Melanie from work?" Dorothy asked. "Yeah," I said. "Is she a gypsy?" "Is she single?" Joe asked. "No and no. Her sister is kind of a 'gypsy,' as you put it. She pays her way through college telling tarot card fortunes and reading palms." "Are you serious? Does it pay well?" Joe asked. "You'd be surprised," Dorothy said. "Wow," Joe said, "Is she single?" "Don't know," Dorothy said. "What's her name?" I asked. Dorothy hesitated, gave Joe a sideways glance, and said, "Her name is Stella, but she prefers to be called 'Madam Stella.'" Joe snorted Dr Pepper out his nose and laughed himself sideways out of his chair. The restaurant patrons again looked annoyed at our table. After cleaning up the mess with a spare napkin, I humored my wife and told her I'd go see "Madam Stella." That was the last mention of the Curse or Madam Stella that night. |
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