Hilary

Author © Scott D. Zachary

       If I hadn’t been a hardheaded, conceited, inconsiderate, unruly drunk and an arrogant, self-glorifying workaholic, I might’ve been a pretty decent fellow in those days. I outworked everyone around me, accomplishing feats that most others couldn’t even conceive. Yet, I was still worthless as a human being. Sure, to those companies who benefitted enormously from my extraordinary achievements, I was their superstar. But my net contribution to the human race was still negative.

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       Recall how I remotely salvaged Mid South Roller’s software fiasco in Arkansas from Johannesburg, South Africa? That gave me two clients—including Nite Lite—with which to found a computer consulting company. I gave Sterling (my boss) six months’ termination notice, after which I planned to leave South Africa and establish a computer consulting firm in Arkansas. Sterling freaked. Dropping everything, he took me out to an exquisite five-star dinner at a French restaurant. Over dessert, Sterling offered me ten percent of the company stock to keep me from leaving. Primarily wanting to have ownership in a business, I withdrew my resignation and accepted Sterling’s offer.

       Fast forward four months through my exhilarating expedition to Mount Everest. My wanderlust appeased, I settled into my ownership role with my usual spunky determination. I took my stake in Advantage Management Services so seriously that I began toying with the idea of hiring someone with promising potential to train as a systems analyst. Assuming that Sterling would likely veto the idea, I planned to pay this person out of my own wallet initially. I considered it an investment. Convention would have had me discuss this with my new business partners, but I have little regard for conventionality.

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       Jack asked me if his girlfriend Monica could move in with him in our three-bedroom apartment. I didn’t see a problem with it; I only slept there anyway. I spent nearly all of my waking hours either working in my office designing software or partying at the bars and nightclubs around Johannesburg. When I agreed to her moving in with us, I didn’t know how self-righteous and opinionated Jack’s hussy was.

       Shortly after Monica moved in, I hit a turning point regarding my nightly drunks and found an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. I hadn’t been to a meeting in years, but I was tired of the daily hangovers and thought I’d give sobriety another shot. I felt right at home in that AA meeting, which closely resembled stateside gatherings. Afterward, I drove home to my apartment. When I walked in, Jack exclaimed, “Wow, it’s not even eight o’clock! All the bars close early, Scott?”

       “I went to an AA meeting,” I proudly stated. “I’m going to quit drinking.”

       “What! No willpower?” Monica jabbed.

       I glared at her. “You obviously don’t know the first thing about alcoholism, Monica.”

       “I know all about it—weak-minded people use AA as a crutch because they don’t have enough willpower to quit drinking on their own.”

       “Extremely few genuine alcoholics quit drinking without the help of AA, Miss Know-It-All. You should try it.”

       Monica wouldn’t let it alone; she bombastically needled me about my lack of self-control. She’s lucky I didn’t pin her head between her ears. Jack apologized for Monica’s belligerence, but it was clear that I needed to get away from that wretched woman. I packed up my few belongings and rented a room in the hotel above Bloke’s, my favorite English tavern and restaurant.

       If you’re an alcoholic and you’re serious about getting sober, I strongly recommend that you do not move topside of a bar. I had suspected that I needed to hit a much lower bottom than just wanting to put a stop to my morning hangovers. Besides, I hadn’t lost anything; I was still on top of the world in my mind; no self-respecting alcoholic ever quit drinking without first losing everything that mattered. Reminds me of Mac Davis’s old song “It’s Hard To Be Humble.” In my experience, alcoholics tend to think too highly of themselves and need a heaping dose of humility before they can admit that their lives are unmanageable. How could my life have been unmanageable? I always got my way.

       That was the only time I hooked up with AA during my three-year sojourn in South Africa.

       I selected my first systems analyst apprentice at dinner one evening. I had observed his methodical, yet quick problem-solving skills over a period of weeks. The Xhosa maître d’ Thabo knew nothing about programming a computer, but his excellent logical reasoning and intuitive wit would couple nicely with his exuberant initiative. I discussed with Thabo the possibility of training him late in the evenings and on weekends to become a systems analyst and programmer. He pounced on the extraordinary opportunity that I offered him. Unfortunately, before Thabo and I commenced our endeavor, the restaurant manager told me that Thabo had been let go due to “suspicions of pilfering.”

       I’m not one to be easily dissuaded, so I renewed my search for a mental clone of sorts. My rationale was multifold: 1) To invest in my company, 2) To provide an exceptional opportunity to a fortuitous stranger, 3) And lastly, to test my intuitive ability in judging people’s intellect by glancing into their eyes, much like grading diamonds.

       I love training someone who truly hungers for my software expertise. My affinity and knack for teaching software design flourished during my training sessions with junior analysts in AWACS at Tinker Air Force Base and with NATO officers in the RSSC at Headquarters AFNORTH. For me, training a hyper-motivated student in a hyper-intensive manner is pure fun.

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       Jack bought a house for him and Monica and asked me if I wanted the apartment. I agreed to take it with the stipulation that Monica could never, ever enter it under any circumstances.

       Shortly after I moved back into the apartment in Sandton, I happened upon an unusually intelligent young woman at a Sandton discothèque. I intended to ask this foxy blonde to dance with me until I perceived the brainy glint in her eyes. Instead, I began querying to ascertain her potential. We shouted so we could understand each other above the loud pop music. Her frosty, red-headed female chum interjected skeptical bursts throughout our unconventional interview.

       “I’m Scott.” I paused as the DJ introduced the next song. “I’m a top-notch systems analyst and part owner of an industrial engineering firm here in Sandton.”

       “My name’s Hilary.”

       “Is that an Australian accent?”

       “New Zealand.”

       “I was going to ask you to dance, but upon closer examination, I’m more interested in the aptitude that I detect in your eyes.”

       “I’m sure he’s interested in your eyes, Hilary,” jeered Frosty.

       I dismissed Hilary’s doubtful friend with a discarding glance and focused on Hilary. “How much do you know about programming computers?”

       “Nothing. I’m a teacher by trade. I know word processing and spreadsheets and such, but zilch about programming. Computers do fascinate me, though.”

       “Are you working somewhere currently?”

       “What is this, a job interview?” asked Hilary.

       “Sort of—I’ve been scouting for someone with the potential to train from scratch to become a world-class systems analyst and programmer, like me.”

       “I know what he’s scouting for,” injected Frosty.

       I grinned. “Normally, your suspicious friend here would be undeniably correct. But not this time. I am interested in your calves.”

       “My calves?”

       “See, I told you so—he only wants your bod,” pounced Frosty.

       “Your chiseled calves tell me that you’re a runner.”

       “I am.”

       “Would you be interested in ultra-intensive one-on-one training to become a systems analyst and programmer?”

       “To answer your previous question, no, I’m not working; I’ve been traveling the world for a couple of years. And yes, I’d be interested if this is legitimate.” Hilary looked me up and down. “What would I have to do in return?”

       “I know what he wants you to do!” spouted Frosty with a tinge of envy in her voice.

       “Here’s my proposal, Hilary: You and I would train in an extremely intensive manner for several months to transform you into a top-notch analyst and programmer, to make you valuable to my company, and to me. In return, you would be my personal assistant, physical fitness trainer, and chauffeur. After you become billable to our clients, my company will provide you a substantial salary and benefits. In the meantime, I’d be paying you and wagering on your ability to become an asset to Advantage Management Services, valuable enough that my partners in the company would want to hire you. Until you have absorbed enough of my knowledge and skill to enable you to do work for our clients and bill them for your time, I would pay you a minimal stipend and offer you a room in my three-bedroom apartment. That’s it.”

       “That’s a highly peculiar opportunity you’re offering, Scott,” acknowledged Hilary.

       “Interested?”

       “I’m definitely interested.”

       “Do you have proper attire for an office environment, Hilary?”

       “Not really, I’ve been backpacking across India and South Africa.”

       Frosty’s distrustful expression had turned to jealousy. “You don’t even know anything about this man, Hilary!”

       I pulled out my wallet and peeled off 1,200 Rand in hundreds. “I’ll offer you one more benefit, Hilary—2,400 Rand with which you can purchase an appropriate wardrobe. Here’s half of that. If you decide that you don’t want to take advantage of my offer, keep it.” I wrote the address of my apartment on the back of my business card and handed it to Hilary along with the cash. “See you tomorrow evening at my apartment at six sharp...or not.” I extended my hand. “Nice to meet you, Hilary.”

       “You are an extraordinary man, Scott Zachary.”

       “Thanks, I think. Besides investing in my company, I would receive another benefit from this unusual arrangement—I love intensively training someone who hungers for my knowledge of computers. Oh, and another token on your side of the scale—I often relax on the Natal coast and at game reserves in the Eastern Transvaal. You’d be welcome to accompany me as a guest—no cost.” I smiled and walked away, chuckling. What red-blooded man wouldn’t want a foxy blonde Kiwi for his personal assistant, fitness trainer, and chauffeur?

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       I opened the door of my apartment. “You’re punctual, Hilary. Please come through and sit with me on the veranda.”

       We sat in high-back wicker chairs watching Joe, the groundskeeper, prune rose bushes in the immaculately landscaped garden two stories below. Joe waved cheerfully at me, and I returned his greeting.

       “I have a few questions before I can accept your offer, Scott.”

       “Ask away.”

       “What would my job title be?”

       “Initially, Apprentice Systems Analyst. However, as I said last night, you would earn your training by being my personal assistant, fitness trainer, and chauffeur.”

       “What exactly does fitness trainer entail?”

       “  ‘Running coach’ more precisely describes that responsibility. I got myself into top physical condition before I trekked to Mount Everest recently. I would like you to make sure I don’t lose this condition. You would direct me to run with you whether I want to or not. I would be the boss regarding your training as a systems analyst and programmer, and you would be my boss concerning my physical training. I would have to follow your orders—you say ‘Run,’ and I run. I know how I am—if I don’t have an objective, I’ll let my physical condition go.”

       “Wouldn’t there be a conflict of interest with you working for Advantage Management Services and me working for you?”

       “That’s the crux of the matter, Hilary. I work for Sterling who is the Director of AMS and majority shareholder. Sterling is a highly conservative fellow, and I suspect that he would immediately nix our project of training you to become a top-notch systems analyst like me, even with the cost coming out of my pocket. He’d say it’s not possible to accomplish in six months or less, and I would agree. But that’s my plan.”

       “You would agree that it’s not possible?” Confusion knitted Hilary’s brows.

       “Yes, I would—under normal circumstances. However, there wouldn’t be anything normal about our training regimen. Even taking into account the extremely high aptitude that I perceive in your eyes, your mind is going to be floundering in information at the end of each day. I did this before while stationed in Norway as an Air Force captain. Like you, Airman Collins—David, that is—knew practically nothing about computer software when we began our training sessions. And like Sterling, my Danish NATO boss Jens would’ve also strongly rejected the idea, calling it a waste of my valuable time. At the end of each workday, after everyone else on our software development team had left Kolsås Mountain where we worked, I machine-gunned David with my knowledge of systems design for five solid hours, or until I could see his eyes flounder and lose focus.”

       “Did you and David reach your goal of making him a systems analyst?”

       “Sure did!” I beamed confidently. “David and I had been hyper-training, as I call it, for about sixteen weeks when Jens surprised us late one evening. He had forgotten a file folder on the conference room table where we were training. It was nearly ten o’clock—long after everyone usually left the mountain. Jens looked at us suspiciously as he asked, ‘What are you two doing here?’

       “I grinned and proudly announced, ‘I’d like to introduce you to the newest systems analyst on our team, Jens.’

       “Jens retorted, ‘I know David—he’s one of our admin clerks.’

       “  ‘You weren’t listening, Jens,’ I told him. ‘David is our new systems analyst.’

       “Jens dropped into a chair. ‘What are you telling me, Scott?’ he asked.

       “I reminded Jens that he said we desperately needed more analysts to reach our development deadlines. I told him about how David and I spent five intensive hours every evening for the past four months transferring my knowledge to him. I explained that David’s extremely high aptitude, along with his hyper-motivation, made it possible for me to teach him nearly everything I knew about software development on the Command and Control Information System. I could see the doubt in Jens’ eyes. I turned to David and rapidly quizzed him about the complexities of inner and outer logical joins. David answered my questions as well as I could’ve, substantiating our accomplishment.

       “Jens conceded, ‘You two haven’t left me any choice in this matter except to present your extraordinary initiative and proposal to Colonel Orfelt for his consideration.’ Sure enough, the Colonel was so impressed that he didn’t have any choice, either. He said he had never seen this kind of extreme initiative at Headquarters AFNORTH.”

       “Does that mean we will be training in the evenings?” asked Hilary.

       “Yes, we will train in my offices at the end of the business day, after everyone else has left the building. That means we’ll start training about 5:30 p.m. during the week. I’ll bring home copies of all my technical manuals and give you assignments to study during the day while I’m working. And, we will train all day on Saturdays and Sundays—10 to 12 hours, except about every third weekend when I will refresh at a resort on the Wild Suncoast or at a game reserve in the Kruger National Park. You can come along if you wish.

       “That’ll be our strategy for getting you onboard at AMS: We’ll train intensively in the off-hours for several months until we get the head into our plan, as Jack, one of our engineers, would say.”

       “The head into our plan?”

       “Never mind.” I laughed.

       Hilary scowled. “I get the gist.”

       “Sorry, that was crude. One last major hurdle that’s critical to our endeavor is whether or not you and I can whip up the required synergism to make it possible for me to exude and for you to absorb massive quantities of information in an extremely short amount of time.”

       “Synergism?”

       “I don’t want to spend a year doing this, or even six months. We’re going to turn you into a world-class systems analyst in an impossibly short time. I already know that I can ramp up my passion for teaching you to a level that I’d describe as ballistic; however, that is contingent upon your extreme enthusiasm to learn from me in a ridiculously rapid manner. If you should display anything less than extreme lust for my technical and business knowledge, I will end this experiment abruptly. As well, should you tire of my bombarding you with information, you may terminate our arrangement without notice.”

       Hilary nodded thoughtfully. “One last question... How do I put this...?”

       “I think I can address your concern; there will be NO hanky-panky—that is, physical intimacy—between you and me. I doubt that you and I could generate the necessary synergy in the process of our hyper-training under those circumstances.”

       “Okay. Which room is mine?”

Click here to read the conclusion of “Hilary”