Emails Must Be Bad For Business

One man's riveting two-and-a-half page journey as he is cast away from his family and forbidden to return without more money than he left with. But for some reason, no one wants to help him...

This is my last chance, Gabriel thought, as he dragged himself across the hot, morning concrete, towards the bustling gates of the airport. He had the chance to see himself in the reflective windows of the building. His clothes were not too ragged yet, but his face was gaunt, and the smell enveloping him was hard to ignore. It was the stench of a sick man; a dying man. He pushed past the crowds and the building and surveyed the iron gate guarding the way towards the airstrips. Waiting next to the gate would be impossible. The security officers here knew about men like him, and were trained to keep them as far away from internationals as possible. Instead, he sneaked into a group of planted bushes across the street, overlooking the gate, curled up close to the ground, and watched. The guard in the station nearby did not notice him. He would be safe here, provided the airport’s gardeners did not decide to groom the plants hiding him. If success eluded him again, it would likely be his last day on Earth. 

 

He closed his eyes and recalled... 

 

Desperation can bring a man a long way, further than comfort or contentedness ever could. Gabriel had neither eaten, nor showered for many days. The water he was drinking to survive was filthy, and cholera had set in and begun killing him not long ago. Thousands of pedestrians had ignored and passed him by each day. Most of them no doubt knew about him, the once great royal youth that had been abandoned by his family; but no one was helping him. They were not allowed to, and Gabriel knew most didn’t even want to.  

 

His father was a tough man. He, like many others before him, knew that royal blood does not make a man invincible.  

 

“A real man must be able to stand on his own two feet.”, Father had said to him, in his usual harsh and unforgiving tone. “Especially a man of your position and responsibility. When asked to sink or swim, he must swim, or leave his country and his inheritance behind forever”. With a cruel rattle, the steel gate of his family’s estate had sealed itself shut, with Gabriel outside, cast away from his fortune and his birthright. 

 

Business. Thrift. Capitalism. Gabriel simply had to prove he knew how to handle his family’s finances and he would be allowed to continue his life of hedonism. He was not deluded, however. He knew that everyone in the country saw him as a drunkard and a whoremonger, and would likely refuse to help him in any way. No matter - foreign investment was the way to go, and Gabriel knew he had more than enough charisma to go around. The land was rich in resources, and there was bound to be several Western entrepreneurs just waiting for the kind of opportunity Gabriel could provide. It was not long before he had started to establish contacts, he had travelled from internet cafe to internet cafe, stayed up night after night, stopped typing emails only to eat and sleep with the few funds that he was allowed to depart with. 

 

But to no avail. 

 

Two weeks of work and not a single answer! Each day the offers he made became increasingly more generous, the tone of the messages more desperate, but still nothing. Where was the greed that the West was so infamous for? Gabriel was gripped by despair. He wished he had spent more time studying finance and business instead of drinking and whoring, but alas, drinking and whoring was his lifeblood. He was truly alone. Panic had set in long before he ate the last bite of food his money could provide. 

 

He was here now, at the airport, emaciated and broken - but not dead. A famous American businessman would be landing here today in a private jet, and the gates Gabriel had his eyes on would be his entrance into the country. None of the people he emailed had agreed to meet him in person, and he was sure that even in his current state, his natural charm could still secure an investment. It was just a matter of words, tone, and body language. 

 

Then they appeared. Through the fence bars, an entourage of frowning black bodyguards could be seen hastily escorting a man in his forties towards the exit. The bodyguards were locals, and Gabriel could tell by the man’s posture, expensive suit, and white skin that this was the one, the American investor he had been waiting for. You can do this, Gabriel thought. Words. Tone. Body Language. 

 

As the gate swung open, he leapt out of his hiding place and sprinted forward. 

 

“Sir! Sir!” was the only thing he had time to yell before one of the guards’ fists intercepted his face, and sent two of Gabriel’s teeth soaring to an impressive height. 

 

Well, words and tone were out. 

 

He collapsed to the ground, and his eyes widened as he felt the sudden rumbles of horror within him. Cholera. His stomach squealed its final protest, and his colon unleashed its worst, brownest nightmare onto the pavement below. 

 

Body language was out too. 

 

“Holy f**k!” the businessman exclaimed, pinching his nose and attempting to circumvent the human wellspring of s**t that had appeared before him. 

 

“Please Sir! Only you can save me!” Gabriel blurted out. His planned suave presentation had failed, desperate pleading was the only option left. 

 

The businessman hesitated, but he wasn’t running away. This was Gabriel’s chance. He took a deep breath and began: 

 

“Sir, I am a destitute Nigerian prince in possession of a sum of 6 million dollars which I wish to transfer to your accoun-- WAIT, NOOOO!” he screamed with tear-filled eyes as the businessman spun around on his heel and began to speed walk back towards the airstrip. 

 

“Tell Lagos to build their own f*****g oil wells, I’m getting the f**k back to Dallas”, were the businessman’s parting words as he sprinted off towards his private jet. 

 

Two of the bodyguards chased after him. “That’s the third time this month!” another one spat. 

 

Gabriel felt the life draining from him as his final hope escaped into the distance. Slowly, his eyes closed shut, and he felt pleased in the knowledge that he would at least die quietly, and not by getting beaten to death by angry Nigerian guards, like so many before him.

Author's Note

I feel like the whole introduction could be a bit shorter without losing substance, let me know if this is the case.

Reviews

[Jessica Jaufmann]

Until the last few lines, I had no idea where the setting was. I envisioned a busy city of course, but didn't know where. I like the length of the introduction, but it all depends on how long you'd like the story to be. I, myself, think this can be expanded upon and made into a larger piece where you can really experiment with detail as you have here: "Desperation can bring a man a long way, further than comfort or contentedness ever could."
Also, when you mention and reiterate "Words. Tone. Body Language" SHOW me what you mean. Don't tell me. Overall, I enjoyed this short bit and would love to read an expanded piece.