The story you are about to read is true. No names have been used in order to protect the protagonist from public humiliation and shame.
Every one of the 500 seats was filled in the large conference room of a midtown New York City hotel. We assembled there to see and hear from the CEO of one of the Top 5 media companies in America. We expected, and were given, insights into the current state of the vastly changing media landscape. From the top dog. The big cheese. The capo di tuttti capi.
This guy is good. Central casting, as they say, for a big time corporate CEO type. Impeccably dressed. Erudite. Certain of his authority and stature, but politically savvy enough not to say anything that might be remotely problematic for a publicly held company, particularly in front of a media-heavy crowd.
It was only by sheer coincidence that after his presentation we ended up together in the Men’s room at adjoining urinals, to take care of pressing business. One couldn’t help but notice that after conducting his, he completed the job with a vigorous shake. Let’s face it: no self-respecting CEO wants to end up with those embarrassing last few drops dotting the front of his perfectly pressed pants.
He never, not even for a nanosecond, considered washing his hands. Did not make a move toward the sink. Didn’t even glance towards it. Instead, he calmly tucked, zipped and proceeded outside.
At that moment, the CEO came face-to-face with a throng of waiting underlings, eager backslappers and assorted minions, who were thrilled by the chance to congratulate him, i.e., kiss his high power ass.
And every one of them, to a man, shook his hand.