My response produced another abyss of dead air. When Art didn’t speak, my heart dropped and my soul shrank. I pondered the tragic irony that my business was going to fail because it was too successful. And then …. The Universe must have hiccupped. God must have shot an air ball. Or Mother Nature must have dropped a stitch. I don’t know what caused it but a banker, and not just any banker mind you, but a slicked-down, big time, urban banker said something that was completely uncharacteristic of his profession. “Fred,” Art asked, “does it feeeeel like you’re making money?”
From ‘The World’s Greatest Banker’
(via coudal)