Speak to the Man Called Hope. Lawrence Hall
along with some croissants and muffins. She is suddenly popular. Sam enters the room in his usual confident manner with his classroom style text book in hand ready to make notes. It’s the opportunity and discovery phase of the project. Sam wants to explore the industry, its history, understand potential client demand and recognise Mason’s strengths in relation to the broking industry. Through all of this background research Sam wants to frame the opportunity around a niche utilising the strengths and competitive advantages open to the business he plans to establish. Today’s meeting with the deposit product team is to understand their rationale for deposit product design and the customer value proposition for the current products being taken to market.
There are a number of small conversing groups gathered around the board room table, next to the window with views across the glistening harbour or by the water dispenser. Discussions vary from speculation about the goals of the impending meeting, the overall strategy to discussions about family, the beautiful location of the head office to views about the latest change in the country’s leader; the rug being pulled from the elected leader’s feet due to a dive in public opinion polls. Coffee in pristine china porcelain cups and plates of muffins and croissants make way for tall glasses of fresh water and A4 size notepads ready for copious notes to be taken.
Sam starts explaining the current status of his undertaking. He’s meticulously gathering data and opinion from key stakeholders to provide a pool of information from which he can develop his strategy. The deposit team talk through the benefits of using high interest rates to attract investors. However, high interest deposits are not immediately profitable. The key win for the day is the light bulb moment where Sam envisages a very low interest transactional account, read high profit for the bank; through which broking clients can settle their trades. Attached to this is the high interest account to attract initial clients and deposit funds.
It’s near the end of the half-day forum and Sam shuts his notebook excitedly; he feels the sense of achievement in identifying the first major component of his plan. All the attendees exit the room in the comfort they have been a valuable source of product knowledge, eager to ensure they’re invited to participate in the project. Sam leans back in the ergonomic chair, just enough to arch his back. He crosses one leg over the other and puts his hands behind his head. A cheeky, 8 year old boy smile, as if he’s just got away with something devilish is un-masked. This will prove to be a constant sign throughout the project of whether Sam has succeeded in obtaining what he wanted out of the meeting. In this case, absolutely. ‘Well’, he begins, ‘what did you think?’ Ro waits a moment giving Clint the first right of reply. ‘Interesting’, Clint commences. ‘I knew our high interest accounts were attracting the lions share of funds;’ he removes his glasses and wipes his eyes, ‘but I wasn’t aware of the arrangement between treasury and the product team.’
Chapter 2 Dreams and expectations
The tune is familiar and the words are the same, Happy Birthday to You. He remembers his grandparents, both of them on his mum’s side telling him, ‘its not nice being old.’ Their mind was as sharp as a thirty year old, the body far from able. Seeing the candles displaying seventy-six is daunting, he doesn’t feel it at all. A half-hearted thrust of air emits from his lungs through his mouth and extinguishes the soft candlelight leaving an eerie darkness though only momentarily. The bright room lights are flicked on and a number of separate discussions start-up continuing from where they left off prior to the singing interlude. He is the only one with nobody to talk to. Its moments like these he feels the loneliness. He loves his independence, he enjoys being on his own to do what he wants, when he wants and how he wants. It’s been a trait he has struggled with all his life because it’s not socially acceptable. He misses his wife, his best friend but many years gone, she finding new love and a new life. He misses his mum and dad or more the memories of his early days with them. The relationship when he left home faded gradually. Strangely, it is his grandparents he misses most. Oldest memories are often the rosiest and he’s conscious of this distortion. The relationship he shared with them was a mutual love at its simplest, a mutual admiration and pure enjoyment of each others’ company. He is a simple person in that he is easily contented and appreciative of simple things like the dawn of a day expectant of the bluest sky, the most golden of sun and the stillest air.
‘Did you want some more cake, Dad’ asks the hand that waves past his eyes. ‘You’ve been reminiscing again’ his daughter quaffs. His children are good to him but their focus is on their own lives, their own busy families and for the three of them its clear that time with Dad is a chore. They drop-in because they have to, his birthdays are attended by less grandchildren every year. He never expected to reach this age in all honesty and now he wonders if he really wanted to. He always felt the complexity of life, the need to be busy, the perception that the happiest people are those that are telling you how busy they are, very confronting. His want of a simple life interceded by the pressure to be busy doing meant he did not enjoy life much. He is not a material person, he did not judge himself by how he looked, what he had on his back, where he lived, the sort of house he lived in or the type of car he drove. No, all he wanted was a quiet place away from the ramparts of who one is. A smile crosses his face as he remembers a quote from Margaret Thatcher that stayed with him all his years, ‘People are too busy trying to be somebody, rather than doing something worthwhile’, he related to it instantly when he first heard it. Now though, its just some sort of rationale to a life lost to regret and missed opportunities. ‘Where is that coffee I asked for?’ Ro blurts out, instantly silencing the room and drawing everyone’s attention. He clearly spoke with more pitch and disdain than he expected. No doubt the birthday gathering will close abruptly leaving him to his carers and more uninteresting TV in a bed already reserved for the next poor soul shuffled off from their place of comfort, solace and familiarity to the cold, white, characterless shed that is the local nursing home; the only place he has ever been called Mr Chai.
It is a recurring nightmare. A constant battle with anxiety and depression, the countless periods of tight chests, headaches, dizziness and nervousness that have led him, in his own mind, to succumb to a shorter life expectancy. He always thought that he would die of a heart attack crossing the road. He would feel the shortness of breath, the pain in the chest from trying to breathe deeply, but this time it gets shorter and shorter as he walks. As he reaches the kerb to cross the road his vision turns blurry. He has felt this before but not as severe. Its like he has been on a roundabout swing and cannot see nor walk straight. The pain in the chest sharpens intensely and the world around him disappears from view. He keels over as he loses control of his own body and then blacks out. Whilst his arm and hand initially move toward the ground to cushion the fall they turn loose as he loses bodily control. His body hits the ground with the torso making first impact closely followed by his head. Given that the initial pains are common, the onslaught of the accident is unexpected but is it consciously noticed at the time? He does not know. It is the end.
Despite these predictions, Ro does believe that he is the master of his own destiny. Well, maybe it’s more of a hope that the future can be different and that he can determine how it pans out. This is his silent and private partner, his imaginary friend, the man called 'Hope'.
Hope is his link to reality, his bridge from dreams. He seeks not to be the centre of attention nor the bombastic and fearless leader seeking public or corporate glory. He longs only for a sense of achievement, the understanding that he is doing the right thing and has something of value to contribute. "Hope is a good thing", as many men will tell you for they have been avid watchers of 'The Shawshank Redemption' and often list it as their favourite movie. Andy Dufresne sits against the prison and makes this positive reference of hope to his friend, Red. Hope is a lost belief, a fading sunset, clenched fingers to a cliff of fear but a chance still at salvation.
In his challenging daily grind, the brighter days see the man called hope stand quietly by his side, ever-present but needed not. On the dark days, Hope fights the battle between good and evil between the path of reality and the cone of despair. The mind games hog the playground of the brain's activity starving it of any energy to operate and function as normal outside the body.
Whilst the man called Hope is non-purposeful, his aspirations are rational, he turns the minutes into hours and the hours into days. He continues the journey one foot in