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Greg Sandora, Author

Topics concerning Gabby, Angel of God and the Jack Canon Presidential Thriller Series
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Making the wealthy elite feel special through exclusivity has made him an amazing success. We’re not for everybody.”
“You mean TIC turns down business?” That also seemed counterintuitive to building a business.
“Yes, a full third of prospective are turned down.”
“Businesses want to make money. How is that more profitable?”
Blaine gave the look of an adult dealing with a small child. “People want what they can’t have. Our coatings are exclusive. TIC is not for the masses. Think of it as you would a rope line.”
I smirked. “That’s an interesting analogy, Blaine.”
“Listen, there’s a story that will help explain the way things work. It’s part of our corporate folklore. It’s about a small powder room, part of the former estate of Lucille Ball. Tommy felt the job was beneath him and called the owner personally to turn it down. As luck would have it, the woman was extremely wealthy and refused to take no for an answer. She offered three times the normal rate. It was a turning point for the company and has become our corporate strategy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s fascinating, so what’s Tommy’s story?”
Blaine’s face went blank and he began speaking by rote, “Our founder creates each color pallet grinding the pigments by hand, using an antique granite ball and trough. An apparatus recovered from the first American Paint Mill circa 1700. All the formulations are Tommy’s original creations.”
“Is any of that true?” I wondered.
Blaine rolled his eyes. “Tommy’s assistants select the tints. All the shades are mixed secretly on-site.”
The lights dimmed. Tommy’s name splashed across an IMAX-sized screen, each letter shining in a different color. Two giant signs, one on each side of the stage flashed - Applause. The attendees began a standing, arms outstretched ovation, hands clapping in a common energetic beat. The founder, a slight middle-aged man took center stage. His jet-black hair and pale complexion juxtaposed against a black tee and stylish designer scarf. He posed demanding attention.
Blaine spoke into my ear, “That’s Tommy.”
At that moment, my dream ended.
I looked at Gabby. “That’s when I woke up.”
Gabby nodded. “You dreamed of ego.”
“Huh?”
“Specialness, Bo.”
 
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