My son prefers some dazzling start-up over the business i built from scratch. Where’s the gratitude?

Shimon: I built this company with blood, sweat, and tears to ensure our family’s  security. How can you just walk away?

Asher: I know you dreamed of me taking over, but the very thought is suffocating me.

Shimon

The first coffee of the day was still wafting steam in my face when Baruch knocked on the door.

“Slight problem,” he said with a grimace. “The shipment of yearly planners is held up in customs. They’re asking for additional paperwork, and it’s going to take at least two weeks to clear it.”

“Two weeks?” I nearly knocked over my coffee. “We can’t do that. We have orders that need to go out this week. It’s a yearly planner, for goodness’ sake. It’s not going to be selling in March!”

Baruch shrugged. “I know, what a mess. I have someone trying to get hold of the higher-ups in the customs office—”

I shook my head. This wasn’t something to be delegated to a junior employee. We had 50,000 of these planners on order, and some really big clients who would be very unhappy if we didn’t deliver on time….

“I’ll do it myself,” I told him. This wasn’t a minor technical error; it needed expert action, and fast.

“How fast can we replace these from a domestic supplier, if need be?” I asked Baruch. “You know what, I’ll speak to the supplier myself.”

By the time I’d ironed things out as best as I could — customs clearance expedited, and another order placed for part of the amount from a small domestic supplier so that I could send out the most urgent orders ASAP — it was time for lunch. I noticed the coffee still waiting on my desk and chuckled. Who needed coffee when I had this sort of adrenaline thrumming through my veins?

I remembered the days when every sales call was a nerve-racking experience, every deal a thrill. The days when a customer complaint would have me sweating buckets, the days when I still handled almost everything myself, from paperwork to sales calls to negotiating with suppliers.

Forty years in, baruch Hashem, we’ve come a long way. My modest office rental has expanded to a building with an adjacent warehouse. We have a full staff, around 20 employees divided into several teams, and I spend my time managing what my son Asher likes to call “the company’s vision,” rather than its day-to-day operations.

Still, sometimes — like now — I’ll step in to handle a crisis or particularly large client. And there’s always that rush of satisfaction.

My phone beeped, and I looked down. It was a text from Mira. Hi, Shimon, I hope your day is going well. I just wanted to remind you about your doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. Hope you have a great afternoon!

I smiled. Mira was the only person I knew who wrote out text messages as if they were old-fashioned formal letters.

Who needs doctors when they feel great? I almost responded, but knowing Mira, I backspaced and just wrote, Yes, thank you for the reminder.

She took these yearly checkup things too seriously. But baruch Hashem, I was so blessed to have her at my side. She’s always been supportive, from the days when Steiner Stationery Imports was just a tiny floundering business I ran out of our second bedroom. Even when all our minuscule savings were sunk into the venture and money was so, so tight, she stuck by me, always encouraging, always supportive, always so positive that good times would come and the business would be the answer to our tefillos.

And now the good times had come. The business was flourishing, Mira had the financial security she so deserved, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Mr. Steiner?” The voice of my secretary came through the phone. “BrightBox Supplies just emailed, they want to set up a meeting. Should I forward to Mr. Steiner?”

It still sounded funny that she called both me and my son by the same name, but it worked.

“Yes,” I began, then changed my mind. “Actually, no, forward it to both of us. I’m going to speak to him anyway, we’ll look at that email together.”