THE OTHER CLASSROOMS

Larry DiFiore was well versed with the WICKS law as it was revised in 1946. To promote competition and protect the workers, this law was put into effect in New York City. Its primary function was to ensure three bids are reviewed for any large-scale project before awarding the job.

Larry became a Project Manager for the School Construction Authority ten years ago when his own company went belly-up, due to hiring inexpensive subcontractors, trying to secure as much profit as possible, resulting in the fact that they did not meet contract expectations.

His big-shot brother, the emergency room doctor, Jason, occasionally poked him at family get-togethers. Jason was still annoyed that he and their older brother, Frank, had to work their way through school while Larry sat back and fed off their parents.

“Say, Lar, when are you going to pay Mom and Dad back for the so-called loan they gave you for LD Contracting?” Jason inquired at one of the many family gatherings.

What? When pigs fly. Is he afraid he’ll lose his inheritance? Bastard. Larry thought.

“You know, Jas, I had to fold that company. I needed the benefits for my family working for the City provided. I did not forget.”

“Hey, boys, we’re having a nice meal here. Shut your traps,” Dad said.

Since that time, Larry was able to keep 172 lbs. on a six-foot frame, his thinning hair still looking passable, without attempting the last resort “comb over,” and at 56 he knew he was still attractive to the ladies, which he enjoyed at every opportunity outside of the office and far away from his wife and family. He was a regular at the local gym, usually spending as much time admiring himself in the floor to ceiling mirrors as he does pumping iron.

His dress code is always business fashionable, exhibiting a monogramed, custom tailored shirt with the added accent of a casual sports jacket and custom-fitted slacks. Larry’s habit of lifting a shirtsleeve to tap and adjust his very expensive Rolex became automatic one week after its purchase. As he relished his reflection in the full-length mirror he installed inside his office, his thoughts drifted to his older brother, Frank, the esteemed attorney.

He should see me now, Larry thought. We haven’t spoken in years ever since he got a job with a high-powered legal firm in California. Mama never stops bragging about that. Plus, her chest puffs out at the mere mention of Jason’s name. I know they think I’m the family blockhead because I don’t possess their diplomas! That will soon come to an end. I’ll call Frank from my Villa. A smile crossed his face. The boys grew up in a poor neighborhood with little extra money and had to work while attending college. Who needs to waste time in a stupid college? Larry often said to himself. Wait and see, I’ll make more moola than they ever will by using my smarts and common sense.

Larry’s thoughts wandered. Occasionally, at my present level, when the timing was right, I was able to skim a little cash off the top of the low scale jobs I became involved with. Now I’m confident and ready for the big time. The large-scale project just approved by the School Construction Authority would provide the opportunity for me to consider retirement. Larry pictured himself lying on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean, enjoying a cool drink, emailing former colleagues back in the states, sometimes with snapshots, of what the first class life is all about. He relished being the man on top, reminding everyone of his success. He would be sipping margaritas while his brothers slaved away! Mama would be impressed with his ability to retire early with lots of cash. A big job was on the horizon, as the City’s Board of Trustees had their final meeting and approved the construction of a new William Van Hutton High School in lower Manhattan.

This multimillion-dollar enterprise would be under the supervision of Mr. Larry DiFiore, Senior Project Manager! Larry was elated, as the bulk of his managerial skills were devoted to small refurbishing jobs located in all 5 boroughs of the city. This job would be the mother load! He could see himself retiring with his wife of many years to Anguilla, having the extra cash to easily afford the many trips he would take back to the States to be with his girlfriend. Life looked promising, but first he had to meet with his buddy at Skyline General Contracting, Bill Snyder.

“Mr. DiFiore, a Mr. Snyder is here to see you. He tells me you have a 12 o’clock appointment with him, but it’s not on my calendar for today, sir,” said Abigail.

“That’s OK, Abby, send him in. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. It’s not business, only a lunch date.”

“Hey, Billy, come on in; good to see you,” said Larry. Bill Snyder flinched. He hasn’t been addressed as “Billy” since his mother passed away three years ago. Mr. Snyder walked into the office, hand outstretched for a handshake, with a huge smile on his face. Bill dressed for the meeting. He left his construction boots, his worn cargo pants and sweatshirt in his locker. His size 42 dress casual, but baggy, slacks and size 52 jacket covered a rather robust frame. His head was shaved and he sported a Luminox Field Watch. They did business in the past, with remunerations on both sides and Mr. Snyder was looking forward to another profitable encounter with his friend.

“I know just the place for lunch, Billy. We’ll take my car. I keep it parked downstairs in the lot,” said Larry.

“OK by me, but I thought we would eat close by. I need to get back to a job site in a few,” said Bill.

“I want to introduce you to a favorite place I frequent. You’ll love it!” said Larry. Once Larry makes up his mind, he’s like a pit bull. Bill knew he wouldn’t be able to change it, so off they went.

Mr. Larry DiFiore knew he could not risk having this discussion with his friend anywhere around his office. They needed a quiet, out of the way, luncheonette or diner. Once in the car, Larry began his proposition.

“Billy, we’ve known each other for quite a few years now and I’m happy to say, in the past, we’ve had business dealings that turned out on the plus side for both of us. I want to run something by you. There’s a new venture coming up shortly. It’s a multimillion-dollar construction job on a high school down in the financial center. It’ll be state of the art. They chose me to be the Senior Project Manager. The RFP (Request for Proposal or bid package) for this will be going out two weeks from Monday. Put your name in to request one.” Mr. Snyder’s eyes opened wide. His eyebrows went up. He was clearly on full alert.

“Tell me more,” was all he could say.

“The job is for the William Van Hutton High School. The old building is on 14th Street and has been there for almost a century. The students are top of the line according to the Chancellor. The new site is now approved for the school and it will be located downtown as I said. The project calls for the latest in green technology as well as the labs and areas for music, etc. The architects completed their designs and we are now ready to collect the bids.”

“It sounds like something I would be interested in, but we’ve been driving for 15 minutes. Why the secrecy?” Bill asked.

“What I have to say is strictly private, as you will see. We can’t be overheard anywhere near my office building. Ah, we are just about here.” Larry pulled into a small parking lot on the west side of town, being familiar with its hidden driveway, as it was meant for the nondescript diner in the front. “This will do fine, Billy,” he said.

Once inside, the men settled down in a booth way in the back.“Anything you want, my friend, the lunch is on me,” said Larry. Bill grinned and ordered large.

After the food came, Larry began by rubbing his hands together. “Billy, what if I could ensure you would secure the project if you made a bid on it?”

“Sounds like a no brainer to me. So, what’s your take and what’s in it for me?” Bill asked.

“Ah, I’m not too greedy. Can’t be specific at the moment, but I would venture to say a couple of million would easily come my way; however, you would be guaranteed to get a project worth much, much more. If you agree, I’ll give you the specifics by the end of the week. You judge. You can imagine the change orders involved with an undertaking this huge. The subsequent changes should amount to quite a bit. I can approve just about anything. So, do we shake hands on this?” Larry requested. That said, Bill stood, offered his hand and said,

“Send me the paperwork, I’ll get right on it!” Knowing Larry DiFiore for many years, Bill Snyder realized his friend had a strong leaning toward boasting, swaggering around with friends and colleagues alike, acting like the big shot with his wheeling and dealing. Some of his stories are true, others are lies and most are something in-between.

Bill was slightly concerned about this project. It was different from the scams they’ve pulled in the past which gave them small returns that went unnoticed. He wasn’t interested in showing his wealth or lack of it to anyone. Bill wanted a comfortable lifestyle for his family and college tuitions were right on the horizon for Jimmy and Helene. He loved his wife and knew Lorianne always desired a little cottage on the beach. Business had been slow for two years and this opportunity is timely. So much for the inception of the SCA in 1988 to “remove corruption from the Department of Education,” Bill thought. Bill realized that every time a change in the construction plans were requested and approved by the Project Manager, both would glean a healthy profit.

After returning to his office, Mr. DiFiore passed swiftly by Abigail’s desk and said, “Get me Mr. Kybold please.” The Mayor was responsible for appointing three trustees to the SCA. Mr. Fred Kybold was one of them.

“Hi, there, Fred. I wanted to check with you on the Van Hutton proposal. Did you hear anything regarding the Project Committee’s meeting? Will it be soon? Good. Yes, you bet; I want to get a jump on this one. It’s an exciting responsibility for me. Thanks. I’ll await your call. I appreciate the heads up on this one.”

Mr. DiFiore leaned back on his rather man-sized comfortable chair. He had a huge smile on his face. His eyes drifted off in an undeniably satisfying daydream.

“Hey, Grandpa, what’s a ‘dummy’ company?” asked 5 year old Mario, as he popped out from under Larry’s desk. Mr. and Mrs. DiFiore had their daughter, son-in-law and two grandchildren over for dinner. “What? Mario, what are you doing there?” Larry questioned, surprised to see his grandson hiding. Clearly, the kid was listening to his phone conversation with Bill. They discussed the potentially final date bids had to be in for consideration on the Van Hutton project. He wanted Bill’s company to be prepared to submit.

“OK, you guys, dinner’s ready!” came the call from the dining room. “Get it while it’s hot!” Mario scrambled out and ran for the table. Lasagne was his favorite, especially the way Nonna made it.

As the family gathered around the table, Larry took his position at the head with his wife at the seat closest to the kitchen. Everyone bowed their heads, as was the custom. Mrs. DiFiore said grace. Mario attacked his lasagne amid the admiring glances from his grandma. With his mouth full, he exclaimed,

“How can a company that’s a dummy make any money, Daddy?” His father looked at him and said,

“I don’t think they could. It takes brains to make money, Mario.” Mr. DiFiore was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable, but he never showed it. His stoic demeanor gave nothing away.

“Grandpa says dummies can make a lot of money! Grandpa makes money and he is not a dummy!” The family all turned and looked at Grandpa.

Gathering his wits, quickly, Larry said, “Oh, ha ha, Mario was in my office with me. I was on the phone speaking to a friend at work. There’s a job going on that needed some additional sub contractors. Some of these companies can actually hire some dummies! We talked about those we won’t hire.

“Grandpa, you said, ‘we’d put the dummies in the mix and get rid of them later.’ That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, Mario, I don’t want to call them dummies to their face. It wouldn’t be right. Many companies are used to not getting the work. It will be OK. They figure it out and get better after awhile. Larry thought, Mario’s such a bright little kid. I love him more than anything. He always manages to squeeze into the right spot at the wrong time. “Well, Nonna, what’s for desert?” Diverting the conversation worked and everyone was eager to find out what Nonna made. Boy, thought Larry to himself, you can never be too careful. You never know who’s listening!

“Goodnight, Daddy. We had a great time, as always. Love you. Bye the way, is everything OK?” asked Amy.

“Of course, honey. Why do you ask?”

“Um, it’s this talk of Mario’s about dummy companies? I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I am my father’s daughter.”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about! I’d never...I mean, the boy overheard my conversation with co-workers regarding some of the idiots we work with. That’s all. Gimmie a kiss, silly girl,” said Larry. Amy smiled and looked relieved. A quick kiss and the family said goodnight.

You can’t even let your guard down in your own home for chrissakes! Larry muttered to himself. I’ll have to be much more careful in the future.