Back in his corner office at the tobacco manufacturing firm, Morris chomped on his lunchtime meal of ham, cream cheese, Provalone, and an assortment of fresh veggies crushed between two thick slices of french bread. Just as he reached for his giant-sized energy drink, there was a sharp knock on the door and Phil, his friend and business partner, thrust his head in.
“Come on in,” Morris chirped. “What’s up?”
Phil angled his lanky body through the door and closed it behind him. He unfolded a copy of The New York Times and tossed it on Morris’s desk. “Can you believe this?” he said.
Morris stared at the headline. “Wow,” he said, standing up and holding the paper at the end of his nose for a better look.
“Is that good news or what?” Phil asked.
“Great news! We earned over two billion last year. That’s a lot of money. Up twenty percent from the year before. Are we just smart or what?”
“Wait a minute, pal,” Phil said. “That’s not all from tobacco sales. We’re part of Altria now, you know, and we sell food and all sorts of edible stuff.”
Morris hunkered over the numbers on the paper in front of him. “Yeah but,” he said. “It was tobacco that pulled Altria into new territory. Where would they be without us?”
“And look at these numbers,” Phil said, handing Morris another page from The New York Times.
“Cooler than a picnic in Alaska,” Morris purred. “Look at that. Our section of the company, Philip-Morris, earned twice as much the last quarter of 2008 as we did a year ago.”
“Right, pal. They can beat on us all they want. We’re still good.”
“Of course,” Morris added, squirming in his chair, “we do have some profitable food items that count for some of the money we made. We bought General Foods last fall, you know.”
“I know. I’ll dig out all of our tobacco numbers later. But you know what? I think we’ll keep on doing just fine.”
Philip stood up and helped himself out of the office.
