The Four Martini Lunch

"Aren't you going to have one?"

"No, I don't drink."

"Well, I don't drink alone. If you plan on selling me something, then you must have a martini. I insist."

"Alright, if you insist."

"Two martinis, please. We'll have the steak to go with those martinis. Four is my limit, so cut me off when you've served all four."

The martini sat there on the table. I stared at it and lost all concentration on my sales pitch. I knew I needed this sale and I knew he was a drinker. I thought I could do it. I thought I could get out of ordering a drink, but he insisted.

It's calling to me. It's only a bend of an arm away from my lips. The memory of good times came to mind. The memory of the women, the laughs, the simple way of talking to people that came with the courage of the bottle. What would it hurt? How bad could one drink be?

Memories from the last time I used that reasoning came rushing back and the time behind bars was more than I wanted to revisit.

"I'm sorry, sir. I just remembered an urgent engagement I must attend to. If this makes you decide against my products for your company, then I will have to live with that. Please have this lunch on me."

I dropped a hundred dollar bill on the table and left. No matter what, I wasn't going to be able to keep the job. At least this way I can find another one.