Well my first responsibility is to the shareholders but I will take part for a moment.

I didn’t have any plan to move to the United States of course. But now I am in the Pacific Northwest as they call it – what other kind of Northwest might there be I ask (in a lighthearted moment of course). Any elementary student of Geography should ask this. Anyway but well here I am and there are I must say some similarities with Austria. Though the architecture is how might I put it a little unimaginative! The houses lack a neckisch quality I think.

Anyway I have skiing and so on and of course the lakes, in particular the Glacial lake out there near the coast. This will be at the center of our social engagement, and hopefully when it gets underway I can withdraw from all that and get back to Berlin, looking after the business and not so much worrying about all this kind of thing.

I spoke with our man in charge of the new lake facility and I’m not sure he knows much about anything important, but perhaps that is for the best I can’t see any of our qualified people wanting that job. Pleasant enough out there, like a vacation of sorts, but you know a thinking person can only stand a vacation for a short time. I ran into one of our directors over there in fact — well no longer a Ziegler man apparently, he lives there now — but I remembered him from a presentation I watched on some work in fish that we were doing. We chatted for a moment or two and well he didn’t seem to know much about anything either — perhaps it’s the Pacific air that fills their heads?

I got the most sense out of a docent at a tribal museum down at the coast, actually. Quite an impressive collection of how you say artifacts, though but to me they all looked like sticks, strings, and rotten wood. I couldn’t make much sense of what he had to say, but I understood enough to get an idea. A decent enough Dutch lager in the bar though I will say, seemed to have travelled well.

Well so I think this is what they were looking for — some lighthearted chit-chat. I’m told I speak too much about genetics and the business. Too serious. So this should correct that matter at least until they decide my time is better spent on more important things.

That was before I started studying law. From that point on, it was more and more a world of uncertainty for the young McLeod. I found it frustrating at first. There was never a clear answer, and no matter how reasonable I thought I was being and how firmly I stated my opinion, there was always at least one other side to consider. Facts and counterfacts; cases upon cases, present-day rationality countermanded by consideration of precedent.

But then I began to relish the arguments. I enjoyed the twists and turns of a seminar-full of bright and energetic fellow seekers of the wig, all eager to stamp their opinion on the debate. And when we’d settled, a good professor would always have a final wrench to throw into the works. 

And soon I realized there was a good living to be made out of those twists and turns. Simple resolutions didn’t pay the mortgage. The gap between issue and outcome was where all that lucrative to and fro could take place, and that’s where I met with success. 

Corporate law. A wonderful thing, characterized by unlikely claims driven by correspondingly powerful rhetoric. These corporations, they have what they call their core competencies and legal is an unwelcome necessity. But in my view, those competencies are just the fields on which we sow the seeds for bountiful future legal harvest. There’s no corporation without representation, you might say.

I get excited every time I see some corporate big-wig stand up and make some legally indefensible claim or another. Or commit to the undeliverable. Perhaps put the entire organization in jeopardy of some sort. There’s my curtain call.

Oh yes — I’ve heard many a vice president’s words read back to me in court.

And that was the fun of it. Ziegler was my last hurrah, my final opportunity for triumphant courtroom obfuscation; at career-end, a chance to forge a few more spectacular settlements on the anvil of indeterminacy.

Donoghue and Stevenson I remember were very keen to consult on that fish project. I had experience, of course — well-known to my corporate legal colleagues — in liability mitigation. Many a cadit quaestia  under my belt, especially in cases of uncertain consequence. I don’t mean to sound conceited, you know, but I cannot think of anyone else who could have pulled off casting that alleged global petroleum price-ring as a mistaken and  guileless agreement inter rusticos, with a little bit of non est factum thrown in to cover the bases. In fact I think that was the case Donoghue had in mind, but I steered them more toward a complete denial in the matter of the fish, and I saw a year or more of litigation potential there along with the opportunity to launch a good few careers among the junior attorneys. 

Anyway the whole McAlister thing has certainly provided me with a soft landing after jumping out of the Ziegler balloon. I was overdue for getting out. It’s a young man’s game. There’s a lot of litigation on the horizon for Food, and for Drugs. Not sure I have the enthusiasm for it any more. No — but I am looking forward, of that you can be sure. 

Reasonably sure, I should say. As always, it all depends.

I will say, I looked up our Mr. Newman, since he was a bit of a mystery and it’s not my place to quiz the new man face to face. I could’ve waited and asked Doris I suppose. But anyway, it turns out he’s not been involved in the tourist business before. He’s retired from some big company that does genetics, another thing I had to put into the google. Apparently Mr. Newman is some sort of expert in inheritance, and not the sort where you end up with your grandfather’s pocket watch. No — that computer was very surprising — up popped Mr. Newman speaking about fish, and food, and the future. However it all comes together, I gather there’s a lot of money involved and if you’re to believe our man, then we’ll all be better off. And very well fed. 

Fish though. He must have some sort of affinity if you will for fish after all his years at that company. Empathy perhaps. He’s like the pied piper I’d say, drawing all those fish out of the depths of the lake and into the sunshine as he has. Succeeded where many an angler has failed, though I’ll give you there haven’t been many anglers here for a good while now. 

I did a google on the fish, too of course. Not a lot there. I kept ending up in the weeds so to speak, lots of stuff on salmon farming and the like. No mention of anything that looks like our fish, anywhere, until all the advertising stuff Mr. Newman’s started doing for us. There’s a lot of that for sure, and people seem to be liking it. 

I can’t remember being busier. Not a bad thing, either; people are happier, my boats are doing well, and we can afford the new plastic plumbing. Dave is beside himself, and his lectures are interesting. Well, less dull, anyway — even the kids seem to quieten down when he pulls out his stuffed fish. 

So yes I like Mr. Newman, and I like what he’s brought to the lake here. And I have a feeling after all my googles he’s kept a few more tricks up his sleeve for this season. 

Climbed the North side today. From up there you can see the whole lake, and east all the way down to the bay. There’s no line I can see where our land ends and the Parks land begins, except on the maps they sell in the Parks gift shop. Nothing out there dividing the bay from the lake, apart from those maps. Fred says that’s a good thing because it’s all paperwork, and paperwork can be changed by more paperwork. So we should be good neighbors, without lines or fences, while we do the paperwork. 

Tomorrow I will address the council meeting. There’s talk of a new person coming to ‘operate’ the lake. I want to know how the council feels about Parks operating the lake, standing between the lake and the visitors, turning its value into cash for the government while it keeps us out. Operating the lake cannot be any source of pride, I wonder why this new person would want to do it.

I’ll ask whether there’s any paperwork we can produce that will give this person, and Parks, something else to do instead. Something more reasonable, something instead to be proud of. 

I can’t remember really how I ended up in genetics. Business studies. Like most of my business studying friends, I expected figure out how it all works, start something smart, make millions, retire early. Ziegler was a stop-gap; do something in marketing till that smart something occurred to me.

Next thing you know I’m in the far side of the U.S. wondering how the hell I ended up spending my time talking food with geeks. Mind you, and I like to think to my credit, I never knew much about genetics. I had a lot of people who knew about that, so I pretty much just had to show up and have them show me stuff. I got pretty good at judging what other people in the room thought about new ideas and basing my go/no-go decisions on that. Most of the time the job was pretty straightforward. Got paid well. Only bit that gave me the willies was reviews, really; trials overseen by VPs with the power of god over your entire division. Good luck finding a new project if you cocked up a couple of quarterlys and they ended up canning you.

Then that Newman showed up and I could delegate the worst of it to him. He really was some kind of a genius in handling those over-promoted, smug bastards. 

Yup — things were bobbing along so smoothly I was beginning to wonder how I’d ever recognize it was time to retire. Fish debacle actually ended up a bit of a blessing. Stevenson enjoyed that. He said he and Donoghue had to take it all very seriously of course, but they hadn’t had so much fun since that whole thing with Drugs and the male pattern baldness trials.

Oh god that really was funny though. No-one knew hair could even grow there. 

Really quiet. I did see Robert the groundsman on the dock. Actually it’s not that quiet — heard him, I think he was singing. He seemed happy enough without chit chat though. I’m half expecting someone or other one of these days to point out that most boaters pull fish out of the lake, not put them in, but thankfully no-one seems that interested beyond a quick wave as I’m taking off or coming back in.

Actually I think that’s because no-one’s been catching much lately anyway. Enough to test the patience of even the most dedicated anglers. With a bit of luck, that’ll change.

Ah well — back to the office tomorrow tie up some more loose ends, check in on Pete make sure all’s well in the holding department. See what Steve’s up to. Though I haven’t seen much of Steve since we wound things up — he was pretty much like the fish, gone in a flash as soon as he saw a way out.

I should have known. I like Fargo, but I should know by now to never assume I understand him when he talks about anything more complicated than the time of day. Measure at least twice and cut once with Fargo.

But I assumed when he said something like “There’s a wolf stalking the grounds at night,” he meant there was a darned wolf, and it was stalking the grounds, actually at night. I should have asked what he meant by wolf, but I didn’t give it a second thought. Action man Dave, I fell for it and leapt into action.

Now I think about it, I’ve never before heard of a wolf in these parts. I think the nearest ones are in Canada. But I didn’t think any of that at the time I just fetched my shotgun and saw an opportunity to deploy the ‘protect’ part of ‘protect and preserve’ and keep that wolf from the visitors’ doors.

And why, why did I think hiding overnight in the toilets was a good idea? Well, from the toilet you can see out but not in, so that would give me an advantage over the wolf. But I don’t know why I didn’t expect mayhem when a bleary-eyed camper up for a nocturnal tinkle set eyes on the shotgun poking out from under the window. He was lucky; I’m not too experienced with wolves, so for all I knew the noise he made came from a wolf about to jump on a ranger.

He’s lucky I’m not too experienced with guns, either. I dropped the gun, and we both turned to run in opposite directions before we realized what had happened and began apologizing to each other. Wasn’t long before a small group appeared and, from what I heard among the shouting, there were allegations against the both of us of all sort of things from illegal mischief to at least one unnatural act.

The gun, I think, which by then I’d picked up and was holding on to, may have helped prevent anyone laying hands on us.

But why oh why hadn’t I taken a moment to think further on what Fargo was on about. Him and his flowery storytelling had caught me out and I’d been chasing a wolf that was a ghost, a product of his creative imagination; it loped out of his paranoia about outsiders again, federal comers-in sneaking onto his tribal land to steal something from his spirits or something while no-one was looking.

Never again. I will never be caught up in some sort of nonsensical yarn ever, ever again.

My first candidate was Newman, and since I decided to hire him I took the rest of the interview day off and told them to find a new ‘As Appropriate’ for last-says — I would exit on a high note.

They don’t know how to interview, these corporate climbers. They’re lucky I was there to catch the guy. They have all sorts of issues. They don’t want to be upstaged, they want to impress the candidate, would you believe. They have fear; maybe this one will get hired and stuff me. Or expose my crap interview questions. Oh but they don’t want to nix someone everyone else will endorse. Nobody wants to be an outsider.

That’s the irony; nobody wants to stand out, in public at least. They want to be upfront mediocre, and privately — between them, their boss, and HR — rockstars.

I think Newman will be ok.

This place reminds of years back when we would go to the lakes at Easter or on some other long weekend holiday. Could be the light. Smell of the water? Not sure…have to think about it some more.

Not right for Ziegler. Run by Parks for one thing, but great geography. 900ft deep, big cliffs, cold clear water. Odd couple here managing the place in the off season – woman who appears to think I’m some sort of criminal, at least that’s the way she looks at me. And a little guy who seems to disappear every time I catch site of him. Can imagine what those cabins smell like. Closed up restaurant by the look. Giftshop.

Note to self: come back when the weather’s better and the manager’s mood may have improved. Could be a nice spot for a break.

Some man showed up today — always a man — saw him chasing Robert around but I don’t think he caught him. I gave him the look, and told him he could weigh the place up if he wanted but nothing was open, including the bathrooms (always a good one — then they can only stay as long as it takes to fill their bladders. They know I’m watching them.)

The lake is quiet. I think I hear someone cutting logs over the other side. Dave’s been out on his boat, gave us a wave. Crows are loud. Time for a glass and a cigarette.