The Red Button

I work at the National Plumbing Corporation. My grandfather started the business, passed it on to my father, and now I am in charge. 

Being in charge means serious business—zoning laws, city contracts, and life-or-death decisions that impact our city. Well, not really, but I like to think that without me, the pipes would burst and cause chaos in the streets. 

During my first month as the boss, I installed a small red button on my desk. There is a label next to it that says “Do Not Press.”  

Something peculiar happens when visitors come into my office. We get salespeople who want to meet the boss and find creative ways to book a meeting with me. They want me to buy their product or service, of course, and I want them gone. The red button comes in handy in situations like these. 

If I am not interested in the sales pitch, I will stare at the red button, as if I were having a mental argument on whether to press it or not. The tone of the room changes as I become quiet and awkward silence fills the moment. The salesperson will notice my peculiar behavior and lose track of their rhythm. 

I will tell you a secret—the red button does nothing. Absolutely nothing. It is not wired to anything, but it does the trick to get rid of unwanted visitors. 

When no one is around, I like to press the button. A lot. It helps me think. 

But then I noticed something strange. On days when I had plenty of free time, I fiddled around with the button more. It seemed like those days also coincided with a decline in our public stock. 

Superstitious? 

Yes—but I am ashamed to let you know that I had the button removed once the thought refused to leave.