He took a deep breath. Then against his better judgement, my brother walked into the Managing Director’s office wearing a professional-grade Elvis impersonator suit. What happened next was most unexpected.
For context, our family does own a high-end Elvis impersonator suit: rhinestones, bell-bottoms, wig, faux gator-skin shoes, cape, rings. The whole deal. Every family needs one.
I purchased the suit in San Francisco. I needed it for a play I was in while living overseas. On my last day in town I asked my friend, a San Francisco native, “Are there any shops around here where I might purchase an Elvis costume?” He looked at me with a mix of surprise and disappointment. Such a dumb question.
With a roll of his eyes he speed-dialed a costume shop. “Ramone”, he said. “I need an Elvis costume right away”. There was silence on our end as Ramone responded.
“No…”, said my friend as he looked at me and winked, “…probably more the sweaty, pudgy comeback years.” Ouch. Guilty as charged.
We headed to the shop and I purchased the costume. It saw good service in the play.
Years later, working in Washington, DC, I brought the costume out of retirement. It was Halloween. I changed into the suit in my office and walked around my floor at work handing out candy. It was that sort of workplace. Frankly, it has been that sort of career.
By contrast, my brother worked at a high-octane DC law firm just up the street. We met for lunch and I mentioned my morning Halloween Elvis escapade. He got a glint in his eye. He walked back with me to my office and borrowed the costume.
And so it came to be that my brother suited up as The King and delivered candy throughout his law firm to people billing $1,000 per hour for legal services. The other attorneys were stunned, bemused, horrified. One actually asked him, “Is this being done on billable time?” Then my brother went for it.
The King took the elevator up to the top floor where the Managing Director had his palatial corner office. My brother approached the receptionist. She looked at him and said “You are either on the fast track to being a partner, or he is going to fire your ass”. My brother said “Thankyaverymush” and then gave her some candy.
He knocked on the Managing Director’s door and entered, singing out “Trick or Treat!” in a deep Elvis voice. Time stood still. Then the partner leapt from his desk and exclaimed with glee, “NO WAY!” It turns out, and nobody knew this, he was a huge Elvis fan. He got several selfies taken with The King. Then my brother returned to obscurity within the bowels of the firm. But not before he became a legend.
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them the link to WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]