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Random blog-like rambling from Rachel's brain. A mixed up mess of usability posts, fiction, and travel.

abdicate

abdicate - \AB-dih-kayt\

Verb: 

1 : to cast off : discard

2 : to relinquish (as sovereign power) formally

3 : to renounce a throne, high office, dignity, or function

Lonely at the Top

Life has been one long string of ambitions. As a child he fought to be the best at everything. He was the best at T-Ball. He was the first to conquer the times tables. He spurned trivialities. As a high school student he was class president, on the honor roll, he played baseball. He was MVP.

So his life has always been and so he has found himself here today. He owns a vast empire. His company employs more people than he can even envision. The stock prices are drool worthy. The board of directors are fat and decidedly happy. At least they were.

It has not been easy. He has made severe sacrifices. Two women have left him. One child refuses to speak to him. Still, he has succeeded, and for as long as he can remember this is what has mattered.

This room though is stifling hot. The table he sits at is polished to a high shine. There is a microphone in front of him and a panel of people asking questions. He is sweating which feels undignified. He knows the answers to every question, but the answers can't be admitted to. He made sacrifices for his success and it has led him here. 

Later he will walk out of this room and cameras will flash in his eyes. He will admit to nothing. 

He has a plan of course, he always does. In his briefcase inside a copy of "The Art of War" is a plane ticket and his passport. He has a separate account with a healthy balance in a sunny climate he has not told anyone about. Tomorrow he will be thousands of miles away from this room and these disappointed faces.

It is, he thinks, about time to fail and to quit.