She tapped the folder.
“I want to build an investment platform for companies Wall Street ignores.”
“That sounds admirable.”
“You’re going to run it.”
I froze.
“No.”
Eleanor smiled.
“Yes.”
“I have no investment experience.”
“You’ll have a chief investment officer.”
“I don’t know private equity.”
“You know people.”
“That keeps being your answer.”
“Because it keeps being true.”
She passed me another document.
It outlined the position’s salary, equity arrangement, decision-making authority, and recruitment budget.
I stared at the compensation figure.
“This can’t be right.”
“It is.”
“This is more money than I ever imagined making.”
“I’m aware.”
I closed the folder.
“Why me?”
Eleanor became serious.
“Because when my life had no value to you beyond being human, you treated it as valuable anyway.”
Her eyes glistened.
“I have spent forty years hiring people who could read balance sheets.”
She paused.
“I want one person at the table who remembers there are human beings behind them.”
