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Dinner with bill gates

Dinner With Bill Gates

[The time is the late 1990's and the setting is an unidentified city in the

northwest United States, in Washington. Three employees of Microsoft, the

narrator, Encolpius, and his co-workers Giton and Ascyltus, have been invited to

the illustrious mansion of billionaire Bill Gates, for a banquet.]

It was slightly drizzling as we approached the house. We were simply

amazed at it's size, it was a good quarter mile in length and equally long in

width. As we approached the enormous wooden door, lights flicked on and a

computer generated voice greeted us. Not knowing what to do, we waited, letting

the rain soak our dinner suits. When the door was opened, we were prompted to

enter by a servant. Stepping into the entrance way, our coats were taken by a

different servant than the one who had opened the door. We were ushered into a

nearby room, an enormous lounge of some kind furnished with an indoor volleyball

court, arcade and a pool. Giton and I were simply amazed. This guy had an

amusement park in his living room. There were some young boys on the volleyball

court, playing a game. I couldn't help but notice a middle-ages guy, dressed in

a pair of worn jeans and a sports coat, watching the game with furious intensity.

I turned to the servant, our guide, I suppose, and asked him who this man

was. "Oh that's Master Gates, the proprietor of this house. You'll be dining

with him shortly."

The servant led us through this room, past the pool and into a narrow

corridor. This hallway was adorned with pictures of Bill Gates, in various

characters and positions. The only one I recognized was the cover from the

recent issue of Time Magazine featuring him on the cover.

From here, we were led into the dining room and seated at the large

dinner table. The table occupied a majority of the room, however, there was an

enormous hole in the middle, obviously for a dinner show of some kind.

Immediately, our glasses were filled with wine and our hands were scrubbed with

rose water. I looked at Ascyltus, and he was simply amazing at the luxurious

nature of the dinner. I suddenly felt underdressed but I was relieved when Bill

Gates entered, wearing a different, much darker shade of jeans and a simple, red

pullover.

Once Bill Gates seated himself, the dozen or so people in the room all

silenced themselves, waiting for this legendary man to speak. "Welcome to my

home," he began, "I hope you will have an enjoyable evening."

At the snap of his fingers, a rotating dais rose from the center of the

room. This dais was filled with an entire orchestra and when it had finished

rising, they began to play a soothing melody.

We waited about five minutes and were amazed when a troop of singing

busboys exited the kitchen, all carrying trays containing some of the rarest

delicacies known to man. Caviar, truffles, and the sweetest meat I have ever

tasted were all served has appetizers. My two companions and I indulged

ourselves until a second troop of singing busboys carried our plates away.

Suddenly the room was filled with a loud crash as a busboy lost footing and

dropped his tray. Scrambling to save face, the busboy fell to his knees and

began to scrape up the mess. All this time I had been watching the expression on

Bill Gate's face. He didn't seem to mind that the busboy had ruined his

luxurious carpet with half-eaten caviar; that was until he began to clean up the

mess. "Get out of here you incompetent fool! You're fired and if you're not

off the premises in five minutes, I'll set the dogs on you," he yelled. Two

guards, appearing out of thin air grabbed the busboy and escorted him from the

dining hall. At the beckoning of their master, two maids entered the room,

armed with brooms and spray bottles full of cleaning implements. As they began

scrubbing the mess, the three of us glared at Bill, who now appeared calm and

composed. He must have seen our puzzled expressions because he quickly said, "My

servants must not step out of their duties. I hired that busboy to serve food,

not to clean up accidents. Had he concentrated on the task I hired him for,

that tray would most likely not have been spilled." An awkward silence filled

the room, however, it was quelled as the orchestra broke into another song and

the singing busboys delivered another course, filet mignon served over linguini

drenched in a sweet red sauce.

The food was delicious, however, I was too disturbed by the evening's

previous incident to finish my meal. After the singing busboys carried our

plates away, Bill retired to the restroom. With Bill's absence the tension

quickly dissipated. Giton, Ascyltus, and I conversed with several of the other

guests about our host and the incident earlier to this evening. Our relief was

short lived, however, Bill shortly returned to dinner, now sporting a pair of

khakis and a light green blazer. He quickly cracked a joke about the size of

his bladder and sat down. At this point, another course was served, pork from

the finest pigs Bill Gates could find. We knew this because of his constant

bragging. We were all getting a little sick and tired of Bill's need to gloat.

Bill was an amazing man, he rose from poverty to the billionaire he is in a

matter of thirty years, but he seemed insecure, always having to explain and

glorify himself. Suddenly, there was a knock at the dining room door. When Bill

ordered the door to be opened, two people, a man and woman, stumbled into the

room, thoroughly intoxicated. I did not recognize either, but Bill seemed to

know the male. "Habinnas, my good friend, have a seat," Bill greeted the

newcomer. After sitting, Bill served them some of wine we were drinking. I

found it kind of funny, wine was the last thing this Habinnas person needed. It

was at this time Giton and Ascyltus begged me to leave, however, I was too

captivated by this newcomer. He was talking to Bill about some great plan of

his, to release his servants and send them off with one million dollars each. I

began to once again respect Bill Gates until I discovered the reason why he was

going to release them. "I want people to remember me and love me for my

generosity when I am dead. I don't want to die detested and loathed like so

many other billionaires," Bill whined. I was furious, Bill Gates, my boss, the

man I've looked up to for years was an insecure, self-centered, man. Even in

his attempt at being generous, he had his own personal interests at heart. I

suddenly because very nauseous and wanted to leave immediately. By the looks on

my companions faces, they wholeheartedly agreed with me. All this time, Bill

Gates was rambling on about his death and going around the table, asking each

person why they would miss him if he should die. Luckily for us, he faked a

heart attack, fell backwards in his chair, and crumpled to the floor. All eyes

were on him, who looked remarkably dead. Bill must have become irritated at the

silence in the air, because he threw his head up and asked us to pretend he was

dead and say nice things about him. This was just plain revolting, not

something I'd expect to see at a dinner party with Bill Gates, owner of

Microsoft. It was at this time my two companions and I snuck out of the dining

hall and found our way to the front door. We grabbed our jackets and, taking

one last look at the enormous house of this not so ideal roll model, left,

exhausted and disgusted.



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