The executive glanced toward the younger specialist.
“We would prefer to retain it temporarily for further evaluation.”
Her father hesitated.
The written evaluation agreement allowed limited examination of the submission, subject to its terms.
He asked for a receipt identifying the prototype and accompanying materials.
The executive seemed irritated.
But the younger specialist prepared one.
The father photographed the inventoried components.
Then left with copies of the acknowledgment.
He returned to Harlem that evening looking exhausted.
His daughter was waiting near the shop entrance.
The moment she saw him, she ran forward.
“Daddy!”
He hugged her.
She looked toward his empty hands.
“Where's the watch?”
“They're examining it.”
Her eyes widened.
“That's good!”
He tried to smile.
“Maybe.”
She studied his face.
Then asked, “Did they like it?”
He hesitated.
“They asked some good questions.”
She frowned.
“Then why are you sad?”
For several seconds, he didn't answer.
Then he sat on the wooden stool.
His daughter moved beside him.
He looked toward the workbench.
Finally, he said quietly, “Sometimes people look at the person holding an idea before they look at the idea itself.”
She considered that.
“Did they do that to you?”
He smiled sadly.
“Maybe.”
Her expression hardened.
“That's stupid.”
He laughed.
“Watch your language.”
She folded her arms.
“It is.”
Her father sighed.
Then reached for her hand.
“Listen to me.”
She looked up.
“If this company says no, that doesn't mean the work is worthless.”
She nodded.
He continued.
“And if somebody treats you as though you don't belong somewhere, don't let their judgment become the measure of your abilities.”
The girl stared toward the empty wooden case on his bench.
Then whispered, “They're going to say yes.”
He smiled.
“Maybe.”
She squeezed his hand.
“They should.”
For several weeks, the company sent no response.
Her father followed up.