Yes Man by Danny Wallace

can you fail at that?”
    “It’s saying yes to
everything
. How can you
not
fail?”
    “Nonsense. I’ll keep showing you my diary. I’ll keep you updated on everything I do.”
    “But you’ll never do it!”
    “I will!”
    “If ever there was a time for a drunken bet, it was now….”
    “No. No bets. This is more important than that.”
    “Fine. But if I find out you’ve been saying no, then …” He looked at me with steely determination.
    “Then what?”
    “Then I’ll think of something. And you’ll take your punishment like a man.”
    “Fine,” I said.
    “Fine,” he said.
    “Fine,” I said.
    We both sat back in our chairs. I thought about what a pity it was that we didn’t have American accents, because that would all have been a lot more dramatic if we had. I think Ian was probably thinking the same.
    And then he said, “Pint?”
    And I said, “Yes.”

Chapter 5 In Which Daniel Receives Word from the Sultanate of Oman
    Let there be no doubt about this whatsoever .
    By carefully crafting my Yes Manifesto, I knew I’d just made the most important decision of my young life.
    This was big. Bigger than A-Levels. Bigger than university. Bigger than leaving Argos, a shop, when I was fifteen. And just like leaving Argos, it was exciting; I had no idea where it could lead. There was no discernible target to speak of. What was I aiming for? What did I hope to achieve? There was no one else involved; no bet, no rival, no one to impress or beat but me. Yeah, so Ian had talked vaguely of a punishment—but that was just macho posturing. This was the ultimate in self-help. A key to getting out more. To random meetings with random people doing random things … I was no longer in control. I could no longer make things happen. I could only agree to them. I could
literally
only agree to them. Some people will claim to be the type of person who just can’t say no. Now, so could I.
    I awoke at about nine, a day into my life of Yes, and wondered whether today would be the day I’d pop into BBC Broadcasting House and try to get some work done. I decided it probably wouldn’t. I still had too much to do. Too much to say yes to. Once the novelty had worn off, and I’d got into the swing of yes,
then
I’d pop into work. For now I’d claim to be “working from home.” You can do that when you’re a freelancer.
    I flicked my computer on, made a cup of tea, and checked my e-mails. There was the now-usual array of spam messages, urging me to look at their Web site, or yelling at me about mortgage deals and low prices (thankfully, none of them had resorted to just
asking
me to buy their stuff). But then as I clicked onto the next one, I was startled and confused.
    Because the next thing I read was a desperate call for help.
    To: Danny
    From: SULTAN QABOOS
    Subject: URGENT BUSINESS TRANSACTION
    THE PALACE-MUSCAT
P.O. BOX 632 MUSCAT PC 113 OMAN
    ATTENTION PLEASE,
    I TAKE THE PLEASURE TO GET ASSOCIATED WITH YOU AND DESIRE TO INTRODUCE MYSELF, REQUESTING FOR YOUR EXPERT ADVISES AND IMMEDIATE LINE OF ACTION.
    I AM OMAR, SON OF THE MURDERED SULTAN, SULTAN OF THE SULTANATE OF OMAN.
    Jesus! I had just received an e-mail from the son of a sultan! I didn’t know whether to curtsy or to bow! What was the son of a sultan doing, e-mailing me? How did that happen? And how did he hear of me?
    I CAME TO KNOW YOUR EXPERTISE AND PROFESSIONALLISM IN BUSINESS FROM MY FATHER, AND AM THUS CONFIDENTLY WRITING, THAT YOU WILL ACCEPT MY REQUEST TO PROVIDE YOUR EXPERTISE PROFESSIONALLISM IN BUSINESS.
    My professionallism in business?
What
professionallism in business? And is that really how you spell “professionalism”?
    I ASK YOU TO KEEP THIS CONFIDENTIAL. I AM TO TRUST YOU WITH MY LIFE, AS MY FATHER DID.
    What?
    MY FATHER WAS LAST NIGHT MURDERED BY HIS POLITICAL ENEMIES.
    What?!
    NOW THOSE SAME ENEMIES ARE ATTEMPTING TO TAKE CONTROL OF HIS FINANCES. I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SECRETLY TAKE $40 MILLION AND INTEND TO FLEE THE COUNTRY.
    How do