Chapter 7
Alder sensed the overcast of mourning when he arrived at work. The loss of coworkers and family recently passed away emotionally weighted down many of the employees in the headquarters of Everest International Bio-Medical Group. The two security guards who monitored the front entrance of the R & D administration facility were normally jovial when greeting the employees in the morning. Today, they could barely force a smile or hand wave and were robotic in their responses after checking employees’ company ID cards. In the elevator, the atmosphere was dense, the air oddly still. No one uttered a word. No one dared to look anyone else in the eye getting on or off, afraid they’d have to discuss what had happened several days earlier. The mirror like surface of the elevator walls made the cubed and confined spaces seem larger adding to the passengers’ anxiety. Alder couldn't wait to get off.
The accounting bullpen was more quiet than normal. As Alder passed each cubicle, he saw in the ones that weren’t empty, two or three clerks, accountants, or bookkeepers whispered amongst themselves appearing to console one another. The ones who missed the opportunity to attend the funeral were now considering themselves fortunate. Not winning the raffle for spare seats to Jeffrey's funeral, and the possibility of witnessing an angel, now seemed like luck. Several of the workers stopped their conversations when they saw Alder pass by; a couple of them thought they caught an odor of alcohol mixed with cologne follow in his wake. Their noses were accurate.
The kitchenette and break room, where there were normally three or four workers chatting about the previous evening’s television shows, family escapades, or office gossip, was barren. The coffee pot was still full, the area neat and orderly. Usually the evidence of the cleaning service’s work the previous evening had vanished several minutes after employees began to arrive in the morning. By this time of the morning, the kitchenette would be ravaged with napkins wadded and strewn about the countertop, misses from the small discard container next to the condiments and stirrer container, and granules of sugar sometimes blanketing coffee rings on the countertop.
Alder's work area had the status of a hard walled office, his cubicle having side panels higher than many of those in the bullpen and an actual door. He and Stephen shared the office space, Stephen's desk still empty after these troubling days. Some papers, file folders, and documents on colored paper rested in the inbox, far fewer than Alder anticipated. With his mild headache, he appreciated the minimal work that appeared to be before him. Looking through the paperwork, signing onto his computer, and reviewing his action plan for the day, the work schedule was unchanged since leaving the previous Friday. The work of crunching numbers, reviewing the general ledger, and validating the short backlog of departmental charge backs didn't seem so daunting until it hit Alder that he’d have to absorb Stephen’s workload, and no one was sure how long he would be out. He would need to distribute the work to the other team members in the accounting bullpen. Bill payment authorizations, capital project reviews, and other major undertakings normally managed by his former director who worked directly for Jeffrey Bradfield would be in limbo now. If Alder did begin handling the paperwork held in abeyance, like any administrative machinations, it would need to be acted upon and initialed or digitally signed showing it had been coordinated at every level of the approval process. Now there was a bureaucratic void. Thinking about the anticipated workload intensified Alder's headache. It was time for a cup of coffee.
The kitchenette was still empty. Someone had grabbed a cup since Alder walked by a few minutes earlier as he saw less coffee in the glass pot. He pulled his favorite mug from the cabinet and poured in a little creamer and sugar, followed by dark roasted coffee. Alder caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye, a tall, well-defined man in his fifties with silver hair dressed in a conservative dark blue suit. His pockmarked face was etched with age and stress. He stood confident and erect like the Cyclops Polyphemus obstructing and guarding the exit of the cave on the Isle of Sicily. It was Gary Applethorpe, a senior vice president for Everest in charge of the research and development group of companies and subsidiaries.
“Hello Mr. Applethorpe, like a cup of coffee?” Alder asked.
“No thanks. Just go ahead and finish up what you're doing there and meet me in your office,” Gary said and moved away from the doorway.
Alder rummaged through his mind as to why Gary Applethorpe wanted to talk to him? He had taken several days off to mourn the loss of his coworkers. Work definitely was beginning to back up and not processed as fast as the company would like. Alder wasn't sure if three days off was too much time. Had Gary come down to reprimand him? That was his specialty. Even though the company had authorized the memorial leave, it was somewhat implied that one shouldn’t take too much time, especially if those lost weren’t direct reports or close working associates. When Alder got back to his office, Gary was sitting in Stephen's chair, waiting until Alder situated himself before beginning the conversation.
“So how are you doing through all of this?” Gary asked, smelling a mild odor of alcohol, already formulating an answer in his mind regardless of how Alder answered.
Alder decided to bypass the question. “What can I do for you sir?”
“It’s a shame there's such a loss in the company. You know we lost several executives and key researchers from the genetic engineering side of the house.”
“Well, Jeffrey is going to be missed,” Alder commented, not sure if Gary was aware of Jeffrey's postings, ledger entries, capital expenditure justification tallies that he and Stephen continually corrected.
“Come on, call it like it was, Jeffrey's accounting documentation was generally screwed up. We all knew that. He’s one of the ones we’re not gonna miss. You and Stephen correcting his mistakes kept us out of trouble more times than I can even recall. That's why I'm down here.” Pausing and scanning the cubicle office for a couple of minutes, Gary continued. “I'll get straight to the point, would you consider yourself trustworthy?”
Alder responded with a quizzical look, unsure if he knew the point of the question or if it was presented to him as some sort of test. Alder decided he would just go ahead an answer he felt comfortable with that was straightforward.
“Yeah, I'd like to think I'm trustworthy,” Alder answered.
“We in Everest think so too.” Gary followed, marginally lowering his voice. “I have another question for you. How well do you and Stephen get along?”
“We get along very well. We sometimes spend a lot of time together after work, going to get a few drinks, sports bar, stuff like that. Sometimes he comes over and has dinner with my family.”
“Hmm, you think you’d have any problems working with Stephen if you weren't his peer anymore?”
“I'm not sure I understand,” Alder responded.
“With what happened in the company, there's a management vacuum. Jeffrey is gone as well as several other members of the accounting staff. Plus we're not sure of the long-term effect of Stephen’ blindness. What we'd like to do is make you a junior director over the R & D accounting department. Think you can handle it?”
Alder was stunned. He couldn't answer.
“Look, I know it’s quite a bit to take in, but come by my office in an hour and we can talk more about it,” Gary added.
Alder was still in shock and couldn't think of anything to say. The promotion would be a serious increase in responsibility. From being a manager supervising several lead accountants, he would skip over being a senior manager all the way to being director, a junior executive position. Not only that, Alder would be in charge of the accounting for the R & D division internal to the company. This was one of the most respected divisions in all of Everest's business units and subsidiaries. Just from the postings and muck-ups by Jeffrey, Alder knew the company performed clandestine research for new high profile products and inventions across the entire globe in countries like Canada, Mexico, Brazi
l, England, Finland, Italy, Japan, Northern Africa, and Egypt.
Alder was finally able to muster up something to say. It wasn’t much, “I don't know what to say. Why me?”
Gary responded with an indistinct but pleasant smile. “We think you show a lot of potential. You've shown you can be trusted. You kept a lot of what Jeffrey accidentally revealed between you and Stephen. Those projects are extremely sensitive and could have a substantial financial impact if competitors or market news got wind of them. Moreover, your folks down here seem to work extremely well together as a team.”
“What about Stephen?”
“What about him? We're not sure how long he's going to be out, or if he's returning at all. Nonetheless, we as a company have to move on. I’ll see you in an hour in my office?”
This time, Alder didn't hesitate in responding, “I'll be there.”
“Good, and don't tell anyone down here in the bull pen yet. We want to include this in a formal announcement with some of the other changes caused by these unfortunate events.”
“Not a problem,” Alder responded, wanting to make sure he sounded confident.
A couple of minutes later Sherry, a direct report of his and a front line supervisor for a small team of accountants working charge backs for capital projects, peaked into Alder’s office waiting for Gary to leave the area.
“Well, what did he want?” she questioned.
Alder glanced up to see a short African American woman with ebony dark skin, a bit overweight, in her late thirties. The floral print dress she wore hugged her shapely form.
“He didn’t want anything special. Just wondering how we’re all doing here considering all that’s happened,” he replied.
“Bullshit. You know Gary doesn’t stop in down here unless it’s something important.”
Alder appreciated that Sherry could be forward and direct. She had even demonstrated the tenacity to stand up to Jeffrey Bradfield, when both Alder and Stephen were out of town and he tried to accuse her section of incorrect entries on the end-of-quarter postings she authorized. The entries were incorrect after Jeffrey had provided Sherry’s team the incorrect information. He tried to shift the blame and she scolded him thoroughly for even attempting to try and place the responsibility on the accountants in her bull pen. After that incident, Jeffrey never looked her in the eye again and tried to avoid her in the aisles of the cubicle farm and hallways. She didn’t care either way. She also didn’t hold grudges--another quality he liked. If he had the opportunity to promote someone as a manager once he moved into his new position, it would be her.
“No seriously, it wasn’t that important,” Alder insisted, attempting to maintain a firm expression of don’t ask again.
“Mm hmm,” Sherry countered, standing in the doorway for nearly a minute staring at him; Alder remained unwavering.
“Look, I’m sure if it was important, we’d all hear about it,” Alder said hoping she would get the hint. “I need to get started on some of this paperwork. Anything else?”
“You know something,” Sherry acknowledged, presenting a small grin. She decided to leave.
The Fallen and the Elect Page 15
