The Consultant

by Little,Bentley

  Cindy frowned. “Not that I know of.”

  The door opened, and the consultant came out.

  Had he been hiding in there all morning?

  Had he been masturbating in there?

  That was mean, and she was ashamed of herself for even thinking it. Her antipathy to the entire idea of consultants was making her pick on this pathetic guy who was only doing his job, and she felt guilty about treating him so badly. Red-faced and mumbling, he tried to skirt around them, but Angie stepped in his way, stopping him.

  “Listen,” she said, apologizing. “I’m sorry if any of us have been rude to you while you’ve been here. Part of it, as I’m sure you can see, is that we’re so busy we don’t really have much time to socialize. But part of it, I admit, is because we don’t like the fact that they’ve hired a consultant to spy on us and then make recommendations about changing the Urgent Care.”

  “Observing,” he said quietly. “I’m observing, not spying.”

  She smiled. “I know. But it’s just that… Well, we don’t need anyone to tell us what’s wrong with our operation here. We know. We know better than anyone. And we resent the fact that they’ve hired someone else to find out instead of just asking us.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s how I feel. But it’s not your fault, and we shouldn’t take it out on you, and I’m sorry if we were…mean.”

  It was his turn to smile. “That’s okay. I understand.”

  “No hard feelings?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  He shook. “None at all.”

  “All right, then.” She pulled away without making it too obvious. His grip was limp and sweaty, and while she wanted to wipe her palms on her uniform, she restrained herself—though the minute he was out of sight she was going to rub on some hand sanitizer.

  “Thanks,” he told her. “I need to see Dr. Bashir.” He was still smiling as he walked toward exam room eight, but it was a sad kind of smile, and Angie couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

  She hurried back up to the admissions counter. “Five and seven are both open,” she told Elise.

  TEN

  It was the middle of the morning and lupe, back from break, knocked once on the doorjamb before walking into Craig’s office. “I have something for you. A message. Special delivery.”

  He saw that she had in her hand a blue sheet of paper. She handed it to him across the desk. “It’s from Austin Matthews himself, and it’s not just an email but an official memo. You don’t see those much anymore.”

  Craig read it over. It was addressed to all department and division heads.

  In an effort to assist BFG Associates’ comprehensive study of CompWare’s staffing, practices, processes and procedures, each employee is hereby required to provide BFG with work-related email addresses, computer IDs and passwords so that consultants can access all of the information they need to construct a complete picture of our operation. It is the responsibility of each division head to record and collect these addresses, IDs and passwords, and pass them on to the appropriate department head, who will be responsible for providing them to a BFG consultant upon request.

  He looked up. “Did you read this?” he asked Lupe. She nodded. Glancing behind her to make sure they were alone, she lowered her voice. “Is it even legal?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I assume so, because anything this all-encompassing would have to get a pass from the company’s lawyers.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “I don’t like it either. I don’t want those consultants to have access to my personal information. Not that I use this computer for anything personal,” he added. “I’m too paranoid for that. Everything on here’s strictly business. But…” He let the thought trail off.

  “I know,” Lupe said. She lowered her voice even further. “Besides, I still don’t like Mr. Patoff.”

  Craig smiled. “Join the club.”

  She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “So do we have to do it?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. But, hey, who needs privacy, right? It’s overrated anyway.”

  “As long as I can keep my guns. That’s the only right I need.”

  He looked at her, surprised. “You have guns?”

  “It’s a joke,” she told him.

  “Oh. Anyway, don’t do anything about this yet. Not until I call around and make sure what’s what. I know a couple of people who’ll make waves and definitely won’t take this lying down.”

  “Mr. Allen?”

  Craig chuckled. “Yeah, Phil would be one of them. So let’s make sure it is legal before we start goose-stepping. And don’t tell any of the programmers about this yet, either.” He thought for a moment, reconsidering. “I take that back. Do tell them. Just in case they need to…”

  She smiled. “Erase some evidence?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it that way.”

  “You’re a good boss, Boss.”

  “I try.” Craig read the memo again as she walked out to her desk. He was tempted to call Phil right now, but he really was feeling paranoid and wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Patoff had had all of their phones bugged. He and Phil were already meeting for lunch, however—away from CompWare at what was quickly becoming their weekly Chipotle strategy session—and he decided to talk over the memo with his friend at that time.

  Meanwhile, there was work to be done, and he quickly read through today’s accumulated emails. Once again, his inbox was filled with subject lines like “Learn the Secrets to Good Anal Sex” and “Download Real Snuff Videos Free!” and he was glad he’d stopped having Lupe sort through his messages after that first trap the consultants had set. He answered his few legitimate emails, then accessed the latest updates to OfficeManager. While Tyler’s death had been terrible and shocking, this was big business and the cogs still had to turn, so Craig had handed over control of the OfficeManager updates to Huell, senior programmer on the project. Obviously seeing this as his chance to grab the brass ring, Huell had been adding changes almost daily, surpassing even Tyler’s impressive output. Today, two buttons and a page were gone, making three separate functions more intuitive and easier to use, and Craig thought they were pretty close to being able to show Scott where they were at. They were at least a week ahead of schedule, and in this environment, that would be a big feather in the department head’s cap.

  And in his own.

  He started to write an approving email, then decided instead to go down to the programmers and tell Huell in person, but before he could even get up from his seat, Lupe was back in his office. “You’re wanted in the first floor conference room.”

  “What for?”

  “Mr. Matthews has called a meeting of senior staff.”

  “Another meeting? Jesus Christ. That’s all I seem to do now is go to meetings.”

  She smiled at him, but there was worry in it. “Let me know what happens.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be—”

  “Let me know what happens.”

  She was more worried than she’d been letting on, and he said, “Of course I will.”

  They hadn’t talked in detail about BFG and the future of CompWare, he realized, other than the occasional oblique reference and some laughing-in-the-face-of-danger jokes, and he wondered what the scuttlebutt was amongst the secretaries. Theirs was a network of information-sharing far more broad and accurate than the circumspect conversations he had with other members of management, and it was long past time that he sit down with Lupe and find out what rumors were being spread. When he returned from this meeting, he was going to tell her everything that went on, and they were going to have a real discussion about what was happening at CompWare. It was condescending of him to tell her only the information that would reassure her or that he thought she should know. They were in this together, and he was going to make sure that he was more open and honest from now on.

  At least half of the supervisors, managers, division heads and department heads were alread
y in the conference room when he arrived. Matthews stood in front of the room, next to the podium. Beside him stood Regus Patoff. On the other side of the consultant was a bearded man Craig had never seen before.

  “Do you have any idea what this is about?” Craig whispered, sitting next to Phil.

  “No clue.”

  Elaine Hayman sat down on the other side of him. “Kind of weird that he called it at the last minute, isn’t it?”

  “Again,” Craig said.

  Phil shrugged. “I think this might be the new normal.”

  Matthews started talking. There was no preamble; he didn’t wait until the room had quieted down. Craig wasn’t even sure everyone had arrived. The CEO simply began speaking: “I started CompWare twenty-three years ago with a small group of friends and colleagues. It has since grown far beyond my wildest imaginings. But something was lost in that…” He grasped for the right word. “…diffusion. What was lost? Camaraderie. We’re a business now rather than a family, which I guess is the way it’s supposed to be, but…” He trailed off, didn’t resume immediately, and people began looking around at each other.

  Matthews glanced over at Patoff, then cleared his throat. “The Board and I have decided that, in an effort to get to know one another better, all members of middle and upper management will attend a mandatory weekend retreat. This will give us a chance to spend some time together outside of work, quality time, and allow us to get to know one other. Reacquaint ourselves, perhaps.”

  Hands in the audience immediately went up, and rather than continue on, the CEO pointed to someone in the front row. “Yes.”

  “Why are we doing this?” It was Neal Jamison, head of the Finance department. “We’ve never done it before.”

  Patoff answered, stepping forward. “We are only in the preliminary phase of our study, but one thing we’ve noticed so far is a lack of communication among senior staff. In an effort to combat this, we have proposed some bonding exercises, and we suggested to Mr. Matthews and the Board that a weekend retreat would be the fastest and most efficacious way of addressing the situation.”

  “We?” Phil whispered.

  Craig raised an eyebrow, taking his point. Patoff was still the only consultant either of them had seen, leaving them to wonder whether BFG even had any other employees. Apparently they did, and Craig studied the man standing next to Patoff as the consultant fielded another question about where the retreat was located and what the “bonding exercises” actually entailed. Patoff explained that BFG had access to an off-season student science camp that they often rented just for this purpose, and that there were games and collaborative activities specifically designed by psychologists to bring together people who ordinarily interact only within a corporate setting.

  The bearded man remained unmoving, not looking at either the consultant or the CEO, not looking at the audience, not looking anywhere in particular. He didn’t seem like a consultant, Craig thought, and he definitely didn’t seem like a psychologist. With his black beard, leathery skin and rugged mien, he had the look and affect of a park ranger or lumberjack, someone who worked outdoors, and Craig was about to raise his hand and ask who the man was, when Patoff said, “Maybe I should introduce you to the person who’s been assigned to lead this little expedition.” He nodded toward the other man. “Dash,” he said.

  “Hi,” the man said. “I’m Dash Robards.”

  Craig glanced over at Phil to see his reaction. Dash? his friend mouthed silently, and the raised-eyebrow look on his face was so comical, it was all Craig could do not to laugh.

  “A little bit about myself: I’ve been an avid sportsman my entire life. Grew up tracking and hunting in the rugged pine country around Juniper, Arizona. I served as an Army Ranger, and after that spent several years as a wilderness guide, leading Elk hunting expeditions in the Yukon. Five years ago, I went back to school and received training in conflict resolution and therapeutic group dynamics. Upon graduation, I was hired by BFG to conduct wilderness exercises and to facilitate bonding excursions such as the one you will be going on. What we’ll be doing this weekend—”

  “This weekend?” Jack Razon exclaimed.

  Robards looked over at Patoff, who nodded. He turned back to face the crowd. “Yeah, this weekend.”

  “I can’t go this weekend!”

  There was sudden cacophony as a chorus of voices protested the timing of the retreat.

  Matthews took charge again. “This isn’t voluntary,” he reminded them. “This is mandatory. You are all going on the retreat. I’m not asking you—I’m telling you. Reschedule what you have to reschedule, rearrange your plans as necessary, but make sure you get this weekend off. We’ll be leaving Friday afternoon and returning Sunday evening. I will accept no excuses, not even illnesses. Anyone who does not attend will no longer be working for Comp-Ware. Do I make myself clear?”

  The room was silent.

  “Good.” Patoff was grinning. “Go on, Dash.”

  Craig tuned out the rest of the discussion, already trying to calculate the logistics in his head. Angie would have to take the weekend off, which she wouldn’t be happy about, but she was never voluntarily absent and had almost perfect attendance, so that was probably doable. What concerned him more was Dylan. He wasn’t sure how he was going to break the news to his son. Despite the hours he spent at work, all of the early mornings and late evenings, he had never before taken any sort of business trip, and since Dylan’s birth, they had spent every night under the same roof. The thought of not doing so for the first time filled him with a piercing melancholy, and if breaking their streak bothered him, he could imagine how hard Dylan was going to take it. He had to come up with a gentle way to tell the boy the news. Maybe a bribe, he thought, and decided that the Saturday after the retreat, they would go to Disneyland. That meant Angie would have to take another day off—but this one even she would consider worth it.

  Convinced he had enough good news to balance out the bad, Craig felt better, and he listened to descriptions of role-playing games and crafts projects and what was apparently going to be the main activity of the weekend: a “wilderness expedition.” They all sounded stupid and pointless, but he nodded along with everyone else to show he understood the plan, and on the way out of the meeting shared a silent look with Phil that told him his friend felt exactly the same way.

  It was too risky to talk here, too many ears, so they split off in the corridor with the unspoken understanding they they’d discuss it all at lunch.

  Lupe was at her desk when he returned, filling out some paperwork for HR regarding Tyler’s position, and he asked her to join him in his office, shutting the door behind her. Offering her a chair, he described the meeting, told her about the weekend retreat, then said that he was worried about the direction BFG seemed to be steering the company and the impact it could have on employees.

  “So what have you heard?” he asked her.

  “Why?” He could hear the worry in her voice. “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing really. That’s why I’m asking you.” He smiled. “Everyone knows secretaries have the best gossip.”

  There was a pause, a hesitation. Was that a flicker of suspicion in her eyes? Did she think he was asking in order to test her loyalty to the company? Or because he was trying to ferret out a leak? Or because he’d been asked to spy on her?

  He quickly disabused her of any such notion, and she claimed that nothing like that had even occurred to her, but he knew that it had, and the fact that BFG had managed to drive even a small wedge between them, and do it so quickly, left him feeling vulnerable.

  “Look,” he said, “I’ll be honest with you. They’re not telling the division heads anything. And with the way my ‘interview’ went, I’m pretty sure I’m on the outs with the consultants.”

  “I thought you said we’re safe.” The worry was back again.

  “I don’t think my job’s on the line. Or yours. I was honest about that. I’m not even worried about fundi
ng for our division, really. It’s just…I don’t know. I don’t like the way things are going, and I’m trying to get a handle on it.”

  “You’re a good boss, Boss.”

  Maybe she hadn’t been suspicious of his motives, maybe she’d always believed him. But if that was the case, he was the one who’d been suspicious of her. Either way, Patoff had come between them, and the ease with which that had been accomplished worried him.

  “I wasn’t joking about secretaries’ gossip. I hear things you don’t, but they’re mostly the party line. You hear things I don’t, and I think they’re probably a lot more accurate. If we pool our information and act as each other’s eyes and ears, I think we’ll be ahead of the game.”

  “Okay,” she said, and stood. “So you want me to go out and do a little recon?”

  He laughed. “That’s my Lupe.”

  “I have an idea. It’s about those passwords and everything. But I may be gone for a little while. Do you want me to let calls go to voicemail or…?”

  “Just transfer everything from your phone to mine. I’ll take care of whatever comes up.”

  Nothing did come up, and she popped back a half-hour later, closing the door behind her. “I just talked to Pauline—Pauline Praeger? In Legal?—and she said that as soon as they got the memo, the attorneys immediately started looking to see if they could be required to comply.”

  “So what’s the verdict?”

  “It’s legal. I guess the Supreme Court issued some sort of ruling about privacy in the workplace, and…well, there really isn’t any. Employers hold all the cards and employees pretty much have to do as they say.”

  “We all better be careful,” he told her. “And make sure your IDs and passwords on personal devices, even at home, are totally different than the ones here at work. I don’t trust those guys, and I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

  Lupe didn’t question that assumption—which told him a lot.

  “Pauline asked about that ‘work management study’ they’re supposed to be doing. Are they still going to do it? Did they already start? What’s going on with that?”