by Renee Hart
“Miss Decker?” the man said, looking up at her. “Shea Gordon, Regional Vice President.” He held his clipboard at the ready, a pen in his hand.
“Yes?” She barely looked at him, hoping this would be over with pretty quick.
“You're working on casting molds?” He looked around her workstation, picking a couple of things up from the bench and looking them over, then setting them back. Jane tried not to grind her teeth when she saw he put things back in the wrong place. She had a system for her organization, and she hated it when people didn't respect that.
“Today I am, yeah,” she said, pulling down her mask so she could answer his questions without her voice being muffled. She just hoped she didn't end up coughing white dust all over his expensive suit.
“Would you say this past week, week and a half's numbers have been pretty standard?”
She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her work. She wasn't sure if it was rude of her to keep working while she was talking to him, but she was afraid of getting in trouble if she stopped working just to chat. “I guess so. I always hit my quotas.”
“And do you think the quotas the management sets are fair?” Shea jotted something down on his clipboard, then held his pen at the ready, waiting for her to answer.
She chewed on her lip for a moment, thinking about how to respond. The truth was, half the time she didn't think the quotas were at all fair. She could keep up with them just fine with the slow but steady pace she set every day, but that was without breaks and assuming ideal conditions, like not having to send any of the molds back because they were damaged or flawed in some way. The last time Harold had increased the quotas, it had been based on two weeks where everything had run perfectly smooth, with nothing to interfere with production. He didn't seem to understand that on a bad week, those same quotas would be impossible to meet due to circumstances beyond Jane's control.
Which is why she took her time and didn't go over the quotas regularly. She knew if she had just one good week, Harold would increase the quotas based on that week alone, and she'd be expected to meet a standard that she just couldn't keep up with the rest of the time.
“Miss Decker?” Shea asked. “When the management sets your quotas, are they fair? Do you feel like you can keep up with them?”
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. If she said no, that the quotas weren't fair, she could get in trouble for complaining. If she said yes, then she could end up being screwed when Harold decided to ramp up production again. “I don't know,” she said. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“But not always?”
Jane sighed. “Well, you can't expect people to hit the same quotas every week.”
“Why not?” Shea frowned, a confused look on his face. She was sure he'd never actually worked on a factory floor, so he couldn't have the first clue what they dealt with down here.
She didn't want to go on a tirade, but since he'd asked, she couldn't help but answer honestly. “Because sometimes there's stuff that goes wrong, and it's not our fault. Like this here, see?” She pulled one of the boxes from her table of rejects and showed it to Shea. The mold inside was cracked. “This came down here like this. And that's not my fault. It was either the doctor didn't apply the cast right when taking the mold of the patient's foot, or it didn't get poured right in the first stage of production, and that's over in Zone One.” She gestured across the factory floor. “I can't do anything about that, and sometimes I get a dozen like this in a day. That's going to mess with my quota.”
Shea jotted down some notes, nodding along with what she said. “What do you think we can do to fix that?” he asked.
She stared at him in mute shock. She didn't know what he expected her to say. “Zone One needs to inspect them better before they send them my way,” she said. “And really they should be inspected at Distribution.”
“At Distribution?” Shea frowned, tapping his pen against his clipboard.
“Well, yeah. If there's a problem in the original casting, it doesn't do any good if we don't find out until it gets here. The Distribution Center should be checking for that kind of thing before they send it our way. It's just a waste of money to send something here, then send it right back, just because they didn't check it before it got here.”
“Hmm.” Shea made another note on his clipboard. She wanted to peek at it and see what he was writing down. It would be nice if it seemed like he was taking her suggestions seriously. Though she doubted anything would come of it. She'd stopped bothering to make suggestions years ago, when she learned that no one ever wanted to listen to a worker on the factory floor. It made her mad to know her opinion didn't mean anything to them. She was smart, and if she hadn't gone broke and been forced to drop out of college, she could have been management herself. Maybe not a VP or anything like that, not at her age, but she knew she was capable of being further up the food chain.
“Thank you,” Shea said. “You've been very helpful. Keep up the good work.”
He flashed her a charming smile. She couldn't help but smile in return. For a stuffed-shirt corporate tool, Shea had a nice smile. And she certainly didn't mind seeing him flash that dimple her way.
After Shea left, Harold came out of his office and called the end of the work day. Jane cleaned up her station, then gathered her things and headed out to the parking lot and her old, battered Saturn Coupe. The car had been her mom's for almost fifteen years, until Jane's last car broke down. When Jane had swallowed her pride and gone to her mom to ask for help with repairs, or with the down payment on a new car, her mother had instead decided to sell Jane her old car, promising it was in good condition. Her mother had bought herself a brand new Prius, while Jane was stuck with the old piece of shit.
It managed to get her home safely, though, and she told herself that was all she could ask for. She took a long shower to get the powder out of her hair, then settled in for a night on the couch with Netflix and her cat, Yoda. She wasn't looking forward to another long day of work tomorrow. But she reminded herself to be happy that she even had a job. And she prayed that wouldn't be changing any time soon.
Chapter 2
Shea sat in a meeting with the other executives of Gordon Orthopedics, Inc., going over the numbers from the recent review. He had just finished going over everything he had learned from his visit to the Philadelphia factory last week, and now he sat and waited while the other Regional Vice President, James Holland, offered his own report on the Baltimore location.
The numbers were pretty dry, and not very encouraging. Advancements in orthopedic technology over the last decade had changed the way the business worked, and Gordon Orthopedics was having trouble catching up. That was the whole reason behind the review: the CEO, Jebediah Gordon, Shea's grandfather, could see the writing on the wall. The company needed to adapt, or else risk being shut down.
“Thank you, James,” Jebediah said when the VP finished with his report. The CEO folded his hands over his generous stomach, looking over the people assembled in the room. In addition to the two vice presidents, there were a handful of regional directors and other executives. It was more people than Shea was used to seeing in one meeting together, and he didn't consider that to be a good sign.
“As many of you have no doubt realized by now,” Jebediah said, “our company is at a crossroads. I have a decision to make in the near future, but there's also another decision I've already made. I suppose I should get that one out of the way first.”
Jebediah took a deep breath, looking away and not meeting anyone's eyes. “At the end of the year, I will be retiring as CEO of Gordon Orthopedics.”
A murmur spread throughout the room as men and women leaned close to whisper in each other's ears. Shea remained silent. He sat with his elbows on the conference table, his hands folded, his index fingers extended and tapping against his lip. He'd been expecting something like this for some time. And he had hopes for who the old man would name as his replacement.
“However,” Jebe
diah said, “with my impending retirement, I've realized that there is a need for a new direction for this company. I founded this company over fifty years ago, and worked hard my entire life to make a name for myself in the industry. From surgical tools to medical braces to artificial joints, Gordon has become the go-to name for orthopedic supplies in this country. But times change, and I've been slow to keep up with the changes. I almost had to shut down when everything went digital at the turn of the millennium, but we managed to adapt to the need for online services to help healthcare providers find the tools they need.”
Jebediah got up and paced back and forth in front of the conference table, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Now we face another big change, one that's been building for years. We made a name for ourselves among surgeons and healthcare providers who knew that when you had to choose the right tool for the job, you chose Gordon. But too many providers don't get to make that decision themselves anymore. The impact of insurance companies, government policies, and regulation of the healthcare industry means that decisions are being made more and more by hospitals and insurance companies, not by individual doctors. And those companies care more about cost than they do about quality.”
He turned to face the assembled executives. “If Gordon Orthopedics is going to survive in the coming decades, we need to rethink the way we do business. Cut costs, streamline operations, and made sure our products aren't only the best, but are also the most affordable, so we can convince cost-conscious insurance companies and hospitals to sign contracts with us. Now that means we may need to restructure, either from a personnel perspective, or an industrial one. Either way, things need to change.”
He looked at Shea and James. “I want to see proposals from each of you, based on what you've learned with your recent inspections, on how you would go about saving this company. If either proposal impresses me enough, then one of you will be chosen as my successor, and become the new CEO of Gordon Orthopedics.”
James grinned wide, casting a challenging glare at Shea. They had butted heads for years, with James constantly accusing Shea of being a no-talent hack who had only gotten his job because he was the owner's grandson. Whereas Shea knew he had never been granted the least bit of favoritism. His grandfather didn't even particularly like him that much, and he had certainly never given him any advantages. On the contrary, he often felt that he'd had to work twice as hard to get ahead here, since his grandfather never pulled his punches and seemed determined to make things as difficult for him as possible.
Aside from all that, however, he knew how his grandfather thought. And he knew there was something else that Jebediah wasn't telling them. “And what if,” Shea asked, “you're not satisfied with either of our proposals?”
Jebediah sat back down in his chair and straightened his shirt. “In that case,” he said, “I will be selling the company.”
Another murmur passed throughout the room. Jebediah cleared his throat, casting a stern glare over everyone until they quieted down.
“I'm currently entertaining an offer from Orthotec Enterprises. They've offered to buy the entire company and merge it with their own. It would mean the end of the company as we currently know it, but I believe that selling Gordon Orthopedics to a larger, more stable company is preferable to shutting down completely. They have the vision and resources to manage a company in the twenty first century, and I know the addition of our factories and sales network would lead to new heights of success.”
Shea frowned, rubbing his chin. “Don't they already have a factory in the Philadelphia area?” he asked. “And another in the same region as our Pittsburgh location?”
Jebediah nodded. “It would be up to Orthotec to decide how to handle any overlap in facilities. With the new growth their company would experience, it's likely that some of our current employees would be transferred to existing Orthotec locations.”
“But not all of them,” Shea said.
“No, not all of them. I'm sure there would be layoffs in some areas, where Orthotec already has sufficient staffing and facilities to meet their needs. But that's the cost of doing business.”
They spent a few more minutes going over Jebediah's expectations for the proposals both James and Shea would be submitting, then the meeting adjourned. Shea remained in his seat while the other executives filed out the door. He caught James's eye while the other VP was gathering his things to leave. “Good luck,” Shea said.
James snorted. “Yeah. Sure.” He headed out the door without looking back.
Jebediah looked at his grandson, folding his hands on top of the conference table. “I take it you didn't stay behind to discuss plans for the upcoming holidays?”
“No, Jeb, I didn't.” Shea tapped his pen on the tabletop, a deep frown set on his face. “I can't believe this. You'd really sell out?”
Jebediah spread his hands. “It's not the choice I would have made, you understand. I spent my whole life turning this company into what it is today. But if it won't be handled properly after I'm gone, then I need to do what it takes.”
“You really don't think I'd handle things properly?” Shea asked. It wasn't really a question. He knew what his grandfather thought of him.
“I don't think you've ever handled anything in your life properly, if you insist on hearing the truth.” Jebediah stood up, circling around the table to stand over Shea's chair. “What have you done with your life? You have your career, but that's it. You're in your thirties and you've never even had a serious committed relationship. Heck, boy, I was married with two kids by the time I was your age.”
“Things are different these days, Jeb,” Shea said. “People don't always go for the wife, the kids, and the house with a picket fence anymore. Besides, it's not like I don't want to get married. I was just waiting for the right girl.”
“Was?” Jebediah asked, his eyebrows going up. “Shea, is there something you want to tell me?”
Shea looked up at his grandfather, realizing he'd made a slip of the tongue. But when he saw the small smile starting to spread across Jeb's lips, he realized he had an opportunity here. “Well,” Shea said, clearing his throat. “I was going to wait until the holidays.”
Jeb clapped him on the arm. “Go on, boy. Out with it.” He grinned, and for a moment, Shea had a glimpse of the kind, grandfatherly man he had once known. Before Shea became a lifelong disappointment for his grandfather.
“Well, nothing's official yet. I mean, we've discussed it, but I haven't actually popped the question yet.”
“Well then what are you waiting for, my boy?” Jebediah chuckled, shaking his head. “See, that's always been your problem. You've got to get out there and take the bull by the horns. So, who's the lucky lady? I got so used to seeing you with a different woman on your arm every week, I never thought one would snare you.”
Shea forced a laugh. His face started to heat up. He realized he had to get out of this conversation before he dug himself any deeper than he already had. “I'll introduce you to her soon,” he said, rising from his seat and collecting his papers.
“When?” Jebediah asked.
“Christmas,” Shea said. “I was going to bring her to the Christmas party.”
“You make sure to do that,” Jebediah said. He clapped Shea on the arm again, grinning wide. “After all these years, I definitely don't want to miss the chance to meet my future granddaughter-in-law.”
Shea kept a forced smile on his face as he headed for the door. He paused in the doorway, looking back at his grandfather. “And about the proposal?”
“You have a ring, right?” Jebediah asked.
Shea laughed and shook his head. “No, I mean the proposal I'll be presenting to you. About my vision for the future of the company.”
“Well,” Jebediah said, a warm smile on his face, “I must say I'm looking forward to it now. I wasn't sure what to expect from you, but then, I also never expected you to find the right woman and settle down. Maybe you'll have another
surprise up your sleeve.”
Shea chewed on the inside of his cheek as he left the conference room and returned to his office. He dropped his briefcase on his desk, then ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath. He didn't know how he had gotten himself into the situation he just had, but it had spiraled out of control before he knew it. Not only did he have just two weeks to come up with a new business plan proposal to save the company, but now he had to find himself a fiance to show off at the company Christmas party. And the last time he'd gone out with the same girl for more than two weeks straight had been back in college.
He sat down on his desk, staring out the windows at the Philadelphia skyline. Then he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contact list, hoping there was a woman somewhere in there who might be willing to pretend she was about to become the future Mrs. Shea Gordon.
Chapter 3
A week after the last visit by the vice president, Jane came to the factory and found that he was back once again. She bit her lip as she walked to her workstation, watching him talk to Harold. Seeing someone from corporate down here in the factory twice in as many weeks made her worry that there was more going on than anyone realized. And she was starting to really wonder if her job was on the line.
She got right to work, wanting to make a good impression if the vice president came to her station again. She had a bin full of molds for arm and elbow orthotics, which would be used to make various custom splints and supports for people with joint injuries. She set to work sorting through the bin, then preparing the molds so she could send them along to the production line.
Not long after she got started, the vice president came over to her station. He smiled at her, pulling a stool over so he could sit by her workbench. “Miss Decker,” he said. “Nice to see you again. I hope I won't be a bother, but I was hoping to ask you some more questions about your work here.”
