The Job: Based on a True Story (I Mean, This is Bound to have Happened Somewhere)

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The Job: Based on a True Story (I Mean, This is Bound to have Happened Somewhere) Page 2

by Craig Davis


  ***

  On the directly opposite side of town, Luci Fernandez stirred from a night of lying awake. Years of anger again had twisted the passing hours within her mind and the covers around her body. Never could she let go of her resentment. As a girl she had entertained dreams of becoming a dancer on the stage, graciously accepting the accolades of adoring audiences. Even as a young woman she had entertained dreams of becoming a dancer on the stage, graciously accepting the accolades of adoring audiences. As a middle-aged woman, she realized her dreams had waltzed out the door. She now worked in the Human Resources office at Universal Whirligig, as Executive Officer in Charge of Outgoing Prescription Drug Claims Oversight.

  At one time she had been on the company fast track, but even in that she had gained only frustration. Hidden well within her heart she coveted the Big Boss’ authority, his place as sole leader of the fabulous corporation. Deep down she believed she could run the company better than him, and deserved to do so. But ill-advised politicking had stalled her climb, and daily she could witness other men and women flying past her in the Big Boss’ good graces. Her real duties now, as she saw them, were to make sure no employee’s success went unpunished.

  Joe B. had not escaped her notice.

  Indeed, his advance within the company, and the obvious favor he received from the Big Boss, had made any intervention by Luci impossible.

  Her hair paid the price this morning as she ripped her brush through the jet-black curls. A dried-out bottle of mascara fared no better, nor did the shower door it hit. One, two – three, yes, three pairs of hose suffered fatal runs before Luci finally managed to cover her long legs. She wedged her slinky form into a bright red dress.

  “If I can’t, he can’t,” she intoned under her breath, brows twitching above her fiery eyes.

  A spiked heel snapped as her stamping foot tried to force on a diminutive shoe.

  Her preparations continued entirely on auto-pilot as she sorted her scheming for the morning’s work. First Tuesday of the month meant a selection of Universal Whirligig’s top executives would meet over breakfast with the Big Boss. He would expect a report from the human resources department, and this month her turn came around to represent her office. Luci knew she would have to play her cards deftly to maneuver the Big Boss into doing what she wanted. She glared at the nail she’d broken prying the childproof cap off her bottle of St. John’s wort. The cat hid under the bed.

  “I have the papers, I can twist the numbers,” she thought. “Just little statistics, just little lies. Enough to bring Joe B. down! Bring him down from that big, shiny office. Before he knows it, he’ll be out on the streets. Before the day’s out, I’ll have him cursing the Big Boss. Early meeting, early meeting – I’ll have my way! It’s earlier than you think, Joe B.!” Laughter and tires screeched as she pulled into her corporate parking space.

  A fat little man – light on hair but heavy in the glasses – from the Department of Amalgamated Services in Production Reliability Manifestations leaned into Luci’s ear as they entered the conference room. “When in doubt, call a meeting!” he whispered as if his wit would secure him a date.

  “Ugh,” she sneered.

  Rich leather chairs circled the chrome and glass table, located centrally in a cavernous chrome and glass room. A delicate china plate at each chair held a muffin and mint, with matching cup and saucer filled with coffee individually creamed and sugared for each executive appointed to attend. The huge windows offered a grand view of the air and clouds impaled upon the top of the Universal Whirligig skyscraper. Deep carpeting, brightly white but feeling as fresh and soft as spring grass, begged its guests to kick off their shoes. Along the interior walls, history’s greatest works of art stood silent vigil over the proceedings. To one side a single door – beautiful in its simply etched glass, mysteriously veiled by sheer curtains laced with shimmering silver thread – blocked entry to a mysterious passageway leading into the upper offices of the Big Boss.

  The attendees hemmed and hawed and groused as they awaited the beginning of the meeting. A hush fell as the silvery curtains swayed with anticipated arrival.

  The Big Boss strode in.

  “I hope everyone found the coffee to their liking?” he began.

  “Yes, sir,” all chimed in.

  “The muffins are a nice touch. Who’s responsible for changing from the usual donuts?”

  “I am,” said Luci. “I thought maybe the donuts were too – holey.”

  “Miss Fernandez, from Human Resources? Just as well. I find that muffins are good. Well then – what’s this month’s business?” He looked through the notebook of papers at the head of the table.

  “Reports from the factory campus in Ontario show that the new lighting fixtures have improved labor and cost efficiency considerably,” one woman offered.

  “I thought that would be the result,” the Big Boss replied, still mulling the notebook.

  “The Clear Air Initiative in Kiev has reduced atmospheric particles by 75%, improving the incidence of clean rainfall,” another reported.

  “I thought as much,” the Big Boss said.

  “The Arid Project in Dubai has shown surprising success in moisture-free production of silicon chips.”

  “My thought exactly.”

  “Replanting the groves on the Madagascar plantations has not only increased vegetation in the undeveloped areas but also increased resources for the native population.”

  “I thought so.”

  “The operations manager in Oslo reports the new day-night shifts are very popular with the associates there.”

  “Just as I thought.”

  “Sydney naturalists report that the uterine enhancement devices have had a remarkable effect on animal breeding cycles.”

  “These were my very thoughts.”

  “The new elevator music is much better,” said a small voice.

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  A silence fell around the table, disturbed by only an occasional shuffle of a paper.

  “Is that it, then?” continued the Big Boss, and everyone searched for something to add. “Well, after all that, I think each of you deserves a rest.”

  “I might also mention the new ceramic molds,” a hopeful man piped up. “They have been installed in the Dayton plant. Production of the resin compound components is on schedule.”

  “Good, good.”

  “Um, sir?” said the fat little man nervously.

  “Yes?”

  “The resins for the compound come from South American forests.”

  “Yes?”

  “Won’t the current political unrest there threaten our resin supplies?”

  “I suppose it could.”

  “Shouldn’t the company make some arrangements with the insurgents in those regions? What if they were to overthrow the governments?” The man polished the moisture off his glasses and glanced blearily around the table.

  The Big Boss looked grim. “That would violate the company’s standards.”

  “But what else can we do? I think it could become a big problem,” the fat little man’s hands trembled.

  A well-trimmed young executive from the office of Overseas Acquisitions and Trade Imbalance Reparation Cycles looked up from a stack of papers he’d been busily sorting. “Here it is,” he smiled. “The company has already stockpiled stores of resin in China. As well, the Department of Research and Development (Division of New Product Facilitation) is working on a synthetic substitute. But the political situation in South America may well be reconciled before our supplies get low and we have to change over.”

  “There you have it,” the Big Boss smiled down at the man with the fat glasses.

  “Well,” the fat little man sank into his chair. He glanced about at the eyes gathered upon him. “My job is to ring the alarm, not necessarily find the fire.” He tried to look invisible.

  “What?” said the young executive.

  The Big Boss reassured them both, �
�I’m not sure what that means, but you can put your mind at ease. The matter is settled.”

  “Moron!” thought Luci.

  And so it went as the meeting addressed issues from the building’s basement to the penthouse where they all sat. The minutes had rolled into an hour when the Big Boss leaned both fists onto the table.

  “Well, I believe we are finished for this month, then? I’d like to say I’m particularly pleased with the report from the Development of International Integration of Core Technological Orientation. The vice president in charge of the sub-division of Emerging Nations has kept his duties and reporting excellently organized and efficient.”

  Luci saw her opportunity. “Quite a coincidence that you should mention that office, sir. We have a matter of concern over some health insurance claims,” she broke in quickly.

  “Oh? Is this a matter for this meeting?”

  “Well – one employee’s claims have spiked. I suspect some kind of fraud, the type of thing that could ruin the benefits you provide everyone, sir. It was one, uh, one Joe B. – ” Luci thumbed through papers pretending to struggle for the name.

  “The very vice president I spoke of – I know him well. He’s always been the most faithful, stellar associate.”

  “Well, apparently he’s not satisfied with his stellar wages. I suspect he’s been filing reimbursement claims for medical procedures that never occurred. Some of the charges are for treatments only rarely prescribed.”

  “Do you say something has escaped my attention?” the Big Boss looked dubious.

  “With all due respect, sir, his insurance claims are coming in at an accelerated rate. If it continues, he will become a liability to you and everyone here. You can’t afford to run a charity ward, you know.”

  “I find your accusations hard to believe.”

  “I’m telling you the facts. Don’t you believe in discipline?” Luci grew more pointed. “Or will you just ignore my charges?”

  Eyes stared heavily down at the table, not wanting to view the exchange, and bodies shifted uneasily in their seats. The Big Boss paused, thinking deeply, gazing intently into Luci’s expression. “I will let you handle this matter.”

  “But you personally handle all termination matters.”

  “Yes, I decide all termination matters,” replied the Big Boss firmly before turning away. “Now, if he leaves Universal Whirligig on his own, that’s one thing; termination is quite another. Short of firing, you handle it.”

  Luci scrunched her face in frustration. Her thoughts raced, but not fast enough.

  “Thank you for coming,” and the Big Boss benignly vanished behind the silver-laced veil.

  “ ‘Faithful and stellar,’ ” she stewed. “ ‘If he leaves on his own. …’ Enough pressure, and the Big Boss will see just how faithful Joe B. is.”

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