by Mel Walker
"Yes, got it," Paul screamed as he took his sharpie and placed a large stroke on his grid. "I can always count on Dougie boy."
"I still don't get this game," Violet exclaimed as she held up her empty grid, across the top in Comic Sans font the words Bingo Lingo.
"Bingo Lingo?" Justin began. "It’s self-explanatory – created by Marcus and me after so many years of wasting time on these useless department-wide monthly conference calls, we had to come up with something to entertain ourselves otherwise the loss of brain cells would become our undoing."
Justin flicked a few buttons on his laptop and switched the display from the conference telecon to his computer. A mockup of the Bingo Lingo board now displayed on the screen. The five by five grid laid out like a bingo board, in place of numbers, however, were phrases. "Who's just joined 5x" stood to the right center, do more with less to its left, above it total cost of ownership, along the bottom the corporate catchphrases which are the bane of existence of any thinking person: outside the box, synergy, low hanging fruit, loop me in, mission-critical, value-add, elevator pitch and actionable item.
Justin continued, "I wrote a program to grab the top 100 buzzwords off the corporate intranet by trolling through executive communications. We randomized them and walla we have Bingo Lingo patent pending."
Chris chimed in, "so every month rather than sit in that packed conference room which is only one flight away we gather here, tune in and play our game. Paul, did you bring the prize this time?"
"You know I did." Paul stood displaying a t-shirt with the General Modifications logo on the right shoulder and the name Reflixit - another failed product out of research labs of General Modifications. It was reported by external industry analyst that the company lost close to two hundred million dollars on this latest failed medical device, the latest in an incredible string of failed device launches now stretching thirteen quarters, unprecedented in the industry. "Hell, they have cartons of these down in the Nashville warehouse. I think when they fired the implementation team they paid them in Reflixit t-shirts."
"Hold the applause please," Marcus announced his return to the conference room. He placed the plate of snacks in the center of the conference room table as he munched on a white chunk macadamia cookie. "I spoke to Kevin, he mentioned they thought if they offered snacks they would get more people in the conference room as opposed to everyone dialing in from their desk and ignoring the meeting."
"I guess they didn't count on you being so galling," Violet added as she reached across the table to grab a brownie.
"Don't hate the playa," Marcus returned, "Kevin wanted to do it too, but he didn't have the castanets."
"Speaking of nuts, did they have any pistachios', you know some of us can't pack away any more sugary snacks," Krystal asked.
Marcus stood and pulled out a bag of mixed nuts in a package from his pocket. "As if I could forget you, Krystal. Here you go." He tossed them across the table. "What I miss?"
"Not much, the normal, who’s on the line comment from Dougie," Paul added as everyone returned to their seats.
"We should just make that phrase the free space at the center of the board, he does it every meeting," Chris added.
"Outside of failed product announcements it is probably the most consistent thing we have around this place."
"Shall we pay attention as I think we may set a record today, something tells me with all the gyrations around this place they will be in buzzword heavy mode today," Justin added as Marcus turned up the volume on the Polycom.
"I think you may be right, look who's just walked in the room," Paul added.
The black suit and white shirt with matching black tie stood out in the colorful sea of business casual outfits. Ron Winkler, the Senior Vice President of North America operations, stood just over Doug's shoulder with a stern look on his face.
"Oh shit, this is going to be epic," Marcus muttered as he quickly grabbed another sharpie and held up both high over his head.
"As you are all aware by now," Ron began, "General Modifications has been pushing the envelope for some time now..."
"B - pushing the envelope," Marcus yelled.
"We have been under unprecedented pressure and management has been taking a 30,000-foot view of the developments recently."
"N - 30,000-foot view," both Chris and Krystal chimed in,
"But at the end of the day, we had dropped the ball and have underperformed to our expectations,..."
"G, N, and O - trifecta - End of Day dropped ball and underperformed," it was Marcus. "New record three in one sentence, this guy must have just graduated from Lingo College."
"... that being said ..."
"Got it - I need two more for Bingo," Justin added.
"Come on baby say - walk it back," Krystal added.
Ron took a deep breath, much like an Olympic swimmer before taking a dive."Without falling into paralysis analysis management took the actionable information and rather than call for a hard stop we have come up with a collaborative cross-functional win-win solution which aligns with our core business and provides a results-driven end to end integration solution which we feel will reinvigorate our brand in the marketplace and will empower our leadership to outperform industry expectations."
The entire team chimed in unison "BINGO!"
A round of laughter followed as the team high fived each other. "Fucking incredible - Ron is my new hero. That has to be a buzzword record." Marcus added.
Paul playfully held up his watch in one hand and his board in the other, "fourteen seconds to fill my entire board, he truly is a God."
As the team continued to chat Krystal pointed toward the screen, "guys, hey guys, quiet down, I think he just mentioned consolidations."
The corporate word consolidation got the team's attention.
"Did he say consolidation or did he say operational efficiencies?" Chris chimed in.
"Same difference," Justin added, "its corporate speak for layoffs."
The team returned to their seats as their focus returned to the Polycom, "by the end of the day each of you will be contacted by your manager. In some circumstances, it may be a new manager, one you are unfamiliar with. Please bear with us as we go about adapting to our new scale to become a leaner, more productive, more accountable organization. Looking at the long-term view and the bigger picture this broad-based approach will develop us into a best in a class organization which will allow us to take advantage of emerging technologies, operate leaner, smarter not harder and provides a flexible structure in which to react to the changing requirements of the new marketplace. I am confident that each of you that are selected to remain in our organization will be key contributors to our new growth and success."
"Remain in the organization? Did he just say it as if it's our choice?" Chris exclaimed. He turned to address the rising Violet.
"Well I’ve heard enough," Violet began as she ripped up her Bingo card and began to collect her things. "I've been to this rodeo already,"
The team nodded well aware of Violet's history, a three-time survivor of corporate downsizing exercises in the last six years. "I have my recruiters on speed dial, and my resume is fully updated. You guys made fun of me when I started here three years ago. What did you say Justin at the time?"
Justin stared at the conference room table.
"I remember," Marcus raised his hand.
"Not necessary," Violet said lifting her laptop toward her chest, "no worries, General Modifications has never had a layoff in their ninety-year history, not even during the Great Depression or World War Two. I'll see you guys down at the unemployment office; I think they still have my chair with my name embossed on it there."
Violet let the door slam behind her exit.
"Just a little bit over dramatic you think?" Paul said laughing to break up the silence in the room. "Besides, they can downsize me in about nine weeks. I'm only nine weeks away from the magic thirty."
Marcus took a napkin and covered the r
emaining cookies on the plate and stood. "Ah, that mythical magical thirty. All I had heard from you Paul since your twenty-ninth anniversary last year. Hell Justin, you are right behind him, how much time you have left before thirty?"
Justin stood, disconnected his laptop from the projection system. "Just under a year, ten months three weeks, but who's counting."
Chris chimed in, "I’ve only been here seven years, what's the deal with thirty years, you get a conference room named after you or something?"
Paul answered proudly, "better than that. You become one hundred percent vested. You are guaranteed medical and benefits for life. Even if you leave, get fired, downsized, or take a sabbatical. The company picks up the tab completely - that alone is almost worth enough for early retirement."
"Nine weeks, you are golden Paul. Nothing in General Modifications happen quickly. Hell Ron, there will still be talking for the next nine weeks." Chris added as he pointed to the screen as Ron continued to talk.
Paul reached for his buzzing phone. He read the message and looked up at the team. "Hold that thought. My boss just posted a meeting invite. Me and him one on one, first thing tomorrow to talk about the organizational announcements. Anyone else gets one of these?"
Each member reached for their phone. The nods across the room confirmed it. A synchronized communication blast to the troops. The kind of action which spoke of secret closed-door meetings, strategic alignment of activities across multiple division. It hinted at an organized, coordinated effort - this was not going to be some half-baked organizational announcement.
The timing was what concerned the team the most. For the first time in General Modification's history, they were moving quickly. The organization was under attack, and war had been declared. The team wondered if they would be soldiers or casualties.
* * *
The door to Justin's office was firmly shut. All afternoon the hallways buzzed with activity. Rumors spread like wildfires. After an hour of unproductive speculation, he promptly slammed his door shut and decided to attempt to focus on something productive.
Justin had figured out years ago how to successfully manage his quality assurance responsibilities into compartmentalized tasks. Over the years he had built proprietary software and monitoring tools which allowed him to complete his job in a fraction of the time his colleagues took. During one particular quiet day months ago Justin actually calculated that his productive General Modifications related tasks took him all of one hundred and twenty-two minutes per day. Meetings, report preparation, email, and administrative duties took up the remainder of the time. Even then, he accomplished more in his one hundred and twenty-two minutes than his colleagues who worked ten-hour days. Two bosses prior he attempted to share out his tools and techniques only to see them disappear into the political structure which had victimized every good idea in the company in the last decade. Rather than continue to fight against the wind Justin focused on things he could actually control.
He built solid teams and networked. His relationships paying off time and time again whenever he ran into a challenge. The daily eight thirty meeting may look like people goofing off from the outside, but Justin knew that through those meetings the team got to know each other on a level they would never normally achieve. That because of those meetings, each member of the group was vested in the success of the other and would walk through a brick wall for them. And yes, it was fun, sometimes you needed to laugh at the ridiculousness of the corporate world and who better than the person in the foxhole right next to you.
The knock on the door broke his trance. Justin practically growled out his response, "Go away."
"I'm coming in," it was Krystal. "Sorry to disturb you but there is something you got to see."
Justin pushed back from his desk and stood with slumped shoulders. "I really don't have time for more false rumors Krystal. We all have meetings on the schedule for tomorrow; we'll get the news then."
"Yeah, I know that Justin but you have to see this, come this way."
Justin reluctantly followed Krystal down the well-lit hallway, passed the elevator bank toward the lounge which overlooked the parking lot. It was approaching four p.m., and there was a steady stream of employees exiting the building. Justin noticed it even before Krystal pointed it out. The flow of employees usually racing home was now congregating at the north point of the parking lot. The crowd gathered around a group of about a dozen people dressed in suits handing out something.
"Who are they?" Justin finally asked.
"Headhunters." Krystal pointed, "there is ole man Johnson, pushing past the secretaries to get their business cards. You ever see anything like that before?"
"And security allows them onto the lot?" Justin’s raised his eyebrows, shaking his head.
Krystal shook her head as well, "they smell the blood in the water. You got one lined up yet?"
Justin shook his head from side to side. "Not on my radar Krystal. I would suggest you focus on work. Don't you think management is seeing the same thing we are? If there are layoffs, who do you think they will target first? Those who don't have the sense enough to contact a recruiter off hours, via their own email account not during company time and certainly not on company property." Justin shook his head once again. "I've seen enough, I’m going to head home, maybe I'll be able to catch up with Leslie before she disappears to another dinner meeting."
"How is Leslie doing? You know with Jake off to school and all? Two months already, right? Have you guys adjusted to the quiet house?"
"Yeah, seems like forever." Without Jake, the rhythm of the house had been affected.
Leslie struggled with the transition, to this day not having reached a new normal. She had created and sold custom wood carved picture frames for some years. As Jake got older and like most teenagers, began to spend less time with his parents, Leslie turned the hobby into a profitable part-time business. Now with Jake out of the house, she had decided to focus on the company. This meant regular attendance at the local Chamber of Commerce, business breakfast meetings, networking like crazy and actually developing a marketing plan.
"She's doing well. Her frames business is growing by leaps and bounds. She spends more time marketing the business than actually building frames these days. We'll figure it all out - hopefully, it slows down."
"Tell her I said hi," Krystal said as she nodded toward the parking lot once again. "I'm going to get out of here. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for all of us."
"More so some than others," Justin added cryptically.
"See you at the eight thirty meeting?"
"Of course, breakfast. Some things will never change." Justin said as he waved toward Krystal. As she disappeared, his eyes drifted once again toward the parking lot and panic which was rapidly spreading through General modifications. Justin shook his head from side to side as he tried to recall his calendar. He couldn’t remember his next meeting, but he knew for sure chaos hadn’t been penciled on his schedule, at least not today.
* *
Chapter Four
The smile remained on Leslie’s face as she pulled up the two-seater Fiat 124 Spider to the curb. So much had changed in such a short period of time. Her son, Jake was well into his freshman year in San Francisco. She had traded in the SUV she needed to haul him, his friends and all their stuff all around the city for years, for a sports car.
Not a suburban mom’s version of a sports car, like a sports edition of a boring family car like a Camry or Sentra, but rather an eight cylinder, two-seat convertible which announced to the world, I’m still here and there’s more to come.
She flipped the visor down, the mirror confirming what she already knew; her dark hair was a mess. The price she happily paid for driving with the top down. She quickly brushed her hair flat, applied a quick touch of blush to her cheekbones and stole a glance toward the storefront. The simple awning of a three figures sitting on a bench – colleague, collaborator, and customer –it read, My Workplace.
&
nbsp; The enigma known as Peter Robins, owner of My Workplace, all six foot three of him filled the doorway. His muscular forearms crossed in front of his toned chest, he lowered his chin, as his gaze zeroed in on her.
Today, she believed, would be the day she finally closed the sale with Peter and his business. She had prepared, practiced and most of all had dressed for success. She had discovered that Peter, like most men, were visual beings. She could talk all day about how she created customized picture frames, how they differentiate any environment, but it wasn’t until she pulled out a sample that most people, especially men, got it.
As she stepped out of the car, Leslie stole a glance at Peter. She could tell he was biting his inner cheek, a habit she noticed whenever he spotted her. It was a look Leslie Grant had yet to fully comprehend. He stood with his head tilted slightly to the left, hint of a smirk on his face, a glint of mystery in his eyes, and what appeared to be a million thoughts swirling in his head.
She could feel his stare on her as she stepped out of the car, her knee-length skirt momentarily sliding up her well-toned thigh. She waved with one hand as she adjusted the dress with the other and stepped toward the trunk. She grabbed the heavy tote bag pulling it up onto her shoulder as she slid the two large picture frames under her arm.
She paused for a second, attempting to figure out how to close the trunk.
Peter solved the mystery, his arm reaching just over her shoulder as he lowered it slowly.
"What a wonderful sight so early in the morning," he whispered his lips so close the air vibrated on her ear.
Leslie bit her lower lip as she reminded herself that Peter was a flirt. She stepped up the curb, putting some distance between them, "I didn't realize you were such a picture frame fan."
"Yeah, that's what I was admiring," he hinted as he nodded toward the front of the store. "Glad you could make it out at this hour. Of course, I would have adjusted my schedule to accommodate whatever the time."
