White Collar Blues

by Mel Walker

  ****

  Chapter Eighteen

  From idea to inception, the annual intern orientation workshop was the second session required for the incoming class of interns each spring. It followed the General Modifications – Our History orientation.

  The all-day session would be moderated by the heads of each of the major functions. Part informational, part motivational and part recruitment, the annual event was an upper management favorite.

  Justin sat in the rear of the conference center mesmerized. He had seen the presentation at least a dozen times. However, this year for some reason it hit him. It reminded him of what attracted him to General Modifications nearly thirty years ago.

  Why what he did mattered.

  That regardless of all the nonsense going on around him, the company still possessed a ton of intellectual capital; a company with a hundred-year-old history matching some of the best moments of the United States. That General Modifications had at one point in time some of the brightest and most dedicated people in the industry.

  The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

  A company wasn't numbers on a spreadsheet. It wasn't interchangeable parts which could be swapped out for the cheapest replacement part from god knows where. General Modifications had been at the top of the industry because they didn't compromise. Their staff was well compensated because they demanded, retained and attracted only the best and the brightest. Yes, their budgets were large, their constraints loose, but it had been paid back in spades.

  Reviewing the parade of innovative products which had come from the factory floor reminded Justin of the no constraint creative teams he had the pleasure of working within the past. They weren’t provided financial restraints and asked to keep costs down and the floor operating with minimal issues. Those were given. They were treated like professionals, like the best and brightest in the world. They weren’t provided with restraints; they were asked to think outside the box.

  Most importantly, however, they were asked to innovate: To create something which didn't exist anywhere on the planet.

  Justin's mind raced through the cachet of failed inventions and toys he had built and decorated his office with over the years. Each taught him something; each led him down a path toward success. None of this will occur with the new organization.

  As Victor Valentine began to wrap up the presentation, Justin felt the invasion into his space even before his eyes spotted the interloper.

  Everett Cooper the Third.

  "Change in plans. Mr. Boyton wants me to run point on the presentation." He delivered the line like a twelve-year-old hoping to instigate a fight.

  Justin didn't react.

  "I think he wants me to be the face of the Quality Assurance section to the interns since they will be dealing with me in the future, you know..."

  How such an irritating man ever got to live to this age was the mystery which played in Justin’s mind as he took it all in. Rather than being upset, Justin relaxed, leaning back in his seat, "have at it," he said, stretching out his hand toward the podium, "your audience awaits."

  Everett Cooper did not hesitate as he stepped to the front of the room. "Slight change in plans ladies and gentlemen," he pointed up to the slide being displayed on the screen. It showed the interlocking G and M General Modifications logo with the quality assurance and engineering division along with the name of Justin Grant.

  "As you can see I am not Justin Grant. I am the younger, more handsome and definitely hipper version. My name is Everett Cooper the Third, and I want to welcome every one of you to the most influential and dare I say most exciting division here at General modifications - Quality Assurance and Engineering. As we like to say in QA, we are the gatekeepers; nothing goes out to the world without our review and approval. Yes, we are that powerful."

  Justin crossed his legs and relaxed. He was slightly impressed by Everett's ease of presenting and ability to relate to the audience. He quickly covered the basics, interjecting humor and a bit of his superiority smugness into his analysis. For the first time since meeting him, he could see why management thought he might be a good candidate. In their minds, Quality Assurance required someone with a superiority complex. Everett Cooper the Third exuded these qualities.

  Justin, however, wasn't too concerned. He had spent enough time with Everett to know what he had in polish and sheen he lacked in substance. His lack of understanding of the technical nature of the job was almost appalling except for the fact the new leadership had no interest in innovation and technical skills. It was all about cost cutting.

  As Everett covered the basics of line management and measurements, Justin spotted Marcus enter the room. Marcus’ old group was up next in the presentation queue. Justin sat up straight and caught his attention directing him to the vacant seat next to him. After a moment of hesitation, Marcus made a beeline for the position.

  "Why aren't you presenting?" Marcus said as he sat.

  "I was bored and wanted to take the covers off the brand new toy to see if it was any good," he said nodding toward the front of the room.

  "And?"

  "I expected pigs on ice skates, but it’s more like monkeys in a suit with glasses. Not the worst we've ever seen."

  "Hell that almost sounds like an endorsement."

  Justin laughed, "Hardly. I still wouldn't let him on the plant floor without three escorts. Here." Justin pushed the folder toward Marcus.

  His face turned blank as if he had seen a ghost. "...how?"

  "Stephanie couldn't locate you, so she dropped it off with me."

  Marcus took the folder and slipped it under his arm.

  After realizing no further information was forthcoming Justin continued, "Care to tell me what is going on?"

  The look from Marcus transformed from blank to terrifying.

  "Oh shit, take a look." He pointed toward the open door at the front of the conference center. A haggard Paul O'Connor had just entered. From across the room, they could see the head of steam and the look of anger. They had seen this look once before.

  Unfamiliar, unprepared Everett Cooper the Third had no clue as what was about to happen.

  Paul stepped to the podium, "that's enough kiddo. I'll take it from here." Paul whispered as he pushed a reluctant Everett from the podium.

  The confused look of Everett was matched on the faces of the interns who instantly recognized an impromptu moment.

  "You won’t find this in your program, so don’t look. Since you’ve been so well behaved we’ve added this special treat, now don’t you feel special?” He pulled the microphone from the stand.

  "Hello Interns," he thundered as he stepped in front of the podium, now merely a few feet from the first row. "So what do you think of General Modifications so far? Great company right?" Paul paced the front of the room nodding in the affirmative eliciting a few nods in return. "We do great things here right? Do you want to work here?

  Right?" More nods.

  "Fucking great company right?" Paul stepped through the aisle.

  A loud "oooh," came across the group.

  "They are fucking liars." he pointed toward the doorway which reopened with two security officers entering.

  "Shit," Marcus stated, as he stood and walked toward the front of the room.

  Paul continued to walk down an aisle as one of the security officers attempted to follow him, he continued speaking into the microphone the entire time. "Don't come here to General Modifications. Don't if you want to keep your souls kids."

  As the guard came within arm’s length of him, he jumped between seats into the adjacent aisle and changed directions. "Save yourselves interns. You are better than this place; you deserve better. Don't believe a word they say. Remember these words; if you come to work here, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

  The second guard stood at the top of the next aisle.

  Paul stopped and turned in time to see the first guard had crossed over to his current aisle.
>
  He pounded his hands on the chair of the closest intern, "Run. Run. Run and get away from General Modifications. Today they come for me; Tomorrow for you. Your days are numbered."

  The scared intern jumped out of her seat and raced down the aisle blocking the security guard.

  "I said run. Everyone run." Paul hopped from desk to desk scaring the interns.

  Within moments the entire room was in chaos. Interns began to overturn the desks in the panic looking to escape.

  Justin lost track of both Marcus and Paul.

  As he stepped to the center of the room he spotted Paul. He felt a body brush past him, "I’ll stop that fool." The voice came from Everett who was making a beeline toward Paul from behind. Justin didn't hesitate; he crossed an aisle, jumped over a desk and stuck his foot out tripping Everett.

  "Oh my god, so sorry," he said without stopping to help Everett up. A look of concern swept across his face he looked up to see Paul had made it to the door in full on sprint, or what best approximated a dash for Paul. The security team had been bolstered by two additional members. Justin knew Paul wouldn't win a foot race, but it didn't matter. He had his final moment of glory; a moment which would go down in General Modification history.

  Paul had won a small battle but would lose this war. Justin stood wondering if that would be his fate as well.

  Desks were strewn around everywhere. Most of the interns had vacated the room; a few of the General Modifications colleagues were beginning to pick up the desks to restore order.

  Justin spotted Marcus in the corner of the room bent over at the waist with a pained expression on his face. “Shit, Marcus,” Justin muttered as he raced toward him. However, as he got closer, Justin spotted the true source of Marcus’ pain; his papers were strewn across the floor as Marcus desperately dodged flying feet attempting to recover the pages.

  Justin stepped toward him and picked up one of the stray documents. Without thinking, he glanced over it and instantly wished he hadn't.

  As he read, he stood erect. At some point, he heard Marcus' voice penetrate, "Justin? Hand that to me."

  Justin could not take his eyes off the paper. The blood raced to his head, an instant headache followed. His eyes shifted to a desperate Marcus, "My god Marcus, what have you done?"

  ***

  Marcus ripped the paper from Justin's hand.

  Still stunned it took several seconds for Justin to realize that Marcus had retrieved the last of his document and was headed toward the exit. Justin raced after him, grabbing him by his elbow.

  "Where did you get that?" Justin asked.

  "Not here." Marcus nodded toward the security guards returning to the disturbance in the conference center. "Not now," Marcus added as he walked away.

  "Where do you think you are going?"

  Marcus pivoted on his heels, turning so quickly that Justin nearly bounced off of him. "Justin this doesn't concern you."

  "Like hell, it doesn't. I may have only seen one page but I sure as hell know it involves me." Justin's anger rose.

  Marcus raised his finger to his lip. Quiet followed as the pair navigated the wide hallway away from the conference center. They climbed a short set of steps taking them to a landing area which overlooked the conference area. From the landing area, they could see the lobby as well as the stairways leading down to the center.

  Justin recalled the words from Stephanie, items beginning to make sense, "Are you looking to get fired?"

  "Just the opposite."

  "You're going to have to explain that to me."

  "Can't. Not now. I have to meet someone. It's important Justin, and I need to know you won't say a word."

  Justin bopped his head slightly, "who are you going to meet? Is it related to the rest of the file?"

  Marcus avoided his stare, "meet me at Donovan's tonight after work. I'll explain everything then. Six o'clock."

  "Let me hold the file until then."

  "You know I can't do that." Marcus turned and took two steps heading away from the conference center.

  "You know Stephanie is worried about you. Don't do anything stupid Marcus."

  "And Leslie is probably worried about you. We both do what we have to protect ours."

  With the mention of his wife, Justin froze. As Marcus disappeared around the bend, Justin wondered about the last few days and what he had witnessed with his own eyes. He knew that he enough to worry about in the office but there was one other thing he had to take care of, and it could no longer wait.

  ***

  ith the disruption of the orientation, Justin realized that nearly ninety minutes had been cleared on his schedule; almost enough time for him to head off campus and take care of a long overdue task.

  He pulled up to the curb outside Max's Diner and glanced across the street; the signage all too familiar. It matching the rear of the truck which had been permanently burned into his head.

  My Workspace.

  Justin exited the car, took a deep breath and crossed the street. He pushed open the door and stepped into the cool foyer. His eyes were immediately drawn to the wood carved sign at the counter.

  Your Workplace away from Home.

  He recalled seeing it drying in the workshop several weeks ago, a Leslie sign. She had stopped doing wood signage years ago, wanting to focus on the more challenging and creative frames. He recalled asking her about it at the time; she merely hinting that it was a sign for a special friend as she changed topics.

  Seeing the sign was like a punch to the gut; the feeling which merely fortified Justin further as he pounded on the bell on the counter. It took a moment before a young female employee wearing a red polo shirt with My Workplace logo on the sleeve appeared.

  "Welcome to My Workplace. How may I help?" The bright-eyed college-aged kid held Justin’s gaze.

  "Is Peter around?"

  The young lady with the Beth name tag glanced down at her wrist.

  Justin leaned forward, surprised to see someone her age with a wrist watch. He thought of Jake and all his young friends, not a single one owned a watch, relying on their phone for everything.

  "Probably not for another forty minutes or so. He's over at the Grand Lagoon for the Chamber luncheon. Can I be of assistance?" Her voice broke him from his trance. She appeared genuinely interested in helping. Justin was impressed, not an attitude he associated with the next generation.

  Justin shook his head, "No thanks."

  "May I ask your name and I’ll let him know you stopped in.” Her hands reached toward the keyboard, ready to type a message.

  “Thank you. That isn’t necessary.” Justin said, impressed at the level of training of the staff. Peter knows how to run a business. Justin pushed the thought from his mind.

  Justin waved bye as he exited the store. He crossed the street and returned to his car. The thought of returning to the office flickered for a second. It was quickly replaced with the image of another man kissing his wife.

  The Grand Lagoon was only a five-minute drive away. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the steering wheel and pulled out the parking spot so fast that the rear of the car nearly fishtailed. At this speed, he would be there in under two minutes.

  * * *

  Chapter Nineteen

  W

  Leslie Grant couldn't keep her eyes off of Peter as he departed the lobby. She couldn't believe that a week earlier she had slapped him and today she hadn't hesitated in accepting an offer to travel together to another city. She knew she would need to inform Justin, however, with all the contention in the house, Justin would probably be thrilled to have her out of town for a bit.

  Her current concern wasn't so much the timing and logistics of the meeting, nor, surprisingly, with Peter who once again assured her that he would be on his best behavior. Her primary concern being the ability to ramp up a home operation which relied solely on her for every aspect of the production. She kicked herself for not listening to Justin.

  When it came to her frames, sh
e focused more on the creative and sales end of the business. It was the areas she not only felt most comfortable but enjoyed the most. She relied on improvisation for everything from inspiration, to development to operating procedures. Justin had given up trying to convince her to document and standardize on a process for the development of a frame. She recalled years prior when he developed a procedural manual along with a production assembly schematic. She hated it instantly.

  She did not want to know that something which she saw as so individual, so unique, could be boiled down to an eight and a half by eleven-page cheat sheet. Something which she created in her mind, in her dreams, could be turned into a repeatable process which any minimum wage person could learn in the afternoon.

  Now all those weekend discussions over sandwiches in the workshop echoed in her head: Material management, quality control, line production, and developmental reviews. How would she be able to convince a sophisticated organization such as Java & Bread that she was ready for prime time and could reliably be counted on to be a cornerstone in their marketing plans for a region?

  Her mind drifted from Justin to Peter, and his confidence in her skills eased her concerns. For every issue, she raised he raised three reasons why it wouldn't matter; for him just having her as part of the team guaranteed success. He didn't have specifics or even answers but had the utmost confidence that she was the right person, at the right time to solve it. You'll figure it out, I believe in you - had become an almost daily mantra.

  He was a hopeless flirt, but he had turned into a terrific business partner.

  Thinking about their meetings, the way he challenged, the way he shifted from businessman to flirt and back, sometimes within the same sentence, caused the corners of her lip to rise, transforming into a laugh which caused her to raise her hands and cover her face.