Linny's Sweet Dream List (7 page)

Jack's eyes sparkled, and he smiled again, his teeth even and white.

He was a beautiful man. She made herself look away, afraid she was staring.

“Did you get the carpet up?” He leaned against the wall beside the counter.

She looked at him sharply. “How did you know about that?”

“I ran into Jerry at Lowes. He said you were helping your Mama with some fix up.”

Good grief. Did he know she lived in a trailer? But the vet didn't look disdainful. No curled lip or pitying glance. Maybe Jerry hadn't been specific about what she was fixing up. She tried to smile. “That's right.”

He nodded. “Good. And how's our boy?”

Something caught inside her at his use of
our.
She chided herself with a reminder that he was married. “Roy is great. He didn't have one accident yesterday.”

“Good, good.” His eyes held hers for a long few seconds.

Good Lord. If he was flirting with her, she'd nip it in the bud. She asked sweetly, “So Jerry is going to build you all an addition?”

“We're looking forward to the extra space,” he said, nodding.

Linny sighed inwardly. Of course Barbie would need more space. She probably wanted a gigantic closet with a clothes conveyer belt like they had at the dry cleaners. Maybe she needed an entire wing for her shoes. She just looked like the type.

She must have been imagining Barbie's Dream House for a moment too long, because Jack gave her a curious glance, and then his tone was all business. “Well, have a good day.” And he was gone.

L
inny arrived at work bright and early on Monday morning. As her laptop came to life, she vowed to make an effort to prove to Walt how indispensable she was to Kipling. She'd redouble her efforts at . . . Linny ran out of steam. She felt a wave of anxiety gather momentum and breathed out with a whoosh. She just couldn't go to California.

Pulling up her email, she saw the summons from Walt. The small wave of anxiety was now a ten-foot swell. She trotted to his office.

He gave her a distracted nod. “I talked it over with Joanne and we decided to not send you to the West Coast. We're sending Annalise instead. We're confident she can handle the job.”

Linny nodded, stunned they'd sent the cocky rookie.

Walt pointed at her and grinned. “You're going to her coach her on the material. Give her a few pointers.” He looked proud, like he'd handed her a plum assignment.

Her blood pounding in her ears, she knew she'd rather go to California than coach Ms. Tiny Heinie. Linny tried to look coolly professional, and said in her best can-do voice, “I'd be glad to.”

Walt continued, “She flew out this morning. The first program starts tomorrow.

I told her you'd Skype her at four o'clock. Are you on board?”

“I am,” she nodded vigorously. If this is was part of her being indispensable, she'd do it.

At 3:45, a jittery Linny drank another cup of coffee she didn't need and stared at her open laptop. Her stomach clenched as she thought about the upcoming call. So Annalise thought delivering the program would be a breeze, did she?

Linny flipped through her dog-eared Instructor's Manual. Covered in orange highlighter, she'd scratched out entire modules, and scrawled her notes down every column. She'd doctored the program from Kipling corporate, eliminating the segments called “Paddling Through the Raging Whitewater in a Leaking Boat,” and “Skydiving Through the Thunderstorms of Life.” If Annalise tried to present the program straight from the Instructor's Manual, the participants would be on her like hungry wolves.

Rocking back in her chair, Linny thought about what she knew about the young woman. Annalise's training experience at Kipling consisted of presenting a few programs to thrilled-to-be-promoted new supervisors on compensation and benefits, but this audience was a different breed. You did not want to mess around with a group of people who'd just been laid off. Most were worrying about mortgages, humiliated about telling their spouses, and terrified about starting over in today's job market. Even if you clearly explained that you didn't work for their company and had no say in the cuts, they saw you as part of the team that put them on the layoff list. If you didn't deal with their anger up front, the class would be a train wreck. With twelve years' experience under her belt, Linny did pretty well with these groups. She understood loss, and the participants seemed to sense her sincerity. She'd had a few rough sessions when she'd first started presenting the program, but had tweaked the design so it bolstered their spirits and made them stronger.

Chewing a cuticle, she stared into space. Should she tell Annalise this, or let her find out on her own? It was so tempting to let her drive off the cliff. She'd be perfectly justified in doing so. Linny would just coach her on the program as corporate had written it. Annalise had probably already learned these skills at Duke.

By three fifty-nine, her resentment was running neck and neck with her sense of responsibility, and it wasn't clear which was going to win.
Dang.
She clicked on the Skype icon and squared up in her seat to face the camera. She'd figure it out as she went along.

The young woman sat slouched in her chair. “Hi, Linny.” Her voice was flat.

Linny forced a smile, but felt the knot in her stomach grow as she realized she had to try to help Annalise. Maybe she was the quintessential good girl, but she couldn't, in good conscience, let Walt—or Kipling—down. “Hi, Annalise. Let's get going. How about if we go over the Instructor's Manual, section by section?”

Annalise opened the manual, but glanced at the camera with a mulish look in her eyes. “I know the material, Linny. I know it backward and forward.”

“I'm sure you do.” Thinking about her own image on Annalise's screen, she worked at a more neutral expression. “I've made some changes in the design that seem to work better than the exact way the program was written.”

“Better than the one written by the experts at corporate?” she asked, with a curl to her lip. “I think I'll just stick to the material as it's written.”

Linny tried unsuccessfully to tamp down a flare of temper. The little ingrate. “Annalise, whether you take my suggestions about the manual is your decision. But you do need to listen to me about how to work with these people . . .”

“I've done training classes before, Linny.” Annalise looked disdainful.

About three of them,
Linny thought bitterly. She should just let Annalise step in it, but decided to make one last appeal for the sake of the participants. Her voice sounded steely. “This is a very different audience. These people are suffering. You need to make a point of talking to each one individually. You need to listen hard, and not talk very much. When they talk about their reactions, never say ‘I understand, ' because you don't. You'll pour gasoline on the fire.”

Annalise stifled a yawn. “Linny, I appreciate your concern, but I'll do fine.”

Linny wished Skype had a feature where she could reach through the connection and slap a person, maybe with a dead fish.

Annalise glanced down at what had to be a phone in her hand. “I need to go. Their V.P. just texted me. He wants to meet to talk about the remarks he's going to make when he kicks off the program in the morning.” Her smile was smug.

Linny opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She gave up. What a waste of breath trying to talk to this girl. Briskly, she said, “Well, good luck tomorrow,” and ended the connection.
You'll need it,
she thought, as she blew out a breath.

 

On Thursday morning, Walt called Linny into his office. Unsmiling, he offered her none of his usual pleasantries, and said in a brusque voice, “Have a seat.”

She felt her heart pound. What was going on?

“Linny, we have a problem. The Participant Surveys from the first two days are in, and they're unacceptable. On a scale of one to five, we got ones and twos. We can't get those kinds of ratings and keep the client.”

Internally, Linny had a little celebration going on with sparklers, noisemakers, and funny hats. So it wasn't as easy-peasy as young Annalise had thought it would be. It served that girl right. But her party was cut short by Walt's hard look.

“Linny, you dropped the ball. The responsibility for the performance of the team rests squarely on the coach's shoulders.” He nodded meaningfully.

“What are you saying?” she managed to stammer.

He frowned. “Annalise told us you didn't offer her much useful coaching, and in fact, said you cut the session short. Frankly, I'm disappointed in you.”

“No,” she spluttered. “I tried to coach Annalise, but she was . . . not very receptive to my input, and she was the one who cut the session short . . .”

“Really.” Walt's eyebrows telegraphed his disbelief. “Because before she left, she made a point of stopping by to tell me how much she appreciated your willingness to help, and how she valued your expertise. Annalise said you were her role model.” Walt raised one wooly brow and stared at her coldly. “Now, she claims you deliberately fed her bad information about how to conduct the class.”

Linny opened her mouth and closed it again, floored that after all the years they'd worked together, he'd believed the conniving young woman instead of her. “I would never—” she began in a shaky voice, and felt a flash of guilt because she'd considered doing just that.

But Walt cut her off. “We know you've been through a lot lately, but I'm starting to question your commitment to the team, and frankly, to Kipling. First you request a job redesign, and now, you set a teammate up to fail.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “There's no
I
in team.”

Linny felt a surge of panic, knowing that to Walt, not being a team player was akin to treason. She started to protest but he raised a hand. His voice was steely now. “I can't have it Linny. We're going to need to let you go.” His face closed, and he wouldn't meet her eyes

Linny stared at him uncomprehendingly, and, as what he said sank in, outrage swelled inside her. He was firing her. Her heart sank. Walt's decision would be final. He was a company man, living and breathing for Kipling. For him, this was solely a business decision.

Linny's stomach roiled as she flashed on horror stories she'd heard in her Managing Career Change class from employees who were too shocked to negotiate a fair payout when they got laid off. She felt a rush of adrenaline-fueled anger, and saw with perfect clarity what she needed to do. Linny had gotten shafted by Buck, and she was danged if she'd let herself get shafted by Kipling. Lifting her chin, she announced, “I want to be laid off and not fired, and I want a glowing letter of recommendation. I want pay for all my unused vacation and leave, and a lump sum pay of two weeks for every year I've worked here.”

Walt eyebrows shot up almost to his combed-over hair, as he realized his Labrador retriever had turned into a Doberman. His eyes narrowed and he shot back, “Can't do the two weeks, and you know it. One week per year of employment is what we offer here at Kipling.”

She couldn't believe she was being so cutthroat. “Walt, we both know how sensitive Mr. Kipling is to any unflattering media attention.” Linny paused meaningfully to let that sink in. Last year, the company's landing of a huge no-bid contract by a company run by Mr. Kipling's brother-in-law had the news wires zinging. “I would just hate for it to get out that Kipling laid off a long-time employee who'd just been widowed.” Linny shook her head, looking pained. “I need that two weeks per year.”

Walt stared at her, his eyes cold as ice cubes. “A week and a half. I'll talk to the attorney and get H.R. to make the changes. Stop by within seven days to sign off on the release.”

“Thank you,” she said as pleasantly as if he'd just held open a door for her, but resentment and fear were right beneath her veneer of calm. Gathering her purse, she rose, desperately wanting to get out of that office.

He stood, and said stiffly, “Good luck to you.” He coughed. “Policy is to have the security guard help you clear out your desk and leave the building.”

Linny worked at keeping her face bland, and nodded. “Fine.” What a rat. Walt should know her well enough to know she wouldn't take a paper clip that didn't belong to her, much less steal a client list or documents. Determined to not look as beaten down as she felt, Linny walked to the door.

A half hour later, Stan, the security guard, stood at the door of her office, and shook his balding head regretfully as he handed her a cardboard box. “I'm sorry, Ms. Taylor.”

“It's okay, Stan,” Linny said briskly and tossed in the personal contents she'd hurriedly fished from her desk drawers. As Stan sealed the box for her, Linny felt a stab of sadness as she saw how pitifully small the pile was. Twelve years at the place, lots of early mornings and late nights, and this was all that it amounted to? Not much to show for all that hard work and dedication.

On the walk of shame from her office to the car, Linny kept her head high, her eyes straight ahead, and a pasted a smile on her face. It was hard to play at normal though, when walking beside a hulking uniformed man carrying a box. From the corners of her eyes, she saw colleagues steal furtive glances over the tops of their cubicles. She was perspiring with mortification, when a phrase her father had used came to her. “Never let the pissants see you sweat, shug.” Linny straightened her shoulders, and strode surely toward the door.

On the drive home, she cried so hard she had to pull over. What would she do? She cried great gulping sobs. She was an utter failure. She couldn't do anything right. Mopping trailing tears with a Wendy's napkin, she still couldn't believe Walt had done this to her. He'd mentored her, and Linny had worked hard to earn his approval. She felt a flash of anger. He'd called her his rising star, but easily replaced her. She flashed to Buck and Kandi, and shook her head in disgust. Why did men always need newer, younger women?

Her storm of tears subsided and, with a shaky finger, Linny tapped in Mary Catherine's number. James, the paralegal, put her through. “I just got fired,” she sniffed, and felt a searing wash of shame.