Monahan 01 Options (8 page)

“Jay can take it over,” Tom stated.

Oh yeah, big promotion Jay. Maybe I’ll be the one to tell him. Jay, you’ve been promoted. We hope you’re up to the task. The job’ll involve a lot of data entry work and we’ll be glad to provide training.

“Right Tom. Jay’ll be happy with that. Taking over a clerical job. Tom, you should look at some of the existing staff to see who can do the job. We need someone who can be trusted. If we get someone from inside, the learning curve won’t be difficult.”

Tom was flexing his forearms and staring at himself in the shiny surface of the paper towel dispenser over the sink. I grabbed my coffee and sighed. At least I’d had his attention for about five minutes. Par for the course. The man had the attention span of a two year old.

“Good luck at your meeting,” I said over my shoulder as I left the room.

He didn’t hear me. He was picking at a piece of dry skin over his eyebrow.

chapter ten

I’d had enough by five-thirty. Even a slave gets time off. I signed off my computer and caressed the monitor before I powered off. If I’m nice to the machine, maybe it’ll be running next time I need it.

The office was quiet when I opened my door. On my way to Didrickson’s office, I glanced into the area where the secretaries and paralegals worked. No one in sight. The rats had definitely exited on time. Harold was on the phone when I stuck my head in his door so I waited until he finished. He’d be in the same position when I got in on Monday. Phone glued to his ear, pen in hand, writing furiously. The guy takes better shorthand than I do. I’m sure he takes down every word said to him over the phone. He keeps copious notes and heads up each one with the date, time and person he spoke to.

Didrickson saw me standing there so he swivelled his chair. His back was to me and I overhead him say, “Okay Grace, I’ll let you know as soon as I speak with Chris. Right.” He swivelled back to face the desk and wrote something. “I’ll call you if I need you before Monday.” He hung up.

“I’m outta here Harold. Have a good weekend.”

“Okay Kate. If Vanessa’s at her desk let her know I’m still waiting to see Chris.”

“He’s probably still in his meeting with Tom.” Harold’s eyebrows went up. He doesn’t ask how I know everything going on.

“They’re meeting about the personnel changes for Marshton Systems,” I said.

“Well, that won’t last long. Tom can’t concentrate more than half an hour at a time,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Very good, I thought. The man’s getting some humour.

“See you Monday,” I waved.

I could see Philip Winston leaning up against the doorframe of Vee’s office as I turned the corner and headed down the hall. As I approached her office, I could see through the glass front that she was on the phone, furiously scribbling down information.

“Philip, how’s it going?” I said.

“Kathleen,” he said. At least
this
man got my name right. He stuck out his hand. The guy was so formal for someone so young. My mother would love him. I took a couple more steps and shook his hand. His aftershave filled my nostrils. God, I could chew this guy’s neck. He smelled so good. I mentally slapped myself. Boy toy, boy toy, I chanted under my breath. Problem was, he knew he smelled good and he knew he looked good. Tom James was going to have a resident rival. I looked up at Philip who was tall by my standards. He was slim and his suit hung on his body perfectly. No doubt about it, I thought, he didn’t shop at Wal-Mart. His tie matched the shirt, which matched the suit. I tried not to giggle as I wondered if his jockey shorts matched too. He didn’t have a hair out of place on his gorgeous head. Amazing how anyone can look this put together at the end of the day. Maybe he hair sprayed his whole body.

He smiled at me and I noticed a dimple in his right cheek. After I finished chewing on his neck I was going for his bottom lip. I felt myself starting to blush and gave myself a mental cold shower.

“Philip, who’re you trying to impress? It’s five-thirty. Go on home,” I urged. I said it like someone in charge. I’ve always believed that if you act like you’ve got authority, people will obey you. I tried this tact with all the new guys who got sucked in right away. Trouble was, most of them figure me out pretty quick and after a while they know I’m just joking. Philip on the other hand was still fair game.

“I’ve got one more meeting for the day,” he replied. Obviously it was with Oakes or he wouldn’t be hanging around Vanessa’s office. Unless I interrupted him trying to put the make on her. If Tom James thought Rick Cox could make mincemeat of Philip Winston, wait until Vee got her hands on him. This woman had absolutely no time for men. Thanks to her ex and Chris Oakes, Vanessa was completely soured on the opposite sex.

The door to Oakes’ office opened and we saw Tom James coming out. He stopped to button his suit jacket and straighten his tie when he saw Philip. Philip stood up a little straighter and buttoned his jacket and adjusted his tie. I watched in amusement as Tom lightly passed his hand over the side of his head to make sure his hair was smooth. Philip did the same. Mirror image. I’d have to follow these two into the bathroom some time and see what happens in front of the urinal.

Philip stuck out his hand as Tom approached and they shook. Tom grimaced ever so slightly and I guessed that Philip was giving him a bone-crushing handshake. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them lifted his leg and pissed on the doorframe of Oakes’ office. Boys will be boys.

Philip went into Oakes’ office and closed the door behind him.

“So Tom. How’d it go?” I asked. As if it were any of my business.

“Not bad. We’ve got everyone sorted out. I’ve got to start on the formal severance packages over the next couple of weeks.”

“And Philip?” I asked. This was
definitely
not my business.

“Oh, he’ll do fine. Oakes wants me to do up a package for the board on some options for him and draw up a formal employment agreement.”

“Well, we’ve got options on the agenda for the next meeting so get me the information as soon as you can.” I turned to go into Vee’s office and Tom followed me.

“Hey, Vee,” I said. She had her elbows on the desk and was resting her head in her hands. She looked exhausted. “Hey yourself,” she said back.

“Yes Tom?” she asked tiredly. She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“How’d the stock do?” Tom asked. It was a daily ritual for the executives to check with Vee on how the stock did for the day. They had to keep track of their fortunes.

“Down a buck. Not a very large volume of shares traded.” She paused. “Anything else?”

“Um, uh, um. Nope. Have a good weekend ladies.” Tom probably had something on his mind but got sidetracked when he saw a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. He was picking at it as he left Vee’s office.

“Oakes is going to have a fit,” Vee stated.

“Why? Just ‘cause the stock’s down? Again? Big deal. His excuse’ll be something lame like the price of rice in China,” I said. “Besides, the rest of us have nothing to worry about. He’ll blame it all on you,” I joked.

“That’s okay. I’ve got big shoulders,” Vee sighed. “At least the weather held today and his flights were on time.” A couple of weeks ago Oakes’ flight to the west coast was delayed because of fog. He blamed it all on Vee. She now had to check weather patterns at least four hours before any of his flights. The man was a lunatic.

“Harold asked me to tell you he was still waiting to see Oakes.”

“I know, I know. Chris isn’t interested in seeing Harold even though I told him it was urgent. He said ‘tough’. What’s the big deal anyway?” she asked. “It’s Friday afternoon.”

“Who knows? It might be something to do with the stock options. The list that was approved at the last board meeting doesn’t jive with the information on Ev’s system. Didrickson’s probably just covering his ass again.”

“Well, Harold better tread lightly. Chris and Rick are at it again. And Chris knows that Harold’s siding with Rick. That isn’t making Chris happy,” Vee said.

The politics among the executives was heating up. What didn’t help matters was Human Synergies, Inc. They had been hired by our board of directors to assist with the most recent re-engineering of our company.

Re-engineering is a term from the nineties to describe reorganization. You can’t even find the word in a dictionary published before 1995. Re-engineering. How absurd. People are out there making millions on coming up with new words. “Hello, pleased to meet you. What do I do for a living? I’m a
synonymer
. Pardon? You’re not familiar with that term? Basically, I make-up new words to describe mundane things. Yes, there’s oodles of financial benefits.” Gawd!

Human Synergies, Inc. had been hanging around for the last six months fine-tuning our reorganization. All departments had been renamed and reporting lines had reshuffled. All of that had gone relatively smoothly because we seem to reshuffle, rename and reorganize at least twice a year. What they hadn’t anticipated was the in-fighting. The latest reorganization had divided the company in two. And the two camps were headed up by Oakes and Cox. All of the executives had clearly chosen sides and everyone seemed to be aware of who was siding with who. This was all unspoken, of course, but it was as plain as the nose on your face.

Human Synergies had reported to the board of directors at the last board meeting about their concerns on the lack of leadership and team effort among the executives. What a bunch of smug bastards. They had caused all of the unrest and fuelled it constantly with secret meetings and strategy sessions. They’d meet with individual executives to get input and word would filter back to the other members of the executive team. It reminded me of a group of adolescent girls in the seventh grade. They probably passed each other notes in meetings too.

“When is Chris ever happy?” I asked Vee. “I’ll tell you when he’s happy. When he’s stirring up the pot, screaming at everyone and pulling their strings. The man would be miserable if he woke up every day next to Doris Day singing
Que Sera Sera
.”

Chris Oakes’ office door opened and he walked out with Philip Winston. Oakes had his overcoat on and his briefcase in his hand. He waved to Vanessa and headed down the hall. I jumped out of my seat and called after him.

“Chris. Harold needs to see you. He said it’s urgent.”

Oakes said something to Winston who continued down the hall towards the reception. Chris turned around and headed back to me. I thought he was going to say something to me as he walked past but he ignored me and turned around the corner towards Didrickson’s office.

“Long live the King. Good night Vee,” I said.

chapter eleven

Weekends were my favourite time. Two whole days to myself, away from the office. I was planning my Friday evening as I pulled out of the parking garage and eased my way into rush-hour traffic. The traffic was at a standstill and I took a couple of deep breaths to get my mindset into the weekend. Any other night of the week and my blood pressure would be rising because of the gridlock. Friday nights I didn’t let it bother me. I used the time to plan out what I wanted to do and what needed to be done. The things that needed to be done were easy - housecleaning, laundry, grocery shopping. I could get those things done in a couple of hours and have the rest of the time for goofing off.

My mind was wandering when the gentleman in the pick-up truck behind me gave me a blast on his horn. I glanced in my rear-view mirror and saw him waving his fist because I hadn’t jumped the intersection on a yellow light. I was in no mood to fight so I ignored him. Probably a good move, I thought, when he pulled out around me, squealed his tires and sped through the intersection still waving his fist. The only thing missing from the gentleman’s truck was his gun rack.

I arrived home in record time for a Friday night. A mere fifty-five minutes. I could have made it in twenty if I’d used public transit but I couldn’t give up my status symbol, my parking pass.

I parked my car at the back and dragged myself and my briefcase up the walk at the side of the house to the front. I lived on the third floor of an old house that had been converted into three apartments. I was dead tired as I walked up the front steps onto the porch and into the small lobby. I thought about having another cigarette before I tackled the stairs but decided I’d save that reward if I made it without coughing up a lung.

My apartment smelled stuffy and reeked of stale cigarette smoke. I dropped my jacket and briefcase in the front hall and headed into the living room to open some windows. I gave a nervous, sideways glance at the fishbowl to see if Snapper the Fourth was still alive. I hate facing death straight on and I wasn’t up for any shocks. I was relieved to see he was swimming around as usual and fed him a few morsels of fish food. My luck was holding.

I grabbed an overflowing ashtray and dirty coffee cup off the desk and took them into the kitchen. No time like the present, I thought. I emptied the ashtray and started loading all the dirty coffee cups into the dishwasher. I tried to reach the window over the kitchen sink and found myself balancing on my stomach on the counter with my feet off the floor and one hand in the kitchen sink. I vowed to ask Santa Claus for about three more inches in height this Christmas.

I gave up my balancing act and hooked my foot around a small step stool beside the stove and dragged it over in front of the sink. I felt like the king in the castle standing on the top step of the stool and was able to unlatch the kitchen window and open it. I turned around and surveyed my domain and was disgusted to see dust bunnies on top of the refrigerator.