Backroom Confessions

by Rose Jackson-Beavers

  Suddenly, the door opened. Jerickca walked in and said, “Megan please come to my office.”

  Everyone looked at Megan as if to say, We told you so. Megan stood up, gathered a pen and notepad, and walked out the door with a fake smile, because she had no idea what she was about to face. Bertha had reported her, and now she had some explaining to do. She just hoped Jerickca would buy her part of the story.

  As they walked through the hallway towards Jerickca’s office, Megan began to wonder why this meeting was called in the first place. Jerickca should know by now that the clients always complain when their monthly welfare checks were threatened. This was not so unusual, so why did she call me to her office? After all, she could have spoken to me in front of my road dogs. That way, I would have support about my side of the story.

  Jerickca was thinking, this is getting old. Megan is receiving far too many complaints from her clients. I just don’t understand why they dislike her so much, yet her clients are progressing far better than those of any other social worker. Her clients are getting jobs, promotions, married, new homes, and great benefits but they continue to complain about Megan. Maybe I should look at this picture differently and just accept Megan’s better-than-thou attitude, but then I would be selling out the people who needed us the most just for statistics.

  “Sit down, Megan. I need to talk to you about your clients. First of all, I must be honest with you, because I am rather perplexed at how well your clients are progressing toward becoming economically self-sufficient. Yet you seemed to have the most complaints that we have seen here in the past year. Can you enlighten me as to what’s going on?”

  “Sure, Ms. Parker. I realize that I have been receiving a lot of complaints, and I believe that it is because out of all the workers, I expect more out of my clients. I don’t buy into their excuses the way my co-workers do, because I know that they can achieve anything if they believe in themselves. I expect them to do well, and when they fall short, I don’t accept excuses. Unlike the other workers, I know how to handle my clients because I’m older and wiser, while my counterparts are young and sometimes don’t know what to do. My clients know what I want them to do and they don’t like it, but when they see how their lives have changed, they always come back and thank me. I couldn’t be the best worker you have if I allowed my clients to do what they want to do.”

  “Megan, I’m happy that you believe in your clients, but I really don’t need you to evaluate my staff. As you know, I deal with each of you differently. But please don’t ever come in here and try to knock your peers, because they, too, are doing a great job. As a matter of fact, I measure success by more than caseloads. I also look at attitudes, relationships, and respect. Performance here is measured in more ways than just having a job. You have to be happy with yourself, as well as with the type of job you have chosen. It is important that we allow our families to have a voice in their own lives, because the choices that they make are the ones that only they have to live with. It is true that your statistics are higher than the other workers’ as far as jobs go, but you must realize that I measure success in the way we respond to our clients’ needs, as well as how they relate to us. If they don’t relate well, when they have a problem, they won’t feel comfortable reporting it or telling their concerns about their lives and jobs to us. This would prevent us from intervening to assist them. Don’t get me wrong! I’m happy that your clients are doing well, which is a main goal of the agency, but please remember that they’ll remain happy if we treat them with the utmost respect. Let’s decrease your complaints by showing your clients respect and concern. And remember that without clients, there is no need for social workers. I totally expect you to treat them with the highest level of respect, and I will not take anything less than that.”

  “I understand that Jerickca, and I will do everything I can to ensure that the clients know that I’m in their corner. It’s only my love that makes me work so hard for them. Also, I was wondering whether or not we are going to recognize our families with a banquet or something, because if we do, I would like to serve as the chairperson.”

  “Megan, I think that’s a great idea. We’ll schedule a meeting and select committees to plan the program. I appreciate your work and want you to continue to strive for success in job placements, client satisfaction, and client relationships. And please always show our clients respect. As I stated before, no client will be talked down to or disrespected in any way. Please change your methods of dealing with them or I will have to deal with you. Do I make myself clear?”

  Megan looked as if Jerickca had hit her in the face with a bat. Finally, she responded, “Yes, you have made yourself crystal clear.”

  As Megan walked out of Jerickca’s office, she thought about the meeting she had just had, and she became angry. How dare that bitch not give me my props when I have worked my butt off trying to get these lazy folks a decent job? She’d better ask somebody about me, because I know that I’m good at what I do. Jerickca may have all those degrees but I have experience, with many years of work over her. I know these clients, and she is too young to understand them the way I do. She needs to follow my lead, because I’m the reason that everyone likes her, anyway. Yeah, I heard her, crystal clear. She laughed, thinking about one of Jerikca’s favorite phrases.

  Jerickca was thinking, If Megan continues to disrespect the clients, she would have to let her go. Statistics won’t mean a thing if we lose our contracts because of so many complaints. One thing I can do is schedule more training on developing positive relationships with our clients, Jerickca thought.

  Chapter 19

  Phoenix picked up the phone to dial Juan’s number at DeFrance Construction Company. He had started his company almost fifteen years ago and was now on the African American Business list of 100 successful African Americans’ businesses. His company was number twenty-five and still edging toward the top with the forty million dollar development deal he had just won after putting in the most reasonable bid. That is why Phoenix wanted him so bad, besides the fact that he was good in bed.

  This was the first time she had come so close to having money. Every time she was with him, he would leave money on the nightstand for her. To most people, a man leaving money on the table after a wild night of sex would have made a normal person feel like a prostitute, but not Phoenix. She would have been very angry if he didn’t leave any money. After all, her precious stuff was exclusive. No amount of cash would be sufficient to have one night with her most valuable treasure.

  That was the reason that she wanted Mr. Juan DeFrance in the first place. She had gone to the Gene Lynn’s nightclub in downtown St. Louis. She knew that Gene Lynn’s was a place that older men with money frequented. She went there because she had overheard some ladies in the Galleria Mall talking about the club as a place where their husbands went when they wanted to chill out. She was glad she had gone, because she saw several Cardinals baseball players and two Rams football players there. Although the players looked good to her, she could tell that they were young, and she was not interested in teaching a young boy new tricks. She wanted a man who knew his way around a woman’s body without her saying one word.

  Juan sent a drink to her and shortly after came over to introduce himself. He was so handsome—medium-brown with brown chestnut-colored eyes and a touch of gray on his temples. He was broad shouldered and stood six feet tall. She looked into those chestnut-colored eyes and if he had asked, she would have gone to a hotel that night. But he didn’t. They just talked and really enjoyed each other’s company. She admitted to being married, saying that she was unhappy.

  Although Phoenix really was, she knew that Juan was just looking to find some side stuff, and with his being as good looking as he was, she was certainly willing to accommodate. She only hoped that she could end up with him. He was everything she wanted in a man, both physically and financially, and he was a widow.

  Now she was calling her baby to see if she could get with him that night. S
he needed to feel his loving. She was thinking about what she was going to do with him when he picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing after work, lover boy?” she whispered in her sexy voice.

  “How are you doing? I’m glad to hear from you. It has been a long time,” he said.

  “You’re with someone I guess?” she asked. She could tell because he was acting somewhat professional. “I want to see you tonight. I need you.” Phoenix was really hoping that he would say yes.

  “Sorry, I won’t be able to keep that appointment because I have another engagement tonight. Try to get with me some other time,” Juan said. “It was good to hear from you. Thanks for calling.”

  Phoenix was so disappointed. He must be with a business associate, because he was talking out the side of his mouth, like I was a longtime friend trying to get him out for drinks. Now what am I going to do? I don’t want to go home to sit and watch television while Devante does crossword puzzles. She thought, For a salesman, Devante sure was boring. I wonder if he bores his clients.

  She picked up the phone and pressed the button for extension 2134. “Megan girl! You want to go to Club Illusion?”

  “I was sitting here myself, trying to think of something to do. I just didn’t want to go home and sit in front of no television, especially on a Friday night.”

  Phoenix said, “I’m going to call Devante and let him know that I’ll be working late. Hey Megan, ask Patches and Denver if they want to hang out with us.”

  “Don’t ask Denver ass anything! She ain’t in this clique with her non-dressing unprofessional ass.”

  “Girl, you need to stop tripping. She’s okay. She’s just out of touch,” Phoenix said laughing.

  “She always tags along like she is part of this team. But she is not my type.”

  “Well, I am going to ask both her and Patches to go.” Phoenix was trying to get Megan to soften up a little, but it was to no avail.

  “Whatever! We’ll leave for happy hour right after work,” Phoenix said.

  Once they arrived at the club, they found seats near the dance floor. It had taken a lot to get Denver to go to the club, especially since they never invited her out with the group. But she finally agreed to go for a couple of hours. Megan, with her bold self, even asked Jerickca to go, but she turned her down, gently reminding them that she didn’t party on Friday night because it was her Sabbath. It was written in Exodus, Chapter 20. She told them it was God’s Law to remember and honor his day and to keep it holy from sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday. Yet everyone knew that Jerickca wouldn’t party even without that Sabbath stuff.

  They had a good time anyway. Megan, with her crazy butt, laughed at everyone who walked through the door. There was a lady who walked in with this sheer outfit on, looking like a stuffed turkey because she was overly thick in the waist, her arms were too fat, her sleeves were too tight, her butt was too wide, and her skirt was too short. Also, she had the biggest, widest feet, and it looked as if she had forced all that fat into her clothes. Megan christened her with the name Big Foot. They laughed all night. Megan even pointed out this older guy who walked into the club with his beautiful lady on one arm and a cane in the other, wearing a red pinstriped suit. She immediately told everyone that he looked like a red rooster.

  Denver laughed so hard she spit out her wine, and Patches just shook his head and kept saying, “Girl, you are crazy.” When everyone stopped laughing to go to the dance floor and get their bump on, it was their chance to finally cool down from so much laughter. Once everyone was back at the table, Megan would start up again. It was over for everyone when the young brother walked in with a black suit on and a black top hat when it was damn near 100 degrees outside. Megan pointed and whispered, “There goes the Penguin!” With all the liquor and heat, everybody fell out laughing.

  They were having such a good time. It was times like these when they were having so much fun that Denver enjoyed her co-workers the most. At times like these, they were one team with one goal, and that was simply to enjoy each other’s company. They were having a ball.

  Patches was getting horny, and he had not seen anyone he wanted to take home, so he looked at Denver who was getting drunk and thought about how it would be to get with her. But as quick as the thought entered his mind, it left just as fast. It would feel too much like incest, he thought. When he put his rum and coke down, a beautiful black woman wearing a black sleeveless summer dress with black leather sandals asked him to dance. He looked her up and down and smiled. “Sure,” he said, and he got up and walked to the floor with her. Once they were dancing to the song “Country Grammar” by St. Louis’s own Nelly, Patches whispered, “I’m McNary, but everyone calls me Patches.”

  The beautiful woman with the gorgeous smile and the badass body mouthed, “I’m Jessica.” They danced all night. On the slow jam, Patches pulled her in real close and held her tight. It felt so good. After the second slow jam, they retreated to the opposite side of the room, away from his co-workers, and took another vacant table. They talked the rest of the evening. He found out that she was an attorney with a local firm. He was impressed. He told her about his occupation as a social worker and a high school football coach.

  They exchanged telephone numbers, and he walked her to her SUV. She was driving a Ford Explorer, Eddie Bauer model. It was a 2001, and she looked good sitting in the driver’s seat. He knew one thing, and that was he definitely wanted to see her again. She was a classy professional and she looked marvelous.

  When Patches walked back over to the table, Megan was jamming hard with an older man who was wearing tennis shoes without socks. He was doing the splits and jumping around like Fred “Rerun” Berry from that old television show, “What’s Happening?” It was ironic, because earlier, Megan, Phoenix, and Denver had said they would never dance with that fool, but I guess when no one else came knocking, they did what they had to do. At least that is what Phoenix told Patches when he sat down.

  “Who the hell is Megan dancing with?” Patches asked.

  “Hell, if I know,” Phoenix laughed.

  “He’s our dance partner, and I know he’s tired because we have danced him right out of his socks.” Denver said while pointing to his feet. They all laughed. When Megan returned to the table, she was sweating missiles, dripping and slinging sweat everywhere. “He danced my ass out!” She said while getting her purse. When she pulled out her wallet, Denver said, “I thought we were leaving after that dance.”

  “We are, but he asked me to buy him a drink.”

  “Girl, stop lying,” Phoenix said while staring at the guy as he stood back, waiting for his money.

  “I know he didn’t,” Denver reflected.

  “That man danced all night with all of us and gave us a hell of a lot to laugh at. He deserves a drink and ya’ll should pitch in, because ya’ll wouldn’t have been dancing if it wasn’t for him,” Megan said while turning to hand the man a five-dollar bill.

  “This was so much fun,” Megan said while putting her arms around Phoenix. “We should do this more often.”

  “You’re right!” Phoenix and Denver said at the same time.

  Patches just laughed. He wasn’t thinking too much about what they were saying. He was thinking about Jessica so much that he got horny again and pulled out his cell phone and called Toi.

  “You want to get together?” He needed this booty call.

  “Yeah, pick me up, because my sister is here with my kids.”

  “I’ll blow the horn for you in ten minutes,” he said.

  Chapter 20

  Jerickca was lying in bed, thinking. When she glanced at the clock, it was 2:00 a.m. She could not sleep. She had too much on her mind. It was time for a cost of living increase and she had to decide who would receive a merit raise. She was worrying about her sister Pammie and trying to plan a surprise party for Lula Mae. Soon, she would be turning sixty-one, and she wanted to do something special for her mother, who had been so supportive.
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  She looked over at Anthony and her heart warmed. He was so boring, but she loved him. She always tried to stay busy, because then she didn’t have to think about how routine her life had become. He was such a great provider and family man, and he loved being home, sitting in his traditional leather armchair, right in front of his fifty-two inch big screen Magnavox color television.

  Jerickca needed to be stimulated, and she wasn’t getting it at home. Anthony seemed pleased with their sex life. He never complained. That was the thing about being successful at work. She realized that you couldn’t have it all. So she basically just accepted the fact that this was her life and it only got better at work. Anthony was a sweetheart, and she was doing her best to inform him of her unhappiness. It never crossed her mind to leave him because she loved the life he afforded her. She had diamonds, pearls, gold, and silver. She wore a Rolex and a Movado and had at least ten other name brand watches.

  When she went shopping yesterday, purchased two new Jones of New York suits, and handed the salesperson her Visa, the girl called the manager to ask her if they took these kinds of cards. The manager told her that she had never seen a Visa like that but to run the purchase through and see what happened. They both asked her if that was a new card and Jerickca said no. Inside she was smiling. This is a platinum card. Doesn’t everyone have one? Jerickca thought.