Dakota Blues Box Set

by Lynne M Spreen

  Karen gazed at the young woman, wondering how much to say. Emily’s car had been t-boned in her senior year of high school. As a result, she suffered chronic health problems, and insurance was critical. Yet if Karen revealed her fears, a mass exodus might result.

  Deciding, she said, “This conversation stays here. I don’t want your people talking.”

  “Go ahead,” said Emily.

  “Okay, I could be wrong, but I get a bad feeling. I don’t think their strategy is based in the audit results. They want what they want.”

  Emily nodded, her face earnest. “In other words, to close us down.”

  “Possibly,” said Karen. “Here’s what you should consider, both for your department and for yourself personally...”

  When she finished, Emily said, “I appreciate your honesty. I’ll base my short-term decisions on that info and hope for the best.”

  After she left, Karen called in the rest of her supervisors. One by one, she swore them to secrecy before filling them in. Her last was Ben Washington. They greeted each other with warmth. He’d finally ditched the eyebrow rings, but his slacks were still too baggy.

  When she told him the news, he dropped the f-bomb. “Sorry, man, but I just got everybody trained up. My staff’s crankin’ now, you know?”

  “I know, and I appreciate it.”

  “But, for what? If they’re just gonna—tell you what, I oughta start my own health insurance company. I could do a better job than this pack a’ clowns.”

  She smiled at his defiance. “I believe you could, Ben.”

  He leaned forward and offered his hand. It was warm and strong. “Don’t worry about us, Karen. We’ll be all right. You hear?”

  “I hear.”

  Chapter 9

  Walking down the hall to Wes’ office, Karen rehearsed her strategy again. Steve said she overthought everything, but it was her MO, and it served her well. The habit of overthinking had earned her a window office twenty years ago, along with the respect of the guys up north. It would be the reason she prevailed today.

  She checked the buttons on her jacket, confident in her St. John’s suit. It had cost a fortune, but like a magic coat gave her power. She inhaled, held the breath for a few seconds, and exhaled. Repeated three times, calming herself. Again, the vision of the lone warrior appeared in her mind. Her people were counting on her.

  In her parents’ generation, the workplace was different. Workers spent decades with the same employer. Her own father was with Dakota Gas for forty years. They even gave him that dumb clock, which stopped working as soon as he brought it home.

  But halfway through Karen’s career, everything changed. Businesses came and went with alarming speed. Employees were hired and fired repeatedly, based solely on the needs of the employers. They were expected to work faster and smarter, to become machines, but even machines failed.

  And the gig economy, useful for some, was a cynical joke. Most workers had no security, no sick leave, no retirement. Every gig relied on nonstop hustle. Pretty soon they’d all be like the earnest day laborers standing outside home improvement stores, hungry for a couple hours’ work.

  She raised her hand to tap on Wes’s door, but stopped. Voices reached her from inside, tense, angry, bickering voices. She could make out some of the words. The little pinheads were fighting with each other. The only thing they agreed on was the demolition of Newport.

  She had to stop them. Someone had to stab a lance into the ground, or the workplace was finished. She straightened her spine, tapped on the door, and pushed it open.

  Wes looked up. “Welcome to the party, Karen. Glad you could make it.”

  Reyna Castillo had been sitting at his desk, tapping away at her laptop. She crossed the room and shook hands. Her grip was warm and firm. “Thank you again for your hospitality on Saturday.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Please have a seat.”

  A secretary closed the door, leaving the three of them alone.

  “Before we start,” said Karen, “I’d like five minutes to tell you about the software I developed.”

  “That’s not why we’re here,” said Wes.

  Karen opened her briefcase and retrieved a folder containing spreadsheets and graphs.

  Wes frowned. “Put away your paperwork and listen.”

  It wasn’t like him to be so serious. “Wes, this software program could save you a ton of money.”

  He stared at her, his eyes unreadable.

  “Is it up and running?” asked Reyna.

  “It’s ready to roll out. If I could refer you to the data—”

  “Excellent.” Reyna pushed her chair back. “I’ll get my laptop and you can show me.”

  “Actually, it’s in beta,” Karen lied. “We’re testing it now. I can’t interrupt that.”

  Reyna flashed a quick smile. “That’s so unfortunate. Well, I’m sure it will be a big help when it’s finished, so please keep us posted. Now, getting back to the layoffs—”

  “But since the software is so close, I prepared these brochures for your information.” Karen handed out the promotional material. “The program is amazing. It’ll save us money, increase efficiency, and might even improve patient recovery rates.”

  “Thank you.” Reyna set aside the brochure.

  “Don’t you want to look at it?”

  “This hobby of yours is interesting, but it’s not for us,” said Reyna.

  “You can’t dismiss it out of hand without at least reviewing the specs.”

  “Karen, stop,” Wes said. “If you developed this on company time, the rights belong to us anyway.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Karen regretted that fact, but at this point, it didn’t matter. She would develop additional programs in the future. Some day when she had time to think about legal minutiae like copyright law.

  Reyna folded her hands on the table. “My objective today is to inform you of certain corporate decisions which will affect your operations.”

  “Corporate?” Karen asked. “Or your own?”

  Reyna ignored the jab. “For example, next month I plan to start offshoring work done in Newport. I’ll supervise this office remotely.”

  “Where does that leave me?” asked Wes.

  “Local management,” said Reyna. “You’ll be my eyes and ears on the ground.”

  He nodded. “Smart move.”

  “No, it isn’t,” said Karen. “American companies are bringing work back, because the host countries can’t protect their legal rights.”

  “You’re partly correct,” said Reyna. “But in some areas, like radiology or accounting, it’s risk-free, and far cheaper than having our own technicians.”

  “So we can do billing in Bangalore for a tenth the cost,” Wes said.

  Reyna ignored him.

  “What about our hospital patients?” asked Karen. “Are they supposed to fly to a foreign country for surgery?”

  Reyna tapped a note. “They could. Medical tourism is a great choice. Patients are treated like royalty. For example, Thailand. What a beautiful locale.”

  Karen’s neck and face grew hot. “So if I have appendicitis, I just book a fourteen hour flight?”

  Reyna looked up, her plum-dark lips forming a cold smile. “I don’t see the point of levity right now.”

  “It’s not levity. I’m dead serious.”

  “As am I.” Reyna Castillo lifted her chin. “With globalization, everything is on the table. My next target is HR.”

  “You are not serious.”

  “Yes, actually, I am.”

  Wes frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far.” He glanced at Karen, then looked away. They were both in deep shit and he knew it.

  “In any case,” said Karen, “your cost-saving measures will have implications. I’m responsible for advising management in that regard, so don’t be in a big hurry.”

  Reyna stood. “I’d like a list of all staff at this facility, along with their job titles and annual pay, includin
g HR.”

  “You can’t do HR offsite,” Karen looked up at her. “You really can’t.”

  “Why not? It’s just a bunch of forms.” Reyna gathered up her files, leaving Karen’s brochures untouched. “Please email me the list of employees by close of business today.”

  Karen slapped her hand on the table. Wes flinched.

  “The HR staff at this office is highly trained and extremely valuable,” said Karen. “Firing them would be like burning a pile of money. Trust me, Reyna, it’s more than forms. We can help you succeed, or not.”

  “That sounded like a threat.”

  “It’s reality, however you choose to hear it.”

  “Get me that list.”

  “Besides, there are costs associated with termination,” said Karen. “Most of the employees have contracts. They get severance.”

  “Void in the last merger.” Reyna turned away, carrying her files to the desk. She opened her laptop and began to type.

  “I need more time to get the lists together,” Karen said. “And on a personal note, I’ll be away from the office for the next few days, to attend my mother’s funeral in North Dakota.”

  “Your mother?” Reyna Castillo looked up from the keyboard, her face suddenly human. “I’m so sorry. Please accept my condolences.”

  “Thank you.” Karen swallowed around the lump in her throat.

  Reyna resumed typing. “You have until ten o’clock tomorrow morning. And Wes?”

  “Yes, Reyna?”

  “Arrange for one of the security guards to start escorting people from the building at noon tomorrow."

  Chapter 10

  Karen pulled the door shut and marched back to her office, so angry she half-expected the fire sprinklers to go off. She sat down at her desk, glaring out at the harbor without seeing it.

  Barbara stuck her head in. “Bad news?”

  Karen reached for her briefcase. “I need to go somewhere and think. Will you be here in the morning?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” Karen paused at the doorway. “Because we’re going to war.”

  DRIVING HOME, A LOAD of files strapped in next to her, she considered her options. There weren’t many.

  She could appeal to Lou. Not good.

  She could threaten to quit. Even worse.

  She could throw a Hail Mary software pass.

  It was her only option, with the longest odds.

  Karen wracked her brain for the solution. There could only be one or two things gumming up the program. If she could find and fix them, she would be able to demonstrate such a volume of savings, there’d be no practical reason for them to throw her staff off the island.

  But demonstrate to whom? Reyna wasn’t interested, and Wes was useless.

  That left Lou Cullen.

  But first, it would bolster her case if she could get someone to certify her cost projections. She needed a bean counter. A money man.

  Jeff Salisbury.

  In spite of her anger, she smiled. Jeff was a local CPA she called on occasion when she wanted a different answer from the one being dished out by corporate. This was one of those times, except a million percent more critical. She dialed his number.

  “Hey, Karen. The wolves closing in?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “It’s the only time you call. Want to come over for dinner? Sheila’s been saying we should get together.”

  “I’d like that, too, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for tonight. But tell her I said thanks.”

  “Will do. So, what’s up?”

  Karen described her problem. “I know it’s short notice, but could you look over my numbers?”

  “Where and when?”

  “My house, as soon as you can get there. I’ll call the gate.” She sighed. “You should probably tell Sheila not to hold dinner.”

  “Not a problem. See you around three.”

  Karen hung up, only a little bit relieved. Unless and until the program was reliable, Jeff’s analysis would be theoretical. Tonight might prove to be a big waste of time, waste she couldn’t afford.

  As she drove toward home, self-doubt crept in. She was no programmer. She was a hobbyist. Why did she think she could save her staff with a crappy little experiment on her computer? She’d created the software for fun, just to see if she could, but she hadn’t gone far enough in her classes to take on such an ambitious project. To wave it around in front of Lou and Reyna had been foolish.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. Her software might never be more than a pipe dream, but it was her last—her only—hope.

  She waited for the metal gate to swing open, still wracking her brain for an idea, a clue, a key to the code’s misbehavior. One little pathway, one tiny avenue she’d overlooked.

  Nothing.

  An empty yellow school bus passed her on the way out the exit gate, departing from the community. As Karen drove through the neighborhood, packs of teenagers roamed the sidewalks, heading home from the bus stop. Among them was Abby, the girl responsible for last Saturday’s drone attack. She walked with a crowd, the sole black kid in a sea of white. Karen drove past, her window rolled down, and greeted Abby with a smile and a lift of her chin. When Abby saw Karen, she ducked inside her clump of friends.

  So be it, thought Karen. Kids can be weird, even the really smart ones.

  A second later, she yanked the wheel sharply, pulling over to the curb. She rolled down the window on the passenger side and called out to Abby.

  The girl stopped, her friends continuing homeward.

  “Can I talk to you?” Karen asked.

  Dragging her feet, Abby approached the car.

  “I have something of yours,” Karen said.

  “Did you keep it? I thought you’d thrown it in the trash.”

  “I considered it. Your drone cut the finger of one of my guests.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “Is he okay? Oh, wow, I’m so sorry. I was testing it in the back yard, and it got away from me.”

  Karen leaned her elbow on the console. “Honey, I think you were spying on me and my guests.”

  “I would never do that.” Abby shook her head. “I was only trying to test out the video capabilities, I swear. I wasn’t really looking.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I am sorry about that, Ms. Grace. Are you going to talk to my mom?”

  “Not sure.” Karen tapped her fingers on the steering wheel.

  “So, can I have it back? I promise not to fly it around your house again.” Abby knelt down outside the car, her pearl-pink nails clutching the metal. “It’s got a chip inside it that’s kind of important to me. I mean, the drone itself isn’t worth anything now that it’s wrecked, but—I mean, is it wrecked?”

  “It is badly damaged.”

  “Damn.”

  “Are you supposed to say that?”

  “No.” Abby shook her head. “But I had to work all year to earn enough money to build it.”

  Karen nodded. “I might have a way for you to earn it back.”

  KAREN, JEFF, AND ABBY sat hunched around the dining room table, surrounded by spreadsheets and calculators, laptops and office supplies. Karen had spoken with Lisa, who agreed Abby should do penance for her unauthorized invasion of airspace.

  Two hours had passed. Abby’s stomach rumbled.

  Hearing it, Karen glanced at the clock. They should probably take a dinner break. “How’re we looking?” she asked.

  Jeff leaned back and tossed his pencil on the table. “Your numbers hold up. If Abby can get the program to work, I can certify your projections. First year looks good, and after that, it would be cumulative. So, yeah, it’s a winner.”

  “If we can get it to work.” They looked over at Abby, who tapped away at Karen’s laptop. “Any luck so far?”

  The girl took off her sparkle-rimmed glasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m almost there and I get all happy, but then it does this thing with false propagation...”
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  Karen looked over at Jeff. He shook his head.

  “You don’t have to understand,” Abby said. “I’m gonna try something else, and I’ll let you know. But can I still have my drone back if it doesn’t work?”

  “Yes,” said Karen, “but please try.”

  “I am trying. Why is this so important? What’s the big deal, anyway?”

  Karen wondered how much to say to a child who probably had her own drama to worry about. No sense burdening the kid, yet knowing some of the problem might motivate her. “Put it this way, Abby, if you can get it to work, and it’s reliable, it’ll save my company so much money that they won’t be able to fire a whole bunch of mothers and fathers.”

  “Oh, wow.” Abby looked from Karen to Jeff. “Okay.”

  “But no pressure,” said Jeff.

  “I’m sorry. That was probably too much information.” Karen stood and stretched. “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s take a break. Anybody want pizza?”

  “I should call my mom,” said Abby.

  “Let’s walk down. We can take a few minutes to clear our heads.” On the way out, Karen reached in the coat closet and handed Abby a black trash bag.

  Abby looked inside. “It’s pretty messed.”

  Karen closed the closet. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble fixing it.”

  They walked up the street, past neighbors who were outside enjoying the last of the sunset. Abby walked ahead of them, a bounce in her step, waving and calling out to several kids. She seemed proud to be involved in such an important project, Karen thought, while for her, it was just the usual life-and-death experience of being an adult. She flexed her shoulders, releasing the tension. The three of them would do what they could, and succeed or fail, the chips would fall into place tomorrow morning. If Abby could fix the program, Karen would then implement the second part of her plan before leaving for North Dakota, and the sadness that awaited her there.

  Jeff elbowed her gently. “You okay?”

  Karen nodded. “Thinking about my mom.”

  He reached out and gave her a brotherly hug.