“Or you’ll report me? Sounds good, Ted,” he repeated and ended the call.
He deactivated the ring tone and switched the phone to vibrate. He knew that Ted would probably place several more calls in an attempt to get the last word. He always insisted on the last word, at meetings, teleconferences, phone calls, and holiday parties. Alex figured that Ted felt an entitlement to it as their manager, or that he read about it in one of the dozens of business leadership guru books he sickeningly cited on a regular basis. He could see the chapter in his mind: “Effective leadership tactic #45, Getting the Last Word.” He laughed out loud at the thought and sipped his coffee.
Buzzzzzz. Here he goes. He slouched in the chair and held the phone up to eye level. Yep. Ted S. For just a moment, Alex was tempted to answer the phone. He stood up, tucked the phone into the front pocket of his jeans, and headed back out into the kitchen where Kate was pouring a fresh cup of coffee.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“Not great, but not bad. He started to flip out, so I cut the call short.”
“I’m sure he appreciated that.”
His phone started to vibrate again. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the display, and placed it on the granite island.
“Yeah. That’s call number two since I hung up. Did I miss anything good?” he asked.
“Ah, not really. Well, there was one interesting question about their point of entry strategy. Someone asked why they put so much stock into point of entry screening, when the WHO has for years declared this strategy ineffective, as well as several other organizations.”
“Like the ISPAC. I’ve heard Dr. Ocampo say it was a waste of resources three times in the past week alone,” he told her.
“So what do you think will happen with your job now?” Kate asked, shifting the subject.
“Well, I figure they’ll fire me, especially when I don’t show up down in Massachusetts tomorrow, but who knows?”
“That’s asinine. Shifting all of you down there.”
“I know, believe me. The only thing I don’t know is how long it’ll take to get rid of me. I bet it’ll be pretty quick.”
“Well, I’m glad we have some money saved up for this. I feel bad for the people who can’t quit their jobs.”
Alex’s smartphone buzzed again, dancing on the granite surface. He leaned over the phone to check the display. He shook his head as he looked at Kate.
“Again?” she asked.
“You know it. He’ll keep at this for a while. He hasn’t left a message yet, which tells me he really doesn’t have anything constructive to say.”
Chapter Thirteen
Monday, November 4, 2013
Alex sat in his office chair, staring out of the window at the neighborhood. The sun was low on the horizon, slowly creeping into his view from the left, preparing for its rapid plunge below the western skyline, but the day was still bright and warm, carrying a comfortable southwesterly breeze into the office through two open, screened windows. He savored the pleasant draft, knowing that a similar breeze might not push through the house again until mid-May. Several neighbors had returned from work, their cars sitting in their driveways or inside open garages.
He watched as Jamie McDaniels’ white Volvo Cross-Country station wagon pulled into the driveway across the street. She stopped the car short of the left bay door, which started to open as her two girls, Amanda and Katherine, poured out of the right rear door of the wagon. Jamie usually picked them up from after-school care and arrived home about an hour earlier than her husband Matt.
Alex continued to watch as Jamie opened her door and stood up out of the car to shout something at her girls. She was dressed smartly in a white blouse with pointed white collars that extended over a dark blue vest. Her dark brown hair was cut to shoulder length, and he imagined that she would not be difficult on the eyes of the boys in her French class at Falmouth High School.
Her husband would arrive around five thirty, after a series of school administrative meetings. Matt McDaniel was the newly hired principal for the ailing Portland High School. Because of their close contact with the schools, especially Falmouth, Alex and Kate considered the McDaniels’ household to be at high risk. They planned to watch the McDaniel household very closely.
He heard Kate yelling up the stairs. “Your phone is buzzing again. 860 area code. Why don’t you just turn it off if you’re not going to answer it? It’s starting to drive me nuts down here!”
He walked to the top of the stairs. Ryan’s door was shut and the door to the kids’ bathroom was open. He breathed in the warm, shampoo-scented air funneling out of the bathroom as he walked down the stairs.
“I’ll just put it in my office. I want to keep tabs on who’s calling. 860 is Hartford, I think. Shit, that could be the regional office.”
He turned the corner and saw Kate holding his smartphone up to her ear, apparently talking on the phone.
“No, I believe what he was trying to say is go fuck yourself…Yes…Yes, I understand your position, but his hasn’t changed.”
Alex was momentarily stunned, standing at the end of the banister.
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” he pleaded, and she started to laugh, then displayed her trademarked devilish smile.
“You know I would never do anything like that,” she said.
“Uh, I wouldn’t put it past you. Let’s just leave it at that,” he replied, snatching the phone from his wife and giving her a long kiss on the lips.
“Where’s Emily?” he asked.
“She’s out on the picnic table with some books,” she replied.
Alex took a few steps away from the stairs and glanced out into the backyard. Dressed in brown pants and a light blue hooded sweatshirt, Emily sat at the picnic table with an open book.
“Hey, hon, if one of our kids is going to be out of the house, one of us should be with them. At least, really close by. I don’t think it’s a problem right now, and please don’t think I’m picking on you for any reason. I just think they need to get used to the idea of a more restrictive environment, and I’d feel more comfortable if we directly managed their contact outside of the house,” he said, cringing.
“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that being confined to the yard is not restrictive. I told her she had to stay in the yard, and I explained to her that if any of her friends came over, she needed to come tell me, so I could handle the situation. I think the rules are adequate.”
“I wasn’t implying that her being out there alone is wrong, I’m just saying that when the schools close, every kid on the block is going to be home, with nothing to do, and many of them with parents that still don’t fully grasp what is happening. We’ll need to be all over our kids.”
“I was keeping a close eye on her from the kitchen, but you’re right,” she conceded, looking out at Emily.
“Let’s see who called from 860,” he said and dialed his voicemail.
As he listened to the message, Ryan walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He nodded at Ryan, paying attention to the message. Ryan and Kate sat down together at the dinner table and started talking. Alex caught Kate’s glance and shook his head, then headed into the study.
“Regional manager,” he called out across the kitchen, disappearing into the mudroom. He took his favorite seat in the study, facing the bookshelves, sat back deeply in the leather chair, and took in the rich smell of new leather furniture. He closed his eyes for a few moments, centering himself for the call to Michelle Harke. He dialed the number and reached Michelle’s secretary, Anna.
“Hi, Anna, this is Alex Fletcher up in Portland, Maine. I just received a call from Michelle indicating that she wanted me to call her immediately,” he said.
“Oh hi, Alex. Yes, she just let me know. I'll put you through to her,” Anna said, her tone not indicating any knowledge of the issue at hand.
“Hey, Alex, thank you for calling me back so quickly,” Michelle answered.
He c
ould read nothing from her tone, but Michelle had always been difficult to read. On the surface, she projected a warm, semi-casual approach to her job, but her word choice betrayed a business-only hardwiring that he never trusted.
“No problem at all, Michelle,” he responded.
Say as little as possible.
“Ted told me that you depleted your sample inventory on Friday, which baffles me considering the amount of direction sent to representatives regarding the disposition of field samples. I know that all of the district managers communicated the no-sampling policy to their reps, and I know that headquarters reinforced and explained the policy via email. I didn’t think there could be any confusion about the policy, but clearly there might have been a miscommunication. Can you help me with this one?”
Buddy, old pal.
“I’m not sure I’m going to make this any easier for you, or maybe I will. There was no confusion about the direction. I just chose to ignore it and provide all of my samples to the head of the Infectious Disease Department at Maine Medical Center. As I told Ted, I felt it morally imperative to put the samples into his hands, and not let them sit around my storage locker waiting for the next round of doomed negotiations between Biosphere and the government.”
And, I kinda felt like sticking it to Ted.
“I guess I still don’t understand, especially given your military background. You’re saying that the direction was clear, but you chose to disregard the policy anyway? To disobey a direct order?”
Sounds like you understand it pretty well.
Alex detected a shift in her tone. Although her corporate central processor gave her away after a few seconds of talking, her use of a condescending rhetorical question completely stripped away the camouflage. He expected the phone call to deteriorate from this point forward, not that it really started on anything he would consider a high point.
“Yes, I think that sums it up,’ he said, suppressing a desire to engage her sarcastically.
“Well, Alex, I’m having a tough time with this one. My first instinct is to let you go immediately, but the company is committed to maximizing the effectiveness and impact of the PRP. So—”
“PRP? I’m not familiar with the term.”
“Pandemic Redeployment Program,” she clarified.
“Got it. Moving us to Massachusetts.”
“Right. As I was saying, because of Biosphere’s commitment to this program, I don’t think this would be a good time to weaken our sales force by lowering the head count,” she said.
“You mean like firing me?” he asked.
Right between the eyes, please.
“Well, yes. Under any other circumstances, I would initiate separation procedures, but Ted said that you seemed to fully support the PRP initiative, which surprised him since you routinely undermine his authority.”
What authority?
“He thought I was on board because I didn’t say much about it during this morning’s teleconference. Everyone else beat me to it. Anyway, I feel really bad about dragging this out, so let me make this easy for everyone. I have no intention of abandoning my family during the pandemic and relocating to Massachusetts, even temporarily. I don’t really plan to leave my house until this whole thing has cleared up. So, would it be easier for the company if I just resigned?”
The line remained silent for a few seconds.
“Is that what you want to do?” she asked.
“Yes, I would like to resign my position. Right now. It doesn’t make any sense to continue this relationship. Do I need to send a letter to anyone? Or do anything officially?”
“No. I will initiate resignation procedures, and we should have you closed out in a few days. Ted will contact you with the details and a close out checklist,” she stated.
“At least the inventory should go smoothly,” Alex added, unable to resist.
“This might not be such a laughing matter to you after legal takes a closer look at your actions. I’ve already brought the matter to their attention, and between you and me, I don’t plan to let this slip away,” she warned.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. A legitimate sample transaction to a licensed physician. Head of the Infectious Disease Department, no less. I’m not worried. Thanks for taking this personally though,” he said, feeling the blood rise to his face.
“We’ll just let the lawyers figure that out. I’m sure they’ll find something, and we’ll be sure to help them along.”
Michelle’s parting comment broke down his remaining sarcasm barrier.
“Well, you’d better tell them not to drag out their investigation. I’d be willing to bet that in a few weeks, most of them will either be dead or hooked up to a ventilator somewhere in the greater New York metro area, if they’re lucky. Good luck avoiding the flu.”
He disconnected the call, initially satisfied with his retort. His satisfaction quickly dissolved into a bittersweet disappointment with himself for having descended low enough to invoke such a ghastly image and wish. Alex rose from the chair and stepped into the mudroom. He opened the door to the garage and stepped out onto the cement floor next to the 4Runner.
The bay door behind the 4Runner was open, and he walked out onto the driveway and squinted, immediately hit with blinding rays of sunlight. He brought his left arm up to his face, blocking the bright light. He saw that the orange mail flag was down and started walking down the driveway to the mailbox, just as Ed Walker’s Honda Pilot pulled around the corner of the block, headed his way.
The closest garage bay door on Ed’s house started to rumble open, and he stopped. Ed’s car pulled up into the driveway, but stopped short of entering the garage bay. He waved as Ed opened the car door. All three of his kids started spilling out of the back door, running for the house. The oldest daughter, Chloe, yelled out a greeting.
“Hey, Ed. Home early today. Very nice,” Alex said.
“Yeah, Samantha called me earlier, said she was running late at the firm, so I figured I’d close up shop early and grab some Chinese on the way to pick up the kids.”
He walked over to Alex and they shook hands. Alex moved next to Ed, so they could both talk without the sun blazing in their eyes.
“What about you guys? Abby said that Emily wasn’t in school, and Chloe didn’t see Ryan,” Ed commented.
“We’ve decided to keep the kids out of school until we’re sure what’s going on with the flu. Based on what we’re seeing, I imagine they’re going to close the schools at some point this week. But they’ll wait till the flu is already in the schools before making that call.”
Alex saw from Ed’s expression that he was seriously contemplating what he had just said.
“I wonder if I could shift to working from my home office and keep the kids home. I’d hate to take any chances with them at school. But…I don’t know if I could pull that off. I still have to meet with clients…or I could reschedule for later…I don’t know. Do you really think the schools are going to close? DHS officials sound pretty confident that this won’t get out of control,” he said.
“I wouldn’t count on it. Based on several unbiased projections from other organizations, the number of cases in the U.S. will exceed 2008’s total by the middle of next week. We’re really concerned,” Alex said.
“I’ll have to talk to Sam about it. I know she can’t work from home.”
“Well, if I were you guys—” Alex started.
“Sounds like one of your famous plots brewing,” Ed interrupted jokingly.
“Oh, it’s more than a plot. Anyway, if I were you, here’s what I would do. I would get your home office gig rolling and keep the kids home. Then, I would have your wife call in sick with flu-like symptoms. You can wait a few days for this, just make sure Sam is really careful out there, avoiding public places, washing hands a lot, watching everyone around her. By the time she calls in sick, there’ll be enough cases out there that no one will question her not going into the office.”
“It’s not a matter
of being questioned. She can take the next month off if she wants. She still has to meet her billable hours by the end of the year, or she loses money and looks bad as a partner.”
“I know. Kate has the same issue. In a few weeks, this flu is going to jam things up pretty good, and nobody’s going to be worried about billable hours, year-end bonuses, or client meetings. The next few weeks will be critical. Hey, if we’re wrong, then everything goes back to normal.”
“What’s Kate doing?”
“She called in sick, but told them she would work as much as she could from home. She can access most of her work from our office, so her firm shouldn’t care.”
“What about you? How long can you hide out? Didn’t you say they track all of your transactions with that computer thing?” Ed asked.
“They can. However…it won’t matter since I resigned a few minutes ago. Things were getting crazy with them. They wanted me to drive down to Lawrence tomorrow to boost the sales force there. I checked online this afternoon and the Lawrence/Andover area has been hit by a sizable outbreak of the Jakarta flu. Upwards of a thousand confirmed cases in northeast Massachusetts, probably more. Lawrence General, Lowell General, and a few other bigger hospitals are taking most of the cases. Biosphere is sending nearly all of the Maine reps down there, probably New Hampshire and Vermont reps, too. Indefinitely. I told them to go pack sand.”
“Sorry, man,” Ed said.
“Actually, I feel kinda relieved. Biosphere was nothing like my last company. Things were dicey from the beginning. I have some good contacts at other companies for when this flu thing dies down.”
“So, I assume you guys are all set over there,” he said, nodding with a gesture toward Alex’s house.
“I think so. The kids are gonna be the biggest challenge, and possibly some of the neighbors,” Alex replied, looking around at the houses on their side of the loop. “Who knows how this’ll go down? What about you guys? You’re all set, right?”
“I think so. We have a decent amount of food stored up in the basement. Sam and I stocked up on canned food for a couple months after you guys scared the shit out of us with the swine flu, but that pretty much fizzled out. I’m not sure how long all of our stuff will last, but I think we have the basics covered. Our stove is propane and I have plenty of wood for the fireplace.”
The Jakarta Pandemic Page 12