Submission

by Robin Roseau

But the bad news wasn't over. It was Anita's turn.

  "As your current salary is well over the upper limit for your new title, your salary will be adjusted." She slid a second piece of paper to me. "This is the top of the salary range for a network technician at this company."

  I stared at it.

  "We need you to sign both of those," Anita added.

  I stared at them for a while. Finally I said, "No."

  "Cassidy," said Miranda, "surely you understand this is the best move, both for you and for the company."

  "No, I do not see that. Anita, I have always received exceedingly high performance reviews from everyone I have ever worked for until Miranda arrived."

  "That is not the point," Miranda said immediately. "Your performance since I arrived has been lackluster."

  "Oh?" I asked. "In what fashion?"

  "Twice I've asked for plans to make our network more robust. Both times you told me you couldn't do what I asked for. You received a letter of censure for insubordination. And we had a significant network outage in August."

  "We suffered an organized attack involving millions of computers," I said. "And we stayed up. We did not have an outage. We had a slowdown. The reason we didn't have an outage is because I worked two and a half days straight, mitigating the damage." I turned to Fletcher. "The demands she made? Did she tell you what they were? She asked me to prevent DDoS attacks. Not mitigate. Prevent. You can't prevent someone else from attacking you. You can only deal with it when it happens." I turned back to Miranda. "Did you ask Fletcher if he could prevent DDoS attacks?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did, and he said he could."

  "Then he lied to you," I said flatly. "Believe him if you want. I'm not signing anything until I talk to an attorney. Assuming I can get an appointment, I will be doing so tomorrow and will need a half-day of PTO. I'll have the request form on your desk in an hour. I presume it will be approved." I paused. "I suppose those go to you now, Fletcher." I stood up. "Will there be anything else?"

  I didn't wait for a response.

  * * * *

  I had to call around to find an employment attorney who could see me. I met with Meryl Townsley precisely at nine Tuesday morning. We exchanged pleasantries, I signed a few papers, and then I told her everything, absolutely everything. She asked a few questions then told me, "You have grounds for a lawsuit. There are no guarantees you would win, but it's almost given they'll pay something to make it go away."

  "I don't care for conflict. I just want to get out."

  We talked for a while. I wasn't happy with my choices, but I came away feeling like I knew my rights.

  Finally we finished, and I asked her, "What do I owe you?"

  "Initial consultations are free," she said. "I'm sorry, Cassidy. Call me if this goes poorly."

  "I will."

  "In fact, call me," she said. "And let me know how it goes."

  "I will."

  * * * *

  I drove home, changed into jeans and a casual shirt, wrote and printed a letter, grabbed my gym bag, and headed to the office. I didn't say a word to anyone; as far as I was concerned, I had taken a half day off, and the half day wasn't over. I didn't check email.

  I didn't have that many personal things at work, so it didn't take long to pack most of it into the gym bag. I threw the bag over my shoulder, looked around to make sure no one was watching, grabbed my coat rack, and headed for the elevator. I got out the door without anyone noticing.

  After the fall review, I was forced to make new arrangements for parking. The underground slots were given on the basis of performance appraisals, and I had lost mine. I was now paying month-to-month for a ramp two blocks away. I took the skyway system, my gym bag over one shoulder and carrying the coat rack. I shoved everything in the car then stood there.

  It was all so unfair! She was such a bitch.

  But then I smiled. They could just run the place without me. Good luck during the next DDoS attack.

  I headed back to the office, walking straight to Jane's desk. I handed her the envelope and a second sheet signing for delivery. "Date and time it, please."

  Jane didn't say a word. She probably figured it was a letter of resignation. It wasn't.

  Then I went back to my desk, let the guys know I was in, and settled in to do my job.

  * * * *

  She actually took longer than I thought she would to respond. It was Wednesday after the department meeting that Fletcher stopped by my desk. "Miranda wants us in the conference room."

  "Of course," I said. I grabbed a pad. My tablet had gone home with me.

  I wasn't remotely surprised to see Anita waiting with Miranda. Again I found myself facing the three of them. Miranda had my letter. I sat down and pulled out my phone, then looked at the three of them quietly.

  "What is this?" Miranda asked.

  "I'm just guessing," I said, "but I presume that's the letter I left with Jane yesterday."

  "It is. What the hell is it?"

  "I thought you didn't care for language like that, Miranda," I said. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand the question."

  "What game do you think you're pulling?"

  "I don't play games," I said. "So I don't know what you're talking about. Monday, you eliminated my position. Hey, it happens. No hard feelings. You didn't actually indicate when my last day was. So I was just offering written notice of my understanding of the events from Monday. Did I get anything wrong?"

  "Your position wasn't eliminated," Anita said. "You aren't being fired."

  "My position is Senior Network Technician," I said, "a job I have performed flawlessly for six years. However, due to changing personnel here, you no longer wish to retain me in that capacity. You have eliminated my position. I understand." Then I looked down at my phone and began scrolling through the pictures. I smiled at a few before looking up.

  "I presume because I have been laid off that you will not interfere when I apply for unemployment insurance. I also presume I will be paid through the end of next week plus for my accrued, unused vacation time. I only use about half of my allowance each year, and Branson allows us to roll it over, so I have just under twelve weeks accrued."

  Then I went back to looking at the pictures.

  "What is so fascinating on your phone?" Miranda asked, practically growling.

  I looked up and smiled. "Photos of a vacation I took over Memorial Day." She blanched. "I had such an interesting time. I met the most intriguing person. We spent the entire weekend together. We both took a great many photos." I looked back at my phone. "Oh, here she is trying to hug a redwood tree. You can barely make her out." I flipped through a few more. "Ah, this one is much better. It's a selfie." I looked up. "She's kissing me."

  Anita looked at me. Then she looked at Miranda. I put my phone away. Then I set my hands on the table and leaned forward, staring right into Miranda's eyes. "I presume if anyone calls to verify employment, they will be told my title was Senior Network Technician, and my salary will be reflected accordingly. I presume that's also what the unemployment office will be told. If so, none of us need ever hear from each other again. Of course, if you are feeling sorry for firing me right before Christmas, you could make my COBRA payments for six months. So, is next Friday my last day?"

  Miranda didn't say a word. Instead, Anita said, "Cassidy, maybe we should talk privately."

  "I don't think so," I said. "Title, salary, unemployment, COBRA. Is next Friday my last day?"

  She sighed. "Security is waiting to escort you from the building. I have papers for you to sign."

  "You know, Anita, I'm not signing a thing without my lawyer present. I'm sure you understand. Would you like me to call her? While the initial consultation was free, if I call her now, I have to pay her. But I'm freshly unemployed." I sighed dramatically. "I'm sure I can find the money somewhere."

  "Security will help you collect your things," Anita said. "I'll take care of everything else."

  "I wouldn't mind that i
n writing," I said. "You can mail it to me. I'm sure it will be exactly as we've agreed, and I won't need to involve the lawyer. Am I allowed to say goodbye to my coworkers, or would you prefer I call them at home?"

  "I'll walk you out," Anita offered. It was said gently.

  I stood up, but then I leaned on the table, staring at Miranda on the other side. "I hate conflict, but that doesn't mean I can't handle it when I need to." I stared at her. "I had an amazing time in San Francisco. I think I was falling in love with her. But I learned later she's some sort of vindictive psychopath, so it's probably best we'll never see each other again."

  Then I walked out of the conference room, my head held high.

  Part Two

  Employment

  In the end, it worked out okay. I got everything I asked for. They even agreed to pay my health insurance for up to a year or until I arranged new employment. I hoped it was the later and not the former.

  I sent my resume to everyone I knew. I got a few nibbles, but no one hires in December. In January, I hit the pavement hard, but pickings seemed slim.

  I did call Meryl. I left a message telling her everything would be fine. She called me back and invited me to lunch. "My treat."

  Over lunch, she said, "So, you won't be needing my services."

  "Nope."

  She smiled. "Excellent." And then she caressed my arm. I returned her smile, far more shyly than hers.

  * * * *

  It was a Monday in June exactly six months and three days from my last official day at Branson that I met with Elliott. I got a tour of the building and then we met in his office.

  "So. You're looking awfully good for someone who just spent six months unemployed."

  I smiled. "I've taken advantage of the free time, but now I'm ready to get back to work. Did I come to the right place?"

  He returned the smile. "I've already talked to the networks manager. He's excited to meet you."

  I had thought about this. "I was wondering. Do you suppose there are any programming positions available? I'd take entry level."

  His smile faded. "Entry level? I think you're selling yourself short."

  "I'm a good programmer," I said.

  "You're good at everything you do."

  "Not everything," I said. "I'm a good programmer. But if you don't have any positions, I'd love to talk to the networking manager." I paused. "Does he know I don't interview well? I wouldn't at all mind if you shut me in a closet somewhere and slid assignments under the door."

  "I think we can do better than that." He pursed his lips. "I want you to meet with Zach."

  "All right. Thanks, Elliott."

  "Don't thank me yet."

  * * * *

  Elliott led me to a conference room. "Do you need anything?"

  "I'm good."

  "I'll be back with Zach in a few minutes."

  I thought about taking a seat while I waited, but then there would be the awkward moment where I had to stand back up when Elliott returned. Instead, I prowled the conference room.

  They didn't make me wait all that long, only a few minutes. Elliott led another man and introduced us. Then he said, "No job offers, Zach. You're not the only person she's talking to today."

  "I saw her first," Zach said immediately.

  Elliott laughed and closed the door on his way out. Zach gestured to a chair, and we both sat. I watched him as he set a manila folder on the table in front of him and opened it. I recognized my resume. He skimmed it briefly and I watched him.

  Zach was perhaps fifty years old, perhaps a little bit older, pudgy and balding. He wore wire framed glasses and had the nervous habit of wringing his fingers. But when he looked up at me, he smiled.

  "I'd be making a position for you. I don't actually have an open slot, but Elliott said we're snatching you up, anyway."

  "I don't want charity," I said immediately.

  "Charity, hell. He said you can offload half my capacity planning. Can you?"

  "Tell me about your network."

  We talked about networking for a while. I didn't have much experience with some of the equipment, but there weren't too many surprises.

  "We had problems with the 7154s," I said. "I finally threw them all out."

  "No shit?" He asked. "Really?"

  "Yeah. They drop packets under load. Man, that was a bitch to troubleshoot."

  He stared at me for a good thirty seconds. "You just earned your first year's salary."

  I shrugged.

  "Are you sure?"

  "It might have been a firmware issue," I replied. "I got tired of fighting with the vendor. I tell ya, troubleshooting the problem was a bitch, but proving it, now that was a bitch and a half."

  "You can prove it?"

  "Yeah, but you need three spares. You have them set up in a ring, right?"

  "Yes."

  "They only do it in a ring. That's why it took so long to troubleshoot. Standalone, they work perfectly."

  "I'll be damned," he said. He went on a swearing streak for a while. Finally he apologized.

  "Don't worry about it," I said. "I cuss like a sailor. I hope that's fine."

  He laughed. "Yeah. That's fine."

  "Look. I have to tell you two things. I don't like dealing with people. If you want me, you give me work and make everyone leave me alone."

  "Not a problem."

  "If I need help, I'll ask."

  "Perfect."

  "Next, I don't date where I work. I presume you'll spread the word. Otherwise it's going to take me eighteen months to get the rest of the guys to leave me alone."

  "We don't have a problem like that here."

  I didn't believe him, but I let it go.

  We talked for a while longer. I told him in detail how I'd worked out the problem with the 7154s. We discussed a few other things.

  We got along great.

  Then there was a knock at the door and Elliott stepped in. With him was a woman about my age. Zach and I both stood up.

  "I saw her first," Zach said immediately. "You can't have her, Justine."

  The woman laughed. "We'll see. I bet I can pay her more than you can."

  "Now, now," Elliott said. "No fighting." He chased Zach out and introduced me to Justine Maitland. He didn't tell me what Justine did, but then he left us alone. We eyed each other for a moment then both sat down. Like Zach, she had a copy of my resume, and she spent a moment looking at it before looking up.

  "Elliott says you're the best network technician he's ever seen."

  I shrugged.

  "He said you might prefer a position in programming instead."

  "I've gone as far in networking as I can. I'd like to try something new. Did Elliott also tell you I prefer a force field be erected in front of my cube door and all assignments delivered by carrier pigeon?"

  She laughed. "No. And he didn't mention a sense of humor, either."

  "No carrier pigeons?"

  "Will email do?"

  I smiled. "Email is perfect. I can even do one-on-one." I looked down. "I don't like crowds."

  "Not a problem," she said. "What is a problem is the lack of programming experience on your resume."

  "My undergrad is in computer science," I said. "And I've kept my hand in." I paused. "And I haven't exactly been idle over the last six months."

  "Oh? Your resume just ends."

  "Would you like to see what I've been doing?"

  "Sure."

  I pulled out my phone. "This isn't an original idea, but it seemed like a really good challenge, something to tighten my skills. It has a little bit of everything." I paused. "So, imagine you're on a date, or maybe you're a witness to some traumatic event, like, oh, police malfeasance."

  "All right."

  "Everyone has a smart phone now. So we all whip out our phones and start filming, right? And then the police come along and confiscate the phones, arresting you on trumped up charges."

  "That seems a little paranoid."

  "Or perhaps
your date decides to sell you into white slavery, or your big sister doesn't like that you filmed her sneaking out at night."

  "Right," Justine said. "I see where you're going."

  "Well, my app lets you take photos or video. But instead of storing them on the phone, they're uploaded to my server. I immediately upload a low-quality image, then if I have the bandwidth, I can upload a higher quality image. That's user-selectable, so if you don't want to chew up your bandwidth, you don't have to."

  Justine smiled. "So you programmed the phone?"

  "And the server. So there's network programming on both sides. There's a database. And here's the kicker."

  "Oh?"

  "I kick off a notice to my business partner."

  "To your business partner?"

  "She's a lawyer. So imagine my date decides to sell me into white slavery. Well, my business partner will get a notice, and when I don't check in a couple of hours later, she calls the cops. Or whatever it is she decides is the appropriate reaction. But at least someone will be digging into my disappearance."

  "That's very paranoid," Justine said. "I love it."

  I shrugged. "We put it out on the app store. We've actually had a few sales."

  "Has anyone been sold into white slavery?"

  "Not yet, but if they are, we'll know."

  Justine smiled.

  I shrugged. "I did it for the experience. It was fun."

  "Let me talk about what I do," Justine said.

  Justine and I talked for an hour. Elliott returned and said, "I don't have anyone else for you to talk to, but now you're going to lunch with me."

  "But-" said Justine.

  "We'll talk this afternoon. You and Zach can arm wrestle."

  I knew they were just kidding, but I felt wanted.

  * * * *

  I returned the next day. Elliott met with me briefly then asked whom I wanted to talk to first. "Justine."

  "Justine it is."

  This time we met in her office. We exchanged pleasantries, then she sobered.

  "I suppose I should tell you; I know Miranda Gogburn."

  My smile immediately faded.

  "I called her after we talked."

  "I see."

  "She told me she's never had a more dedicated employee."

  "What?"