Executive Affair

by Ber Carroll

  She was sick the next morning and was angry with herself again. There had been no need to get drunk; she knew Donald and Lisa had got it wrong. She was glad Robert was away on business and wouldn’t see her in this state. She wondered if she should have an eye-opener, a small vodka to stop her hands from shaking. He was going to be home in a few hours and she needed to look as if nothing had happened.

  Chapter 6

  Alan Harris declined his first meeting with Claire, claiming he didn’t have any free time all week. She rescheduled to Monday of the following week. She was furious when he cancelled the second meeting by sending a cowardly email only ten minutes before it was due to start. He obviously believed his schedule took priority over her plans for the day. She stared at his message, trying to decide the best way to handle the situation. If she let him get away with such behaviour now, she would have no hope of managing him in the future. She gave herself five minutes to calm down before striding determinedly to his cubicle.

  ‘Alan, you can’t keep cancelling our meeting. This is my second week and I still haven’t reviewed credit.’

  ‘You obviously don’t know that I manage my own area and report directly to Harry,’ he said, not moving his eyes from his screen, his tone blatantly patronising.

  ‘That’s odd. On the organisation chart that Harry gave me, you report to the finance manager, not the finance director,’ she said, giving him a cold stare.

  ‘That’s just on paper … it doesn’t reflect the way things really work,’ he answered, his voice loaded with hostility.

  ‘Well then, I’ll clarify the situation with Harry, just in case there has been a misunderstanding.’

  She felt several pairs of curious eyes watch her as she walked away. She resisted the temptation to go straight to Harry. She wanted Alan and the others to think she had more important things to attend to.

  She finally caught up with Harry after lunch.

  ‘Of course he reports to you. He reported to your predecessor as well. He never seemed to have a problem with that. Maybe he doesn’t like having a female boss,’ he said with a small smile.

  ‘That must be it,’ she smiled back.

  ‘Do you want me to intervene?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll have to get used to dealing with him.’

  ‘All of the senior managers are back on board,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘I want you to come round and meet them before you go home today.’

  ‘Okay,’ she nodded.

  Alan was going somewhere when she got to his desk. She stood firmly in the way of his exit, raising her voice so the others could hear.

  ‘I’ve talked to Harry and he has confirmed that you do indeed report to me. So, let’s have the review first thing on Friday. That should give you enough time to get some information together. I want to see a list of the top twenty accounts over ninety days, details of what the issues are and who has been assigned to fix them.’ Without giving him time to reply, she swung around and returned to her office. Her hands were trembling. It was only her second week, very early to have a confrontation with one of her staff.

  There was a man she didn’t recognise waiting outside her office.

  ‘Claire?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Hello, I’m David Di Gregario, human resources manager.’

  David looked to be in his early forties. His brown hair was cut in a short back and sides, and he had an open, friendly face.

  ‘Hello.’ She offered him her hand.

  ‘I missed you when you started last week. I was in Asia with some of the other managers. How was your first week?’

  ‘It’s been my second one that’s proving the problem,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Alan,’ he said, giving her a supportive smile in return. ‘I think you handled the situation well.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll regard it as a learning experience.’

  He took a seat in her office. ‘Harry said I should see you about these headcount reports. The staff numbers don’t look right to me.’ He frowned as he looked at the reports in his hand.

  ‘Okay. I’ll have a chat with Stacey to see how she extracted them. We should be able to sort out what’s wrong pretty quick.’

  ‘Great,’ he said, handing her a printed document. ‘Now, I also wanted to give you this to sign. It’s a confidentiality declaration. It’s a standard document that all new employees sign.’

  ‘I had to sign one of these a few years ago when I started in Dublin. You know, Finance and Sales were regarded as the two groups that had access to the most confidential, and potentially dangerous, information.’

  ‘We’re considering the possibility of asking staff to sign fresh declarations on an annual basis to remind them of the importance of confidentiality,’ David said as she scribbled her signature on the page.

  He left after a few more minutes of idle chat.

  The rest of the afternoon went by quickly enough and Claire locked up her office before going over to Harry’s.

  ‘Time for you to meet the heavy-hitters,’ he joked when she got there.

  She followed Harry into the office next to his own. The nameplate declared the occupant to be Steve Ryan, General Manager. The plush navy carpet and large teak desk were impressive against the backdrop of the city view. Steve looked haggard and grey in the colour-rich room. He shook Claire’s hand briskly.

  ‘Good to have you on board, Claire. We’ve been without a finance manager for longer than Harry and I would have liked.’ His face was serious and unsmiling. ‘I was about to treat myself to a drink after a hard day. Would you both care to join me?’

  He opened a plain teak door to reveal a well-stocked drinks cabinet and small refrigerator. He took out three crystal glasses without waiting for their consent. Claire didn’t want a drink but didn’t know how to say that as he poured a casual measure of bourbon into each glass before adding some ice cubes. His movements were smooth and efficient; he was obviously used to the routine of fixing drinks in his office. He handed the glasses to them and they had an undefined toast. He took a generous drink from his glass before setting it down by his phone so he could dial a number.

  ‘Samantha, tell Frank and Brian we’re having drinks in here if they want to join us.’

  They came within minutes, their eyes immediately questioning her presence.

  ‘Claire, this is Frank Williams, sales and marketing director,’ Steve said, stepping back to make the introductions. ‘And this is Brian Brooker, services director.’

  Frank was large, he towered over the others. His height helped disguise the weight he carried. He was obviously a man used to eating and drinking well. He nodded in her direction before going to the cabinet to fix two extra drinks. Brian Brooker was of a smaller and slighter build, his face a rounded boyish shape but with deep age and laughter lines.

  ‘Very pleased to meet you,’ he said, thrusting out his hand. ‘I’ve heard really good things about the services organisation in Amtech Ireland. Were you involved with that group when you worked there?’

  ‘Yes, I did all the project accounting,’ she answered as she sipped the bourbon cautiously. ‘Our projects weren’t very big, though. Largest one we ever had was a prime contract for a local council. It was about two million Irish pounds.’

  ‘That’s very interesting – we’ve just signed up a project that sounds quite similar,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘It’s quite a complex deal – I’d like to meet up with you to go through it as soon as you’re settled in.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said with a smile.

  Frank Williams joined them, handing Brian his drink.

  ‘Of course, something has to be done about the sales commission that our reps earn for those projects,’ he said, his black eyes assessing her. ‘At the moment it’s calculated on margin. All the other IT companies in the industry pay commission on revenue.’

  ‘That can’t be changed,’ Claire answered honestly. ‘Hum
an Resources in San Jose set the commission plans and the same rules apply worldwide. You must admit that it doesn’t make sense to pay commission if a project is losing money.’

  He didn’t seem to like her answer, his eyes narrowing to black slits in his olive face. He terminated the conversation by turning abruptly to speak to Steve Ryan.

  Brian Brooker looked as if he was trying to disguise a smile by sipping his drink. ‘Don’t take Frank to heart,’ he murmured. ‘He gets upset when he can’t manipulate people. So, where are you staying in Sydney, Claire?’

  ‘Bondi,’ she answered, embarrassed by Frank’s behaviour. She hoped that Harry and Steve hadn’t noticed.

  She liked Brian and she stayed for a while chatting to him. When she finally escaped into the fresh evening air, she felt flushed from the bourbon. It had gone straight to her head and it took her a few seconds to remember the direction of the train station.

  Claire’s next meeting with Frank Williams didn’t go any better than her first. Later in the week, when she was signing a big stack of sales orders, she came across a problem. Though it related to Frank, she phoned Alan Harris first because he should have seen and dealt with the problem even before it got as far as her desk.

  ‘Alan, can I see you for a minute?’

  ‘OK.’

  She watched him from her office as he continued to type for a few moments before rising from his seat, making a pathetic attempt to tuck his errant shirt into his trousers.

  ‘There’s a letter to this customer from Frank Williams offering ninety days’ credit. Were you aware of it?’ she asked, handing him the letter.

  ‘Yeah, I am. What’s the problem?’ he answered, glancing at the incriminating document but not taking it from her outstretched hand.

  ‘The problem is that neither you nor Frank have the authority to make such an offer,’ she informed him, annoyed that she had to spell out the obvious departure from policy. ‘It needs to be cleared by the treasury department in the US.’

  ‘I really don’t know what you’re fussing about. The customer is a low risk. There’s no issue.’ His tone was insolent.

  ‘Alan, you know very well that anything over ninety days needs corporate approval,’ she said, making an effort to keep her voice level. ‘It doesn’t matter how safe the customer is, you still have to document your case.’

  ‘Well, you’d better tell Frank then. He won’t be pleased,’ he said smugly.

  Claire dialled Frank’s extension. She told him a problem had come up and asked him to come around to her office.

  ‘What’s all the drama about?’ Frank asked when he arrived a few minutes later.

  ‘This letter. I can’t authorise shipment to the customer until treasury clears the terms,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘You can’t be serious. The customer needs the shipment urgently.’ Frank’s voice was raised with instant aggression.

  ‘Sorry, but you both know the rules. You shouldn’t have made the commitment without getting the proper approvals,’ she stated, trying not to waver under his wrath.

  ‘That’s the problem with people like you!’ Frank’s face was an intimidating few inches from hers. ‘You waste my time on red tape. You hinder the sale process rather than help it!’

  He slammed the door viciously in his wake, leaving her to deal with a smirking Alan.

  ‘You should have known better,’ she said harshly. ‘Don’t ever let something like that through again.’

  Alan backed down in the face of her anger. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, though he didn’t sound as if he really meant it.

  When he’d gone back to his desk, Claire took a few deep breaths and wondered what she had taken on with this job. Alan was obviously going to need to be closely managed to keep in line. All of the senior managers, Frank and Brian and Steve and David, had twenty to thirty years experience on her and she would need to be as tough as them if she was to earn their respect. Yes, she had Harry to fall back on. But she wanted to show him, to show all of them, that she could play at their level.

  Chapter 7

  The weeks and months blurred together: busy days at work, walks on the beach, and smoky barbecues on the balcony. Claire had been in Sydney two months. The city felt familiar by now, almost like home. She missed her family, and Susan, but only a little. She was becoming more and more confident with her job. Emma was onside and was now quite friendly. Alan Harris was under control. The job was fulfilling and challenging and added to her overall happiness.

  Then Den moved out. He’d met another girl, Jackie. Fiona pretended not to care, but Claire could tell that she was upset.

  Claire was more than happy to discard the draughty sunroom for Den’s bedroom. He had barely closed the door behind him when she ran in to inspect it. The walls were a shabby magnolia, the floorboards dull and aching for some varnish.

  ‘It’s a bit grotty,’ she said, ‘but all it needs is a good lick of paint.’ She checked her watch. ‘If we went to the mall right now, I’d be able to get it finished today.’

  ‘I’m not really in the mood for shopping – particularly not for paint!’ Fiona protested.

  ‘It’ll do you good … keep busy … it’s the best cure for a broken heart … and I should know.’

  For a moment Fiona looked as if she was going to dispute the broken heart bit but she let it go.

  It took only an hour to choose a soft lilac paint, a colour that Den would have hated. Claire also bought a patterned rug for the floor, some new bed linen and a bedside lamp. She would have liked to get a few more things but didn’t want to test Fiona’s patience.

  ‘If you think I’m going to help you paint, you’re sadly mistaken,’ Fiona said grumpily, as she flopped down on the couch when they got back.

  ‘You don’t need to worry yourself, I know what I’m doing. It’ll only take an hour or two.’

  Claire put on the radio, turned the volume up high, and began with gusto. Two hours later she came out, defeated. Fiona was sitting in the same spot.

  ‘I haven’t even got halfway through. My neck is killing me and I swear to God I’m high from the smell,’ she complained, joining Fiona on the couch.

  ‘See, it’s not as easy as it looks. And this is the weekend – we’re meant to be relaxing not working,’ Fiona said unsympathetically.

  ‘What do you mean “working”?’ Claire was indignant. ‘You’ve been sitting on your fat bum all day. I’d be finished by now if you had helped me!’

  ‘I would have helped only I’m very … fragile at the moment.’

  Claire made a sad face. ‘Because of Den …’

  Fiona nodded, tears smarting in her eyes. ‘I know I have no right to mind about him and Jackie. We finished a long time ago. But it was a big mistake not to make a clean break. It was comfortable to sleep with him on nights where neither of us had someone else … I just got used to him always being there … now I feel so lonely without him …’

  ‘Poor Fi …’ Claire gave her a clumsy hug.

  Fiona pushed her away. ‘You smell of paint.’

  ‘So much for trying to help!’

  ‘If you want to help, you can go out and get drunk with me tonight.’

  ‘Here.’ Claire handed Fiona her drink. ‘This should make you feel better.’

  The bar was packed. It was difficult to find even standing space.

  Fiona threw back her drink. ‘What does Den see in this Jackie that he doesn’t see in me?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’re gorgeous and smart and witty. He can’t possibly do better.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ Fiona giggled, ‘you’re making me want to gag.’

  ‘Claire?’ She felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around.

  ‘James,’ she said with a surprised smile.

  James looked every bit the surfer, with his streaked hair, Rip Curl T-shirt and faded jeans. Claire saw a spark of interest in Fiona’s eyes.

  ‘Hey, this is my mate, Paul. Paul, this is Claire, my Irish boss.’
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br />   Paul’s blue eyes stared at her, magnified by silver-framed glasses that made him look charmingly studious. His fair hair had a slight curl and he had a rather cute smile. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you from James.’

  ‘Good things, I’m sure,’ Claire laughed.

  ‘What are you girls up to tonight?’ James asked, looking from Claire to Fiona.

  ‘Drowning our sorrows in copious amounts of alcohol,’ Fiona replied.

  ‘Do you mind if we keep you company?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Fiona found a seat and settled down to entertain James and Paul with slightly exaggerated stories of life in Ireland.

  ‘My sister is married for a year now and my mother said to her last week that she hoped she wasn’t using any pills to interfere with the course of nature. My sister was about to state, very indignantly, that she didn’t take drugs when she realised my mother was talking about contraception!’

  They all laughed and Claire took the opportunity to steal a look at Paul. He was already looking her way. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

  It was the early hours of the morning when they left the pub.

  ‘Do you girls want to kick on to a club?’ James asked, his hand lightly touching Fiona’s waist

  ‘Not me, I’m too tired,’ Claire said, ‘but you guys go ahead.’

  ‘I’ve an idea. Why don’t you come back to our place for a nightcap?’ Fiona suggested, her words a little slurred.

  By the time they got a taxi and let themselves into the unit, Fiona was more subdued. Claire assumed the role of barmaid. When she came back with the drinks, Fiona was asleep on James’s shoulder. Paul was looking through their CDs.

  ‘Thanks.’ He took his beer from her laden hands. ‘Do you mind if I go out to your balcony for some air?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll join you in a minute.’

  James took a beer and seemed quite content to stay on the couch with the sleeping beauty.

  Paul was leaning on the railing when she came outside. She stood next to him.