by Gerri Hill
“Shall I bring it to you in Mr. Lawrence’s office?”
Jacqueline raised her eyebrows, then looked around. “Actually, I thought we could meet in here.”
Mrs. Willis grinned. “Excellent idea. I’ll call him.”
Jacqueline was admittedly snooping in the drawers of her father’s desk when John Lawrence walked in. She quickly closed the drawer she had been nosing into and rested her arms on the desk.
“Good morning, John. I hope you don’t mind meeting in here.”
“Of course not. It’ll be more private. I can’t remember the last time all of the managers have been here at once.” He sat down, placing a stack of folders on the desk. “I put together some information on the four managers,” he said. “I assumed you’d want to discuss them before you decided who to place in charge.”
Jacqueline took the folders, then leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. “Who would you place in charge, John?”
“Well, based on seniority, Ron Peterson.”
Jacqueline nodded. “Okay. If not based on seniority, who?”
“I’d probably still recommend Ron. He’s been with your father for over twenty years, long before Keys Industries was created. He would have the most experience, for one thing.”
“How do you think everyone else feels about it?”
“I think they probably all anticipate Ron getting the nod.”
Jacqueline leaned forward again. “Particleboard?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Particleboard plant. That’s his area?” If John was surprised that she knew this, he didn’t show it.
“Yes. At the beginning, there was only plywood and particle-board being produced, both in the same plant. Ron managed the plant while your father continued with his aspirations to build more. The demand was more than the one plant could produce, so your father built another plant, one specifically for particleboard, leaving the original for plywood.”
“So, all these years, he’s been in particleboard?”
John nodded. “Yes. As each new plant was operational, your father hired a new manager. Ron felt comfortable in particleboard. Obviously, he knew it well.”
“I understand each manager was responsible for setting the salary for their staff, from their assistants on down the line to the workers in the plants.”
“That’s correct.”
Jacqueline was about to mention Greg’s name when something told her not to. As she suspected, John Lawrence was all set to hand over the control of Keys Industries to Ron Peterson. And Jacqueline had no intention of ever letting that happen. So, let John be as surprised as everyone else when she named Greg.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” she said as she stood. It was only then that he stared at her, much like Greg had done. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, I did away with that silly dress code.”
He smiled slightly. “It was Madeline’s idea.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jacqueline waited patiently in the conference room for the managers and their assistants to file in. She sipped nervously from the water bottle Mrs. Willis supplied, then smiled gently at the other woman. Mrs. Willis was perched next to her, pad and pen ready to take notes as Jacqueline had instructed. She booted up her laptop, glad there was wireless network access.
She had not physically met everyone, but Greg had given her a password, allowing her to log onto the network. She had no restrictions, so she was able to get into everything, including personnel files. Some of the photos were obviously outdated, but she had no problem naming the faces that walked into the room now. She watched as Ron Peterson and his assistant, David Jimenez, walked in. She nodded slightly at Greg as he sat across the room from her.
She leaned over and whispered to Mrs. Willis. “Is everyone here?”
“There are only two from accounting. Were you expecting the whole staff?”
“No.” Jacqueline looked at John. When the attorney would have spoken, Jacqueline stood. “Thank you all for coming.” She looked around the room, meeting the curious stares from the others. “My name is Jacqueline Keys. As I’m sure you’ve all heard by now, upon my father’s death, I am now sole owner of Keys Industries.” A few people nodded, but the others simply stared without emotion.
She walked slowly behind the chairs, wondering how to begin this. Blurting out that Greg was in charge would hardly be appropriate. Easier, but not appropriate. No, she needed to prove a point.
“Obviously, I have no experience with a lumber company.” She nervously shoved her hands in her pockets. “And I’m told that my father made all of the decisions concerning the company. Therefore, we’re going to need—”
“Excuse me, Miss Keys. Allow me to perhaps save some time here. I’m Ron Peterson, senior manager.”
Jacqueline was pleased with herself for managing to keep the smile off her face, but it had been too easy. She nodded at him, silently giving him the floor.
“We’ve been discussing the situation among ourselves, and I’ve already met with John about this.”
Jacqueline glanced quickly at John Lawrence, wondering why he had not shared this with her.
“I’ve been with your father for over twenty years. Why, I remember you when you were barely a teenager,” he said with a chuckle. “I think we all feel that I’m the only one here qualified to take over the management of the company.”
“Is that right?” She paced again behind the chairs. “You’re over particleboard, is that correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. Have been since the beginning.”
“But you feel like you’re qualified to manage all the plants?”
“Well, obviously being here twenty years, you pick up some knowledge of them all.”
“I see. So, for example, if I ask you how many contracts we have pending for creosote posts, you’d know that?”
He looked at Mark Edwards. “Well, I’d have to check with Mark.”
“Greg? How many contracts are pending?”
“Two.”
“They are?”
“The regional phone headquarters in Dallas is taking bids for creosote poles, and we’ve put a bid in to Home Warehouse for posts to supply a six-state area.”
“Thank you.” She walked back to her chair and sat down. “Mrs. Willis tells me that my father was planning to bring a new plant into production. Mr. Peterson, you want to fill everyone in on it?”
He cleared his throat and glanced nervously at the others. “Well, Miss Keys, none of us were aware… we didn’t know of a new plant.”
“You mean he didn’t share this with you?”
“No.”
“You’ve been here twenty years, and you want to take over the management of the company, yet you know nothing of these future plans?”
“I’m sure, if only Mrs. Willis knew, then it must have been in the preliminary stages.”
“Greg, why don’t you share with everyone the idea that my father had for the new plant?”
“He wanted to produce cattle feed,” Greg said as laughter erupted around the table.
“Cattle feed? Come on, Greg. We’re a lumber company,” Peterson said. “I’m sure Nicolas wasn’t planning to diversify the company that much.”
“Well, Ron, we already sell to a company in Canada that makes cattle feed,” David Jimenez, his assistant, said.
“Sell what?”
“Sawdust. Woodchips,” Greg supplied.
Jacqueline was pleasantly surprised that David Jimenez not only knew they sold it, but was willing to contradict his boss.
“Since when do cows eat woodchips?” Peterson asked, again eliciting chuckles from those around him.
Greg and Jacqueline exchanged glances, and Jacqueline nodded.
“Ron, they make molasses out of it,” Greg said.
Jacqueline raised her hand. “Let’s table the cattle feed for a bit, shall we?” She stared at the monitor of her laptop, wondering which item to
bring up first. Might as well start with the most sensitive one.
“I’d like to talk about budgets. It’s my understanding that each plant is given an operating budget and each manager controls it. Right down to salaries. Is that correct?”
She looked up, seeing several nods, but little else.
“Mr. Peterson, since you have emerged as the spokesman for the group, explain to me how salaries are set.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there a sliding scale, based on seniority? Is there a merit system in place? I guess what I’m really asking is how are raises determined?”
“Well, there’s not really a sliding scale. Each shift has supervisors. In my area, I rely on my supervisors’ input to determine any raises. I assume the other areas are the same.”
“Particleboard, plywood, fiberboard, creosote and the sawmill. Five plants. Walter’s area, the sawmill, has the highest salaries. Particleboard, Mr. Peterson, has the lowest. When I say lowest, I’m not talking management, only your hourly shifts.” She pulled out one of Greg’s reports. “For example, Jesus Hernandez. He’s been with the company nearly ten years. He’s had exactly three raises in that time. Yet, in checking his personnel file, there are no complaints, and he’s never been written up for anything. In fact, in ten years, he’s missed only six days of work.” She locked glances with Ron Peterson. “Mr. Peterson, can you tell me why this employee is still making below ten dollars an hour?”
“No, not without checking his file, and checking with his shift supervisor. Maybe he’s just never been recommended for a raise.”
“You have another employee under you, Steven Yates. He’s been here four years. He’s had three raises. He’s also been promoted to day shift. I see in the file here that Mr. Hernandez has requested the day shift for the past five years, yet he still works nights. Can you explain that?”
“Again, Miss Keys, without speaking with the supervisors, I couldn’t say.”
“So, are you telling me that the supervisors set the salaries and not you?”
“No, of course not. I set the salaries.”
“David Jimenez, your assistant? Yo u also set his salary?”
“Of course.”
Jacqueline took a deep breath, then shrugged. “Perhaps this is not the place to bring this up, but since I have no management skills, what the hell.” She looked at John before continuing. “My problem here, Mr. Peterson, is that this company is very top heavy. You, for example, approach two hundred thousand, with your salary and perks. Whereas your assistant makes below forty.” She looked across the room. “Mr. Edwards, by comparison, makes half what you do. His assistant makes over fifty.”
“I’ve been with the company twenty years. Mark’s only been here ten or so.”
“Twelve, Mr. Peterson.” She pulled out another report. “I hope you don’t think I’m singling you out, Mr. Peterson—I’m just using you as an example—but I have a problem with your time.”
“My time?” Ron Peterson nervously loosened the tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
“You see, we’re able to monitor how long each employee is logged onto the network. That gives us an idea of who is working and, well, who is not. You average about ten hours… a week, Mr. Peterson. David averages nearly fifty. I also show that your e-mail is forwarded to David, which indicates to me, that, basically he’s doing your job.”
It was one of those moments that Jacqueline had heard of so often, but never experienced. She could have literally heard a pin drop.
“But we can discuss that later, Mr. Peterson, in private.”
“Wait just a minute here, lady. What makes you think you can come in here and speak to us like this?”
Jacqueline stared across the table. “Excuse me? Lady?” She stood slowly. “Mr. Peterson, in case you missed the beginning of this meeting, I own this company. I am your boss. I suggest you sit down… and shut up.”
Again, she looked around the room, surprised that no one noticed her shaking hands. She quickly shoved them into her pockets. “Anyone else like to voice an opinion before we continue?” The only ones who dared to meet her eyes were David Jimenez, Greg and her uncle. She saw a glimmer of respect in all three. “Very well.” She fingered the wireless mouse, quickly bringing up another screen. Her wish list, she’d called it last night. Perhaps too ambitious, but she’d toss it out there.
“I have some changes I would like implemented as soon as possible. Ms. Scott, I’d like you to set up some kind of a sliding pay scale, based on seniority. I’d like to have in place a yearly cost of living raise across the board. I’d also like some money set aside for merit raises. Merit raises will be the only thing determined by supervisors.” She looked over at the director of personnel. “Questions?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Good. Once this is in place, and we’ve agreed on it, I’d like to have salaries adjusted to reflect it. I’d also like to have someone take care of Jesus Hernandez, because, quite frankly, I’m appalled.”
“Of course.”
“I also want to adjust management salaries. There is no reason for one manager to be making twice as much as another, especially when we’re talking six figures.” She looked pointedly at Ron Peterson. “Some of you can expect to see a decrease.”
His palm slammed down on the table, startling those around him. “You can’t do this! John, tell her. I have a contract.”
“Mr. Peterson, my father has not signed a contract with you in six years, according to your personnel records.”
“You listen to me. You can’t come in here and do this. We’ll walk out. Then what’ll you have? This company will fold without us.”
This time, she allowed the smile to reach her face. “Mr. Peterson, Mr. Edwards, anyone else who feels like you can’t work for me,” she pointed at the door. “Please, now is your chance.”
Peterson stood up and looked at the others. “Well? Come on.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ron.”
He leaned forward. “Don’t you see? She can’t run this place without us.”
Jacqueline turned to Mrs. Willis. “Do we have security?” she whispered.
The older woman nodded.
“Mr. Peterson, sit down.”
“No! You can kiss my ass! I quit!”
Jacqueline let out her breath. Yes, it was just too easy.
“Very well.” She turned again to Mrs. Willis. “Please call security and have them escort Mr. Peterson from the premises. You may go with him to his office, in case he has some personal things to take.”
“I don’t need a goddamned escort.”
“Trust me, it is for the company’s benefit, not yours.” She dismissed him with a flick of her eyes. “Mr. Jimenez, I seem to have a manager’s position open. Interested?”
“You’ll be sorry,” Ron Peterson said loudly as tiny Mrs. Willis grasped his arm and led him from the room. “You have no one here that can run this company.”
When the door finally shut, she looked at the others, waiting until they all looked at her. “I detest dead weight. Ron Peterson collected a salary, but offered little to the company in return. No one here is indispensable,” she said, sparing a glance at John Lawrence. She looked again at her wish list, suddenly very tired. “I have some other things I’d like to see changed, but I’ll wait and discuss them with the new president.” She cleared her throat. “There is one change I want implemented immediately, so please pass it along. Ms. Scott, you’ll send an e-mail? I hate dress codes. Throw it out.”
Nervous laughter followed, and she grinned. “Guys? Lighten up. Nobody is getting fired.” She was rewarded with more relaxed smiles.
“Ms. Keys, if I may be so bold,” John Lawrence said. “But you mentioned a new president. We’ve never had an old president.”
“Well, president just seemed like the right word. We’ve got directors over personnel and accounting. We’ve got managers over the plants. I thought we needed a presiden
t over the whole bunch.” She stood. “And, speaking of that, I’ll let you get on with business.” She closed her laptop and stood. “Greg Kubiak is the new president of Keys Industries. If anyone has questions or concerns, I have an e-mail address now that Greg will share with you. Please give him your support.” She looked across the table at John. “Mr. Lawrence, may I have a word?”
Jacqueline carefully placed her laptop on her father’s desk, then turned to John Lawrence.
“Well?”
“Your father would be very proud the way you came in and took control.”
“John, why didn’t you tell me that you’d already discussed the leadership role with Ron Peterson?”
“I’m sorry. I just assumed from your earlier comments that you weren’t prepared to make decisions regarding the company.”
“When did you meet with Peterson?”
John shifted nervously, then stood behind one of the visitor’s chairs, grasping the back as if for support.
“Jacqueline, if you think I have some ulterior motive, I assure you, I do not. Ron Peterson spoke with me on the day of your father’s accident. He had no way of knowing about you. He was simply offering his services. I spoke with him again yesterday about this. I told him that I would recommend to you that he take over.”
“Why Peterson? Just because he’s been here twenty years?”
“Namely, yes.”
Jacqueline sat down, motioning for John to do the same. “Were you aware of the salary discrepancies, John?”
“I know the salaries of all the managers, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did my father set their salaries?”
“Initially, yes.”
Jacqueline leaned forward. “You’re not saying that they gave themselves raises based on their budgets, are you?”
“ To some extent, yes. Your father still had to approve them. It wasn’t like they were given free reign.”
“Were you also aware that Ron Peterson did very little actual work?”
“I knew that he put a lot of responsibility on David.”
“Yet David was never compensated financially.” Jacqueline rested her elbows on the desk, staring at John. “Ron Peterson threatened to resign because he thought I would never accept. He assumed you would make certain of that. Isn’t that right, John?”