``First, we have to survive the evaluations,'' Jennifer said.
But neither woman seriously expected a bad report. They were the office workhorses. They saw a rosy future at our 104 Elaine Viets company: Vicki would get promoted to division head. Jen- nifer would take Vicki's old job and her pink office, and Minnie would live happily ever after.
But Vicki couldn't resist trying to wreck their careers. She had the ultimate corporate power to destroy, and she was in love with it.
Vicki tried to ruin them both and signed her death warrant. Chapter 3
Evaluation week was a nerve-wracking time at our office. Raises and promotions depended on our supervisor's rat- ing. The right word or the wrong fork at lunch could mean another thousand a year in a pay envelope--or not.
There was another reason why the staff had nightmares during evaluation week: It was the only time our jobs were in jeopardy. A bad evaluation could start the process to get rid of the ``deadwood.''
Mr. Hammonds usually selected one person a year to be deadwood, and chopped without mercy. It kept the others on their toes.
The boys in my department knew they were prime tim- ber for cutting. They had their own survival plan for evalua- tion week. The boys. That's how I thought of them, anyway. What kind of grown men had first names that ended in y?
There were three boys.
Bobby had a prep-school accent, seersucker suits, and polka-dot bow ties. He looked down his long, bony nose at everyone. Those who failed Bobby's exacting standards for clothes, accent, or address were condemned as ``trailer trash.'' Poor Minnie flunked all three categories.
Bobby said he was a Stillman Rockefeller. Vicki was im- pressed by his pedigree. I wasn't. I knew how to find out things. I had Bobby's birth date and Social Security num- ber. A few phone calls, a trip to the microfilm archives, and I discovered that Bobby was born in a trailer park in Macon, Missouri. The closest he got to a Rockefeller was the spinach on his oysters.
I kept my mouth shut until Bobby ordered me to hand-
105 106 Elaine Viets address the envelopes for his next party, as if I were his social secretary. Then I whispered two words in his ear: ``Shady Oaks.''
That was the name of the natal trailer park. Bobby never again asked me to do anything that wasn't connected to his job, and I never said ``Shady Oaks'' at the office.
Jimmy, the second boy, was the office skirt-chaser and self-proclaimed expert on camping and canoeing. I thought he spent more time popping the tops on six-packs than paddling canoes.
Jimmy would swagger into the office sunburned and bug- bitten after one of his trips, and Vicki would listen wide- eyed to his tales of camping and cruising for women. Jim- my's conquests were mostly sad bottle blondes he picked up in country bars. He called them his ``sleeping bags.'' These women seemed to expect bad treatment from men, but they didn't stick around long enough to know for sure.
The boys and Vicki loved to gather 'round while Jimmy lied to his wife, Juliet. ``Yeah, honey,'' Jimmy would say, his voice all sticky-sweet. ``I've gotta stay late again tonight. I won't be home until after eight. No, don't worry about supper. Yes, I agree, honey. That Vicki is a regular slave driver.''
Jimmy would give Vicki a wink. She'd giggle. After he hung up the phone, that no-good would light out for the local no-tell motel.
Vicki carried on like he was the last of the red-hot lovers. It made me mad. I talked with Jimmy's wife when she called the office. She was always pleasant and polite. Juliet deserved better than him.
Jimmy was such an experienced rake, he kept a bar of Dial in his glove compartment, the same brand he used at home. He'd shower with it at the motel, so he didn't come home reeking of unfamiliar soap. He kept a fresh white shirt in his trunk, in case his own was smeared with another woman's lipstick. Worse, he bragged about his conquests.
Jimmy also had The Sensuous Woman by J to entertain
� his lady loves. That book was pretty risque for 1970. Jimmy would bring his copy to the office and read the naughty bits out loud to Vicki and the boys. Poor Minnie would blush. Vicki would get this mean little smile.
Jimmy was an unlikely lothario. He was short, pudgy, KILLER BLONDE 107 and freckled. But he knew how to make women laugh, and they'd overlook a lot for a few jokes. Jimmy hit on me one hot summer day when Vicki was at lunch. Jimmy's head didn't reach the top of my chest.
``I'm married, sport,'' I told the little weasel.
``Good. I like married women.'' It sounded like a line he used often.
``You got one at home,'' I said. ``Ever wonder why your wife swallows your stale 'Honey, I'm late' stories? Maybe she's having her own fun while you're banging the head- board at the no-tell motel. Juliet's indifference says it all, Romeo. If you were any good in bed, she'd be protecting her property.''
I said that for Juliet's sake. I didn't really think she was running around. Jimmy slunk off with his tail, or something, between his legs.
He never hit on me again.
The third one, Irish Johnny, had the face of a ruined choirboy. He was losing his hair and wore a hat to cover his bald spot, but he was handsome. Everyone loved Johnny. He was bone lazy, fond of the bottle, and had the backbone of a slug, but he made those faults endearing. He had the Irish gift of gab--and of betrayal.
People told Irish Johnny things they'd never tell anyone else, and he took them straight to Vicki. He fed her infor- mation about everyone in the office.
I kept my files locked. One day I found Irish Johnny trying the handles on my file cabinets.
``I was looking for the vacation schedule. What do you do with that key, darlin'?'' Irish Johnny said.
``I take it home with me, Johnny dear. There's a lot of information you wouldn't want out,'' I said. ``Including how much money was actually in the bowling-shirt fund you handled.''
Irish Johnny went dead white and never touched the file drawers again.
There were other men in the office, but the three boys dominated our department. They were Vicki's chief courtiers.
During the dangerous evaluation week, the boys' suits were freshly pressed, their ties were free of soup stains, their shirts a little whiter. They sat up straighter at their 108 Elaine Viets desks and stayed later. And they laughed louder at Vicki's jokes.
Vicki was the queen of our department during that week. The men treated her mildest whim as a command. Her desk was loaded with their bribes: slices of coffee cake, flowers, and chocolates with cherry-pink centers.
Everyone waited for the dreaded moment when Vicki said, ``I have your evaluation.'' She enjoyed that little fris- son of fright even the most secure felt when they heard those words.
Vicki had a pecking order, and the boys were at the top. She took most of the men in the department out for drinks or coffee when she gave them their evaluations. They'd be gone anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour.
The three boys got lunch.
On Monday, about eleven thirty, she said, ``I have your evaluation, Johnny.''
Irish Johnny's handsome choirboy face turned pale. Vicki smiled and showed pretty predator's teeth. He clapped his hat on his brown curls and followed her out the door, shoulders hunched, head down, like he expected a beating.
Three hours later they came back together. Irish Johnny was filled with boozy good cheer and prime rib from Har- per's, an old city steakhouse. He got a good review, better than he deserved.
I typed it up later, and my fingers twitched on the keys as I copied the undeserved praise for this goldbrick. I itched to change those sentences, but I couldn't. Vicki would read my work, then personally deliver it to Mr. Hammonds.
Vicki came back from every man's evaluation giggling and pink-cheeked, as if she'd been at an assignation. The men were always smiling.
By Friday, I knew all the men got good reviews, even the drones and drunks. Vicki, like many bosses in those days, considered alcoholism a manly vice--until the man started making embarrassing scenes. Then, like a cute puppy who'd grown into an
unruly dog, he was out on the street.
I got my evaluation on Friday morning. Vicki made me wait, but what she said was fair. More than fair. Vicki praised me to the skies, so I knew she was still afraid of me. My evaluation didn't come with giggles and prime rib, KILLER BLONDE 109 but I didn't want to spend any more time than I had to with Vicki.
There were no lunches, drinks, or even a soda from the company cafeteria for Jennifer and Minnie. Vicki made them endure a wretched weeklong wait. By three o'clock Friday, they still hadn't had their evaluations. Jennifer wasn't worried, but Minnie was a wreck.
I didn't know what comfort I could give her. From the way Vicki was prancing around the office, I was sure she was up to no good.
Vicki dropped Jennifer's and Minnie's evaluations on their desks at five o'clock Friday. Then she flounced out the door without a word. Vicki had typed them herself, and I could see the X's crossing out her mistakes. Too bad Vicki wasn't evaluated on her typing.
Jennifer read hers, then slammed it down on the desk and said, ``That miserable bitch. I'll get her if it's the last thing I do.''
I raised an eyebrow. Gentle Jennifer never talked like that.
Minnie read her evaluation and wept. ``It's not fair,'' she sobbed. Her sharp little nose was red and dripping. Her eyelids were pink and swollen. ``I've worked so hard. I don't know what else I can do to please her.''
``You can't do anything, Minnie,'' Jennifer said. ``Haven't you got that through your head yet?''
I'd never heard Jennifer speak so harshly to her friend. Minnie only cried harder, but for once, Jennifer didn't try to comfort her.
``Come on, ladies, you've had a horrible week,'' I said. We didn't use expressions like stressed-out then. ``Let me buy you a drink.''
``No, thanks,'' Jennifer said. ``I have work to do, Mar- gery. I think you understand.''
Jennifer had a fire in her brown eyes I'd never seen be- fore. She rummaged in her desk until she had a big pile of papers. Jennifer shoved them in her briefcase, along with her accursed evaluation, and marched out.
Minnie gathered up her fat black leather old-lady purse and put on a sad brown scarf. ``Thanks, Margery, but I just want to go home,'' she snuffled. Minnie's reaction wasn't healthy. I wished she had the same angry fire as Jennifer. 110 Elaine Viets
At eight thirty Monday morning, drab little Minnie was at her desk, slaving away in a hopeless effort to please Vicki.
At nine A.M., Jennifer walked into Vicki's office without knocking, a thick file under one arm. Her step was bold. Her long blond hair waved defiantly.
I was out of typing paper, which I kept in a cabinet near Vicki's office. While I rooted around for it, I could hear everything Jennifer said. Dear, sweet Jennifer had quite a mouth on her when she was riled. I liked the little blonde even better for that.
``What do you mean, giving me a poor evaluation, you incompetent twit?'' Jennifer's low voice cut like a knife.
Vicki made a gurgling sound. No one, not even me, spoke to her that way.
``Do you know how many times I've saved your bacon?'' Jennifer said. ``Obviously you need a reminder. So here's a complete list of your mistakes and my corrections.''
I heard the slap of that fat file hitting a desktop.
``Without my intervention, this company would have lost $67,457.16,'' Jennifer said. Now the other staff members were straining to hear, but only I could catch what she said.
Vicki was speechless. At least, I didn't hear her reply.
``Let's start with the Harrison project,'' Jennifer said. ``You forgot to add the shipping fees when you prepared an estimate--''
She proceeded to chronicle Vicki's mistakes for the next half hour. Jennifer was sweet, but that didn't mean she was stupid. She must have distrusted Vicki as much as I did, because she kept backup files. Jennifer had copies of Vicki's original orders and proposals, signed and dated, and then her own clever catches and corrections. She was one sharp little blonde.
``Now, you have your choice,'' Jennifer said, when she finished her staggering list of Vicki's errors. ``You can redo my evaluation, or I can take this file in to Mr. Hammonds. You have one hour to reconsider. If I don't have that re- vised evaluation on my desk by ten thirty, I'll have a talk with Mr. Hammonds. And it won't make any difference how much you coo at him. He's a hardheaded money man. When he sees this, you'll be out on your twitching pink tail.'' KILLER BLONDE 111
At ten twenty-five, Vicki called me and asked if I would summon Jennifer. I escorted Jennifer to the pink office, then hung around outside, in case the boss needed me.
``Here's your evaluation,'' Vicki told Jennifer.
That's all she said. Vicki had also typed this one, and it was full of slipped letters and misspellings. But she was dead on about Jennifer this time. That young woman got the praise she deserved.
Vicki decided to play it safe and revise Minnie's evalua- tion. It didn't give Minnie nearly the credit she deserved, but it raised her rating from a lousy F to a B-minus.
Minnie quit sniffling and actually smiled. ``I knew if I came in early today and Vicki saw me working hard, she would change her mind,'' she said. ``Hard work conquers all.''
It wasn't my place to set poor Minnie straight.
Jennifer spent the morning at her desk, typing furiously. I wandered over to check the coffee machine and saw what
� she was working on: a resume. �
My, my, I thought. Things will get interesting now. Jenni- fer will be snapped up fast by our competition, the Bradsco Corporation. Mr. Hammonds will want to know why this rising star was hired away.
On Wednesday, Jennifer called in and said she felt sick. She had a doctor's appointment and wouldn't be in until noon. I didn't believe her. Jennifer was healthy as a horse.
Thursday night, Jennifer stayed later than anyone, even Minnie. I forgot the Tupperware container I used for my lunch and went back for it. Those things smell to high heaven if you leave them unwashed overnight in this climate. I found the lights still on in our department. Jennifer was packing up the contents of her desk.
``Congratulations,'' I said. ``I hope the Bradsco Corpora- tion is paying you lots more money.''
Jennifer looked startled, but then she smiled sweetly. ``I should have known I couldn't fool you, Margery. I got them good, all of them.'' I didn't think she meant Bradsco.
Friday morning, Jennifer announced she was leaving.
``Don't bother with your two weeks' notice,'' Vicki said in her snippiest voice. ``The guard will escort you out now. Margery will pack up your things and send them to you.''
``Good-bye,'' Jennifer said. That's all she said. She was smart, that young woman. 112 Elaine Viets
Jennifer stopped by Minnie's desk. She was hunched over her calculator, a long strip of white paper and black numbers rolling down her desk.
``Minnie, please come with me to my new job,'' she said. ``You're too good to work for Vicki. I'll make sure you get the money and the appreciation you deserve. We'll make a terrific team.''
With her white dress and long pale hair, Jennifer looked like an angel pleading for Minnie's soul.
But Minnie wasn't the first--or the last--to refuse an angel's plea. ``Vicki's getting better, Jennifer,'' she said. ``Look how she changed her mind about my evaluation.''
Jennifer was too modest to take credit for Vicki's change of heart. Instead she said, ``Did Vicki give you the A-plus you deserve for your work?''
``No.'' Minnie's sharp nose turned a discouraged red, like a squashed plum. ``But nobody's perfect. I know that.''
``Minnie, why do you stay with that woman?'' Jennifer said.
``She needs me,'' Minnie said. ``You only like me.''
``What kind of answer is that?'' Jennifer said. ``You must like being abused. Vicki gives you nothing, yet you run after her, hoping she'll change for the better. She's never going to like you.''
Minnie stayed silent. She didn't know why she stayed with Vicki. Some people didn't believe they deserved good treatm
ent.
Jennifer sighed. ``I can't save you if you won't save your- self,'' she said sadly.
I waited until Jennifer was gone about an hour. Then I told Vicki that it appeared our former employee had already taken everything from her desk, including her Rolodex with hundreds of client names and addresses.
Vicki paled. ``Thank you, Margery. There's no need to tell anyone else. I'll take care of it.''
I bet. Mr. Hammonds would spit a brick if he found out.
Minnie was heartbroken when her friend left. She cried at her desk all day. I found her there, slurping lentil soup and crunching raw carrots. I ask you: Is that food? No won- der that woman didn't have the strength to put up a good fight.
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