“Wow, that’s eerie,” Kate’s said, stopping at the executive suite entrance. Set apart from other offices on the floor, the suite was out of the way and easy to ignore, especially once the furnishings were removed and the space was left dark. But with the lights on, it caught her interest and attention. “You don’t think…” she began, then stopped, turning to look at her workmates.
Jim Fisher chuckled and immediately strode confidently into the entryway of the suite, calling over his shoulder, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, Kate. You don’t really think the $90 million man has gotten homesick and felt the need to return to his former office for one last pensive visit, do you?” Kate chuckled, and along with Sylvia Carter followed Jim into the empty reception area of the suite. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in here before, have you?” Jim turned and asked.
“Oh yes,” Kate replied. “Several times. All memorable but none of them particularly enjoyable. Even the social visit when I was invited to come meet Jeffrey for the first time was awkward and sweaty.”
“Sweaty?” Jim turned to Kate with a huge grin on his face. “You don’t really mean sweaty, do you?”
“Not that kind of sweaty, you moron. I was referring to the first time I entered Jeffrey Elkins’ office and was formally introduced to him. When he shook my hand it was sweaty – his hand, I mean. His hand!” Kate’s lame explanation had accelerated Jim’s chuckles into a belly laugh.
“Kate, my dear, that wasn’t sweat,” Jim managed, gasping for air between fits of expelled laughter. “That was the antibacterial gel he squirted into his hands just before you walked in.” At that line, all three of them dissolved in a good laugh – something they hadn’t shared for quite a while.
The door leading into Jeffrey’s office was ajar, but the space beyond was dark. “Come on, let’s go,” Sylvia said after they recovered from the joke.
“What’s wrong? You’re not scared are you?” Jim smiled as he looked at Sylvia.
“Not scared, Fisher, just a little spooked. It’s sort of creepy in here with the furniture all gone and the blinds drawn. Let’s get out of here and find someplace comfy to meet.”
“Not until I get a peek into what was once the cerebral engine room of this place.” Jim moved toward the office door.
“Wait a sec, Jim,” Kate said. “I don’t know why but somehow this feels like we’re doing something wrong. I know that’s crazy, but I’m with Sylvia. Let’s save this adventure for another day.”
“Hey, no one said you had to join me. But I am definitely not leaving without a tour of the executive washroom. I may not get a second chance. They could deliver my walking papers any day now,” Jim continued, only half jokingly.
“Okay, okay, we’ll go with you, but we’re not staying,” Kate said in her best motherly tone.
“What’s wrong, Kate? Worried someone will catch us in here?”
“I suppose something like that,” she replied. Sylvia was looking more worried as she gripped her legal notepad close to her chest.
Pulling the door open wide and stepping confidently into what had been Jeffrey Elkins’ office, Jim raised his voice, “Don’t be such wusses, ladies. There’s nothing left here to fear,” and then Jim’s voice dissolved into another round of uncontrollable laughter.
“What the heck’s so darn funny?” Sylvia insisted, losing some of her hesitancy and taking a few steps toward the door.
“Just come see. There’re really no words to describe it.” That statement changed the two women’s caution to curiosity and they walked quickly into the dark office. “Take a look at that,” Jim pointed to a far corner of the otherwise empty room. “Can you believe it?” The three again lost their composure in a new round of giggles and snorts.
“I claim it,” Jim said when he finally managed to stop laughing. “It’s mine ’til I’m gone.”
“Tell me you’re not serious,” Kate responded. “Where will you put it?”
“In my office.”
“You can’t do that,” the two women replied simultaneously.
“Who’s going to stop me? The merger police?”
“Seriously, Jim,” Kate began.
“Don’t use that mother superior tone with me, Kate. With the run up to the holidays, we’re not expecting a visit from anyone in the Denver office until year-end when they show up with the next round of pink slips. You and I both know my name is probably on that list. So in the meantime I might as well work in luxury. Unless you want it, of course. Since you still outrank me post-merger I would defer to you if you want it,” Jim gave Kate a courtly bow.
“No I don’t want it,” Kate said taking a step back.
“There’s no room for that in your office, Fisher,” Sylvia noted, returning to practical matters.
“And how would you move it?” Kate joined in. “It’s got to weigh a ton.”
“I’ll find a way,” Jim said.
“You’re crazy, Jim. That thing won’t even fit thorough your office door.”
“Then I’ll just have to change offices again. There are plenty to choose from. There’s got to be one somewhere in our area that will accommodate this fine specimen.”
Just then a female voice called from out in the hallway, “Yoo hoo – anybody in there?” Kate recognized the voice. It was Jane Richards, one of the administrative assistants who no longer had a manager. Without anyone to provide her with work to do Jane spent a good part of every day wandering the building and getting into everyone else’s business.
“We’re in here Jane,” Kate called back. “Just doing a little HR tour of the offices. No reason for concern.” An important statement to make since Jane, without any other mission, was suspected of being the latest snitch, providing details of activities great and small back to Pratt-Miles management in Denver. “Come on, Jim. Let’s exit gracefully,” Kate whispered. “I’m not interested in providing Jane any new gossip.”
“I’m not leaving until I pee in the executive toilet,” Jim hissed back. At that Sylvia’s face turned pale and she started to back toward the door. Before Kate could respond, Jane appeared in the doorway.
“Well, look who it is,” she said in her affected lilt. “What brings you all in here?” Jane chattered, walking toward Jim, Kate and Sylvia. Then she pulled up short and both hands shot up to cover her mouth, which had suddenly dropped open as she pronounced, “Oh-my-word!” Jim stepped aside so Jane could get a better look at the focus of their attention.
“Like it?” Jim smiled at Jane. “It’s my new sofa. I’m already taking names to see who gets it when I’m gone. We’ll have a drawing or a raffle or something. It’ll be great. I might even make it a fundraiser. What do you think, Jane? Wanna get in on this?” The look on Jane’s face was too much for Kate to bear. She erupted in laughter, and was joined by Sylvia and Jim.
“You can’t be serous,” Jane gawked.
“Oh but I am. This is one serious piece of history. I think it needs a better home.”
“But it doesn’t belong to you,” Jane pointed out.
“I didn’t say it did. I just plan to use it just like my other office furniture until I leave.”
Jane looked surprised, “You know you’re leaving?”
“Jane. Get a grip. Most of us are leaving. That’s how this merger thing works. Now run along and make your call to Denver. Be sure to tell them it’s the yellow sofa from Jeffrey’s office with the Easton logo. Don’t leave out any details. And don’t incriminate Sylvia and Kate – they’re just innocent observers.” Jim stopped talking and folded his arms across his chest, giving Jane one of his best big fake smiles.
“Well, I….” Jane sputtered. Clearly Jim had left her at a loss for words. She blinked twice then backed out the door.
As they heard her walking swiftly away Jim called, “Bye Jane. Give the folks in Denver my love.”
The next morning, the yellow sofa had replaced the small round worktable and chairs in Jim’s office. It now sat directly under Jim’s favorite ne
w piece of office art: a three-by-five-foot framed poster of a horse clearly captioned “COW.” Jim had hung it on his wall the week after the merger closed. Whenever anyone asked him what it meant, he replied, “It’s a reminder. In the world of mergers and acquisitions, you can label it anything you want. Regardless of what someone chooses to call it – the thing is what it is. Don’t be fooled.”
Admiring the sofa, Jim was already gleefully anticipating the arrival of the Pratt-Miles human resources team from Denver later in the month. Janice Foss, the vice president, was a petite fifty-something platinum blonde with skinny legs who sported stiletto heels, short skirts, trendy jackets and chunky jewelry. Janice had made a lasting impression on former Easton employees the day the sale closed. Speaking to a group of employees who had not lost their jobs that day, she had responded to one employee’s “What’s going to happen to us next?” question with a terse, “Get over it. Enough of this Easton angst. Just get over it and move on.” That little speech was delivered an hour after the first forty Easton employees had been pink-slipped and told to clean out their desks and exit the building. Janice Foss had not made any friends that day in their offices – or since.
It didn’t take much effort for Jim to imagine Janice walking into his office and deliberately closing the door, her nail extensions clicking against the knob. Clutched in her other hand would be a manila envelope containing his termination paperwork. He knew exactly how the meeting would go. As a human resources rep, he had witnessed plenty of these meetings over the past few weeks. Though if all went according to plan, Janice’s meeting with Jim would be just a little different.
Janice was big on making a deliberate entrance and swift exit for these reduction-in-force tête-à-têtes. It was part of her routine. Jim was looking forward to inviting her to take a seat on the sofa – the only place to sit in his office – to deliver her little talk. When she was done with her “thanks for everything, we won’t be needing your services any longer” speech, he planned to be intently studying his paperwork as she attempted to stand up. It gave him great pleasure knowing that she would require his gentlemanly assistance to get out of the sofa and depart. He planned to make her ask for help. After all, she would have just told him she no longer needed his services.
A Merry Christmas…
When George Miles and the members of his executive team traveled to the former Easton headquarters for a black tie holiday party, it was only their second visit since the merger. That evening the celebration took full advantage of the many unique spaces in the former Easton headquarters building by selecting different venues for food tables, bars and entertainment throughout the two upper floors. George and his CFO, Howard Beck, strolled with their wives into the former boardroom. A chef was serving lobster delicacies and bits of prime rib on focaccia, but the small group was drawn to the windows and the reflection of the moon in the surface of the lake outside.
“Wow, that’s quite amazing,” George said, using the blood orange martini in his hand to point toward the view.
“Not half as amazing as this,” replied his wife, who was now facing the adjoining wall and staring at a large painting.
“Looks like your typical big corporate art to me,” Howard noted, after a quick glance at the large unframed canvas.
“Then you’d better look again. In fact,” she continued, stepping up to the piece and staring more closely at the signature in the lower corner, “you might want to think about getting an art appraiser out here sometime soon. If I’m not mistaken this is an original Jasper Johns from the ’60s or early ’70s.”
“Who’s Jasper Johns?” the CFO asked.
“George, darling,” Mrs. Miles smiled at her husband, “you really need to send your numbers guy here for a little art education.”
Howard’s wife cringed and gave her husband the “shut up and don’t say another word” look.
“Is it valuable?” Howard Beck’s voice broke slightly as he glanced from one female face to the other.
Andrea Miles looked at Howard Beck’s wife with a sympathetic grin and said, “I’ll send over my art history books when we get back to Denver.”
“Wait a minute,” Beth Beck said turning back at the CEO’s wife. “Does that mean those paintings we passed in the atrium that looked like pop art knock-offs might be the real thing?”
George Miles turned to his wife, the art history major, for some assistance. He knew who Jasper Johns was but he hadn’t noticed the paintings in the atrium. He had been busy greeting employees and admiring Sinclair’s architectural genius in his design of the building – a true 1960s gem that he and his company now owned.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” George responded.
“Well, George, lucky you,” Andrea Miles cooed. “A 1960s building by one of the world’s most famous architects, full of 1960s art by the likes of Peter Max, Jasper Johns and LeRoy Neiman. Let’s keep walking, we might find a Warhol in the executive powder room. Looks like it’s going to be an especially happy new year.”
As the group strolled back through the atrium, George Miles got a silly grin on his face that only his wife observed. Falling back a few paces from the Becks, she took his arm.
“What’s so funny Mr. Miles,” she enquired tilting her head in a way that made her eyes sparkle in the low party lighting.
“Oh nothing really,” George grinned even wider as Andrea squeezed his arm insistently for an honest answer. “It’s just that mergers are always such fun, finding out what goodies are in the bottom of the assets box.”
“You are a corporate geek,” Andrea whispered in his ear, making George blush and smile at the same time. “So what will you do with them if they’re originals?” she asked gently.
“Quietly auction them, of course. Why?”
“Oh,” Andrea responded flatly.
“But you can have your choice after the official appraisal report is done.”
“Oh George,” Andrea stopped and leaned over to kiss her husband on the cheek. “You’re too good to me.”
“Merry Christmas, darling.”
“Merry Christmas, George.”
…and a Happy New Year
The measure of a great company will be the way it builds great communities – not how much it saved by screwing its pensioners.
– Joe Trippi
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
In early December each year, a tidal wave of holiday cards began flooding Easton headquarters. The month after the merger was no different. Fast forward ahead one year, however, and the flood would be barely a trickle, demonstrating just how fickle business relationships really are when a corporate headquarters is transformed into a minor regional office.
For Kate Cooper in human resources, most of the cards came from vendors, consultants, industry peers, law firms, and accounting firms. Then there were always a handful of cards from the company’s retirees. You could easily pick them out from the rest. These cards looked nothing like the exquisite art-house, silver-edged, glossy photo greeting cards sent from corporations. By comparison the retiree cards were usually small and the paper cheap; but you could count on the enclosed handwritten notes to be sincerely rich in their sentiments and good wishes. They were from real people, not from corporations.
Among the holiday greetings from retirees that December – less than a month after the Pratt-Miles purchase of The Easton Company – was a dime store card printed in China with the following note written in shaky cursive blue ink:
The best Christmas gift I am given each year is my Company medical insurance. If there is ever anything I can do for the great people at The Easton Company – please let me know.
Kate fought back tears as she read those words, written by an 84-year-old former payroll clerk, knowing this would likely be the last year retirees would be receiving this “gift.”
In the News
May 8
Pratt-Miles Cuts Easton Retirees’ Health Benefits
WASHINGTON (
Corporate Wire) – Pratt-Miles Inc. (PMI), which bought The Easton Company last year, is eliminating retiree benefits for hundreds of former Easton employees. Pratt-Miles has sent letters to approximately 400 retirees and their surviving spouses advising them that their medical and life insurance benefits will end later this year. Pratt-Miles officials said the move was made to bring the benefits of the Easton retirees in line with those of Pratt-Miles retirees.
As it turned out, Jeffrey Elkins never made a recommendation to continue benefits for Easton retirees. He never talked to George Miles about a generation of employees who had stuck with The Easton Company to earn post-retirement health care benefits. In fact, no discussion ever occurred between Jeffrey Elkins and George Miles about Easton’s retirees or the company’s retiree benefits. Retiree advocacy was never on Jeffrey’s short list of issues once Pratt-Miles made their purchase offer.
When the merger proxy statement was released in late September, long-service Easton employees were displeased about its lack of information concerning the future of the retiree benefits package. At an employee meeting hosted by the Pratt-Miles transition team at Easton’s headquarters in October, the Q&A session quickly turned to that topic.
Active employees who had already worked enough years to be eligible for retirement wanted answers. They asked the Pratt-Miles human resources representative at the meeting if they should retire before the deal closed. The response was not reassuring. The Pratt-Miles meeting moderator actually read a prepared response from a piece of paper: “The new owner will provide benefits substantially similar, in aggregate, to benefits provided to similarly situated employees of Pratt-Miles.”
Pink Slips and Parting Gifts Page 20