White Collar Blues

by Mel Walker

  Leslie trailed him through the doorway leading to the adjacent room. It was about half the size of the main room and had a completely different vibe. In the corner were a table tennis table, a long couch, a few circular tables with chairs, a small fridge, a water cooler and a few coffee machines set up on a counter.

  Peter stepped to the counter, reached into the cabinet and pulled down two ceramic coffee mugs with the My Workspace logo on them. “With the monthly fee, each contractor has access to this break room. Free beverages, I’m debating about adding snacks, but these millennials are so picky and weird. Gluten free this, Vegan not vegetarian this, what the hell is the difference. Paleo, what the hell is that anyway? I can’t keep up, and I don’t want to eat into my already slim profit margin. However, I don’t want them leaving for meals either. What to do?”

  He handed her the cup of coffee and began to pour himself one. She wrapped both hands around the mug and lifted it to her lips. She inhaled, the bitter aroma attempted to warn her as she took a small sip. As the liquid hit her tongue, she nearly gagged. She pulled the cup down and set it on the counter.

  “Pete?” she began.

  He placed the pot down, not witnessing her reaction.

  “You remember when you said leave it to the experts?”

  He nodded, confusion spread across his face as he lifted the cup to his lips.

  She reached out and tapped him on the forearm and shook her head from side to side. “Let’s cross the street to Max’s Diner and let the experts handle the coffee making.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “Bad would be an upgrade.”

  He lowered his chin, a look of embarrassment spread across his face.

  “I know I should console you and tell it’s not that bad, but I don’t want to be responsible when your first dozen customers ask for a refund, or worse.”

  “Ouch. Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”

  She giggled as she led him out of the break room. “If we’re going to work together, you’re going to have to get used to me speaking my mind.”

  “Starting with the coffee?”

  “After that coffee you owe me. Maybe we can set up a consignment with Max. Have her supply your coffee and treats. She’s already figured out all that Gluten stuff already.”

  Peter bounced as his face lit up. “That’s brilliant. She could send across fresh baked good a couple of times a day. Wow, that would work so well. Everyone already loves Max’s pastries; I could add her logo here in the breakroom. This will work. I don’t just owe you coffee, hell I’ll spring for a muffin or two for you.”

  “Ok,” Leslie thought of the cinnamon pancakes Justin failed to make for her, “sure.”

  “I’ve already discussed with her about adding a few smart desks into the diner. You know about those lunch meetings. I’m sure we can convince her to go for an OLED frame or two.” He added with thoughts of expansion on his mind.

  “I’ll let you propose it to Max,” Peter continued.

  "Your business, your idea. I was just brainstorming."

  "How's this then," Peter held the door open as she stepped out onto Springfield, "how about we offer it up as a joint proposal. The smart frames and the smart desks go hand in hand. After all, we will be a team shortly, we might as well let it be known that we are together."

  Leslie paused as she noticed a quick smirk flash across Peter's face as he uttered the last words. She couldn’t let it go unanswered. "Together? As in business partnership?"

  It was Peter's turn to pause as a snicker escaped his lips, "Of course, what other kind could I have been possibly hinting at?"

  Leslie ignored the question as she navigated the traffic on Springfield. She wanted to enjoy the sale, the moment, but most of all she wanted to dive into a stack of satisfying pancakes.

  The stress and exhaustion of the day slowly seeped into the bones of Justin Grant as he pulled his Hybrid Toyota Camry next to his wife's sporty two-seater.

  Seeing her car brought the first sense of joy since the morning breakfast club had been disturbed. Joy, because of how much his wife loved the car, a reward for driving the family SUV for so many years. Happiness, also, because it meant she was home.

  Justin couldn’t wait to discuss with her the gyrations at General Modifications. As a twenty-nine year survivor, Justin had seen all types of changes.

  The small family focused company had grown to the multi-national mega-corporation that it is today. However, what set General Modifications apart from other competitors as well as most other companies its size had been its treatment of its people. The company had some of the best benefits in the industry, a consistent top ranking from Working Mother's Magazine, as well as a focus on the family which was reciprocated by some of the most loyal and longest tenured employees of any corporation in America.

  A troubling tremor deep in Justin's gut warned him that the changes hinted at today would be much more drastic than anything he and General Modifications had ever experienced.

  He hadn't revealed any of the machinations of the office to her all day, wanting to work it through with her in person. He had discovered early in their courtship that her perspective, calmness, and ability to spin gold out of any situation balanced his over analytical and ultra-conservative approach. It had been some time since he had to seek her counsel and he missed it.

  As he turned the key to the house, he was greeted by darkness. The house was stone quiet. Justin climbed the steps two at a time listening for any sound. The empty bedroom greeted him with Leslie's power black two-piece suit laid out across the bed, her briefcase on the floor. He tried to hide his disappointment as the outfit indicated yet another evening event away from the house.

  Adjusting his ear expecting the sound of the shower he was instead greeted by the faint sound of music. It was coming from downstairs in the workshop.

  "Of course," he whispered as he performed a three sixty and bounced down the steps. Justin stepped through the kitchen and headed toward the basement workshop attached to the garage. There she was.

  Leslie sat on a workbench bouncing her head up and down, humming to a tune. Justin recognized the medley to I Knew You Were Trouble.

  Justin paused to enjoy the show. Taylor Swift was one of her favorite artists, which meant, she was one of his favorites.

  Justin ogled her from behind. Her favorite American Red Cross baseball cap sat backward on her head blocking his view of her delicate neck. One of about a million things which he loved about her. He tilted his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of her strong cheekbone, another favorite of his. She was beautiful from every angle.

  If someone held a gun to his head, Justin would not be able to name his favorite thing about her. Standing five seven she was the perfect height to his six-foot frame. She wore her favorite shorts from the local gym. Her long, lean athletic legs the antidote to make him forget the the ridiculousness of the office. The elastic band of goggles, however, blocked most of his view. The large frames protecting those precious eyes as she worked the miter saw on yet another picture frame.

  Justin didn’t want to break her concentration as he glanced around the workshop. The space was huge; its original footprint was for a two car garage. They had converted the garage into the workshop early in the marriage, a place where they both were able to express their expansive creative sides.

  One wall consisted of over six dozen original wood and metal picture frame designs. Shelves lined the walls from one end to the other. A host of cubby holes and inserts housed the various woodworking tools of the trade. A wood sign hung on the center wall, Leslie's Original Designs. The room consisted of two work tables, a desk and a few of the more significant tools. To the right were Justin's toys. An assortment of in process and semi-completed novel devices ranging from electronic to mechanical to artistic. Over the years Justin had dabbled in almost every field, his attention span ebbing and flowing with his intricate mind.

  Justin stood in the doorway for a fe
w minutes just taking in the scene. His beautiful wife of twenty-five years continued to bop her head oblivious to his presence. Wood chips flew in every direction as her delicate gloved hands directed the thin wood around the blade as she created art out of thin air. Admiration filled his chest as she became quiet and focused and led the piece through an awkward angle. He held his breath as she finished, clicked off the blade and held up the frame like a trophy at the Oscars.

  Justin could no longer contain himself, he broke out in applause. "Bravo. Bravo. Speech, speech."

  Leslie turned and removed her goggles, her hazel eyes sparkling with joy. "Hey, dear didn't hear you come in. You are home early tonight."

  "Rumor had it that you were working on a special piece tonight, I had to race home to see you at work. You know it’s one of my favorite joys on this planet." Justin stepped toward her and kissed her on the lips.

  The comforting kiss already soothing his concerns.

  "Mmm, you always know what to say to a woman that looks like crap. I have wood chips in places you can only imagine." She winked at him and stood, their eyes level to level.

  Justin reached out and began to pick stray wood chips from her hair as she peeled off the gloves.

  She placed her warm hand on his chest. “You can leave them, I have to take a serious shower. I have to be at a Chamber function in an hour. I closed that deal this morning and am already working on another one. I hope you don't mind, there are leftovers in the fridge for dinner. Or you can order in."

  Justin tried once again to hide his disappointment as he bit down on his tongue. "Congrats on the deal. I knew you would get it. Did you get my note?”

  She nodded.

  “And my breakfast surprise?”

  She nodded once again as her eyes lowered and she placed the gloves in a drawer.

  “I came straight in as I was hoping we could have dinner together. We can celebrate and, I had a rather bizarre day in the office, and I could use your unique perspective.”

  Leslie paused as if she realized the importance of this statement. "Really? Sounds serious. I can call Sarah and see if she can cover for me. It may be difficult this late, just say the word, dear."

  Justin paused, the thought of sharing a meal with his wife appealing. He then thought about the sacrifices she had made over the years. “Word,” he said mimicking a millennial teenager.

  She leaned into him, laughing into his chest. “Please don’t do that in front of Jake. He already thinks we are the nerdiest parents on the planet.”

  Justin wrapped his arms around his wife. They both held the hug for a couple of heartbeats.

  She finally leaned back, their eyes connecting. Justin could not resist as he began to pick loose pieces of wood chips from her hair. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "It's ok dear, but thanks. Go to your event, just saying that you wouldn't have already helped. We can talk later."

  "You sure because you know I would. I’m looking forward to us both being at the same place at the same time for a meal."

  "Yeah, soon baby, go and conquer the world for the both of us."

  She leaned into him and kissed him on the lips again, "I love it when you say that. One more time."

  "Go and conquer the world."

  She kissed him quickly again, her eyes sparkling like a kid at Christmas.

  “Go and conquer …”

  This time her kiss interrupted his declaration. They held the kiss as her lips parted slightly, their tongues dancing with familiarity. "Thanks, love you." She kissed him and raced up the stairs.

  Justin watched the sexiest woman in his world disappear. He remained standing in the workshop. He stepped over toward the wood frame. The intricate details, the exquisite craftsmanship speaking to the skill level of a craftsman. The combination of beauty and functionality speaking to years of dedication, and focus. The playful pattern speaking to the joy of the creator. The frame represented everything he loved about his wife.

  As he held the frame toward his chest, he felt the coldness of the wood. The ambient warmth of its owner already fading away and only the coolness remained.

  Chapter Six

  The pop-up reminder on his laptop broke Justin’s concentration. He sat in his office his thoughts drifting back to the prior night.

  Leslie had arrived home from the Chamber of Commerce dinner well after ten o'clock. She was too tired, and it was much too late for Justin to discuss work with her so they drifted off to sleep and he rose early with a new perspective.

  He followed the advice he had provided all of his friends who had gone through downsizing exercises the last few years, concentrate on what you can actually control. With this on his mind, he stuck to his routine, waking early and exiting the house without disturbing his sleeping wife.

  Control.

  Justin pushed aside all distractions and dived right into what he could control. Before eight am he had reviewed all of overnight quality specification reports. He shot off an email to the quality inspector on two of the manufacturing lines with recommendations on the calibration of the equipment. They were performing within acceptable tolerance however his end over end analysis across time indicated a slow, steady decrease in efficiency. It would be another two months before they required adjustment. However, Justin knew by that point over a thousand products would have been shipped with a less than one hundred percent calibration.

  Once again not a quality and or compliance issue but something he could control. The last fifteen years as a Quality assurance specialist not one product under Justin's domain had ever been recalled due to error or quality, and he wasn't about to allow this now.

  His stomach grumbled as thoughts of blueberry scones crossed his mind. After the stress of the prior day, Justin had updated the usual breakfast order to include everyone's favorite, the scones, which were ordered only on special occasions.

  The pop-up reminder blinked yet again, it was time for the morning team meeting.

  As he entered the conference room, he was immediately descended upon by the morning group. Marcus was the first one to him, "did you hear?"

  Justin knew immediately that something significant brewed, as Violet, Krystal, and Chris were right behind him, their faces filled with a combination of confusion and anger.

  "No more breakfasts just came down from the mighty tower," Violet added.

  Justin looked past the group toward the empty credenza where food services usually set up the meals. "There must be a mix-up. I ordered scones." Justin said before realizing how ridiculous the statement sounded.

  Krystal waved a paper, "here you go, got the email this morning, the new food policy. No more ordering of breakfasts, or snacks. Lunch may be ordered only under special circumstances and must be pre-approved by your manager. All of this in the name of cost savings."

  "If they were interested in cost savings they would have investigated the food service vendor years ago. It's criminal that they charge eighty dollars for six bagels, a quart of orange juice and a mixed fruit sampler." Justin returned.

  Marcus took the paper from Krystal and scanned it. "Aha, see right here, these new food service rules do not apply to the twenty-fifth floor. Our leaders will continue to be fed."

  Krystal started to reach for the paper as if she missed something important but Justin intercepted her and shook his head indicating that Marcus was kidding.

  "Well, I for one can't work under these conditions. No food then no breakfast meeting." Chris stated.

  "Yeah, that'll show them. I can hear them crumbling upstairs right now."

  "Justin what will we do?" Krystal asked.

  "Nothing, we go back to work. Guys, it’s not the end of the world. We won't perish if we don't order breakfast. Here's a novel idea, we can grab our own breakfast like the majority of the company."

  "But not today, right, today we protest right?" Marcus added.

  "Yes Marcus, today we protest," Justin added.

  Marcus raised his hands in triumph, “I am Spa
rtacus.”

  Justin pulled Marcus’ arm down. “No. No Marcus we don’t protest. Do you think it’s wise to start a protest on Day one, seeing that each of us is meeting with our managers this morning?”

  "Yeah about that, Paul sent me an email, his meeting was moved up to 8:30 this morning. I guess we'll hear from him before we head off to ours. I wonder how it’s going?

  "I'm sure it’s nothing, you'll see. Paul's been here so long they are probably picking his brains for suggestions on how to proceed." Krystal added.

  "Yeah, that's it management actually asking for assistance from the people who know," Marcus added. "Yeah, that'll happen."

  The team smiled and nodded as the breakfast meeting without breakfast came to an early end. The group’s focus shifting to the meeting, the rhythm of the day already disturbed.

  Justin shifted his laptop under his arm and paced back toward his office. It was eight thirty-five, and his routine had been disturbed for the second day in the row.

  He felt anything but in Control.

  * *

  For the second time in two days, Justin shut his door indicating to the world that he wanted to be left alone. And for the second consecutive day, the world ignored his desire. This time there weren't any pleasantries expressed, no pretense of the protocol. A ramped up Paul O'Connor, all two hundred and sixty pounds stood with a red-flushed face and his eyes darting left to right.

  "Justin! Justin! Those bastards," he began before Justin could react.

  Justin pushed back from his desk, standing and rushed toward Paul. "Paul? What the hell happened?" He pointed toward the vacant chair across his desk. "Have a seat, you look like shit."

  Paul ignored the request as he paced around the room. "Those bastards. Those bastards." He shook his head from side to side, the need to vent apparent yet the words were not forthcoming.

  "Slow down Paul, tell me what happened." Justin leaned against the edge of his desk hoping it would slow Paul down.