White Collar Blues

by Mel Walker

  He completed his scan, realizing that at least for another day his thirty-minute presentation challenge was not forthcoming. As he passed the glum, unhappy faces of his colleagues, he stepped toward his office.

  Rather his shared office. An arrangement which Justin figured would take him another thirty years to get used to. His desk now faced a wall as he had to sit back to back to Everett Cooper the Third. As an act of rebellion rather than have to choose which of his knickknacks to pack away Justin had removed everything; every item down to his wedding photo and family portrait.

  His thought at the time was if they are going to treat us like interchangeable parts then I will not differentiate myself. His desk was impeccably clean, clear of clutter not a personal item in site. Gone were his cheat sheets for his fantasy teams, his clippings from Wired magazine. He had removed all of his "toys" as well. They were boxed up and taken home to his workshop.

  He plopped into his chair, thankful for the brief respite that at least Everett had the decency to arrive each morning just before nine. At least Justin still had peace at the start of his day; with the office door closed he could at least pretend for a little while that he still had an office, that he still mattered, a little.

  Within minutes Justin had disappeared into work. The overnight monitoring reports which even after all these years still fascinated him. Very few people realized that most quality issues, if not caught in the design phase, could be spotted if you closely monitored the production runs. A mechanical production line is built for efficiency and repetitive production of tools and equipment. Every item coming across the line should be the same as the one before. A deviation, even a slight one, meant something was off. It could be minor, related to the quality of the material, in which case the anomaly would disappear as quickly as it appeared. However, most issues were not like that. The deviation would grow, be steady or exist in a repeatable pattern. Only a careful and meticulous review would discover these items before it was too late.

  Most other Quality assurance engineers relied too much on weekly and monthly reports which extended the time of imbalance before an issue would be identified. Justin had been taught by the best, Simpson Bolle, that daily monitoring was critical.

  After reviewing the reports and making his notes, Justin smiled. As much as General Modification was a craw in his throat and they continually made his work environment difficult, no matter how much bureaucratic nonsense was placed in his path, at the end of the day, when Justin got to do real work he still loved his job. The nuts and bolts of design, build, implementation and monitoring even after all these years got his juices flowing.

  He let his mind race for a minute back to his early years in which he was on the line, working long hours, low pay, and never happier.

  "Someone's happy today,"

  Justin turned, his smile disappearing instantaneously.

  Everett.

  Justin wasn't sure if he would ever get used to him just entering his office without knocking. He ignored the comment as he acted to be lost in the email which he had just opened on the desktop.

  "I know why you're so happy today..." Everett continued obliviously.

  Justin realized he wasn't going to go the silent route, "why is that three?" he jabbed with his nickname. Over the last week, Everett had given up trying to have Justin say his name correctly, choosing to go the ignore route.

  "You are excited to see the young hot interns come through today."

  Justin rubbed his eye with the base of his palm, "oh god, is that today already?"

  "Yep. I don't know about this location, but we had just about every college-aged kid in the town applying. Seeing so many young beautiful .... minds, let’s just say inspiring."

  Justin was thankful that his chair faced away from Everett which spared him the lecherous look which he imagined was plastered on his face at that moment.

  "I'm still not sure why we are onboarding interns while we are losing colleagues like crazy,"

  "Because interns are practically free," Everett stated the obvious. "In any case don't be late. They're in the introduction session right now. Our group addresses them at ten thirty. I've got to run to a nine o'clock meeting with Barry."

  Justin didn’t turn as he heard Everett rustle through some papers and then exit the office.

  He checked his calendar; he had a ten o'clock status call and then the 10:30 session with the interns. He wrapped his knuckled on the desktop, cricked his neck side to side and prepared for an uninterrupted hour of work.

  His plan was destined to be derailed.

  So engrossed in his work that Justin didn't hear the knock at the door until the door began to open. He turned, and a smile instantly spread across his face. Standing tentatively in his doorway was the stunning Mrs. Stephanie Levins, Marcus' wife.

  "Oh my god Stephanie, what brings you to these parts?" Justin could barely contain his excitement. Over the years he and Marcus had discussed their home lives endlessly. The families had shared barbeques, dinners, and even an occasional weekend trip together. He considered Stephanie nearly family.

  "You know the usual. Marcus ran out this morning and left some important paper he was working on, said he needed it for some big presentation this afternoon."

  "Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around here. You are looking fantastic as usual." This brought a smile which seemed to make her relax. She stepped the rest of the way into the office, a folder in her hand.

  "Do you mind passing this to him, he wasn't in his office, probably in a meeting but he said not to leave it on the desk considering he's now in a shared office. Things certainly have changed."

  Justin could see the concern on her face as he stood, closed the door and directed her toward Everett's seat. As he returned to his chair, he adjusted the chair as she extended the folder. He took it and placed it on his desktop and returned to her.

  "Marcus has told me some of what is going on here, but I can tell he's holding back a lot. I guess he doesn't want me to worry." A quiet snicker escaped her lips as she looked down at the floor.

  "Marcus has nothing to worry about. He is an up and comer, besides they are targeting the older more expensive farts around here, myself included." Justin warmed to her, he like Marcus did not want her to worry.

  "Oh Justin, you're not that old, you didn't receive your AARP card yet did you?"

  They laughed, an inside joke as to when Justin received his AARP application several years ago and had a crisis of age. Marcus plastered his office with canes, walkers, Geritol and borrowed a Seeing Eye dog for a day.

  "Marcus respects you, Justin. I'm not sure what's going on but I know he's troubled." her tone was much more serious.

  Justin matched her tone, "just a lot of adjustments going on. We'll work it out, we always do."

  He expected an acknowledgment from her, but it didn't arrive, For the second time since her arrival she avoided his stare, "you don't understand Marcus. They are forcing him to do something he doesn't agree with but feels he doesn't have any options. He's only hinted at it, but I do know its related to whatever is going on with you guys."

  A sudden burst of electricity shot through Justin as he processed the information. "What exactly did he say?"

  She exhaled as her eyes floated up toward the ceiling, he caught a glimpse of a tear forming, "I’m not exactly sure. It didn't exactly make sense. He was on the computer, doing instant messaging with someone from the office, I thought it was initially you because he called out your name."

  "My name?"

  "Yeah, he yelled Why Justin."

  "What else?"

  "He continued to pound on the keyboard, and then I heard him mutter, these bastards are going to destroy everything, departments, families, friendships."

  Justin sat back in the chair. He was surprised that in all the frustration he had been feeling about his situation instantly turned to anger as it threatened Stephanie and Marcus. He felt terrible; he had been so focused on his position tha
t he hadn't considered the Marcus wasn't acting out of self-interest but self-perseverance. He knew before he could deal with that situation he had to address Stephanie's concern.

  He attempted to put on a brave face, "don't worry, I’ve said that and much worst at times. All you are hearing is the frustration which comes with corporate change. "

  The lifeline worked as he felt her relax, the sparkle in her eye returned, "for real?"

  "For real," he mimicked. "You don't think I would allow anything to happen to Marcus. Besides after me, he is the smartest person here. You have nothing to worry about."

  "Oh god, that is such good news Justin." she stood and gave him an embrace. "Thank you so much; I feel so much better." She glanced down at the folder, "and please get that folder to him before noon."

  "I promise."

  She stepped toward the door as she turned suddenly, "Oh and tell Leslie I’m mad at her."

  The sensation of concern returned instantly to Justin. Stephanie and Leslie had become close through the years. Had Leslie confided in Stephanie her relationship with Peter? Justin felt like a fool. If Stephanie knew, how long before Marcus would know, not very long, likely. This could get out of hand quickly.

  Stephanie's smile usually would disarm his concern however it didn't, "she's canceled lunch with me twice in the last two weeks. Are things going that well with her business?"

  Justin said the first thing that came to his mind, "apparently better than either of us ever thought." His shoulders relaxed as relief spread through his body, his pressure beginning to return to normal. He couldn’t continue to go on like this.

  As Stephanie departed, Justin took little solace in the reprieve. He may not be on the hot seat right now but Marcus was up to something, he could feel it in his bones.

  He stared at the folder on the desk, it mocking him for attention. The urge to open it powerful as he stared, "What have you gotten yourself into this time, my friend."

  ***

  Leslie's hand trembled as she slowly sipped the coffee, standing and hovering by the coffee table at the back of the catering hall. It was the monthly chamber of commerce meet and greet luncheon. She had debated attending but decided the least she could do was swing through. She arrived late, slipping into a rear table just as the Chamber president was wrapping up introductions.

  For the fifth time, she scanned the room with mixed feelings. This would be the first time she and Peter were in the same place since the incident. She took a deep breath, realizing she couldn’t even call it a kiss, instead, referring it to as an episode; a non-emotional, detached event that somehow occurred to her.

  Maybe she wasn’t ready. She forced herself to continue looking, coming up empty. A part of her was relieved. She realized for the first time that maybe Peter's absence might be due to the same concerns she felt.

  Though the chamber had proven instrumental for her frame business, it was vital to Peter. As a sole proprietor with a storefront, he was solely dependent upon the success of the company for his lifestyle and livelihood.

  "What no Peter today?" came the scratchy voice of Mrs. Pritchard, the wife of Jason Pritchard, owner of the town's dry cleaners and resident gossip.

  Leslie learned quickly how to handle Mrs. Pritchard, "why no, I thought he'd be with you. I know Jason was having all sorts of difficulty with the new computer system. I heard last week two people complaining that their tickets were mixed up with another customer's clothing. Took over twenty minutes in the store to get it straightened out. Peter had recommended one of his independents who specialized in computer systems to Jason. Hopefully, you guys have worked it out."

  Leslie knew precisely where to strike.

  "Oh my, that has been so blown out of the water. That must be that Sylvia Meyers spreading that nonsense. I was in the shop that day, it happened once, and it took less than three minutes to clear up. Is that where you heard it from?" She furred up her nose as if something unpleasant had somehow made it past that web of gray hairs which protected her nose.

  Leslie couldn't resist, "actually not from Sylvia but from multiple sources. And yes it was more than one incident. You sure that the new system is working ok?"

  "Baah," she dismissed like an ancient school teacher of an inquisitive student. "Let me go get to the bottom of this right away. I believe I saw Sylvia around here earlier, excuse me."

  As she waddled away, Leslie stifled a laugh.

  "Wow, I missed that smile."

  She didn't have to turn to recognize the voice, her back instantly stiffening and the smile quickly fading.

  "Peter. I didn't see you come in." Leslie could feel the strain in her voice.

  "Just arrived, got caught on a call." He was beaming. She wondered for a second if it was due to her but quickly pushed that thought out of her head.

  "You just missed Mrs. Pritchard, something tells me you will be getting a call from her husband shortly," the smile returned, this time effortlessly as she realized she had in fact missed Peter as well. Those blue-gray eyes locked in on her as if she was the most important person in the world. In a room full of people he made her feel as if they were alone.

  "That's why we are partners. Even when I’m not with you, you are looking out for me."

  "Always," escaped from her lips as she lifted up her cup to hide the blush forming. She all of a sudden felt sixteen once again.

  Peter's eyes twinkled as he leaned in toward her, whispering, "I love the sound of that," she was grateful that he eased back away from just as quickly. He fidgeted with his hands before speaking, “I know I shouldn’t say it, but hell you’re here now. Can we find a quiet spot I have some news."

  She hesitated.

  "Good news, come on." He paused finally recognizing her hesitation. "Just to the lobby, I don't believe there are any private places in this banquet hall."

  She felt silly for a second, "of course."

  She followed him out the hall, down the wide corridor buzzing with business people. She noticed the sign to the Union retirement luncheon down the hall as they passed the coat room, the bathrooms and finally turned back into the vast lobby. It was well lit, a sparkling chandelier in the center and enough mirrors to greet every visitor and allow them to do their last-minute inventory of themselves.

  Peter slipped his hand into hers, it caught her momentarily by surprise as her first thought was she couldn't remember the last time Justin, and she held hands. As she began to protest he gave her hand a gentle tug, "this way, there's a table over there, there's a seat just opened up."

  She found her feet following his. Just as he had said, a couple, a man and woman, were just rising from a two-seater, several feet from the entrance but still in one of the corridors. It didn't have the foot traffic in the main hall but was well lit and had a steady stream of people passing back and forth.

  He led her to the seat not releasing her hand until she had sat. "This is happening, are you ready?"

  He had the look of a kid on the last day of school, the final bell about to ring, and the start of summer vacation on the horizon.

  "Ready? Ready for what?" she attempted to decipher his rant. Regardless she found herself being caught up in his excitement. She placed her hand on her knees, her skirt riding up slightly above the knee. Her toes began to tap in anticipation.

  "I received a call from Java & Bread yesterday out of the blue."

  Leslie's toe stopped taping as her heart picked up the rhythm.

  He continued.

  "The team we met with at Max's?"

  She nodded.

  "They went back to headquarters in Indianapolis and gave a huge thumb up to our dinner meeting."

  Leslie took a deep breath. Peter's voice was racing almost as quickly as his hands were moving.

  "I told you they wanted to move quickly. I tried calling you, but that was when you had put me in time-out."

  Leslie found herself nodding, digesting what was occurring.

  "They want us to fly out to Indianapol
is and present to the CEO and the executive board. If all goes well, they are looking to go to contract within two weeks."

  "Two weeks?" Leslie heard herself say, her voice unrecognizable to even her.

  "Hold on; it gets worse. They want us out there tomorrow." He let it sit there for a second, allowing her time to digest it.

  “We weren’t connecting, and I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by, so I accepted the offer.”

  “For the both of us? Tomorrow?”

  Peter nodded, “I was hoping we’d clear this up and get back to business, but if not I was prepared to go without you. The presentation would suck without you, and they will probably toss me out on my ear, but I have to give it a try.”

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

  "Yes, the team stressed to the CEO the need to wrap us up quickly given the lead time necessary for the custom frames. They are talking custom designs. Each frame to be localized to the region, with all sorts of local stuff, landmarks, people's faces, you name it. I don't envy you - all I have to do is ramp up the production of desks. I can scale relatively easily."

  He leaned toward her, “I booked two plane tickets and two rooms at the hotel.”

  Her eyes sparkled as his smile grew.

  "So we have to go to them?” Leslie realized how silly the question was the minute it left her lips.

  “The presentation is first thing in the morning. We don’t have much time; I figured I'd come to this event hoping you’d be here. I’d love to have you join me, as a business partner.”

  Her smile confirmed it.

  Peter stood; he leaned forward and reached down, pulling her up by her hands. He held both of them as she stood, not releasing them. They stood mere inches from each other, Peter smiling and staring into her eyes, "breathe, breathe, I know it’s a lot."

  "What will I wear?" she surprised herself with the priority of her thoughts. Outfit – check; presentation – check; what equipment to pack – check. Low on the list was her concern on how Justin would take the news. Surprising even herself she realized there was one item which didn't make a list at all, the thought of not going.