Corporate America by Jack Dougherty

Author:Jack Dougherty [Dougherty, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty

“Would you take a look at this?” Judith said upon stepping into my office. I spun around and quickly switched off the train as she surveyed the room. “What a modern look you’ve gone for.” Ambling over to the walls, she scowled at the framed reproductions from Karl Benjamin, Frank Stella, John McLaughlin, and Lorser Feitelson. She requested permission to sit. I directed her towards the Eames lounge chair and matching ottoman near the window, but she installed herself instead at the tulip-shaped conference table, on one of my new Eero Saarinen chairs.

“Fortuitous you dropped by, because I need to talk to you,” I said. I had never imagined that one could remain suspended in a state of abject terror simply for having been invited on a fishing expedition. My strategy: I would simply recount the exchange between me and Cyril, stick to the facts, betray no enthusiasm to go, and dare her to disobey her CEO’s wishes.

“Well, I need to talk to you, too! Guess who I was just talking with about you?” She didn’t wait for me to guess. “Cyril.”

“Well, I just ran into him in the plant.”

“You don’t say.” She rose and slid shut the shoji screen. “Boy, have you made one heck of a positive impression on him. He has personally requested that we send you down to Alabama to do a big story on Frosty Crabtree for the Prock Post.”

“What’s Frosty Crabtree?”

“Not what, who — and don’t ever let Cyril hear you say that; Frosty has been a Prock family friend and business partner for sixty years.” Her VORTEX 4.0 chimed and she reviewed the message. “Speak of the devil.” She banged out a reply to Frosty and placed the apparatus on the table. “Frosty’s only the nation’s leading soy lecithin farmer. He’s got a huge farm down in Alabama and is expecting you this weekend.” Her voice dropped an octave. “This is a really critical assignment, Francis, because the purchasing department is preparing contracts for next year and a little flattery goes a long way in the negotiations process.”

I stuck my hand in my pocket. When I realized I had begun jangling coins, the way Ron used to, I laid my palms flat on my desk blotter. “He said this weekend?” I sat up straight in my chair. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I was just outside and saw Cyr —.”

“— Francis, this is about fulfilling the commitments we’ve made as a department to Cyril and SMEC.”

“It’s an article for the employee newsletter.” I could feel my voice quivering. “This can’t wait until Monday?”

Her view of me was partially obstructed by the George Kovacs pharmacy lamp positioned in the center of the table. A twinge of frustration revealed itself when she swatted at its arched arm, swinging the lamp ninety degrees in the opposite direction. “When Cyril generates an assignment, it is to be executed immediately.” She waved an index finger my way, like a loving English teacher who knew I knew full well what a dangling participle was.

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