Chapter 38/Page 3

The summit meeting was held in the executive dining room. In attendance: my Old New Boss, my New Old Boss, 4’s Boss, and me. Old New Boss’s department, for the life of them, couldn’t get the hang of ordering the correct elements they needed to service their international sales contracts. Tens of thousands of dollars were being wasted ordering the wrong thing for the wrong contract. New Old Boss, always the idea man, had come up with the solution, which he proudly announced: Since I had worked for Old New Boss and knew that side of the business as well as the post-production side, I would examine all purchase orders from Old New Boss’s department before they went to the labs, thus ensuring the correct item was being ordered.

Almost everybody in the meeting (let’s call it three out of four) agreed that it was the simplest solution. The idea really appealed to 4’s Boss, the power-hungry head of the Purchasing Department. He had already convinced the higher-ups that every purchase order in the company should be printed in his department and approved by him, whether he knew what he was approving or not. He practically came in his pants at the thought of even more of the business filtering through his oversight, more control.

“I have an idea how we can make this work,” he started, very thoughtfully, then looked at me. “Once we print the P.O.s upstairs, we’ll hand-deliver them for your immediate approval.”

“Um, that is supposing I’m actually in the office and not out at a lab.”

“We’ll coordinate.” He continued, undaunted. “Once you go through them, call up to my office and we’ll come get them right away. Or, in an emergency, if you wouldn’t mind, maybe you could run them back up yourself.” As if I had nothing else to do. He smiled at his own genius and scanned the others for their reaction. “Then I can give them my final approval.” Heads started nodding slowly. I may not understand all the nuances of corporate America, but this was lunacy.

“Or,” I piped up, “Once I approve them, I could pop them into the inter-office mail.”

“Oh, no,” he gasped. “I’ll need to sign them right away.”

“That’s right,” Old New Boss said, “I need instant turnaround.”

“No, the inter-office mail is much too slow,” New Old Boss chimed in. I turned to 4’s Boss and poured every ounce of sugar I had into my voice, turning on the biz-speak, the better to be heard.

“I apologize. There must have been a miscommunication on my part. In my vision of the synergistic coordination of this process, vis-à-vis the International Sales department and my department, once I approve the purchase orders, I would send them directly back to the person who originated the order.”

“But what about my approval?” He was aghast. “You’re skipping an entire step.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. “And in the process reducing the turnaround time. The faster we get the orders out the door, the faster money comes back in.” I aimed that one at Old New Boss, who was now nodding her head enthusiastically my way.

“But what about my approval?” 4’s Boss reiterated.

“Well,” I looked him in the eye, “Being that you and I are both ‘Directors,’ that puts us on the same level, corporate-wise.” He went pale. I turned to New Old Boss, a vice president and senior to everyone in the room. “Wouldn’t that satisfy the company’s approval requirements?” New Old Boss was nodding his head understandingly.

“It sounds like it would speed things up,” Old New Boss said.

“But the board insists that I approve every purchase order that goes out the door!” 4’s Boss’s voice was rising to a girlish pitch and his brow was dotted with tiny beads of sweat.

“True,” New Old Boss conceded. But...”

“It’s my ass on the line,” 4’s Boss squeaked.

“I understand the paradigm you’re basing this strategy on,” I reassured him, “but I was just taking a peak outside the box to see if there was a alternative that made sense in the eyes of the corporate functionality.”

“Well, there isn’t,” he squawked.

“It can’t hurt to have a second set of eyes have a look,” New Old Boss said. I addressed 4’s Boss, whose heart rate was slowly returning to normal.

“That’s true. I know I’ll feel better knowing that someone is there to make sure that when I approve an order for a PAL D-1 limited to +14, we really mean to order a PAL D-1 limited to +14 and not a SECAM Digi Beta, an IP, or a butt splicer.” 4’s Boss had no idea what I just said.

“Well,” he smiled nervously, “I’m sure you’ll catch everything. And you’re only a phone call away if I have any questions.”

“Of course,” I answered him but faced New Old Boss. “Explaining the film making process won’t add any significant time to the process.” New Old Boss’s expression did not indicate pleasure at my smart-assed remark.

“Great,” 4’s Boss said, the color now returned to his face. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to assign one of my girls to work hand in hand with you on this.”

The color left my face.

•••

“You’re shitting me.” Tall Straight Assistant was thoroughly amused when I told him about the new procedure. Tall Gay Assistant, recently added to my staff, gave me a look I can only describe as “icky” before wandering off to wherever it was he spent his days keeping me organized. TSA giggled like a schoolgirl as I frantically ransacked my desk drawers.

“Laugh it up, funny boy, this is going to get ugly. Where’s my fucking Alka-Seltzer?”

“You’re out.”

“How can I be out? I just bought that box four days ago.”

“How many are in a box?”

“Eight. Ten, maybe,” I said. He just raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve got to go find some.” I bolted to the men’s room and sat on the toilet, rocking back and forth with my head in my hands. The Stomach twisted itself into a thousand knots.

•••

The inevitability is what I hated the most. As she approached, I could feel every step of her high heels pounding in my psyche like jungle drums announcing a native onslaught. And me, the not-so great white hunter, with only a stick to defend myself. Doomed, I was.

“Hi there.” Her voice carried a sweetness I hadn’t heard in weeks when she walked in the office, all legs in her short blue dress, sauntering toward me. I can deal.

“Thanks. I’ll call you when they’re ready.” I kept my eyes on the papers she’d set in front of me.

“They want me to wait while you sign them.”

“You’re kidding.”

TSA was about to bust a gut. I sipped my Alka-Seltzer and focused my sleep-deprived Brain on the task at hand. The ulcerated mess that the Arms had become itched like mad, but I used the discomfort to sharpen my focus even more.

“Here.” I lifted the papers in her general direction without actually looking at her.

“Thanks.” She paused one beat. “See ya.” And she was gone. Tall Straight Assistant kept his mouth shut. Fire in the Stomach roared. I wheezed and downed the rest of the cold fizzy medicine.

“That wasn’t so bad.” TSA - always looking on the bright side.

“Yeah.” I belched loudly.

“She was... professional.”

“We’ll see how long that lasts.”

It lasted longer than I thought. Every day she arrived, purchase orders in hand, honey in her voice. Sometimes she was chattier than others, but never more than just cordial, which was fine by me. I approved the orders, making corrections as needed and handed them back with only courteous professional comments. She never lingered, but she was never rude. It was all just polite business.

“You know,” TSA said, “once things cool down you two might end up friends after all.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“You never know.”

“No,” I insisted, “I am not even going there.”

I meant it. I was not going to be sucked in by the slight curl of her upper lip inviting me into her smile that day. The next day I would not fall prey to the long gentle slope of her nose that would have looked much too large on another face, but perfectly supported those devastating blue eyes. And the day after that...

“Hey.” Her voice was all sing song. She meandered my way and got comfortable on my desk. Her long legs draped over the side, almost grazing the floor, her sweetly poisonous fragrance leaving a future memory of her presence. “Here you go.” She delicately rested the papers in front of me.

“You need these right now?”

“There’s no rush.”

Okay, why didn’t she just drop the papers and run? Why was she sitting on my desk in that relaxed, flirty posture? It made no sense for her to do that. But she did, for ten minutes. Ten minutes, she dangled her legs like she was dipping her toes in a cool stream on a sticky summer day buzzing with cicadas. Ten minutes, she made leisurely small talk and cracked charmingly lame jokes. Ten minutes, she filled the room with her own flavor of sugar that ate through my sweet tooth.

And then there was the matter of her face, softly trained on me and suddenly looking like a second chance. Squeamishly, I studied every gesture, carefully eyed every movement as she nonchalantly fingered my desk accessories.

“Well, I’d better get back to work,” she eventually said, and then casually hopped down, adjusted her skirt in one deft motion. I half expected her to kiss me on the way out. “Bye.”

TSA and I sat staring at each other, jaws agape.

“What was that all about?” TSA asked, once she was out of earshot.

“You saw it, too?”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t imagining things? She was, like...”

“She was.”

The phone rang. Ex-Ass on line one for me.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much. How are you doing?”

“Oh -- good days, bad days.” And indescribable days like today.

“You can call me, you know,” she reminded me.

“You’re on the list but I haven’t quite worn out my welcome with everyone else yet.” TSA smirked. I gave him the finger.

“Well, while you’re doing that you have to come to my Halloween party next Saturday.”

“Is it a costume party?”

“Of course. And could you invite everybody down there that was at your birthday party? The ones I don’t know.”

“I’ll spread the word.” She sensed my distraction.

“And call me if you need anything.”

“I will. I promise.”

My mind ran free all that afternoon. The second chance I saw in 4’s eyes was real; I hadn’t imagined it. We’d weathered the storm. She’d come around, but was too uncertain of my feelings to do anything more than hint. The signals were clear. She tossed the ball in my court and now it was up to me to be a man, to go for what I wanted. I grabbed the stack of approved purchase orders and climbed the stairs up to her floor. Down the corridor, her voice came to me in degrees: a suggestion, an invitation, a plea. Soft, low, and warm, I hadn’t heard her sound this happy in weeks. As I neared her cube, the muffled tones opened up to clearly defined words.

“That sounds great.” She laughed softly. There was no one else nearby.

“I do.” She paused. “You know I do.” I got right up to her desk. Her back was to me as she leaned into her telephone conversation.

“Me, too, baby.” She swiveled in her chair. “Love you madly”

By the time ‘madly’ left her mouth she was facing me.

She hung up and we stared at each other in silence till I remembered the papers in my hand.

“Here,” I handed them to her. “I’m all done.”

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