Power Trip (a Wandering Koala tale) Sample
“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power.” ~ Abraham Lincoln, 16th US President
“Do not pass go; do not collect $200” is a phrase from Monopoly known to almost everyone who has ever played a board game. The object of the game is to gain control of everything—land, utilities, and railroads. Some people enjoy the game so much as youngsters that when they grow up they continue playing it but use real money and real property.
To understand monopolies, one has to understand market price and market power. Market price is the point where the supply of a given product or service is equal to the demand for it. Market power means that a firm can affect the market price by itself. For example, if it raises the price of its product, say of a banana, the price of all bananas increases. For most products and services, a single firm does not have market power—when they raise their price, everyone else’s price remains unchanged. A monopoly is a firm that not only has market power but is also the single provider of a product or service in the market.
There is a myth that a monopoly can charge whatever price they want. This is NOT true. A monopoly can only charge what the market will bear, although that price tends to be much higher than most consumers prefer to pay.
Like any firm, a monopoly will try to maximize profits. Profit = (number of items sold x price of each item) - costs. The point where number of items sold times price is greatest is usually higher than market price would be if there were other firms in the market.
There are many ways a firm can become a monopoly, but the one most people are familiar with is the local monopoly.
Governments grant certain industries a local monopoly (usually utilities), because they believe it is more cost efficient for only one firm to provide a service. For example, utilities require large up-front costs in assets such as a pipe down a street for water or power lines for electricity. To have several firms lay multiple lines or multiple pipes is inefficient. These local monopolies, also called natural monopolies, are regulated by the government to theoretically maintain the price at cost plus a reasonable profit.
Many have argued that this structure creates little incentive to provide good customer service or to innovate. Also, the information to set prices comes mainly from the utilities themselves, another reason rates may be higher than they would be in a competitive market.
Because of these concerns, many have pushed for deregulation and opening up markets to competition. The results have been mixed.
For example, in 1978, President Jimmy Carter signed the Airline Deregulation Act. Power to set ticket prices was moved from the Civic Aeronautics Board to the airlines themselves. Fares on average decreased, but fares from smaller airports and on shorter flights increased. Smaller communities also saw a decrease in service. Safety levels remained unchanged.
When the telephone industry was deregulated, many worried that rural customers would be hurt, because those in the city were charged higher rates to subsidize them, with deregulation companies could choose to provide service only to the more profitable city dwellers. They also worried that without the government controlling rates, they would skyrocket out of control. Others believed rates would plummet. The reality was little changed. Rates increased but so did service levels and rural residents were not left without service.
What seems to have had the greatest effect on prices and monopolies is technology. For example, in 2011 a phone bill for an elderly resident in the US was over $65 a month from the local phone company (not including long distance calls). By switching to a new technology, Voice Over Internet Protocol (VOIP), her phone bill dropped to less than $15 per month including long distance calls.
Technology has also had much more success breaking up monopolies such as Microsoft. Several governments spent years and countless funds trying to break up or otherwise “punish” Microsoft for their monopoly on operating systems and Internet browsers with little success. Technology—specifically the Mozilla Firefox and Google Chrome browsers—finally cut Microsoft’s market share of browsers in half, and the move to mobile operating systems looks like it will end their dominance in computer operating systems as well.
Technology has yet to provide this kind of benefit for other utilities such as electricity or cable, both of which continue to increase at a much greater rate than inflation, but with the success of entertainment services such as Netflix and the rise of on demand video, we may not be far from an alternative to cable and satellite that can do as much for one’s entertainment bill as it did for the elderly resident’s phone bill. Regulation certainly isn’t helping.
“The problem of power is how to achieve its responsible use rather than its irresponsible and indulgent use—of how to get men of power to live for the public rather than off the public.” ~ Robert F. Kennedy, American politician
René held his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun. Firebird City was aptly named with its fierce heat and blindingly bright sky. He squinted to see what would now be his home away from home nine hours a day, five days a week. On any other day this building would be an eyesore, looking like something out of the nineteenth century with its faded brown brick, tiny windows, and massive black smoke stacks. But today it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and that was saying a lot considering the girls he dated. More than once they had attracted the glance of a passing male that was quickly rewarded with a slap from his female companion.
Six months ago René graduated from college in public relations and assumed employers would line up at his door with offers of employment. And they did—for his classmates. Every time he ran across one, they told him about their fabulous new job and how wonderful it was to have money coming in again instead of only going out. Then they asked him what he was doing. Their response to his answer was always the same: “Keep trying; I’m sure you’ll find something.” That didn’t make him feel better.
He had literally spent hundreds of hours sending out thousands of resumés resulting in a few interviews that always ended with ‘sorry, but we wish you the best of luck.’ He didn’t need luck; he needed a job!
Then someone suggested he try The Power Company. He’d never considered working there—did a utility even have a public relations department? But at that point he was willing to try anything. And two weeks and three interviews later, he no longer sat on the sidelines of the rat race and couldn’t be more grateful.
Today was Monday, the first day of the week and the first day of his career. While walking up the steps he noticed an empty bottle lying next to the trash can. He picked it up and put it in its place. He just didn’t understand some people. Didn’t they realize they were part of a larger society? Didn’t that mean anything? Other people didn’t want to clean up after them. Was it asking too much to at least consider how their actions affected others? He took a deep breath. Getting mad at litterbugs would not help him make a good first impression.
He stepped thru the front door. To the right was a familiar sight: Latoya admiring a fresh manicure while her stool struggled to support her. To the left another familiar sight: customers—two college students—clenching their fists and grinding their teeth.
“I can send someone tomorrow,” she said without looking up.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I wasn’t clear before, but I moved out of the apartment yesterday, and James here,” one student pointed to the other, “is moving in this morning with three other guys and all their electronics and appliances—energy-hogging appliances. If you could send someone to read the meter today, preferably before lunch, then neither of us will have to pay for the other’s electricity.” He smiled. “We’d really appreciate it.”
She glanced out the corner of her eye. “I can send someone tomorrow.”
“But not today?”
“I can send someone tomorrow.” Her words were evenly metered.
“How about early this afternoon? It’s not even eight yet. We came super early hoping—”
“Tomorrow.” She stared straight down at him.
James spoke up. “Is there any reason why one of your men couldn’t swing by today while he's out making his rounds? I’m sure at least one meter he’s reading will be in our neighborhood.”
“Can’t. Policy.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what policy would that be?”
“The one clearly stated on the back of every monthly bill.” She pursed her lips and adjusted her glasses. “All requests for reading a meter must be made at least 24 hours in advance, but no more than 48.”
“But I’ve already moved out,” the first student threw his hands in the air, “and four new guys are on their way in with all of their electronics and power-sucking appliances. Can you see my dilemma here?”
She leaned forward and peered over her granny glasses. “Look, son, the schedule has already been made for today. I can’t change it.”
“But why not? Why can’t you just add my apartment? It’s so early, I bet all of your meter readers are still here.”
“In order to keep YOUR rates low, we must utilize our resources in the most efficient manner possible. That means adhering to a carefully laid out schedule. If we make an exception and deviate from that schedule for one customer, then we have to do it for every customer, and soon our employees are running from one corner of the city to the other like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off. Their time is too valuable for that.”
René looked across the lobby thru an open door into the break room. Inside, three meter readers sipped their morning caffeine, two others played cards, while the last one perused the paper. It would be a shame to interrupt all of that productivity, he thought.
The first student clenched his fist even more tightly. James saw it and stepped forward. “Tomorrow will be fine.” He put one hand on the other student’s back and the other on his left arm. “Let’s go, Josh.” He nudged him towards the door. René quickly stepped aside. As they passed by he heard Josh whisper to James, “Can you say power trip?”
James nodded. “Yep, but look at her: she was obviously a quota hire. This job is probably the only thing she has going for her. No doubt it’s the most authority she’s ever had or will ever have.”
“And so the rest of us have to suffer. That bites.”
René walked over and picked up her nameplate: Latoya, Customer Service Specialist. She was special all right. “Another satisfied customer I see,” he smiled, leaning on her desk.
“What are you doing here?” She snatched the nameplate back. “Can’t be for another interview.”
“Nope. Today is my first day on the job.”
“You’re joking, right? What idiot would hire you?”
“The same one that hired you.” He cocked his head to the side.
She scowled. “Well, you’re late. Not a good impression to make on the first day.” She took out a cloth from her pocket and wiped his fingerprints off her name and title.
“Late?” He checked his watch. “I’ve still got seven minutes to clock in. I’m early.”
She leaned back on her stool. “Boss says if you’re not ten minutes early, then you’re already five minutes late.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t even make sense.” He pushed himself up from the desk. “And as much fun and as intellectually stimulating as a discussion with you is, I have to go, even though I am early and still have several minutes to chew the fat.” He looked down at her waistline, then turned and walked to the elevator. “Some of us have other things to do than admire our fake nails.” He pushed the button for up, and the doors opened.
“You’d better watch that smart mouth of yours, buster, or one of these days it’ll get you into more trouble than even you can talk your way out o—” The doors closed, cutting her off.
* * * *
“Mr. Daniels, so good to see you again.” His new boss stood just outside the elevator with his hand extended. “Let me be the first to officially welcome you to The Power Company.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blumenhead.”
They shook hands. Had Latoya been right about being ten minutes early? There was a first time for everything. “I’m glad to be here, sir. I’m so excited to be part of such an august firm. I can’t wait to get to work.”
“We’re very excited to have you as well. You should be an excellent fit for our team. Can I get you a cup of something? The break room is right here, centrally located for everyone’s convenience.”
“No thank you, sir. I stopped for breakfast on the way. I’m ready to hit the ground running.”
“Excellent! That’s the kind of attitude we like to hear. Let’s begin with a tour of our facility. I’ll introduce you to your co-workers on the way. They are the finest employees a firm could have.” He put one hand on René’s shoulder and gestured with the other down the hall. “This way, please.”
They walked along a stretch of cubicles. “First a little history. Three separate firms used to supply power to Firebird City and the surrounding valley, but it wasn’t a good situation for anyone. Each firm brought in barely enough revenue to cover their operating expenses, and customers received poor service because of it. So a few years back, Senior Management met with the city council and explained how granting a single firm an exclusive license to supply power would benefit the entire valley. What most people don’t realize is how advantageous a well-regulated local monopoly is. Instead of spending large sums of money trying to outmarket our competitors, we are able to invest those funds into newer and better technologies, and that allows us to keep our rates low and our service levels high. Plus, careful government regulations ensure our rates never go above what market rates would be. It’s a win-win situation for everyone.”
René tapped his lips as they walked along a row of windows overlooking the rest of the city. “I’ve heard that argument before.”
“I’m surprised—most people haven’t. They hear stories about a few monopolies that took advantage of the public in the past, which the government had to step in and break up, and assume all monopolies are like that. But those were completely different. Ours is government created, which means it’s in everyone’s best interest. And that is why we’ve hired you as our public relations specialist: to help educate the residents of this fine city to continue supporting the good thing we have going. There are those who don’t understand how beneficial we are to this city and are very vocal in their ignorance, even going so far as suggesting other firms be brought in. But that would lead to the same higher rates and second-rate service we had before.”
René looked over to a new housing project being built. “But if we’re the sole supplier of power, and if something were to happen to this plant, wouldn’t the whole city—”
“I know what you’re thinking, but nothing like that could ever happen.” He polished his knuckles against his tie. “Each one of our engineers has at least a dozen certifications. We also have a thousand-page operations manual outlining each one of our processes in meticulous detail with step-by-step instructions and a checklist all employees must complete to ensure each process is followed to the letter.” He put his arm around René’s shoulder. “We’ve been doing this for over 20 years without a single incident. The city is perfectly safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”
They continued down another corridor, this one lined with plaques, framed newspaper clippings, and other recognitions.
“These are just a few of the many honors we’ve received for the innovative techniques and out-of-the-box thinking we’re so well known for. Most cities still rely on environmentally irresponsible methods of generating electricity such as coal or ecosystem-destroying hydroelectric power. Some even resort to deadly nuclear power. But not us. No, sir. This award here,” he pointed to a large, green relief mounted on a marble slab, “is for our eco-friendly and responsible wind farms to the north of the city, our miles of solar panels to the east, and our geothermal generators in between. We even have plans to explore anaerobic digestion. We are very progressive.”
“Wow. So we don’t use fossil fuels at all?”
He looked down and took a deep breath. “We do have limited fossil fuel in the mix, unfortunately. The generators are housed here on site, but we have a goal to be the first utility to rely solely on clean, renewable, sustainable, green energy. We’re planning to launch a major multiphase campaign next month to announce our goal and advertise our progress. That is what the majority of your time will be spent on for the next several months. We are also planning a smaller campaign that will run simultaneously, extolling the virtues of our current single-supplier system and detailing the benefits this valley enjoys because of it. We’ll want that campaign up and running in the next two weeks.”
They entered another cubicle-filled space. Blumenhead introduced him to the other three members of his department. He was glad it was small; that would give him more opportunity to be noticed and, hopefully, promoted. Then they moved on to Accounting where hardly anyone looked up or said more than two words to him.
After a few more departments, their tour ended at Human Resources. “And here is our most important department. Can you believe there was a time before firms had a Human Resources department? I don’t know how they could have possibly functioned.”
René took the bait. “You used to be in HR, didn’t you?”
He blushed. “My first job out of school was file clerk at a financial advisory firm. I spent twenty years working my way up the ladder at various organizations until I became Director of Human Resources at this one, a position I served in for several years before being moved over to Director of Operations. It was a difficult decision leaving HR, but I recognized the value of having someone with my background and expertise oversee the entire operation.” He turned to René with moist eyes. “But not a day goes by I don’t miss my old department.” He turned his head and did something with his hand. “And this is where our tour ends. We need you to fill out the essential paperwork and sign a few vital forms before you begin working. We also need to take your picture and issue your employee ID badge and login.”
A woman in a grey suit who looked more worn than her years could account for walked over. Her bun was pulled so tightly it stretched her face into a slightly horrifying expression.
“This is Ms. Pfennigworth. I hired her seven years ago and have mentored her up the ranks.” He practically glowed. “You are in excellent hands.”
“Thank you, Mr. Blumenhead. We’ll see that he is processed quickly.”
“I know you will. Ms. Pfennigworth has been instrumental in streamlining our processes for maximum efficiency.” He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out slightly, then turned and walked away.
Human Resource’s streamlined processes for maximum efficiency took all morning and stretched into lunch. But lunch was something René could not miss, not today. He was meeting two of his classmates from Barringer University who both had job offers before graduation. They had invited him several times in the past six months, but he had been too embarrassed to join them—not while he was still job hunting. But now he was one of them—the few, the proud, the employed—and he could dine with pride next to his fellow wage earners. Plus, he couldn’t wait to tell Brooke and Angie about his new job—the perfect job doing exactly what he went to school for—and maybe throw his huge salary and generous benefits in their faces. Hopefully their salaries and benefits weren’t better.
After much discussion and a little argument, René got himself excused for half an hour with the promise he’d rush right back and finish filling out forms.
He met his friends at Konner’s Kafe, a yuppie restaurant open only three hours each day for lunch. The building looked like it had been built as a repair shop or a tire store with three garage doors along one wall and the large bays now serving as one big open eating area. He wondered if the joint really had been a garage or simply built to look like one to give the place a sense of history. Nothing gave a hotspot character like a colorful history, even if that history had to be fabricated.
As he stepped thru the door, he checked his watch: almost 25 minutes late. He was sure his friends would wait for him—after all, they’d been waiting for six months. What were another few minutes? Angie and Brooke were already seated and sipping their soups. He hurried over.
“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” Angie said. “The latest graduate of BU to join the ranks of the breadwinning and tax paying. How does it feel to be a working stiff?”
He sat down. “It feels good. And when my first paycheck gets deposited, it’ll feel even better.”
“I was getting really worried for you,” Brooke said. “With this recession going on, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to find work.”
“Thanks for that vote of confidence, Brooke.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” He smiled and picked up a menu. It featured exotic soups (no chicken noodle here, kids) and designer bruschetta. René thought ten dollars for four bites of toast topped with a few chunks of tomato, cheese, and a sprinkle of garnish was a bit steep, but this was the hot spot for lunch, and he did not want to be left out. “But, according to last quarter’s numbers, GDP grew, which means we are out of the recession.”
“But the unemployment rate is still double digits.”
“A recession simply means the economy, as measured by GDP, is not growing; it’s not tied to employment, nor does the economy have to return to its previous level for a recession to end.”
“I’d forgotten you started out as an Economics major. I was kind of hoping you had too.”
“Economics is fascinating. Did you know—”
“No, and I really don’t want to.” Angie crunched a bite of bruschetta.
The waitress appeared. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Water.”
“Sparkling or mineral.”
“From the tap.”
“Of course,” she frowned. “And have you decided on lunch yet, or do you still need a moment?”
“Nope, I’m ready. Can I get the prosciutto and dill havarti bruschetta with your spring bean soup?”
“An excellent choice. I’ll be right out with your soup.”
He handed her his menu and clasped his hands together. He looked up at his friends and smiled.
“So you weren’t worried about finding a job?”
“Nope.”
“Really? And you weren’t concerned about running out of money?”
“A little, but I had a backup plan.”
“Oh? And what was that?”
“Working for the government.”
“Doing what?”
“Welfare recipient.”
They both blinked their eyes.
“I’m kidding. It was a joke. Sheesh.”
Brooke gave him a courtesy laugh.
“But in all seriousness, I was starting to get a little nervous. Landlords insist you pay rent each month even if you have no paycheck coming in.”
The waitress set down his soup and plopped his water down causing it to spill over the side. He looked up at her a little upset, but she was already gone. He picked up his spoon and stirred his soup. Broth might have been a better word for it, very clear broth. Oh, wait, there were a couple of green things floating around and some stringy purple stuff. He took a sip. Yep, there was definitely a hint of some flavor other than water. They might have even boiled an actual spring bean in the pot. He wondered who got it.
“So how is work going for both of you?” he asked.
“Better than I could have imagined. Working at News for Rational Minds is everything I hoped for. They’ve got offices all over the country, and after one year I can apply to transfer to any of them if I like. I even got a raise after my three-month evaluation, and another after my six-month evaluation last week. And they’re flying me out to Sunshine County to assist another reporter interviewing the stars of Teen Vampires: First Bite, First Light next month.”
“Wow. That’s really exciting. And how is life at Local News 2, Brooke?”
“It’s cool. It’s not as big as Angie’s station, and we don’t interview many movie stars, but I’ve gotten to know everyone there, and they’re going to let me do the weather when Steve goes on vacation in a couple of weeks.”
“Sounds like you’re enjoying it.”
“And how is The Power Company treating you?”
He smiled and sat up straight. “I thought you’d never ask. I love it. I’ve only been there one morning, but I can already tell this is where I’ll be spending the rest of my career. They’re part of a larger conglomerate in six states, so there is plenty of opportunity for me to move up. Just today I was put in charge of two major campaigns that will affect the entire company.”
“Wow, that’s great, René. It’s only your first day and already you’re taking on major responsibilities.”
The waitress brought his lunch. He took a bite, and then went back to talking up his place of employment while the other two did the same. Anyone listening to the conversation would think they were all CEOs of Fortune 500 companies.
Thirty minutes passed quickly. They paid their checks and resumed their positions in the rat race.
René had several more forms to fill out when he got back, and then went to his department to start working. The rest of the week went smoothly, although the two campaigns were taking longer to organize than he thought they would. He had to get approval from all managers in all departments for every word he wrote and every image he wanted to use, but he figured there was a good reason for it. After all, why would anyone create extra bureaucracy and red tape just for the sake of more bureaucracy and red tape?
The next Monday he finished his tasks a half hour before quitting time. The building was huge, but everyone seemed to be on the fourth floor except for a few managers on the fifth floor and a few offices IT used along the exterior wall of the third floor. What was in the rest of the building? And he had yet to meet any engineers involved in the actual production of power. So he decided to take himself on a tour of the parts he hadn’t seen.
He followed the signs pointing to the generator room. They led him to an unlocked door. He knocked twice then entered.
“No wonder the second and third floors were mostly empty,” he said with what little breath hadn’t been taken away. The generator room was a massive three-story chamber that appeared to extend the entire length and width of the building filled with roaring machinery. He walked down a small, metal staircase and saw two men hunched over two desks packing what looked like personal belongings into copy paper boxes.
“Are you part of the Engineering Department?” René asked.
“We are the Engineering Department. I’m Dave and that’s Mike.”
“Where is the rest of the department?”
“We’re it.”
René jerked his head back. “You can’t be the only two in the department. You’re putting me on.” He looked around. “So where is everybody else? They can’t all be on break.”
“There is no one else; just us.”
“That’s not possible. Two people can’t keep the power going for a metropolitan area of 8 million.”
“That’s what we tried to explain to management.” Dave placed a plaque in his box.
“A few months ago there were more, a lot more. But as people quit or retired or were fired, those big wigs upstairs wouldn’t replace them; they just dumped the extra responsibilities on us.” Mike picked up his Newton’s cradle and slammed it down in the box next to his diploma.
“Until there were only two of us left.”
“But what happens if both of you get sick?”
“We’re not allowed to; it’s in our job description.”
René laughed. “Ok, you really had me going there for a minute, guys. Who says engineers don’t have a sense of humor? But seriously, where is the rest of the department? I couldn’t see any signs to it. Where are your offices or cubicles?”
“You’re looking at them.” Mike gestured to several empty desks.
“You have to work down here next to these rancorous generators? They are really loud. And hot. And smelly. And dirty.”
“Those are just of few of the many reasons why we’re quitting.”
René shook his head. “Ok, guys, I think you’re carrying this joke a little too far.” He turned around. “The rest of you can come out now.” But no one did. And then he noticed something. “Why are there so many fossil fuel generators running down here? Mr. Blumenhead said most of our power comes from clean, renewable sources like wind and solar. He said our goal is to be 100% green in the next few years.”
Mike and Dave looked at each other and laughed. “Over 99% of the electricity we produce comes from fossil fuels. We’ve got a few dozen acres of windmills and solar panels in the desert outside the city, but the only thing they generate are tax breaks and government subsidies. We’d have to fill the entire state with them just to power the city, and even then I’m not sure we’d have enough juice.”
René scrunched his face. “I’m supposed to spearhead a major campaign promoting our use of alternative energy. This is going to make wording the buttons and fliers a lot trickier. I suppose I’ll just have to fall back on the old reliables from the politician’s tool bag—vague concepts and lofty ideals. The message won’t be as strong as I would have liked, but you have to make due with what you’re given.” He scratched his chin. “What are you two doing?”
“Packing up our personal belongings.”
“You were serious about quitting?”
“We are. This is our last day.” He looked at his watch. “Last hour, in fact.”
“But Mr. Blumenhead didn’t say a word about you guys leaving.”
“He doesn’t know.”
“We haven’t told him.”
René took a step back. “You didn’t give two weeks notice?”
Mike and Dave looked at each other and laughed again.
“Not at this company.”
“There’d be retaliation.”
“Severe retaliation.”
“I don’t believe that. Mr. Blumenhead seems like a good guy. And won’t leaving without two weeks notice make it hard to find a new job?”
“We already have new jobs.”
“At a better company.”
“For a better salary.”
“And better benefits.”
“Oh, the benefits!” Dave rubbed his hands together slowly. “They serve a free, cooked breakfast to their employees every morning complete with eggs, sausage, bacon, ham, hash browns, omelets, pancakes, and waffles!” He licked his lips.
“And they don’t begin their workday until 9:30. 9:30! Do you realize what that means? We won’t have to fight rush hour traffic, just the tail end of it.”
“It sounds like paradise.” René tried to make it sound sarcastic, but it really did sound like paradise. He reached for a chair, slid it out from under a desk, and sat down. He pushed himself slowly from one side to the other. “But how can you just leave? Who’ll keep the generators going tonight?”
“There’s a night guy who comes in from six until six.”
“I forgot about him. So I guess we aren’t the whole department.”
“Don’t you feel bad about dumping all this on him?”
“Not really. He’s kind of a jerk.”
“That’s how he ended up on the night shift.”
“So were either of you ever planning on telling Mr. Blumenhead about your departure?”
“We thought about waiting until tomorrow morning and calling him from our new offices, but decided that would make us as bad as him.”
“So we’ll tell him on our way out.”
“He’ll probably still have security escort us.”
René watched them finish packing and said nothing as they walked out the door.
This made absolutely no sense. Why would they leave such a great firm? True, the breakfast sounded nice, but was that really a reason to change jobs? And what was all that talk about management retaliating? Tom Blumenhead would never do that. He seemed to genuinely care about his employees.
No, none of this made any sense at all.
“It is said that power corrupts, but actually it’s more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power.” ~ David Brin, US engineer and science fiction writer
Tom Blumenhead both loved and hated it when Senior Management summoned him. He loved going up to the gardens on the ‘top floor’ with their plush lavishness and rich decadence: the marble columns, the bubbling fountains, the toga-clad harp players, and the view—oh, the view!—you could see the entire valley for miles in every direction. He hated it, because he wasn’t Senior Management and couldn’t spend his days being pampered by scantily clad masseuses and attended by an army of butlers and waitresses while listening to the soothing rush of twin waterfalls. He could look, but he couldn’t touch. Not yet, anyway. But his day would come. Soon. He was sure of it. His hard work and loyalty would pay off.
He stepped into the elevator and punched in the code granting him access to the ‘top floor’. The elevator ride always took several minutes, which was odd, because his office was on the fifth floor of a 5-story building. He wondered where the elevator went and how it got there, but only for a few moments, because most of the journey he spent stewing over what his masters had on their minds. It was rarely good.
He was pretty sure why he had been summoned today, and he wasn’t happy about it. He had hoped to take care of this ‘incident’ with the engineers before it reached the ears of those above, but some problems just wouldn’t keep quiet.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. He stepped out onto a polished marble stairway with brass handrails leading down to a grand hall lined with millennia-old statues of heroes and heroines in alcoves spaced three feet apart. He walked over the handspun Persian rug to the end of the corridor. He heard the fountains and the waterfalls before he saw them.
He emerged from the passageway onto a rooftop lined with tropical plants and palm trees. He saw a butler carry a silver tray holding three crystal goblets filled with a bubbly beverage thru the miniature golf course just past the shuffleboard range. He followed him.
In the center of this rooftop day spa were three leather tables each with the towel-covered body of the CEO, COO, and CFO respectively. Three swimsuit models rubbed away every last particle of stress from their necks, shoulders, and backs leaving only rivers of relaxation rushing in to fill the recently evacuated space. Just past the tables sat a series of hot tubs carved
In the center of this rooftop day spa were three leather tables each with the towel-covered body of the CEO, COO, and CFO respectively.
into the marble floor filled with steaming water and VPs being handfed peeled grapes by equally attractive attendants.
Blumenhead stood quietly at attention while the butler served the executives their drinks. He waited several more minutes for them to savor their refreshment. After the last drop was gone, each set his goblet back on the tray, dismissed the butler with a wave, and resumed his position. A little, red, potbellied imp crawled up the table and perched itself on the CEO’s back, its spaded tail swaying in the air. Two other imps crawled onto the COO and CFO’s shoulders and whispered into their ears.
“Blumenhead,” the CEO began without turning his head or lifting his neck, “word has reached us regarding the two turncoats who left without giving proper notice. They must be dealt with.”
“But they are no longer in our employ.”
“That doesn’t matter. Make an example of them.”
“Yes, sir. I had no idea they were leaving. They kept their plans and movements secret. Our positions here are such cushy ones that I thought—”
“A good manager would have known, but that is beside the point. We now have a great opportunity before us.”
“Opportunity? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re middle management; it’s above your pay grade.” The CEO sat up and wrapped a towel around his waist. The imp stayed glued to his ear. He slid off the table, walked over to a large leather recliner, and took his place on the throne.
A barber rushed to his side and placed a towel around his neck. He broke off a chunk of soap into a ceramic dish, wetted a brush, and then wisped the soap forming a thick, rich lather. He applied it gently to the CEO’s chiseled face. The red imp again whispered into his ear.
“Blumenhead, if you’ll recall, all employees are required to document their processes in the most minute detail.”
“Yes, sir. My own processes took over three months to complete and meet HR’s high standards.”
“Do you know why we did this?”
“So that an employee’s replacement can quickly take over without any interruption.”
“That is part of it, but we had another reason. I’m going to let you in on a little secret to running a profitable and prosperous firm. It’s creating a system with each task so well defined that the lowest-skilled worker can successfully perform it. Then you hire the cheapest labor you can find.”
The barber whetted a stone and slowly slid the blade across it several times.
“Those engineers were costing this firm a fortune. They were highest paid non-managers on the books; it was eating into our profit margin. But now that we have their processes outlined in a step-by-step process, we can replace them with cheap labor.”
The barber cleaned the blade on a towel then began running it gently along the CEO’s face.
“Select two employees who aren’t overly busy, probably from Marketing or Communications or whatever we’re calling that department; they do a lot of sitting around. Assign the engineers’ duties to them. Do more with less, Blumenhead. That’s the secret to running a successful business.”
The barber finished the shave. He patted away the stray bits of lather and placed a warm towel on his master’s face. He turned and cleaned the blade.
“Yes, sir. I’ll make the assignments this morning. You’ve come up with the perfect solution once again as always.”
The CEO brought his throne upright and removed the now cool towel from his face and handed it to the barber. “Bambi,” he called to a shapely blonde, “peel me another grape.” He turned to Blumenhead. “I so hate eating grapes with skin still on them. They are hard to chew and overwork the digestive tract.”
The imp whispered something new into his ear. He nodded. “Blumenhead, to ensure there aren’t any more problems and the employees transition smoothly into their added tasks, hire an additional layer of management to oversee them. And make sure it’s a woman; they’re easier to control and more willing to do what you say without argument. And remember, we’ve already filled our quota for ‘equal opportunity employment’ and don’t need anymore deadweight with an entitlement complex always asking for a raise or more time off while complaining how overworked they are with too many duties and wahhh, wahhh, wahhh.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have my secretary prepare a job description at once. It’ll be on your desk for approval by this afternoon.”
“See that you do. The secret to a smoothly running firm, Blumenhead, is multiple layers of management. There isn’t any problem additional management can’t solve.” Bambi finished peeling the grape and placed it to his lips. He slowly sucked it in, chewed thoroughly—his eyes dancing in their sockets—and swallowed. “Mmm, that’s good. We must fly grapes in from wherever these came from more often.” He saw Blumenhead standing there silently. “We’re finished here. Stop wasting time, and get to work.” He shooed him away.
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Brilliant strategy as always, sir.” He turned and walked back across the miniature golf course. He dragged his feet so he could enjoy his time in paradise for as long as possible before being cast back down below; there wouldn’t be any personal barbers or peeled grapes where he was going. But his day was coming. He just needed to be patient, nod his head, and say ‘yes sir’ no matter what was asked of him. His loyalty and obedience would be rewarded.
Someday.
“There are times when two people need to step apart from one another, but there is no rule that says they have to turn and fire.” ~Robert Brault, freelance writer
René sat in a booth of the Hot Sandwich waiting for his girlfriend. The Hot Sandwich was one of the most popular lunch counters in Downtown Firebird because of their all-you-can-eat soup and sandwich combo. It sounded like a great deal until you realized they took so long bringing your food that you never got past your second bowl of soup before your lunch hour was over and you had to head back to work. The owners were proud of their very clever—and very profitable—marketing scheme. Their guests caught on pretty quickly but continued to come back thinking that this time they would beat the system. None of them ever did.
The Hot Sandwich had been built over 50 years earlier as a drive-in burger and malt shop called Lyndi’s Hop. It did well for a decade until the downtown grew so large that driving and parking became too much of a hassle. The owners sold it to an out-of-town developer who thought fast food Chinese was the next big thing. It wasn’t. Soon the location changed hands again, this time becoming a Taco Boat, a low-priced, greasy, mexican joint that attracted the wrong element. After the third parking lot shooting, the city forced the owners to close their doors.
It stood abandoned and boarded up for years until the city began its urban renewal project, copying other cities that had experienced great success revitalizing their dying downtowns by calling them “historic” and putting up antique-looking lampposts and signs. This attracted dozens of overpriced bistros and bakeries, which in turn attracted those with more money than taste or good sense. Within a few years, Downtown Firebird was aflame with new life and new business.
An elderly couple took advantage of the city’s tax breaks and other incentives to turn the abandoned Taco Boat into the Hot Sandwich, and it quickly became a filled-to-capacity café making its owners very comfortable in their retirement.
But none of this was on René’s mind as he sat stabbing his salad. He was so distraught that he didn’t notice how late his girlfriend was, which was odd, because it was usually her waiting for him. When she finally arrived, he stood up and mechanically kissed her on the cheek. He didn’t notice she pulled away slightly.
She looked down at his malt, salad, and Reuben sandwich. “I see you went ahead and ordered without me.”
He didn’t say anything.
“How are you?” She looked down at the menu perusing the lunch choices even though she always ordered the same thing: cobb salad with the dressing on the side.
“I’m having a strange day.” He stared out the window. “Our entire engineering department quit yesterday, so the boss assigned me and this other guy, Ryan, to take over their duties and keep the generators running. We’ve been going over thousand of pages of processes all morning.” He looked longingly at her. “Do you realize how many generators it takes to power a city this size? And do you realize how much maintenance each one of those generators takes?” He rolled a cherry tomato across his salad with a fork. “It’Äôs been the most tedious, mind-numbing morning of my life.”
“No, I don’t.” She re-straightened her napkin. “The entire department quit? All on the same day? That’s very odd.”
“Isn’t it? Apparently they’ve been losing people for months and the last two finally left yesterday.”
She looked at him for the first time, her eyes wide. “So no one has been monitoring the plant since yesterday? Our power could have gone out last night?”
“Oh, there’s a night guy who comes in around six and stays until the day crew returns the next morning, Cindy. He’s still there. They won’t let him leave until Ryan and I are up to speed on what we need to do. He’s the one who’s been walking us thru the processes. And he’s an even bigger jerk than the other guys said he was.” He took a sip of his malt. “But doesn’t it seem strange to have me take over their duties? I’m a PR guy—I was hired to write press releases and organize campaigns. I’ve never maintained a generator before.”
“It does seem rather odd. You’re not the most mechanically inclined—you can’t even change a tire.”
“Hey!” He stabbed the tomato. “I know how to change a tire; I’ve done it before. I just didn’t want to get my shirt dirty that day. You said you understood.”
“Uh-huh. And who is Ryan?”
“He’s an economist the firm hired to chart power usage and calculate demand so they had hard data to present to the city council last year when they petitioned to raise rates.”
“Hmm.” She looked down at her napkin. “He sounds like just as poor a choice as you.”
He gave her a slightly annoyed look. “What is this—beat up on René day?”
“You’re probably in heaven having another economist to talk to,” she said, changing the subject.
“That is pretty nice.”
The waitress walked up. “What can I get you ma’am?”
“Cobb salad, please,” she and René answered in unison. She shot him a crusty look. “With the dressing on the side.”
“An excellent choice. I’ll be right back with that,” she said flatly. She collected the menus and left.
Cindy unrolled her napkin, set it on her lap, and placed her silverware beside her water glass. René reached over and caressed her hands. She pulled them back. “So how long until real engineers are hired?”
“I don’t know. They said we’d be filling in indefinitely.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. They have no plans to hire anyone anytime soon. They want to reevaluate the positions and perhaps revise the job requirements.” He tapped his fork a few times. “I can’t believe they’re putting this off so long. People have been quitting for months, yet they’ve done nothing about it. Doesn’t that seem really queer?”
“It does. So who’s going to do your job while you’re playing with the heavy machinery?”
“Oh, we’re still responsible for our original duties; they’ve just added these on top of them. And we get to come in two hours earlier, leave one hour later, work weekends, and have our lunch cut in half. How’s that for your second week on the job?”
“Well, you must have gotten quite a hefty raise to go with all your extra duties.”
“You would think so, but no. The boss said we’re on salary and are expected to work however long the job takes to complete.”
“But maintaining a generator is hardly in your job description.”
“That’s what I said! But apparently there’s a clause in every job description that says ‘and other duties and tasks as deemed necessary’ which evidently means they can assign us to do whatever they want no matter how unrelated it is to what we agreed to do when we were hired.” He dropped his fist on the table causing his malt and his girlfriend’s silverware to jump. A few nearby diners looked over and gave him dirty looks. “What’s the point of a job description if they’re just going to change everything a week after you’re hired?”
She straightened her silverware again and took a sip of her water. “Have you tried speaking with your boss? Maybe if you expressed your concerns—”
“Do you really think I haven’t thought of that? This is me we’re talking about. As soon as he presented the idea, I expressed my concerns in a very clear, unambiguous, yet diplomatic manner.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said I was an ‘at will’ employee, and no one was forcing me to work for The Power Company. But if I chose to stay on the payroll, I would have to fulfill whatever duties were assigned. I replied that adding duties was one thing, but this was adding a whole new position. And then he said something that really surprised me. He said such decisions were above my pay grade, that it all paid the same, and I should be grateful for a job in this soft economy.” He took a chug of his malt. “Can you believe he actually said that? It was so insulting and demeaning. I totally misjudged him.”
Cindy adjusted her napkin. “I find it hard to believe that’s legal.”
“In the consumer world, promising one thing and then delivering another is called ‘bait and switch’ and is illegal. Apparently in the employment world it’s called standard practice.”
She looked down at his uneaten sandwich. “How’s the Reuben?”
“Good,” he answered, still looking out the window.
“Maybe you could explain how much money you’re saving the firm by assuming those additional duties so they don’t have to hire additional employees. Suggest that some of those savings could be used for a raise or maybe a bonus.”
René picked up his fork and stabbed his sandwich. “Oh, here’s the kicker: they are going to hire a new employee, but it’s not going to be an engineer. They’re hiring another manager to oversee us. A manager! There goes any savings.” He threw his sandwich down and plopped his spoon in his milkshake. “We don’t need more observers; we need more workers.” He let go of the spoon, picked up his sandwich, took a bite, and chewed it with a snarl and a growl. “You know, I was upset this morning, but the more I think about it and the more I talk about it, the more upset I become. Why can’t they just have me do what I was hired to do?”
“Well, why don’t you quit? You are an at will employee.”
“I was tempted to, but those student loans aren’t going to pay themselves off. Besides, if I quit after one week, how will that look on my resumé? What firm would hire someone who couldn’t make it past week two? I had a hard enough time finding this job. Besides, I’m not a quitter. I believe in finishing what I start.”
The waitress brought Cindy’s order and set it in front of her. She picked up the cup of dressing, poured a few dabs of it on her salad, then picked up her fork and took a bite. They ate in silence.
After René finished his sandwich, he wiped his mouth and said, “What I don’t understand is why they’re putting off hiring new engineers—which we need, desperately—but they’re not wasting any time hiring the new manager. They posted the job this morning and already have two phone interviews scheduled for this afternoon. Why can’t they move this quickly with engineers? And what kind of manager has nothing better to do than live on the job boards and immediately apply for a position the second it’s posted? Shouldn’t that be a red flag?”
Cindy said nothing and finished her salad. René sipped his malt until it was all gone, then continued slurping to get the last few drops—drawing looks from everyone in the restaurant and a groan from his girlfriend.
“So,” she grabbed the straw he was still using, pulled it out of the glass, and set it on his plate, “what kind of training are they going to give you?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you about that part. Just wait until you hear this.” He rubbed his mouth vigorously with a napkin, and then wadded it up and threw it on the table. “They’ve signed both of us up for two days of harassment training next week. Harassment training! What good is THAT going to do us if the generators decide to stop working?”
“They’re probably more concerned with a lawsuit than a power failure.”
“But do you realize we are this city’s sole supplier of power? Eight million people depend on us for little things like water and air conditioning. Shouldn’t that take precedence over a possible lawsuit?”
“Firebird doesn’t have eight million people; there are only two million.”
René gave her a wry look. “Within its city limits. I was referring to the entire valley. We supply power to the entire valley of eight million people.” He sighed and looked up. “I really don’t feel like going back to work.”
She took a deep breath. “This may not be the best time for this, but I think we should break up.”
He raised his head with an incredulous look. “You what?!”
“I think we should break up.” She turned her head to the side. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while—weighing the pros and cons like you’re always telling me I should—and I think it’s for the best.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I just think it’s time for us to date other people. You understand, don’t you?”
He didn’t move.
“This probably wasn’t the best time to bring this up, but I thought—”
“No, this wasn’t the best time to bring this up. In fact, it very well might just be the WORST TIME TO BRING THIS UP!” He flailed his arms out to the side. “I can’t believe this. With all the crap I have going on at work, you console me by breaking up with me?” He looked her squarely in the eye. “Is it another guy?”
She avoided his stare. “I just think it might be a good idea for each of us to date other people.”
“Who is he? Do I know him?”
“That’s not important.” She looked from the salt shaker to the pepper grinder and back.
“Not important? Are you kidding me?” He stood up. “After six months of looking and thinking I’ll never find a job, I get hired to do what I went to school for only to have the rug pulled out from under me again, and my girlfriend—who should be consoling me—decides to throw my life into an even bigger talespin by hooking up with someone else! You could at least have the decency to tell me his name.”
She looked around the restaurant for support, but no one seemed to be taking her side. “It’s Jerry.”
René’s eyes nearly popped out. “Jerry? Not my workout buddy Jerry? Not the guy who I let use my car for a week because his was in the shop Jerry?”
She slid to the edge of the bench.
“I don’t believe it. You’re leaving me for Jerry? Really? You don’t even know him. You saw each other for like ten seconds when he stopped by my place to pick up his goggles.”
“What can I say—sometimes it only takes an instant and you just know.”
“I don’t buy that love-at-first-sight baloney for a minute. What does he have that I don’t?”
“Abs—really nice ones.”
“Seriously? What are you, like—sixteen? You’re honestly dumping me for something so shallow?”
“Oh, this from the guy who spends a day at the beach with his girlfriend staring at every bikini-clad, sixteen-year-old girl that prances by.”
“Hey, I’m a guy.”
“With a girlfriend.”
“Not anymore.” He sat back down in his seat, folded his arms, and turned his head away. His face scrunched up. “Oh that’s disturbing.”
“What? My dumping you?” She turned to look, but only saw other customers enjoying their lunch.
“That guy—he’s missing an arm. He really should keep that thing covered. Nobody wants to see his stump.”
“René, that is horrible!” She turned away in disgust.
“I know it is. Look at it: it’s just hanging there out of his sleeve. Ooo, look, he’s moving it. Ehhh. He should get one of those realistic looking arms to put over it. Or maybe a cast. Yeah, a cast would look much better.”
“Maybe he can’t afford one.”
“A cast? Of course he can. It’s just bandages and plaster.”
“I mean the ... other thing.”
“The arm? Of course he can afford an arm. People like that get all kinds of handouts from the government.”
“René, I can’t believe you! I’m glad we’re breaking up.”
“Why? Because I’m honest and say what I think instead of pretending that guy isn’t handicapped?”
“Disabled. He is disabled. That other word is derogatory.”
“Derogatory? Have you looked in a dictionary lately? Disabled means ‘unable’ and ‘can’t do anything’. Handicapped means things are more challenging but still possible. You’re the one being derogatory. And rude.”
“Educated people use the correct term.”
“Correct term? I didn’t realize there was a national board that decides which terms are correct.”
She scrunched her face.
“Besides, it’s not like using the correct term will make his arm grow back, will it? Is he suddenly going to be able to pick up a spoon with that thing because you said the right word?”
“You’re the one creeped out about it.”
“So are you—you just aren’t willing to admit it.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Fine, let’s go back to the more pleasant subject of you dumping me.”
She looked away. “Why are you being so mean?”
“I’m sorry; I’m just so upset about work. And you dumping me. Couldn’t you have at least waited until after my cousin’s wedding next week? It’s so embarrassing showing up without a date. Everyone asks all these scathing questions and makes all these assumptions.”
“I’m sorry, René, but Jerry has tickets to the Red Birds game next week, and he asked me to go, so—”
“Wait a minute. Red Birds tickets? My Red Birds tickets? The ones I won on that call-in radio show—and nearly got a traffic ticket for because I was in my car at the time speeding down the freeway—and gave to Jerry, my good buddy Jerry, just last night, because my cousin’s wedding was on the same night?”
She fiddled with her purse. “I didn’t ask which tickets they were.”
He flung his head back. “Unbelievable! Just when I didn’t think this day could get any worse, it does.” He flung his arms up in the air.
“I’m sure he didn’t mean any offense when he asked me to go with him.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Asking someone else’s girlfriend out is just a friendly gesture.”
She looked down at her watch. “I’m sorry, René, but I have to go. I only have a few minutes left on my lunch break.” She slipped her purse over her shoulder.
“Wait! Aren’t you going to pay your half of the check?”
She looked confused. “But you always pay for lunch.”
“Yeah, back when you were my girlfriend, and we were dating, and you went to things like my cousin’s wedding with me—you know, before you and my good buddy stabbed me in the back. Yes, back then I did pick up the check.”
“But I didn’t bring my wallet,” she said tucking her purse behind her and walking backwards towards the door.
“That’s great. Just great. Go on. I’ve got this one. And enjoy the game, compliments of me. Again.”
She walked out the door.
He picked up the check, scanned it quickly, shook his head, and then looked up at the ceiling sinking lower into the booth. “I would say ‘can this day get any worse’, but I’m afraid it will.”
“I had a job interview at an insurance company once and the lady said, ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ and I said, ‘Celebrating the fifth year anniversary of you asking me this question’.” ~ Mitch Hedberg, stand-up comedian
Tuesday afternoon saw several phone interviews. Wednesday brought dozens more and a number of second interviews. Thursday was more of the same, and by Friday HR had whittled the pool of potential candidates down to two for Tom Blumenhead to choose from.
He stood in his office admiring his plaques hung in a row opposite the shelf where he displayed his other awards. He checked the clock The Power Company had presented him on his tenth anniversary with the firm—almost thirty minutes had passed since the two candidates arrived. He’d give them another ten to sit and stew and size each other up. He polished the clock’s brass body while he waited, and then, when it could shine no more brightly, he leaned back in his executive recliner, placed his hands behind his neck, and said, “Let the games begin.” He pressed the intercom button. “Ann, send in the first candidate.”
Candidate number one, Kirk Harris, walked in wearing a colored shirt and khakis. The imp on Blumenhead’s shoulder rasped, “Bah! No white shirt. No suit. No wingtips. Not management material!”
“Welcome, Mr. Harris.” They shook hands. “Please have a seat.”
“Bah! He called you by name. Not by sir. Insubordinate!” the imp squawked.
“Tell me, Mr. Harris, why should I hire you?”
“Well, sir, I have an advanced degree in Mechanical Engineering and twenty years of practical experience working at several power plants, both fossil fuel and hydroelectric. I also spent two years at a nuclear facility.”
“Nuclear. Bah! Too much power. No good. No good.”
“These last three years I’ve been serving as a consultant to the country’s largest manufacturer of generators, advising them on design improvements. I believe your plant uses several of their older models.”
“Eeeeek!” squeaked the imp. “He knows too much. He’ll countermand your orders and make you look stupid. Unacceptable! Unacceptable!”
Blumenhead put his hands together. “Tell me about your managerial/supervisory experience.”
“Well, sir, I’ve been in leadership roles since my youth. I was a patrol leader of my Boy Scout group—where I earned the rank of Eagle Scout incidentally—and I had several opportunities to lead in my youth group at church.”
“Bah! That’s not management!” The imp stomped back and forth.
“I was also a supervisor for five years before being promoted to manager prior to these last three years of consulting.”
The interview continued with questions like ‘what subjects did you like best in school’, ‘what do you see yourself doing in 5 years’, ‘what are your greatest strengths and weaknesses’, and dozens of others Kirk had a pat answer for.
Then it was time for the interviewee to ask questions to which he received very vague and noncommittal answers.
At the end each said thank you, shook the other’s hand, smiled, and then parted disappointed.
Candidate number two, Kim Vitch, walked in wearing a taupe business suit. Her hair was buzzed short, bleached blonde, and she wore enough makeup to cover a small cheerleading squad.
“Ms. Vitch, welcome.” They shook hands.
“Please, call me Kim. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure is mine, Kim. You have an impressive resumé here.” He picked up the parchment sheet and glanced over it. “Tell me why I should hire you over every other candidate.”
“Several reasons, sir. First, my education: I have a BA in Political Science and an MBA in Public Relations. I know how to make a company look good in the media and spin any story into a milestone achievement.
“Second, my experience: I was a supervisor for three years at a bean counting factory before becoming a manager at a paint drying plant for two years. I’ve spent the past five years as a director of a grass growing facility.
“Third, my certifications: I am CMNA certified, BYOM certified, and a proud graduate of the Leadership Institute, which, I can see from your impressive array of awards, you also attended.”
He blushed. “Yes, I did. That is a ... rigorous program. Not many people are up to the challenge. I’m impressed you were able to successfully complete it.”
He asked about her strengths and weaknesses, where she saw herself in five years then ten, and dozens of other questions. She answered each one exactly how he would have, and the last question was no exception.
“What was your favorite subject in college?”
“Definitely Organizational Behavior. I am amazed at how integral the Human Resources department is to the proper functioning of a firm. They do so much and have such a strong influence over every aspect that determines success. I really wanted to major in it, but I wasn’t sure I had what it took to be successful in such a challenging field.”
Blumenhead smiled. “It does take a certain type of individual to be in HR, but I have a feeling, based on all your accomplishments, you could have excelled at it.”
She bowed her head slightly. “Thank you, sir. I’m flattered.”
Then it was her turn to ask the questions. Every single one focused on him and his career, how he became interested in his field, what he liked best about it, where he saw the field moving in the future, and his plans for the firm.
The interview ended with a handshake and two goofy smiles. After she left, he plopped back in his chair, pulled his feet up on his desk, and slid his hands behind his neck. There was no question who the superior candidate was. No question at all.
“We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all men, as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion.” ~ Doctrine & Covenants 121:39
“And check! Only three more items to go.” Ryan looked at the remaining checkboxes on the clipboard.
“Boy, Ryan, your way is so much faster than that convoluted process Mike and Erik had written out,” René called from the other end of the generator room. “We might actually get out of here by six. Brad will be so surprised when he comes in for his shift and doesn’t have to help us finish.”
“It’ll be nice leaving on time for a change. I still have a regression to run tonight.” He checked the next item off the list.
“And I have a press release to write.” He checked a gauge. “I still can’t believe you were able to rearrange and condense those hundred plus pages into three dozen without leaving anything vital out.”
“It’s all about optimizing, and, as an economist, that’s what I do best. Erik and Mike were engineers, which meant they loved detail and minutia and linear processes—basically busy work, and I abhor busy work.” He checked the last box. “And we are done!”
René replaced his clipboard on the wall. “I’m glad you do, because I was seriously considering quitting when this whole new role was dumped on us, and only a few days at your first job doesn’t look good on a resumé. But with your new streamlined processes, it’s not so bad. I am still a little upset we have to work weekends. I didn’t spend thousands of dollars on college so I could put in a seven-day workweek.” He started up the stairs.
“Welcome to the real world.” Ryan put up his clipboard. “But if you think about it, universities churn out hundreds of thousands of graduates each year with identical degrees and dreams of making it big. A degree makes you blend in with the crowd, not stand out from it.”
“Hmm. I’ve never thought about it that way. It’s kind of depressing when you do. So much for education being the key to your future.”
“And have you ever thought about the statistic that 2 out of 3 new jobs require a college degree? That leaves over 33% you don’t need $50,000 in student loans to qualify for. That’s actually a good advertisement AGAINST going to school.”
“You really have a different way of looking at things. And I’m not sure whether it’s good or bad.”
“It cut hours off our workload.”
“Definitely a point in your favor. So, when do you think that new manager will be hired?”
“Soon. Did you see those two people sitting outside Blumenhead’s office earlier today who looked like they were here for an interview?”
“I did when I went to lunch, and they were still there when I got back. Were they sitting outside the whole time?”
“I think so. For some reason Blumenhead likes to keep prospective employees waiting. I’m not sure why. It’s pretty rude.”
“I noticed I sat waiting for nearly an hour for my final interview. Maybe it’s his way of showing his superior position.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Everyone at this company seems to be on a power trip of some sort.”
“Gee, thanks.”
They reached the top of the stairs, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway.
“You were supposed to say present company excepted.”
“That was the expected thing to say, yes.”
René scowled slightly. “Am I really that bad?”
“I’ve only known you for a few days, but I’ve already found out you graduated in the top ten of your senior class in high school, had scholarships in college, graduated from the honors program at said college, speak two languages...”
“Wow, you must have done a background check on me.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow, “Yes, I performed a background check on you,” he rolled his eyes, “because I had nothing better to do than look into your past.”
“So which of the two interviewees do you think will get hired? The dude or the chick?”
“Without question the guy: he is tailor made for this position with his knowledge of generators and power plants and his experience building the next generation of equipment. The other candidate has never set foot in a power plant in her life and thinks a transformer is a robot that turns into a car. I’m not sure how she got past the phone interview.”
“My third grade teacher thought the same thing. How do you know so much about the two?”
“I stopped and talked to them.”
“Really? Why?”
Ryan stopped and turned to face René. “Why do you think?”
“René, Ryan, I thought you two would be in the generator room.” Blumenhead stood blocking the hall.
“We’re finished with the maintenance checklist and are heading to do the jobs we were hired to do and are paid for,” Ryan answered.
“Hmm. Well, I’d like you to meet your new manager, Kim Vitch.” She stepped out from behind Blumenhead’s massive shape. René’s eyebrows scrunched up; Ryan’s jaw dropped.
“She has an MBA, nearly a decade of managerial experience, and a number of impressive certifications including The Leadership Institute.” He smiled proudly at her. “Don’t be surprised if you are calling her Vice President one of these days.”
Ryan slapped his forehead and turned away.
“Are you feeling all right?”
“No.” He grabbed his stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Well, don’t do it on company time.” He turned to his new hire. “We were fortunate enough to have Ms. Vitch join us immediately. I’ll leave you all to get acquainted.” He lumbered back down the hall.
Kim pulled out her phone. “I understand you both are responsible for monitoring the generators.”
“During the day,” René answered. “Brad comes in at night and covers that shift. He should be here soon.”
She stared at her screen. “And you say you’ve completed all 1,028 items on the checklist?”
The two workers looked at each other with puzzled expressions.
“How did you know how many items were on the checklist?”
“I had IT load them onto my phone.” She held it out for them to see. “It’ll make the process much more efficient. Mr. Blumenhead was very impressed and is already talking about purchasing similar phones for the other department heads so they can do the same.” She flicked the screen.
“Step one, walk up to generator 0001. Step two, identify the STAT panel. Step three—”
“Um, Kim—”
“Ms. Vitch.”
“Ms. Vitch,” René rolled his eyes, “we’ve actually streamlined the process. It’s much more efficient now.”
She looked up with a half smile. “Oh? YOU streamlined the process?”
“Actually, Ryan did.” He pointed back with his thumb.
“I didn’t realize either of you possessed advanced degrees in mechanical engineering.”
“We don’t, but I understood the principles and am really fast at picking up new things. I’m sure once you see the new checklist—”
“Ryan, was it? These processes were created by highly educated minds each possessing numerous professional certifications. You have no such certifications. You will follow the checklist exactly as written unless I decide to make a change.”
“Oh? I didn’t realize you possessed an advanced degree in mechanical engineering.”
Her half smile disappeared and her lips pursed.
René stepped forward. “I think what Ryan is trying to say is it will take us twice as long if we follow those steps, and we are both still responsible for our regular duties—duties we were originally hired to do and still the only ones we actually get paid for.”
“Oh, so you maintain the generator for free?”
“Basically. We were hired for an eight-hour workday, but we put in more than twelve. Plus Saturdays.”
“You are both on salary, are you not?”
René rolled his eyes knowing where this was going. “Yes.”
“And as salaried employees, you should expect to work a minimum of fifty hours per week and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...”
Ryan waited until her mouth stopped moving then added, “But shouldn’t we be looking for ways to be more efficient?”
“Implementing new and more efficient processes is the role of a manager. Are you a manager?”
“My title doesn’t say it, but in practice—”
“A simple no will suffice.” She shook her head. “Mr. Blumenhead was more right than he knew when he said additional management was needed. It’s amazing you two haven’t burned this place to the ground already. Now let’s go back down there and begin again at step one.”
©2011 Jeff Thomason
