“She has an underperforming rep,” Randy clipped out.
“Frankie and I are both very aware of what’s happening in Chicago. We’re keeping our eye on it. Taking measures. Hoping for improvement. But if there isn’t any, we’ll be quite capable of making difficult decisions and carrying them out.”
“That’s good to hear,” Randy returned curtly.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” Lloyd murmured, then his focus on Randy intensified and he stated in a much louder voice, “In the future, if you have concerns about what’s happening in my department, I’ll ask you to bring them to me, as, should I have concerns about how you and your team are performing, I’d bring them to you.”
Randy didn’t reply to that. He just gave Lloyd a dark look, turned it on me, and prowled out.
When he was gone, Lloyd walked to my desk and said quietly, “Sorry, Frankie. That guy’s an ass.”
I pressed my lips together in order not to agree verbally. I managed that (barely), but I couldn’t stop myself from nodding.
“He gives you any more trouble, let me know. Okay?”
“Okay, Lloyd,” I agreed.
He smiled at me, then moved out the door, and Tandy, totally being the shit, waited the exact right amount of time before she wandered into my office with a file I didn’t need.
“Oh my God,” she hissed before putting the file I didn’t need on my desk and sitting across from me. “Randy Bierman is such a dick.”
It probably wasn’t good to talk that way in an office setting, but since she was entirely correct, and our head honcho had just called him an ass, I said not one word to refute her.
“What’s up his butt today?” she asked.
“What was up it yesterday?” I asked back.
“Well, yesterday, Miranda requested to be transferred to someone else.”
I stared at her.
Miranda was Randy Bierman’s assistant.
“She said she didn’t even care if it was a demotion or she had to work on another floor or something,” Tandy went on. “She’s d…o…n…e, done.”
“That’s news,” I noted, though I didn’t note it was news she should have shared with me yesterday.
It probably also wasn’t a good thing to encourage office gossip, but since I was always on the receiving end, not the giving end, I encouraged away. But I liked my gossip fresh, not day-old stale.
“She went to Mr. Berger to make the request.”
This time, I blinked, hard, and asked, “Seriously?”
“Yeah, she went in, had a chat with him, and he came out looking big-time angry. He had a chat with Mr. Bierman, then Mr. Bierman took off and didn’t come back. Miranda was at her desk after that, but she hasn’t been there today. Jennie says she’s moving to production. One of the scientists’ assistants is going on maternity leave and Miranda is going to take over for her while she’s gone until they can find her a new place to be. That new place to be, according to Jennie who got it from Miranda, is guaranteed.”
My eyes drifted to the glass wall as I murmured, “That’s very weird.”
“Yeah, you want a transfer, you don’t talk to the VP. You go to HR,” Tandy agreed.
You absolutely did.
But more, if you didn’t like your boss and a transfer was not to be had, other things were done. Like getting to the bottom of the issue and fixing it, or trying to. Or, say, telling the employee you’re sorry they can’t get along with someone and telling them to move on.
Not going out of your way to find them a slot while you went out of your way to transfer them permanently within a day.
That smacked of something bigger, hinting that Miranda had leverage. I didn’t want to be intrigued. I wanted to stay out of it. But I was Frankie Concetti. I was intrigued.
“Miranda told me he’s totally tripped out about Tenrix,” she declared, and my eyes shot back to her, another chill going down my spine.
“Tripped out how?”
“Lloyd is an awesome dude but when I heard Mr. Bierman going at you, I didn’t hesitate to walk to his office and give him a heads up. This is because pretty much everyone knows yesterday Bierman went after Heath and his reps aren’t doin’ as well as yours. Lloyd blew a gasket when Heath told him but Heath told him when it was over. So he was all over making a statement when Bierman went after you.”
Heath was my colleague in sales, his territory the west side of the US. And although his reps weren’t turning in the numbers mine were, his numbers far from sucked.
More gossip that was not fresh.
I’d have to have a word about that with Tandy.
Before I could, Tandy kept going.
“Bierman acts like the only product we have or ever will have is Tenrix. I don’t know, I’ve never been around when we launched, but he seems Tenrix-crazy to me.”
I’d never been around during a launch either, but he did seem Tenrix-crazy.
Absolutely.
We were launching a brand-new product in six months. He should have plenty of other things to do rather than walk across an office floor to give me shit about one under-performing rep.
“Frankie?” Tandy called, and I realized I was looking at her but not focused on her.
I was focused on the weirdness.
Weirdness that wasn’t just about a jacked up co-worker who made people’s lives a misery. Every office had at least one of those.
No, the weirdness I was focused on included a jacked up co-worker who was “tripping out” about a new product, assistants going to VPs for transfers (and getting them), and scientists being shot in the head for no apparent reason.
“You okay after he was such a dick?” she asked.
“Takes a lot more than a guy like Randy Bierman to get to me, honey,” I answered.
She grinned, popped out of her seat, and said, “Yeah.” She tipped her head to the side, still grinning. “Anyway, my turn to go down to the coffee cart for lattes. I’ll be right back.”
Without another word, she took off to get us lattes, our daily lattes another reason Tandy was the shit.
But I couldn’t get any of that out of my head. Not after Tandy left. Not all day.
The thing was, I didn’t know what was in my head.
It wasn’t like I’d never worked with a dick. Hell, my first boss was a total jerk and every single one of his salesmen made Randy Bierman look like an amateur.
Then again, no one at the car dealership had ended up dead.
Not able to get it out of my head, instead of going home, getting ready, and getting on the road, I went to Wyler Production. I used my employee ID to gain access. Then I went to the observation deck to stare down at the mammoth space, with its sterile machinery and people wondering around doing stuff wearing white jackets, white hairnets, white gloves, and goggles. I did my staring gig like the space could talk to me.
What I wanted it to say or what I’d do with the information, I had no clue.
What I had was a wild hair, and I should have learned long ago when I got one of those, to pluck it, throw it in the toilet, and flush.
Instead, I was there, the last place I should be, and this became even more apparent when I heard, “Frankie?”
I turned and started when I saw Travis Berger walking my way.
Shit.
“Hey, Travis,” I called fake casually.
He looked to me, the production floor, then back to me before he stopped a few feet away.
“There a reason you’re here?” he asked.
No there was not.
I thought fast but spoke slow.
“Brainstorming.”
His brows drew together. “Sorry?”