Taking Stock Read online

  He motioned her to sit.

  “Sorry you got such a difficult problem for your first solo call.”

  The problem hadn’t seemed difficult for Gregg.

  “Don’t worry about it. You can’t fix every problem on your own. Even experienced CSRs need help sometimes. That’s why I’m here. You did exactly the right thing.”

  “Didn’t seem that way,” she sniffed.

  “Trust me. You won’t get many of those. Remember you can’t win an argument. Just offer to help. Be positive and stick to the facts.”

  “Easy for you.”

  “Believe me it wasn’t at first.” Gregg’s attention swung across the room. “Listen, I’m going to go chat with someone from IT about this. Stay off the phone for a while. Go get a coffee. When I get back, we’ll listen to the tape and talk about what happened.

  “You’re going to do fine. Don’t worry.”

  Gregg smiled and zigzagged off through the cubicles.

  Chapter Four

  Halfway across the call center Gregg stepped into the most popular work area at BFS. Bob Hicks managed this group from a cubicle just spitting distance from the corner office. On paper Gregg and Bob were peers, but Bob had relationships with the executive team that Gregg might never achieve. His location between the coffee station, the printer station, and mahogany row may have gained him his popularity, or else it was his penchant for hiring women with looks that drew a flood of male loiterers to his area. These stunning employees garnered more rapid salary increases than any team on the floor. Gregg’s team consistently scored the best customer satisfaction ratings in the department yet their salaries lagged behind Bob’s employees. If the customers had met Bob’s team in person, the satisfaction numbers would have been closer, too.

  Gregg closed in on Brad Foster, vice president of information technology, who also happened to be the CEO’s brother-in-law and Bob’s inspiration to work his way into senior management. Brad was never too busy to trot down to the nineteenth floor if someone on Bob’s staff needed help, but when Gregg had a problem, his repeated calls went unanswered. If not for Gregg’s relationship with Erica Fletcher, Brad’s ace technologist, he’d be sunk.

  Brad leaned over the printer station wall, engaged in an intimate conversation with a new blonde that Bob had undoubtedly prepped for his arrival. She was enthralled by whatever Brad was saying, thrilled to be talking to a vice president on her first day. She’d be having dinner with him by midweek.

  Brad was telling the woman how critical the relationship between systems and service was and why he spent so much time down here servicing Bob’s needs. It seemed like the reverse to Gregg as he stopped outside the cubicle entrance and got a look at the silk blouse Brad was talking to. Gregg excused himself and waved the papers in his hand. Brad reluctantly shifted his attention to Gregg with a penetrating glare that said he didn’t appreciate the interruption at such an inopportune moment. The young lady seemed disappointed as well, though next week when she’d come to her senses, she’d welcome this same intrusion.

  Brad made no move to examine the papers Gregg extended. Seconds passed awkwardly and Gregg pulled them back. Brad’s audacity was infuriating. He took every liberty being the CEO’s brother-in-law afforded.

  Gregg explained the serious nature of the problem and the customer’s threats to file suit and a complaint letter with the attorney general’s office. Brad’s eyes returned to the young blonde’s neckline unencumbered by the weight of Gregg’s words. Brad was similarly unmoved by the tale of Marissa’s distress and Gregg’s assertion that the problem was systems related. He didn’t flinch at the mention of criminal negligence. Gregg dropped his voice to a whisper and warned, “This kind of attitude will get us a class action suit or an SEC probe for sure. You can’t ignore legitimate complaints. It’s your responsibility to protect our customers. If you don’t, you’re putting the entire firm at risk.”

  Brad didn’t even turn to face him. It was as if he believed the systems staff was infallible and that any issue that arose had to be of Gregg’s creation. That or he had no interest in his job other than the fringe benefits it provided. He deserved a hard right to the side of the head.

  Gregg paused, appalled by Brad’s stonewalling. He stood tall, hands on hips, and waited. He wasn’t leaving without an assurance that something would be done.

  The young woman turned away from Brad and measured Gregg, trying to understand if he was some sort of crackpot or if someone in Brad’s position could so completely shirk his responsibilities.

  Brad couldn’t ignore him any longer, not if he wanted any chance with the girl. “What exactly do you want from me?”

  “Help me track this down. This guy’s phone bill shows he called before the deadline on the twenty-eighth. I need to know if our records agree. If they do, and I think they will, I need to know why we didn’t get his order in until the twenty-ninth.”

  “How much does he want?”

  “Three thousand plus.”

  “Good motive to doctor up your phone records, don’t you think?”

  Gregg waved the statement. “This complaint is legit.”

  “You want me to have someone spend hours searching through phone records? For what? You know the policy. You know this happens a dozen times a day. Deal with it. Don’t come to me because you can’t have a difficult conversation with a client.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job. I can’t just shoo this guy away. He has a legitimate gripe and I need to know what went wrong.”

  “Nothing went wrong. I just told you what happened.”

  The young girl was learning about Brad’s cooperation with the CSRs.

  “You guessed. You don’t know. Tell me precisely when the call was taken and when it was entered. Then I can go back to this guy, not before.”

  “Gregg, I know it’s tough for you, but sometimes you need to do what’s right for the firm. Do you have any idea how much time this kind of research takes? Do you think I can tie up one of my developers every time some kook screams at one of those college drop-outs you put on the phones?”

  The girl reeled back in her seat. Brad didn’t notice.

  “I am doing what’s right for the firm. You’re the one who’s confused. Brendan took the original call. He’s one of my best reps. There’s no way he waited over two hours to enter the order. No way.”

  Brad ripped the sheets from Gregg’s hand, took two steps to his left and dropped them in the shredder. The motor clicked on automatically. Even so, Gregg nearly got around him in time to get hold of the pages before the machine sliced them into two dozen indecipherable strips.

  Gregg stared at the paper going into the machine, dumbfounded.

  “That’s what’s right for the firm,” Brad mocked.

  Gregg felt half a dozen sets of eyes on him.

  The paper disappeared and Brad clicked off the shredder.

  “What kind of shit is that?” Gregg asked. He wasn’t looking forward to asking angry Mr. Johnson for another copy of the phone bill. He couldn’t tell him what happened. When he didn’t explain, Johnson would assume Gregg was even more incompetent than before.

  Brad stepped around the corner and rested a hand on Gregg’s shoulder. He wasn’t especially tall, but Brad was an exercise fanatic. His biceps bulged and his pectorals pressed outward to form a resting place for his tie.

  Brad’s voice was barely a whisper, “Listen, sit on it a few weeks, then call the guy back and tell him our records show exactly what they show. He called late. It’ll save you and me a lot of trouble.”

  Gregg had a clear shot, a strong right to the abdomen. His father would have decked him already and he’d expect Gregg to do the same. Brad would never know what hit him, but it would cost Gregg his job.

  Humiliated, he turned back toward his desk without a word.

  Chapter Five

  Gregg wished he’d had the foresight to copy the phone bill or at least write down the Johnsons’ number and the time of the ca
ll before offering his only copy to Brad. Mr. Johnson wasn’t pleased, but he accepted Gregg’s explanation of a coffee spill without his earlier animosity and faxed it again without complaint. A minute later, phone bill in hand, Gregg went outside to cool down. He remembered the astonished looks of the two girls nearest him when Brad ran the documents through the shredder. They expected him to fly off in a fit of rage and even he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. He was embarrassed, a bit ashamed, maybe, but it was what he needed to do to survive here. Father would have grabbed a handful of Brad’s shirt, dropped him and probably gotten a date with the hot blonde in the process. He would have been fired of course, exactly why father worked for himself on the farm. Gregg wondered how valuable a job was that required him to humble himself to strangers day after day. Was this opportunity worth the softening his brothers teased him about?

  He walked across Franklin Street and into Post Office Square Park. It was little more than a tiny patch of grass surrounded by shrubbery and fruit trees to screen out the passing cars and city bustle. The fountain and surrounding benches were the main attraction in summer, but the water had yet to be turned on for the season. It was warm enough for the hordes of office dwellers to venture out and cram every square inch of grass during lunchtime, but the landscape looked pristine. The ropes around the lawn kept the people on the brick walks and benches and allowed the grass to soak up the spring sunshine without being trampled. The winter respite wouldn’t last much longer.

  An SUV appeared from under the park. The bushes screened the ramp that led to six stories of underground parking buried beneath his feet. It was the latest thing in Boston. Bury the infrastructure and cover it with grass. Workers from the Big Dig had done the same with the expressway, burying the northbound and southbound traffic in tunnels and preparing to build a green park for kids to play in. Unfortunately, they ran out of money before they finished. City people got excited about grass. Grass meant relaxation, vacation, time to play. Odd the things people latched on to. Gregg lived here, but he wasn’t one of them, far from it. He came from a place that was green as far as you could see. Green in every direction. He belonged there. He was at home there. City life was a necessary stop on his road to something bigger.

  On his second lap around the park, his anger cleared and he thought of the one person who could help. His body turned on its own to face her office up on twenty-two as if some sort of spiritual magnetism drew his soul to hers whenever she came to mind. His hands began to sweat as he crossed Franklin Street. He weaved among the flowerbeds that subtly doubled as bomber barriers and strode back into the lobby. Gregg wasn’t a rube like his brothers, who lost control whenever a woman of the appropriate age entered the room. They latched onto the first pretty girl who returned their flirtations and they were both married before they were twenty. There were thousands of women at S.M.U. and Gregg had dated his share. He could charm a girl off a barstool as well as he could calm an angry customer on the hotline, but he wasn’t willing to settle for any girl.

  Working six months with Erica was enough to know she was different from any woman he’d ever met. She made it clear that she needed nothing from anyone. That made getting close to her evermore difficult. She had to know she was gorgeous, but she never used that power over anyone, man or woman. She had the body of a dedicated runner, but kept it concealed beneath loose-fitting clothes that almost allowed Gregg to keep his thoughts on a professional level. He was riding the elevator to her now because she was the only person upstairs kind enough to help him voluntarily. Gregg considered himself quite a catch, but he’d devote himself to her completely if she would only agree to accept him.

  The elevator doors opened on twenty-two. Gregg slid his white plastic card through the reader and stepped inside. The quiet was a striking contrast to the constant chatter on nineteen. The hall snaked around the computer room with its rows and rows of glass-fronted racks filled with colonies of blinking LEDs. There was an empty desk at the front of the room, a remnant from the days when computers needed to be constantly attended. Now the systems were smart enough to summon help on their own.

  The few staffers Gregg passed were intent on their monitors, deep in thought as if puzzling out a mystery of one sort or another. Not one conversation could be heard anywhere.

  Erica’s door was open. Gregg filled the doorway and tapped his knuckles against the metal frame. Erica’s fingers clicked away. Her shoulders turned slightly toward him, but her eyes remained focused on the screen. Behind her the Boston skyline glistened in the spring sunshine.

  She clicked a final button and her gaze shifted from her work to Gregg so smoothly he didn’t notice the transition. One second she was looking at the monitor, the next she squarely faced him. Her intensity reminded him of one of their first encounters. They were talking together in the office after work. Some of the other CSRs were horsing around with a Nerf football. Bob threw the ball full strength and sent it whistling over the cubicles too fast for his friend to handle. The ball hurtled directly at the back of Erica’s head. Gregg flinched and Erica spun into action, her outstretched arm was ready faster than Gregg could see it move. She caught the ball by its point, an impressive demonstration of reflexes and coordination, even more so when he learned her skill was the result of ten years of Karate.

  Looking at him now she smiled a warm, relaxed smile that brightened her features. “Hey,” she said without a hint of the tension or nervous expectation Gregg felt.

  “What do I have to do to get an office like this?”

  “Learn dot Net. I could use you tomorrow, maybe sooner.”

  “Easier said than done, I’m sure.”

  “No problem for a guy as smart as you.” Her mischievous smile hinted that she’d enjoy working closely with him again. She knew why Gregg came to her so often. At least she didn’t object.

  Gregg felt a twinge of embarrassment and more than a bit confused. The boundaries had been settled two years ago. Erica was dating Simon. Still, he couldn’t help feeling there was almost as much interest on her part as his. He wanted to believe there was, but he knew this was just Erica’s way. This wasn’t an invitation to romance. Romance rarely crossed her mind. What he’d take for innuendo from another woman was simply the unvarnished truth coming from Erica. There was no hidden meaning to delve for. Looking for one only brought frustration.

  He tried to shake the thought from his mind.

  “I’ve got a tough one for you today,” he said. “You should know I’ve already had a run-in with your boss and lost.”

  “Do I seem like the type of girl who takes on a problem after her boss has said no?”

  “You’re not the type of girl who turns away someone in need.”

  “Especially not you.”

  Gregg explained Marissa’s conversation with Mr. Johnson and the discrepancy between the two documents in his hand; the phone bill which showed a call at 2:07 p.m. and the Johnsons’ account statement which showed an order placed at 3:45 p.m.

  “So you want to know who to believe?”

  “Yeah. Can you poke around the database? Maybe check the phone system and make sure it all looks kosher? I’m sure I’m going to have to pay this guy, but I’d like to have something concrete to point to in case someone asks. Having our phone records would make me feel a lot better.”

  “I don’t have access to the phone system. It’s in the security room and Brad’s the only one of us who can get in there. You’re going to need his help.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Why? What did he say?”

  “He said I should do what’s right for the firm, meaning he was too busy ogling some new chick that works for Bob to even listen to me.”

  Erica smiled knowingly.

  “He spends more time down there than up here. You’d think he could spare five minutes when I have a problem.”

  “He must have said something. What reason did he give?”

  “Reason? He’s not capable of reasoning. H
e’s a testosterone overdosed monkey. If his sister hadn’t married Marty, he’d be working in a toll booth.”

  “Serious hostility.” She chuckled.

  “He took my only copy of this guy’s phone bill and ran it through the shredder. Right in front of everyone. Made me look like a moron.”

  Erica’s hand rushed to cover a smile. “You should’ve decked him.”

  “I wanted to, believe me. Of course I’d be unemployed by now. You’d miss me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Wow. How could he do that? I don’t get it.”

  “All he said was the order missed the three o’clock deadline. He didn’t check anything. He didn’t look at my paperwork. He just shredded it.”

  “That’s gutsy even for him.”

  “Can you do some poking?”

  “You know I’ll take any chance to show Brad for the dufus he is.”

  “But?”

  “But that dufus has no clue what goes on around here. The only time he comes to see me is when he’s adding something to my workload or taking away one of my resources.”

  “So you’re busy?”

  “If I had double the staff I’d be busy. I’m barely surviving.”

  “Anyone else who might look at it?”

  Erica reached out and took the pages. “After Brad told you to drop it? What do you think? Everyone up here drinks the Kool-Aid.”

  “So you’re my only hope.”

  “A dim hope. I’ll have some breathing room after the rollout. Will your customer wait that long?”