Chapter Sixteen
Danny held his staff meeting on Monday morning. He informed everyone that he would be away next week attending the recruiting conference in Anaheim and subsequently taking a couple days off, but that they should nevertheless continue with business as usual in his absence. He appointed Gillian to fill in for him. He happily congratulated everyone for succeeding in the search and hire of the two candidates for the Chrysler project. Bill Cook, in a rare display of appreciation, even stopped by the meeting to thank them personally. More opportunities were promised now that they had an initial hold on the project, he said. Everyone groaned but stopped short of telling the Cookster to stop selling. Within the atmosphere of mutual disdain that exists between the company’s salespersons and recruiters, there is an awareness that each is dependent upon the other for success.
After the meeting Danny sat at his desk and, over a fresh cup of coffee, began a review of his plan for the year. As usual, it had been generated by Vic and the Base Line executive management without any input from the people at Danny’s level. And, also as per usual, the final plan was delivered to Danny weeks after it actually went into effect — revisions and approvals never got completed as quickly as they were needed. Now, with January half over, this year’s plan finally found its way into Danny’s mail folder in a sealed envelope marked CONFIDENTIAL. He discovered it shortly after arriving this morning, but, with the pressing need for meeting preparation, he set it aside and temporarily forgot about it.
Thumbing through the document, finally, his eyes went immediately to the summary chart on page three. Base Line was expecting him to hire an average of 30 new people per month, a total of 360 by year’s end. Allowing for a thirty-percent turnover in their existing contract staff of 640, and some fallout on the new hires, the company was planning to end the year with 750 billable contract resources. Danny shook his head, then hung it down in a gesture of hopelessness. Even in a market flush with candidates, such numbers would be aggressive. And, as everyone close to this business knew, the auto industry was perking along in excellent health. The big three and their major suppliers were soaking up every available technical resource in town. Furthermore, unprecedented amounts of compensation were being paid out by all companies to retain available talent. This was anything but a market, flush with candidates.
He was doomed. But the really sad thing was that nobody cared. Danny was simply expected to do the impossible — no more, but especially no less. And if he could not pull it off, they would find someone else — someone who would claim these ridiculous numbers to be well within his or her reach — a liar, basically. With any luck at all, someone from sales might get promoted to replace him, like Bill Cook, for example. Then at least Danny could go out the door laughing.
According to Danny’s way of thinking, the real problem lay with the high turnover rate. At thirty percent, it meant the company would lose over two hundred employees this year alone. Obviously, if Base Line could fix its turnover problem, there would not be a need to put so much pressure on the recruiting department to bring in hordes of new hires. And, if the executives understood the marketplace, they would certainly not see 360 as an achievable number for new employees this year. Clearly, the company would be better off investing in its current staff, perhaps raising salaries a little faster, upping fringe benefits somewhat, and cultivating a little more career-orientation and allegiance within the ranks. But somehow the executives with their Ivory Tower perspectives failed to see the landscape in the same light as those who walked with their feet on terra firma. And naturally, the “plan,” now finalized, could not be further amended or altered. In point of fact, it had probably been stamped into the moon over the weekend so as to be clearly visible to anyone who might be gazing into space amid thoughts of buying a successful technical services company and thereby plumping up the acquiring corporation’s profits and stock values. For the right price, Danny was certain Base Line could be had.
He filed the plan away, vowing not to look at it again. He wondered how he might communicate the aggressive targets to his staff without demoralizing them. They knew the realities of the marketplace even more keenly than did he. Saddling them with these goals would be extremely counter-productive. Why bother?
He swung his chair around and went into his e-mail. Surprisingly, he found the letter from Julie, written last evening. He read with interest.
Well, I’ll be, he said to himself after finishing. She has actually apologized to me. Now we’re getting someplace!
She had also asked him to call her, another indication that he was making progress in his quest to recapture her heart. But the thought of hearing her voice on the phone scared him a little. What would he say? Could he manage to carry on a meaningful conversation with her, or would they discover that they had few things to talk about and even less in common? In light of these uncertainties, he decided against a phone call, at least until he could sort out what to say. And, with this decision, he realized how unprepared he yet was to confront her in person, though in less than six days he would be landing at , and soon thereafter — if he followed his plan — he would appear on her doorstep. Suddenly he felt like a teenager again, trying to prepare for a first date with a girl he had always admired and finally had a chance to take out. And inexplicably, he wanted her more than he ever had, though he could see how easy it would be to fail at his mission. Consequently, he was scared-stiff.
Back in the office after his week on the road, Mike Tattersall buzzed around his new marketing assistant all day like a hornet. He first wanted to make sure that the Williams Industries proposal was letter-perfect and ready for submittal. Then he suggested that they (meaning Julie) start constructing the presentation for the sales call in Thousand Oaks on Thursday. He promised to help her with this one, using the rationale of making things easier for her since it was her first sales presentation, and he, of course, knew precisely what the customer wanted.
Allison Kraft had mentally checked out days ago and was therefore no more valuable to Julie than the old typewriter they kept around the office for emergencies, though no such emergency of sufficient consequence ever came up.
Over the course of the day, Mike called Julie into his office three times to review her work, and on two occasions he spent at least thirty minutes looking over her shoulder while she built presentation slides from existing templates in the marketing data base.
She did not mind so much that he was there; she rather liked being in close proximity to him now that she had made up her mind to pursue her relationship options. But it bothered her that he would not let her do her work alone. Having someone watch as she typed upset her equilibrium, even as it piled unneeded and unwelcome stress on her and made her want to say something to him before his micro-managing turned habitual. Another day of it and she would be acting like a caged lion. Then, heaven help him, she thought.
She got through the difficult moments — those when she felt like she was under the microscope, and Mike was getting ready to start a dissection procedure — by imagining herself retired from all this and living decidedly up-market as the queen of his castle on Long Butte Drive across town. Without question, he could afford to keep her in some style far greater than anything she has heretofore known, allowing her to put her energies toward finishing her degree work at Cal State, and to turn her thoughts toward what she would really like to do with her life, not what she has had to do in order to simply get by. Not that she would marry him for these reasons alone, of course. But if the specter of marriage did raise itself, these reasons were sure to make the short list of evaluation criteria just below items like true love, the ability to get along without arguing, and whether they were able to consistently enjoy each other’s company. Sexual compatibility, though no doubt also important, would fall somewhat further down the list.
Mike might not weigh the factors accordingly, she realized, but she would just have to insist that he take a good hard look at these things from her vantage point. Such a wide-eyed view, she realized, was something she had never insisted that Danny consider, not having understood the pitfalls of married life with quite the same depth of clarity at the tender age of nineteen. Though that was probably one of the reasons why they never managed to connect at a deep, emotional level and ultimately why their marriage ended prematurely, leaving her feeling bruised, used up, and near-worthless. And, however important sex might be, however good it could get, it would not be nearly enough to guarantee happiness.
Mike did not say a word all day in reference to their encounter on Saturday night. Nor did he make any moves on her. There were no soulful looks, no coy smiles, no touches — nothing but professional behavior, excepting for the indulgent, over-lordly management of her work tasks. Julie was left clueless regarding how to interpret his behavior. On the one hand, she was happy that he was not signaling to everyone present that they had a kernel of something personal sprouting between them. But on the other hand, she wondered if he had already made the decision to give up on her, writing her off as far too cold and aloof to merit his affections, too much trouble in the long run. Either way, she was not about to bring up the subject with him. Neither was she willing to communicate that she had begun to drop her defense barriers against the possibility of a relationship. He was going to have to do a whole lot more to get that out of her.
Later, at home, after recognizing that she had been fantasizing a little too much, she managed to get her mind off Mike, at least temporarily. She did some reading for her sociology class and also responded to e-mail from her daughter. In her letter, Clarrie had made reference to the conversation with her father on his birthday, claiming that, though he was somewhat afraid of how such a gesture might be received, deep down he seemed like he wanted to set things right. By now of course, this was not a revelation to Julie, but her daughter’s appraisal of the situation did help serve as a confirmation that Danny was being sincere. It inspired hope, and it encouraged her. Some modicum of reconciliation was welcome, perhaps even necessary, if she were going to be able to live her life beyond the reach of the long shadow cast by the breakup of her marriage. If she and Danny could truly forgive each other, become friends again, and renounce their past errors, she imagined that they could experience a kind of emancipation from all the guilt and remorse which they (she, at least) had been suffering for the past couple of years since Danny proclaimed his infidelity toward her, and everything went black. Maybe then she could really get on with her life, and so could he.
At ten-thirty she went to bed, and lying there she thanked God that things were beginning to look somewhat neat and tidy in her life, the way she always believed they should. Aside from a few remaining wrinkles, all her past worries and fears were being ironed out. And she had not even done much of the work. Things were just happening around her. It was as though she were a spectator in the drama of her own life. And considering it all, Julie Baker Predmore felt happier than she could remember feeling in years. As she settled down to sleep, she could not help smiling.
By Thursday things had changed somewhat. Mike’s attention to her at the office all week had been interpreted by the other women for what it truly represented — interest in her beyond her role as Marketing Communications Specialist. She had come to be viewed as his latest conquest — a gross overstatement of reality of course, and something she vehemently denied to all who confronted her on the matter. But, as a result of having to defend her honor, she was irked. And what bothered her most was the realization that a rumor could have developed and taken root so fast. It did not even matter whether such gossip was a direct reflection of the truth or a colossal distortion of it — people just believed what they chose to believe. As far as everyone was concerned, she had slept her way right into the marketing department. The only question was — was he worth it?
Finally, she resigned herself to stop worrying about what the others thought of her; she could not change their opinions anyway. Besides, if she did convince everyone that nothing had transpired between her and Mike and then, ultimately, they ended up together, well...She would just be adding fuel to her own cremation pyre. She would lose the precious little credibility she still maintained.
Desiring to remain above the fray, she resolved to worry only about the things that mattered. For instance, the sales call and presentation she had worked all week to perfect. That was infinitely more important than the grist in the office rumor mill. And, though Mike would actually be the presenter up at Clark and Betts, her ultimate reputation at SunBurst would be more closely tied to how well events like this turned out than to malicious words spoken over the Sparkletts jug. If this deal got sold, it would be twice as difficult for people to criticize her and sneer over her supposedly undeserved promotion. Over time, she would ultimately convince anyone who questioned her talent or her ethics that Julie Baker Predmore got where she did on her brains and her abilities, not on her back.
The weather was rotten again, had been for three days now. Nearly three inches of rain had fallen over the Southland in the past forty-eight hours alone. El Niño was making another visit and would likely be hanging around for a day or two. As a result, flood and mudslide warnings were posted up and down the coast. It especially did not help that half the population of Southern California lived precariously on what could only be considered unbuildable land anywhere else — millions at the mercy of the elements.
She had not run this morning. Instead she spent some extra time on her appearance. If she was going to be “window dressing” she should at least look her best. In spite of the rain, she chose to wear her best suit, a dark green, worsted wool two-piece she purchased at a Washington ’s Birthday sale last year. Before putting it on, she slipped into a plain, black silk blouse and buttoned it in back. A pair of black nylons finished the ensemble. She wore no jewelry. While admiring herself in the bathroom mirror, she smiled and thought, not bad for a middle-aged woman. I’m even having a good hair day.
As promised, Mike picked her up at seven-thirty. The appointment with Clark and Betts was not until ten, but considering the bad weather, he wanted to allow plenty of time for the drive up to Thousand Oaks.
Mike was dressed exquisitely. Julie put the value of his suit, shirt, and tie at two of her monthly rent payments. His shoes had come off an alligator’s back and would have, no doubt, covered another month’s living expenses, including utilities. He buckled his seat belt, and backed out her driveway.
“I picked up some coffee on the way over. That cup’s for you.”
“How thoughtful of you, Mike. Thanks.”
Julie picked up the cup and lifted the lid a little. It smelled wonderful. Though she had already had a couple of mugs at home, she was not about to insult him by refusing it.
Mike guided the BMW out Balboa toward Superior Avenue, Harbor Boulevard and the 405. The sky was thick with clouds and the morning remained shrouded in darkness. Julie listened as the radio barked out traffic and weather reports. Already the roadway problems had begun: Fender benders and other sorted mishaps were being reported from Anaheim up into the Valley, and there was a major tractor-trailer accident in Pomona for which the CHP had shut down westbound I-40. Residents in the Malibu Hills were being warned to take necessary precautions as the rain there had been especially heavy overnight, and a few hillsides were giving way under the force of the deluge. Police were evacuating residents in various neighborhoods along the coast and in some canyons east of L.A.. There were also fears concerning sanitary sewer overflow in the city. The Los Angeles sewage treatment system was very near its capacity, and if the rain kept up, untreated waste could overflow into the streets and waterways for the first time in the city’s history.
All of this mayhem was being attributed to El Niño — The Child, a periodically recurring, extra-warm ocean current born in the equatorial Pacific. It seemed odd to Julie that this phenomenon, which occurred every decade or so and caused mayhem here and as far away as southern Africa, should be named for the Christ child. But then again, He wasn’t exactly welcomed onto the scene by the people of His day either, and ultimately His presence shook the world, right down to its very foundations. Maybe the two had more in common than one might otherwise think. Nevertheless, this visit of El Niño was proving to be the most severe in recent history, and the current storm seemed to bear witness to its calamitous potential.
“Well, do you feel like you’re prepared for the presentation?” Mike asked.
“I should be asking you that question. Unless there’s something you failed to mention about the agenda.”
“Suppose you did have to do it. Would you be ready?”
“Yes and no.”
“Meaning?”
“The presentation is ready, but I’m not. I need to observe you a few times before I could possibly feel comfortable doing one myself.”
“That surprises me, Julie. I had you figured for a quick study.”
“So I am, but I’m also thorough. I’d want to do the best I could, so it only makes sense to learn from an expert.” She hoped the compliment would get him to drop the whole ruse. Clearly, he did not plan to have her do the presentation, so why pretend otherwise?
“Okay. I’ll let you off the hook this time. But maybe tomorrow you could try doing it for me. I’ll coach you through the tough spots. Role playing is one of the best ways to learn, you know.”
“So I’ve heard. But I’ve never actually been much of a role player. With me it’s what you see is what you get.”
“That’s more or less what you were saying last Saturday night as I recall.” Mike glanced over at her with the obvious intent of trying to read her thoughts. “Only I think what you said exactly was, you were too old for games.”
Julie remained silent while wondering what might be coming next. He had obviously taken the occasion to needle her.
“I’ve been giving that conversation a lot of thought,” Mike said. “Considering how we’ve worked together the last few days, it’s clear we aren’t going to have problems maintaining our professionalism in the office.”
Now, where was he going?
“So, it seems to me that what you were worried about is not going to be an issue at all.”
“Remind me what I was worried about,” she said, hoping he might get more directly to the point.
“You were worried about how things would look at the office if we had feelings for each other.”
“Oh, right.”
“And what I’m saying is that, clearly, we can work together regardless of our feelings for each other. The relationship between us won’t get in the way of our work.”
“Mike, are you saying that you don’t think anybody back at the office knows you have feelings, as you call them, for me?”
“Among other things, yes. That’s precisely what I’m saying.”
“Well, I’m sorry to have to break the news to you, but it’s simply not true. Everybody knows. And they think we’ve having an affair as well...and…that I got my promotion as a result of, well...you know... To put it bluntly, they think I’ve slept my way into the job.”
Suddenly, Mike was the one momentarily silent. He looked over at her, incredulity written on his face.
“You hadn’t heard any of this.” Julie said.
“No, I haven’t. How do you know these things are being said?”
“I’ve been accused, that’s how.”
He looked at her. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Julie. But you certainly shouldn’t be too concerned. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Small consolation, huh?”
“Very small.”
Mike aimed the BMW onto the San Diego Freeway, joining an endless multi-lane congestion of cars, en route to jobs in the city and surrounding suburbs. There was no other reason to be driving on a morning like this.
Once merged into the traffic, Mike picked up the conversation again. “So what do we do now? It seems a shame that you’ve been accused of something you haven’t had the pleasure of doing. But on the other hand, it leaves us both without a good excuse for getting together.”
Isn’t it just like Mike to turn her negative situation to his advantage, she thought, but naturally did not say. He was right of course. She saw the stars in precisely the same alignment. Only now, with this direct statement of his intentions, she no longer wondered if he had lost interest.
“Except that I’m not the kind of person who does things simply out of convenience,” is what she did say.
“Nor am I,” Mike said. “And I didn’t mean to imply that we should get together out of convenience. Just that there are no artificial barriers standing in our way; that’s all. Do you see what I mean?”
“I suppose so.” She had him hooked now.
“You suppose so?” Mike mimicked her.
“Right.”
“You know I have a mind to pull off the road right here and kiss you.”
“You don’t want to be late to the meeting, do you?”
“We won’t be late.”
“Then pull off.”
They arrived at Clark and Betts twenty minutes before their scheduled meeting time of ten o’clock. Julie’s heart was still racing from their mini-tryst along the 405. Mike’s kiss had tasted like coffee, and she was certain hers did as well. But it was morning, what else could be expected? He had run his hand through her hair and caressed her face. He then slid his hand down toward one of her breasts. She granted him a momentary touch but then quickly pulled away. After a few more kisses and an awkward front seat embrace, they calmed themselves, and Mike redirected the car into the stream of traffic.
For the remainder of their trip to Thousand Oaks, he held onto her hand and frequently stole a glance at her. A couple of times when the traffic was stop-and-go, he leaned over and kissed her again. Surprising herself somewhat, Julie willingly obliged him with equal intensity.
Now at the client site, her concern was for the presentation. She was hoping that Mike could focus his mind on the task at hand and ultimately succeed in getting the business. Meanwhile, she was also hoping to be able to mask her elation over their budding relationship, although she was quite certain that, at present, her feelings for him were shining out like a searchlight beacon. She resigned herself to simply sit in a corner of the room and look professional. Mike would be doing all the talking anyway. It might take some effort, however, not to publicly swoon over him, and not to gush if she were required to say something besides, Hello, I’m Julie Predmore, Mike’s marketing assistant, (and whatever else he desires as well...)
On the one hand, she marveled that she had finally given in to him. But Lora’s advice had been haunting her all week. She knew Mike would only grant her so many chances before writing her off. Sooner or later, playing the ice queen would push him away, right into somebody else’s arms.
Tracy, for example — regardless of what she said for the record — was one girl who would not bat an eyelash before latching onto him like a crab in the height of mating season. Besides, Julie was now convinced that, in spite of her so-called rule, he was the best thing to come her way since the divorce. Therefore, she did not want to ruin her own chances for future happiness by standing on principle. He was not perfect, of course, and they had already proved that they could find ways to disagree with each other. But in all relationships there were obstacles to overcome. How could this one be any different?
Meanwhile she felt young again. And whether her exhilaration stemmed from Mike’s magnetism or from her pent-up need for love, she could not exactly ascertain. But her head was spinning nonetheless.
Introductions accomplished, Mike immediately took command of the meeting. He asked for the co-owners, Bill Clark and Bruce Betts, and their VP of Finance, Chad Stewart, to express their expectations for the session. There was no attempt to mask their desperation; they hoped SunBurst might be able to guide them through the difficulties their company had recently been experiencing. These troubles were especially puzzling after the firm had had two good years, surpassed its initial goals, and achieved a respectable level of success. Now they were at a crossroads. Their success and the growth that had accompanied it were causing them to falter on several fronts. There were employee issues and management issues and space concerns and receivables problems and tax burdens and cash flow difficulties. And they had outgrown their information systems as well.
It was a made-to-order opportunity for Mike.
He began his presentation while still seated. Working the PC-based presentation software deftly, he pointed to the images on the projection screen while talking to the concerns expressed previously by the company principals. Julie’s slides flowed seamlessly. At Mike’s insistence, she had interspersed some eye-catching graphics and colorful charts, and used various types of dissolves to enhance the overall visual effect. Bill Clark was taking a lot of notes, and Bruce Betts’ head kept nodding, as if in agreement with everything Mike was saying. For his part, Mike periodically asked if he was communicating his points to their satisfaction, and whether they were in agreement with what SunBurst was proposing.
When the presentation concluded, Mike solicited additional questions. There was only one — from Bruce: “When can we get started?”
Mike replied that it shouldn’t be a problem to have a consultant on site within two weeks.
“That would work,” Chad Stewart said, then asked what they could do in preparation. Mike handed him a checklist of tasks they could begin performing immediately.
It was as though the whole meeting had been scripted and rehearsed. Mike appeared masterful. Julie could only sit there and admire him, and wonder — if I have to do presentations like this, will I ever be that smooth? I hope I don’t turn out to be a disappointment to him.
After the handshakes and the ceremonial signing of the work order, Mike offered to take everyone to lunch. They were happy to oblige. Bruce suggested the nearby Santa Fe Grill — wonderful food and valet parking so we won’t get too wet.