Sheila looked over her small staff standing around the conference table and told everyone to sit. It was time to begin the meeting. For the past six weeks, she had been working hard to organize and light a fire under them. They had passed out more cookies and muffins to doctor’s offices in six weeks than in the prior six years. “Atlanta tells me that our numbers are up thirty percent," she announced. The whole room was filled with applause. “Thank you," Sheila said, bowing gracefully, “but they want us to increase sales by another ten percent."
“Why don’t we just mail them a kidney?" one of the staff called out.
“I know," Sheila agreed. “They are making me crazy. And I can’t go home until we meet that quota. You all know what that means?" Everyone in the room groaned. They knew only too well what that meant. It meant that she would be riding them all relentlessly until she could see the Newark airport from the clouds.
Sheila had made no bones about her assessment of this current assignment. To her surprise, however, she had taken an immediate liking to the staff. They had welcomed her with enthusiasm and had invited her to every group adventure. She had declined in the beginning but eventually gave in to their insistence. She had to admit that she had never felt as though she belonged anywhere before. Her past hidden agenda had demanded that she remain focused and detached.
But Sheila had not come in to this city or this assignment with any goal other than the one she had been sent there to accomplish. Despite all that, she found to her surprise, that she was a really good marketing manager. The job in the past had always been a means to an end, but now the job was her sole focus. No one in Atlanta had expected the northeastern division to accomplish so much in such a short space of time. The added ten percent requirement had been a stalling tactic.
“Now look," Sheila said to the grumbling staff. “We can do this, no sweat. We’ll just increase the radius around the city.” Sheila passed out small packets for everyone. “The first page is a map of the northeast region. I made that mostly for me." Everyone laughed. “The solid line shows the areas we have already covered. The dotted line shows the expanded areas we will move into, effective immediately.
“Good," one of the staff interjected. “If we went back to same places, they would all have to go on diets."
“Well, we don’t want to be responsible for that," Sheila returned. “The next few pages are a breakdown of individual assignments. None of you will have to travel very far within your new area. Anyone have a question?" The group was busy studying their new territories. No one seemed to have any questions.
“Oh, and did I mention the bonus?" Sheila added strategically. The group stopped studying the pages and looked up at her. “There is the little matter of a five day trip to Hawaii," Sheila added. Everyone suddenly had lots of questions. “Let me explain it first," Sheila said, quieting the sudden barrage of chatter. “The bonus is a vacation for two. The one whose area contributes the most to our increase in sales will win the trip to Hawaii. There are no rules and no limits to the methods that you may use to achieve this goal."
“What kind of time frame are we looking at?" one staff member asked.
“When we reach our forty percent mark we will stop the clock," Sheila challenged. The room was filled with excited chatter and Sheila knew she had found a good incentive for this group.
What the staff didn’t know was that she had not been able to get the home office to bite on the bonus idea. After several days of pleading she had given up and decided to foot the bill herself. It was worth it to her to wrap things up here. Dominex would not expect her to pull this off so quickly and there was no way they could come back with an increase in expectations again. They would have to concede and she would be at their doorstep long before they were ready for her.
“Well, if you’ll all excuse me,” one of the staff said, “I have a vacation to win.”
“Yeah, are we done?" another chimed in, “we’re burning daylight."
“We’re done," Sheila announced. “Everyone get out there, and may the best man or woman win." Everyone went swiftly out the door. Good work, Sheila.
When everyone was gone and the frenzy had died down, Sheila went to her computer to check her mail. There were two messages from Jerry. The first one read, Sheila - too much going on to sum up. You have to call me, Jerry. The second one was obviously sent after Jerry had waited for a phone call. It read, Sheila!!! Urgent!!! Call me - Jerry. Sheila had been so caught up in her Newark quest she had forgotten to check her messages for the past twenty-four hours.
Unconcerned about phone records, Sheila dialed Jerry’s direct number. Dominex will just have to get over it, she thought to herself while she waited for Jerry to pick up the phone. “Jerry Owens," he announced.
“Jerry, it’s Sheila."
“Well, it’s about time!”
“Sorry, you wouldn’t believe the hoops they have been sending me through up here.”
“Yes, I would," Jerry responded. “If you could see the fires they have been putting out, it’s no wonder they had to expand the maze they have you running through.”
“It’s gotten worse?" she asked with foreboding. “Jerry, I don’t think I even want to hear this. I was actually having a good day."
“Sorry," Jerry said, “but I think you really need to know about this." Sheila opened her desk drawer and got out a miniature Hershey’s bar.
“Okay, Jerry. I have chocolate. Let’s have it."
“All the volunteers that got too sick to continue the study are being sent to a doctor," Jerry began.
“You made me eat chocolate for that?" Sheila laughed.
“There’s more," he said. “Dominex is footing the bill and the vitamins.”
“Vitamins?" Sheila repeated skeptically.
“Yeah, vitamins," Jerry said exaggerating the first syllable to show his contempt. “No one knows for sure what is in those vitamins, but I’ll tell you one thing. Those people better not stop taking their One-A-Day’s."
“What the hell are they trying to pull?" Sheila asked.
“The whole packaging department spent one solid day doing nothing but filling small brown envelopes with Suprame. They told us it was for a special order overseas."
“Why did they need their order in brown envelopes?" Sheila said suspiciously.
“No shit," Jerry responded. “And the following day after packaging finished with their little overseas order, people were herded like cattle to this Dr. Donovan’s office.” Sheila remained quiet and fished another mini Hershey’s out of her drawer. “You know what they’re doing, don’t you?" Jerry interjected.
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out," Sheila said between bites.
“All the sick people are going to magically get better," Jerry said ironically. “Just think," he continued, “all that healing from a multiple vitamin."
“Then this stuff goes on the market," Sheila continued, “and Dominex is free and clear. After all, they tested the stuff. No one will be able to come back at them and say they didn’t take every precaution."
“Dominex ceased to be a respectable proposition some time ago. You can thank baby Roman for all the new daytime drama," Jerry said. “And I’ll tell you another thing," he continued, “I have been working for this company a long time, and I will be watching my 401K grow into five digits regardless of the creative politics junior seems to like so well.”
“Jerry," Sheila said, “that is precisely why we have to be so careful in how we deal with this. We can’t do anything to jeopardize our own positions."
“At what price?" Jerry asked.
“Don’t take this stuff too personally," Sheila reasoned. “You aren’t the one doing this."
“I know," Jerry said. “But it just makes my blood boil when I think of how they are using these people."
“The battle is not over yet," Sheila said in a conspiring tone.
“I don’t think I like the sound of that," he interjected. “What are you planning now?"
“Could you check out an address?" Sheila inquired.
“I guess so. What are we looking for?"
“I’m just curious about something," she said.
“Sheila, this is your partner in crime, remember? Tell me what I’m getting into."
Sheila told him about the strange alias address for pharmlab, and explained that the FDA had required the lab work done by an independent facility. “I didn’t really have time to check it out before I left," she explained, “but in light of this new development…."
“Okay," Jerry conceded, “I‘ll check it out, but you owe me a dinner when this all over."
“I’ll be back soon. Just be careful."
“Maybe I should down a couple of those vitamins," Jerry said.
“Jerry," Sheila interjected, “you should eat some chocolate instead. It’s less lethal, and it tastes a lot better. I’m hanging up now."
“Bye, Sheila," Jerry said, and hung up.
Baby Roman is clumsy, Sheila thought to herself, as she crumbled up the empty candy wrappers. Her staff was hot on the trail and she would be home soon.
Brian Carter had been taking his vitamins for three days, and was beginning to notice an improvement. He had actually slept for five hours the night before and his intense dizziness had become an occasional wave. He was still feeling weak and tired, but he was a new man. Brian picked up the phone and dialed the number to the mental health center.
“Hey," Carol said. “How have you been doing?"
“I’m doing better, since I started taking those vitamins," Brian answered.
“What vitamins?" she asked suspiciously.
“Didn’t Dominex call you and tell you to go to Dr. Donovan’s office?"
“Yes, and I told them that another doctor was not a solution for me."
“So you never went?"
“It was a doctor… No, make that two doctors, that got me into this in the first place. I’ll pass on doctor number three," Carol stated adamantly.
“Well, he really helped me," Brian said defensively.
“Did you say he put you on vitamins?" Carol inquired.
“Yeah and they have been working pretty well so far.”
Carol was silent momentarily, trying to process what Brian had just told her.
“Carol?" Brian said finally. “Is something wrong?"
“This doesn’t make sense," she responded. “The damage can only be repaired naturally, and only over time."
“That’s what I thought too. But I really am starting to feel better. I slept for five hours last night!”
Carol could hear in Brian’s voice that he was elated. And not only that, he did sound so much better.
“Okay,” she began cautiously. “Would you do me a big favor?"
“Sure. We’re the Valipene Survivors Club.”
“I want you to come in and give me a urine sample," Carol explained.
“You want urine?" he asked incredulously. “What for?"
“Humor me."
“Okay, but it’ll cost you."
“Thanks, Brian."
“I’m on my way."
“You’re not only a trooper, but a punctual trooper," Carol offered. “See you soon."
Carol had a very bad feeling about Brian’s situation and the infamous Dr. Donovan. If what she suspected was true, then all the time Brian had put in suffering through the early stages of recovery had just been erased. Carol had stepped over the line at work so many times already, it really didn’t matter anymore. She pulled out an active file and copied the name onto a lab slip. After putting the same name on the specimen bottle, she set the package aside for Brian when he arrived.
Charles Roman sat in the back of his new Beemer on his way to work. He loved having a driver. It gave him time to think. But today he would have preferred the distraction of traffic. He had a spreadsheet on his lap and was going over the company’s current expenses. He was out of time. There was no way they were going to meet their expenses. The study had to run for another two months before they could start raking in any profit from Suprame. Charles pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam’s private number. “Yo," Sam answered.
“Yo, yourself," Charles repeated. “That’s a very informal greeting.”
“Well this is a very informal phone line. What’s up? You never call on your way to the trenches."
“We have a situation," Charles said.
Sam rolled his eyes and thought, When do we not have a situation. But phone conversations give one the benefit of confidential facial expressions.
“What’s going on?" Sam inquired tentatively.
“We are going to have to lay off some people," Charles said reluctantly.
“Why?"
“We were not prepared for the delay in the Suprame market date.”
“Well, I know we started construction on the new building," Sam reasoned, “but we stopped work on it when we got hit with the extra research requirement."
“The new building wasn’t our only added expense," Charles explained. “We hired more people as well."
“Factory and distribution people at eight dollars an hour," Sam interjected.
“Okay, Sam," Charles surrendered. “There were added expenses you didn’t know about."
Sam sat down in his chair and let out a long, frustrated breath. “Charles, not again," he said finally.
“Look," Charles said defensively, “how was I supposed to know that the study was going to take this long?"
“I thought you preferred not to know all the gory details," Sam answered.
“I don’t… I mean, I didn’t. But I do now.”
“Good. I’ll tell you what. When you get in, I will fill you in. And when I’m done with that, you can fill me in.”
“Always the life saver," Charles said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sam responded and the line went dead.
A few layoffs won’t kill anybody, Charles thought to himself and put the annoying paper away. He turned up the volume on the back speakers and enjoyed the rest of the ride.
Sam paced back and forth in his office. It was a means of exercise that he had taken to fairly regularly these days. If we get past all this insanity, Sam thought, I am going on a really nice vacation. Sam had not taken one in five years, but he was certainly ready for one now.
He didn’t really know how much Charles Roman Jr. wanted to know about the company’s current situation, but the more he knew the better it would be for Sam. He was tired of protecting this guy. Especially since the guy was causing most of what he needed protection from. Sam decided to go to the study wing and get all the current statistics. Charles could have as much of that reality as he wanted.
Sam walked down the long hallway and had almost made it to the volunteer’s waiting room, when he heard a loud argument coming from that direction. When he opened the door, he saw a man standing at the receptionist’s window. He was visibly upset and waving his arms while yelling at the frightened woman behind the window. “Oh, Mr. Reynolds, thank God," the woman said, when she saw him.
“What’s the problem?"
“I just want my medication back," the man yelled, “and this woman said I have to take that up with the doctor. I don’t give a crap about your doctor. I just want my meds back and I want out of this insane study.”
Sam understood the man’s anger and said, “Genie, do you know where… I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?"
“Tolens," the man said through clenched teeth. “Barry Tolens."
“Do you know where Mr. Tolens’s medication is?"
“I’ll go see if I can find it," the frightened girl said as she ran out of the receptionist area.
Sam turned to the angry man and said, “Why don’t you come inside where I’m sure you will be more comfortable?”
Barry Tolens looked around the waiting room area and realized that he had created quite a scene. Several of the volunteers were looking at him in astonishment.
“I think that is probably a good idea," Tolens agreed.
Sam guided the man into one of the empty exam rooms and asked him to have a seat.
“I’m sorry about that," Tolens said apologetically. “I have been off my medication for the past ten days and I can’t stand it. I’m sorry, but I just can’t go through with the study."
“That’s okay," Sam said consolingly. “Not everyone is cut out for this. Genie will bring you your medication and we will still provide you with your money and free prescriptions, just for making the effort.”
“Really?" Tolens asked in amazement. “Now I’m really sorry I yelled at everybody."
“Forget it," Sam said. “I already have.” He shook the man’s hand and left the examination room. Genie was on her way in and stopped to thank Sam profusely.
“I didn’t know what to do," she explained.
“If anyone else comes in and wants their medication back you can give it to them," Sam said. “Just be sure and get their full name and report it to me.”
“No problem," a relieved Genie said. “And thanks again."
Sam went down to the lab and found the stat book lying on top of the patient files. “I need to borrow this," he said to the lab technician. The technician looked up from his urine specimens and held up his hand to detain him.
“These drug screens we are doing on the urine that was delivered from downtown are coming up positive for benzo’s," the technician announced with concern.
“No," Sam corrected, “they should all be negative."
The young man looked at Sam in confusion.
“Didn’t Jeff Edwards explain the protocol we wanted?"
The lab tech shook his head, bewildered. “I just started here yesterday," the man said timidly, “but I’m sure these test results are accurate."
Sam eyed the young man suspiciously. He had enough on his plate right now without worrying about some eager upstart flying an ethical flag in the company‘s face.
“What is your name?" Sam inquired.
“Roger,” the man stammered.
“And do you have a last name?” The man was beginning to sweat and weakly offered up his last name.
“Kaplan."
“I see," Sam said threateningly. “Well, Roger, run them again. And if they come back positive, this will be your second and last day with Dominex." The VP calmly left with the book, leaving a shaken lab technician to read between the lines. The obvious message: to get with the program or find another job.
Sam carried the information back to his office, stopping at his secretary’s desk. “Margie," he said. “We need to make arrangements to return medications to all the volunteers that have dropped out of the study. I’ll get the list of names for you."
“Gee, thanks," Margie said. Sam knew that the study had been a heavy load on his secretary.
“Margie,” he added, “You know you’re the best.”
“Yes," she agreed. “I just didn’t know if you knew it." Sam gave her a smile and headed back to his office.
“Oh, Sam," she called. He turned back around. “Charles is looking for you." Sam nodded and turned right to go back down the hall.
Sam and Charles sat at the conference table in the CEO’s office with all the study statistics in front of them. Charles was working hard to absorb the information. Finally, he concluded, “So, what you’re telling me is that forty nine percent of all the volunteers are becoming extremely sick when they stop taking Valipene?"
“That’s correct. And of the fifty-one percent who haven’t become sick, only thirty percent of them are reporting having no uncomfortable symptoms. That’s only fifteen percent of the entire group,” Sam added.
Charles looked at Sam and said, “That’s not good."
“No, it’s not. We did a quick evaluation of the remaining fifteen percent. Everyone in that category had been on the drug for less than six weeks."
“So, the longer a person has been taking Valipene, the sicker they become when they stop?"
“The correlation is not exact," Sam explained. “We find that some individuals are more prone to withdrawal than others, but in general, yes, time frame is definitely a factor.”
“You said that this would be fool proof," Charles said, taking his eyes off the pages and leveling them on his VP.
“And it will be," Sam assured him. “Do you want to know the details of Phase Two?"
“I guess I need to," Charles said reluctantly. “But before we get into that we need to look at our current financial situation.
“It will take two more months before all the volunteers have completed the study," Charles directed.
Sam nodded.
“Our recent expansion required a substantial increase in revenue and for obvious reasons, it isn’t there yet."
“And terminating a bunch of eight dollar an hour employees is going to fix the problem?" Sam asked incredulously.
“I’m afraid we will have to dip into some of the higher paid work force," Charles responded. Sam and Charles sat in silence while Sam absorbed that piece of information.
“And what do you propose to do in two months when Suprame goes on the market and we need them all back?" Sam asked finally.
“Actually," he said contritely, “I hadn’t thought that far down the road." Just then, Charles lit up and said, “Why don’t we just tell them it’s a temporary layoff?”
Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This man was not going to let go of a single luxury while honest, loyal, hard workers went months without a means to pay their light bill.
“Charles," he said finally. “That’s not going to work. Good qualified people are not going to lie around the house for two months waiting for their jobs back. More than likely you will never see them again. Why don’t you let me think about another solution?"
“Fine by me," Charles said happily. “Now tell me about Phase Two.”