G-Men: The Series (118 page)

“Okay, great,” I said, inwardly hoping I could make heads or tails of these charts and graphs. This was probably some kind of a test he was giving me. I cleared my mind and separated the charts/graphs into separate stacks, based on what metric they represented. Finished there, I then put them in chronological order to see the changes or trends. I studied them glancing back and forth between each group in chronological order. I pulled my steno pad out of my briefcase and jotted some notes. It wasn’t rocket science, once I understood what I was looking for.

Easton returned a few minutes later, taking his seat, leaning back in his leather chair, crossing his arms and giving me a wicked smile. “I’m ready for your high-level analysis, Ms. Sheridan,” he said.

“According to these charts, it appears that Leeds has had year-over-year revenue growth in the first three years of the data provided. In Year 4, the revenue had no growth or loss, but the gross profits declined about 7% in direct proportion to the drop on the productivity chart for the same period.”

“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his chin. “That shows me you can read the graphs, but I want more. I want you to think like a manager. What might the possible causes be for revenue to stay the same, but profits declining along with productivity?”

“Well,” I said, trying to remember what I’d learned in Cost Accounting at school. “It could be a result of payroll increases, overhead increases, or material costs, or a combination of those and the product pricing remaining the same?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

Good God, is he about to give me detention?

“I guess they’re some possibilities to consider.”

“Alright, then let’s dig a little deeper and tell me how the slip in productivity may be explained.”

“Increases in overtime premiums, issues with absenteeism, employee turnover, paid medical leaves—I guess there could be others, but those are the ones that come to mind.”

“Let me stop you right there, Darcy. You’ve nailed it nicely. What about the rest? The customer satisfaction surveys and revenue projections?”

“The customer satisfaction graphs were all stable. There’s nothing there to indicate the performance at Leeds, as far as quality and delivery, has slipped. The forecast projections going forward puzzled me, to be honest. It looks like sales are going to drop off by £4.5 million the second half of this year—and £9 million next year.”

“What does that indicate?”

“Lost business,” I replied with a shrug.

“Exactly,” he replied, gracing me with his smile. I beamed, feeling as if I’d won a prize for my answer. I figured he should be pissed about losing a chunk of business like that, not happy that I got it.

“Why is it important to you that I understand all of this right now? You aren’t thinking about promoting me, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

Okay, that one stung a little…

“It’s for the purpose of you understanding the reason for this meeting this afternoon and the actions necessary to stop the bleeding in Leeds.”

“What actions are you taking?” I asked, not quite sure I wanted or needed to know.

“I’m going to be cleaning house. You see, the reason this facility lost what should’ve been a sure thing on a government renewal contract representing £9 million in annual revenue is failure to submit the bid package before the deadline.”

“Wait a minute. Does this have something to do with the conversation I overheard yesterday between you and someone named Devon?” I blurted out.

“That’s right,” he said, resuming a business-like tone, steepling his hands under his chin. “Devon Roberts is the current General Manager at Leeds.”

“The one you told that women whelp in the middle of rice paddies and then continue harvesting without skipping a beat. I see. So, she’s in trouble for the loss of the government contract?” I asked, tapping my fingers impatiently on the top of his desk.

“Yes, one and the same. She bears responsibility for ensuring that bids are completed and submitted in a timely fashion. That did not happen.” He swiveled in his chair, turning from me.

“Whoa, hold up there a minute. Are you telling me that Leeds is a ‘One Woman Show?’?”

“I don’t follow,” he replied, furrowing his brow.

“It sounded like she’d been off on maternity leave when this happened.”

“You must have heard the whole damn conversation, Darcy,” he remarked, turning his attention back to his monitor.

“I heard enough,” I replied. “So, is that correct? She was off on medical leave when the bid package was due for submission?”

“It is,” he replied, stiffly.

“Well, let me ask you this then, isn’t there a Marketing or Contracts Manager at Leeds who prepares the bid package? I mean, that’s how it’s done at Sheridan & Associates,” I snapped, tilting my chin up ever-so-slightly.

“Baronton-Sheridan,” he corrected, giving me a slight glare. “And yes, there’s a Contracts Manager at Leeds.”

“Uh huh,” I replied. “Name please?”

“Clive Biser,” he replied, frowning.

“So, are you going to terminate Clive during your visit today?”

“No, Clive was traveling in North America when this occurred. He’d given the preliminary data to his department supervisor to delegate to one of the administrators to audit, and then prepare for submission, once the terms and conditions were in compliance.”

“Okay, so the way I see it, you’re holding Devon’s feet to the fire for a misstep that happened while she was out on an approved medical leave for something that wasn’t under her direct control at the time.”

“Being on maternity leave doesn’t relieve Devon from the responsibilities of her position with the company. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have ample notice that she’d be gone for a period of time. Nine months’ notice is sufficient for her to make sure she had an executable plan in place, assign an interim manager during her absence, and schedule teleconferences to ensure that the schedule was not slipping on anything. My God, in this day of internet magic, lack of communication isn’t a viable excuse.”

“Dear God! The woman worked up to her due date?”

“Yes, pretty much.”

I crossed my legs and leaned forward in my chair. “So, she gives birth, and then you expect her to focus on what’s going on at the company while she’s recovering and taking care of a newborn to boot? I mean, it sounds as if she had a plan that simply wasn’t executed. Who was the interim GM?”

“Clive Biser.”

“So, Clive dropped the ball, not Devon.”

“Clive got called out unexpectedly for two weeks to represent Baronton on a bidding war for a new contract with British Petroleum in Canada. He was the only one qualified to go.”

“Okay, so who was to serve while he was gone for two weeks to make sure everything on his “to do” list got done?

This is like pulling fucking teeth!

“Lacee.”

What. The. Fuck.

“What?”

“This is getting quite tedious, Darcy. I’m not in the habit of explaining my decisions to a trainee. We need to be off,” he said, glancing at his watch, mentally brushing me off.

“Wait!” I screeched, much louder than intended. He stopped, whirling around to glare at me.

“What now?” he asked tersely (and rudely).

“I’m not going,” I replied flatly, crossing my arms in front of me, taking a haughty stance.

“I beg your pardon?” His expression was stuck between puzzled and pissed.

“I’m not going until you unravel the rest of this little mystery for me. First off, what would give Lacee the qualifications to fill-in as an interim GM at one of your facilities? Secondly, if she was the appointed responsible person, why aren’t you firing her ass?”

He gave a very audible, very frustrated sigh, rolling his beautiful gray eyes.

“Of course, Darcy, why shouldn’t I explain myself to you? Lacee’s well-equipped with that particular business segment because she worked there before working for me. She knows the products, the staff, and the contracts. The company was originally located in the U.S. When I purchased it, I had it moved to Leeds to be closer to the other sites in that particular market. Lacee was on the transition team put into place in Roanoke, Virginia, where it was originally located.”

“Okay—makes sense,” I mulled that over and found myself agreeing. “Continue.”

“There were enough managers on site to oversee the other functional areas in Clive’s absence. Lacee was simply to make sure everything on his “To Do” list, as you called it, was executed on time. If something went amiss, she was to contact me directly so that I could intervene.”

“You mean chew someone’s ass?”

“Exactly.” He hesitated briefly, collecting his thoughts to explain the rest. “Anyway, Lacee never got there because that was around the time we acquired Sheridan and I assigned her to the transition team there, because of her past experience.”

Wow!

“Then in all fairness,
you
were the cause of the miscommunication in this internet magic age, Easton. You pulled Lacee off that assignment without clearing it through anyone at Leeds.”

“I fucking own the company, dammit. I don’t have to clear anything with anyone, now let’s go.”

Oh hell no—did he just yell at me?

“No,” I replied, my voice direct and calm.

His eyes narrowed as he studied my face. “What do you mean,
no
?”

“I know it’s not a word that you’re used to hearing. It means ‘nada,’ ‘negatory,’ ‘nope,’ or ‘ain’t happening.’ Take your pick.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. This is part of your training curriculum, so you’ll accompany me there as a trainee.”

“No. I’m not going. You can fire me if you want for insubordination or refusal to adhere to a direct order—whatever. Then, you can fire yourself, because you’re the one that fucked up. You’re the one not willing to take responsibility for that. I won’t be part of a company that has so little regard for their employees. The woman gave birth! It sounds to me as if
that’s
the part you find intolerable, and you’re punishing her for that if you fire her. I don’t know British law, but I hope she sues the fuck out of you.”

I turned to leave and he reached out, grabbing my arm as I started to leave. “I own the company, Ms. Sheridan, I’m hard-pressed to fire myself,” he laughed.

“Then I guess you’re the only one that doesn’t play by your own rules. I think they call that hypocrisy,
love.
I won’t be a part of this because it’s
wrong
. Plain and simple
: wrong!”

I jerked my arm out of his grasp and fled to the staircase where I managed to get to my suite, slamming the door and locking it, just in case he wanted to go all “caveman” on me.

I went into the closet, grabbing all my clothes and shoes, shoving them into my luggage as quickly as possible. I packed my make-up and toiletries, looking in every room of my suite to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. I then pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweater, changing quickly, locating my Nikes and slipping them on. I crammed my suit, blouse and shoes into the suitcase, fastening the locks. I dug out the original itinerary for the return back to D.C. It wasn’t leaving until 4:00 this afternoon. It was only a little before noon. I knew the tickets were non-refundable, so they were still valid.

Just then, there was a tapping on my door.

“I meant what I said. I’m not going.”

“Miss,” I heard Anna’s calm voice.”May I come in?”

Now I felt like a real idiot.

“Of course,” I called out, sitting on my bed with my luggage.

“Mr. Matthews has departed for the air strip. He asked that I see to your comfort until he returns late this afternoon. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Yes, Anna, there is. When Dennis returns from dropping off Easton, I’ll need a ride to Heathrow please.”

She looked undecided. I didn’t care. Easton Matthews wasn’t going to keep me prisoner in his estate all day in order to dole out some form of punishment upon his return. I had stood up to him on a matter I felt passionate about. I wouldn’t work for someone who had so little regard for employees. ‘Family Atmosphere’ my ass!

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Miss? I think Mr. Matthews is expecting you to be here when he returns.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life, Anna. If it’s a problem, I can call another limo service.”

“Oh no, no, Miss. It’s not a problem whatsoever. Dennis should be back in about ten minutes. So, if you’re ready, I’ll take your bags down.”

“No, Anna, I can get them,” I said, lifting my biggest suitcase off of the bed.

“How about we both get them?” she asked, smiling at me.

Within fifteen minutes, limo packed with my luggage, Dennis was cruising the distance from Greystone Manor to Heathrow Airport. I was so ready to go home, to forget this whole trip to London (well, except for the
really
good parts). I wasn’t too thrilled about the fact that, once again, Easton and I were in ‘no man’s land.’ That whole conversation we had in his study was a bunch of bullshit. He made it look
easy
firing a woman while blaming it on the fact that, by getting knocked-up, she just wasn’t living up to his professional standards.

And to me?

That wasn’t okay.

^{chapter 31}