Wrong Place, Right Time

  It was probably an easy decision for Frank to get rid of me and replace me with one or two young kids right out of school. He’s not going to be around for the long haul; he’s like all the rest of them, ready to pump and dump, get his share of the pie and fly away. Hardly anyone cares about the long term anymore. All they care about is mo’ money, mo’ money. Jerks.

  Frank opens up his desk drawer. “Here you go, just like we discussed. Two months’ severance.” He holds out a white envelope at me.

  I shake my head, never taking my eyes off him. “Sorry, Frank. But that’s not gonna work for me.”

  His hand pauses in midair, the envelope flopping down from his fingers. He cocks his head, playing stupid. “I’m sorry . . . We discussed this on the telephone, right?” He tosses the envelope across the desk, and it lands in front of me. “Like I said, we can’t keep you on at this time. We’re having some trouble with the company, and we need to streamline operations. It’s nothing personal—I hope you know that.”

  I don’t move a muscle, other than to blink. “I heard otherwise.”

  His eyes open a little wider. “What did you hear?”

  “I heard that you have new money coming in.” I wait for his reaction, and I’m not disappointed. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he frowns, squinting his eyes up into two little tiny slits. He couldn’t look guiltier if he tried.

  “I don’t know where you heard that, but that’s false.” He puts his hands out, palms up. “We’re status quo here. Nothing has changed. The only thing we’re doing, like I said, is streamlining a little bit. Cutting the fat.”

  Oh, wrong move, buster. Calling me fat.

  “I believe you, Frank. As we both know, whenever a software company—like this one, for example—wants to bring in money from new investors, that’s the first thing it does. Cuts the fat. That’s stage one. The next stage is to give the money men a little tour. Romance them. Maybe you’ll even be tacky enough to take them to a strip club. But that’s really not my problem. The only one who has a problem here is you.”

  A storm cloud moves over Frank’s expression. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “You know what I’m saying. Tell me you’re not that naïve.”

  “Spell it out for me.” He’s no longer playing stupid. Now he’s daring me to continue. But he must have mistaken me for some brainless cow if he thought I wasn’t going to rise to that challenge.

  “See, there’s another part of this process that I’m fully aware of, having been a part of it before, and I’m sure you’re well aware of it too, which would explain why you’re trying to play dumb with me right now.”

  He tries to interrupt, but I keep going. “When these new investors conduct their due diligence on this company, they’re going to ask you if you’ve entered into any lawsuits with anyone. And they’re also going to ask you if there are any threatened lawsuits.” I pause a few seconds to let that sink in.

  Frank gives me a sly smile. “If that were the case, and I’m not saying that it is, there wouldn’t be any problem for us. Because, as everyone knows, our balance sheet is clean. We have no lawsuits, nor any threatened lawsuits. All of our patents are up to date, and we haven’t used anybody else’s intellectual property in our work. You of all people should know that, since you headed our committee for purity of IP.”

  I never liked that stupid title. Purity of IP? What does that even mean? He acts like this company was always coming up with fresh ideas, but Frank wouldn’t know a fresh idea if it was attached to a two-by-four that bapped him over the head. It’s time he got a little wake-up call, and he has no idea who he’s messing with. I’m the girl who just handled a midnight break-in without peeing her pants. Last night, I was super-spy. Today, I’m an avenging angel, making sure I get a fair shake from this turdbasket.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  You’re forgetting one little thing, Frank,” I say, my nostrils flaring as I try to hold in my anger. I didn’t want to have to go here with him, but I don’t like how he handled things with me. And I really don’t like the way he’s talking to me as if I’m stupid. And I really, really don’t like how he let me hang out in the wind, high and dry, after promising me a promotion less than a month ago. He must think I was born yesterday.

  “Remember the promotion you promised me? Remember how you asked me to work all those extra hours, and told me I was going to get paid for it in the end with my promotion? How you told me I was management material?”

  He gives me a pitying smile. “Jenny, this is all water under the bridge now. It’s over. You just need to let it go.”

  “Don’t you dare look at me with that cocky expression on your face and act like you feel sorry for me. The only one you should be feeling sorry for right now is you, because you underestimated me. You took advantage of me like you take advantage of all of your employees, and you thought you were going to keep getting away with it. Maybe you have for a really long time, but that’s done. I’m not going to put up with it. Everybody knows that I was the one selected to be fired because I have children and because I am a single mother. There is no other reason. I have a better work record than anyone else on this floor.”

  “Who told you that?”

  I can’t keep my volume from rising. I didn’t want to think he was going to try to paint me as a slacker and a person who deserved to lose her job, but I suspect that’s what’s about to happen, and it makes me livid just to imagine it. “Nobody had to tell me that! Everyone knows it. It’s obvious. And this may be an at-will employment situation, and I may not have a contract with you for my job, but that does not mean that you can fire me just because I have children. There are some laws that you have to follow in this state. And you know what? Maybe what you did skirts the edge of legal, but it also skirts the edge of illegal. It’s definitely not right, I know that. This is not how you treat people.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out before continuing. “Let me tell you how this is going to work.” I sit down in the chair opposite his desk and motion for him to do the same. In this moment, as I see the flicker of surprise in his eye, I come to realize that I can take care of myself. Last night’s fiasco proved that. Frank the Snake can try to take advantage of me, but I will eat him alive. I am the King Snake in this room, not him.

  He stands there for a few seconds, being obstinate, but when he realizes it makes him look like an angry child he sits down and rests his hands on the arms of his chair. “Go ahead. Say what you have to say, but it’s not going to change anything.”

  “Here’s what’s going to happen, Frank. You’re going to take the check that you have in that envelope there, and you’re going to tear it up into little pieces. Then you’re going to call accounting, and you’re going to tell them to cut me a new check for double the amount that you had on that first check.” I manage a small smile. “I think that’s fair. Six months would be even more fair, seeing as how you gave that waste-of-space Nick nine months’ worth when he left—even though he wasn’t nearly as good as I am, and even though he didn’t work nearly as many hours for you as I did. But we know the glass ceiling is fully intact here, and I don’t have the energy to fight that battle, so I’m just going to go ahead and let you get rid of me and my big mouth for the bargain price of four months’ severance.”

  He looks like he’s about to speak, but I shush him with a raised finger. “Now . . . if you want to stick to your two-month offer, go ahead. That’s your right, of course. But then you’ll force my hand and we’ll just see what happens next.”

  He shrugs. “I’m not hearing anything from you that tells me I should do anything with this check other than hand it to you and say good luck with your future.” He laughs. “But you know what? Don’t even think about asking me for a reference now.” He leans forward and stabs a finger into his desktop, dropping his voice to a near growl. “You think you can come in here and threaten me, and then get a good reference?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he leans back in hi
s squeaky chair. “I don’t care how many years you worked here, and I don’t care how good your work was. You’re done now. You’re not going to work in this town ever again if I have anything to say about it.”

  I smile at him very patiently. Because he’s a man who’s never dealt with a glass ceiling, and because he’s used to railroading people and getting his way, he doesn’t understand what’s happening right now. So I’m going to spell it out for him real easy and real slow so that he can keep up.

  “Frank, listen closely. I’m done playing, so you need to pay attention. You have investors on the line who are poised to hand over probably several million dollars to you because you’ve told them that you have this revolutionary program that’s going to change the world. You and I both know that it’s not going to do that, and that you’re very likely going to get the lawdogs of Vedas Incorporated after you, because it could be argued that you’re using pieces of their patented code to make yours work properly. Remember? I was in charge of IP Purity.” I say the words with extreme distaste. “I warned you, in writing, of the problems you were going to have with that code, but you chose to ignore me. However, that’s not my problem anymore. Regardless of whether your investors find that little nugget of information during their due diligence, you still have the issue of outstanding lawsuits.”

  His eyes narrow, telling me he might finally be catching on, but I keep going.

  “If you refuse to pay me what you owe me—four months’ severance—I will sue you. It’s that simple. What you’ve done is illegal and morally wrong. You are not allowed to use people and then throw them to the curb so you can make your bottom line look prettier and lie to investors about your balance sheet. You can’t do that to investors, you can’t do that to employees, and you can’t do it to all the people who are going to get hurt down the road as a result of your terrible decisions.”

  He laughs, but it doesn’t cover up the concern in his tone. “You’re nuts. You’ll never win a case against me. I can fire you whenever I want, however I want. You can’t put handcuffs on me.”

  I shrug. “You may be right. I don’t think you are, but regardless, how long will it be before a judge makes that decision? Will your investors wait? When they see that lawsuit on file in the public record, will they ask you questions about it, do you think? Will they worry some of their investment funds will actually be going toward the defense of that suit or to an eventual settlement with me? Because I’m pretty sure investors want their funds going toward the development of the IP portfolio.”

  I sit there patiently and wait for him to put it all together, to do the addition and subtraction and realize that the end result is that he needs to do the right thing.

  “You’re blackmailing me.” He’s sputtering and probably a little incredulous. I’m sure he never saw this coming from sweet little Jenny, the den mother for the entire software development crew, the girl he trusted with making sure all of his products left the building totally aboveboard. If it weren’t for me, he’d already be out of business, and we both know that. He needs to honor that. I’m proud of myself, sitting up straighter with the stronger backbone I have in me now.

  “Sorry,” I say, “but I checked before I came over here to make sure I wouldn’t do anything stupid that could get me in trouble. This isn’t blackmail; this is a business negotiation. I have the legal right and standing to file a suit. This is not frivolous. I’m doing you a favor by letting you know what the law is, how the world of venture capital works, and what my intentions are. Did I mention my former college roommate is a lawyer at Hancock and Finley?”

  He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off.

  “I talked to her about what happened here, and she says I have a case. She says Louisiana’s civil code supports my argument. So this isn’t going to go away, Frank. Sorry to rain on your parade, but that’s what happens when you try to screw me over. If I file a lawsuit, it’s going to be on the books for at least the next couple of years.”

  I put my hands on the arms of my chair and lean in, staring him down, angry that he’s put me in this position and made me feel dirty. I don’t like business negotiations, even when they are legal. I prefer that people just treat me fairly of their own accord. But if he wants to get down and get into it, I’ll play. This is the new Jenny. Jenny, the girl who goes on nighttime special ops and drops viruses on people’s computers while they’re lying in bed dreaming of sugarplum fairies. “So . . . ,” I say, using my most threatening voice, “do you want to dance with me, Frank? Because I’ll dance. I can do the salsa, the tango, I can do the cha-cha, the can-can, the . . .”

  “Enough!” he shouts, standing and leaning over his desk to blast me in the face with his terrible coffee breath. “I’ve heard enough from you. You think your little threats mean anything to me? They don’t, Jenny. You know what you are? You’re just a sad, overweight, desperate loser, who’s got nothing better to do than work sixty hours a week and neglect her kids in the process. I feel sorry for you. That’s all. Just pity, nothing more, nothing less.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out kind of shrill, even for him. “So I’ll tell you what . . . I’ll go ahead and pay you your four months’ severance, and I’m going to laugh all the way to the bank. You want to know why? Because I would’ve paid you more than that, if you hadn’t been such a bitch about it. But you made the offer and I’m accepting it. You can call your little friend at that law office and ask her about oral contracts if you think you’re going to get another fucking cent out of me.”

  I shrug. “Fine. That’s all I wanted.” His words are stinging badly, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of crying over it. I’ll bawl later, out in my car when I’m alone, though. Overweight? That was low. Dev’s comment to me, that he could whip my butt into shape in six months, has me wishing he were here to punch this guy in the face for me. He’d do it, too. He’d be like Hellboy, not caring about proper office etiquette. Boom! Everything in splinters around us. My avenging angel, there for me just like he was on the phone last night.

  Frank glances up and scowls, then he gestures wildly at somebody behind me. I turn around and catch no fewer than four people staring through the glass at us. They probably heard every single word we said. I don’t care, though. They know it’s true. They’ll probably throw a party in my honor at the local bar after work.

  I turn around to face Frank, smiling. “Go ahead and write that check so I can get out of here.”

  Frank picks up the telephone and calls accounting, making the arrangements for me to pick up my severance. Part of me feels like the champion of the world, and the other part of me feels dirty. I hate having to threaten people to make them do the right thing. Miles is the only one I’ve had to do that with before, and it always makes me feel like the one who should be apologizing.

  Frank hangs up the phone and starts pushing papers around on his desk. “The check is waiting for you in accounting. Go get it and take your things. And make sure you leave your security card at the front desk when you go.”

  I stand. “Frank . . . I just want to say one more thing.” I wait until he’s looking at me before I finish. “If you ever say anything untrue about my service here in this office, you’ll be very, very sorry.”

  His eyebrow goes up. “You’re threatening me again? Seriously?”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not threatening you. I’m just telling you that by law, you have to tell the truth about my work here. And the whole time that I was here, not once did you ever say anything negative about me or my work product. Not to me or to anyone else that I’m aware of. All of my evaluations have received top marks. You can’t change history; it is what it is. So, if somebody calls you and asks you about my performance here, you’d better tell the truth. That’s all I’m saying.”

  He doesn’t say anything in response; he just acts busy. I could force him to acknowledge what I’ve said, but I’m not going to push it. I think I made out really well here, and I don’t want to tempt fat
e into reminding me I’m just a mere mortal.

  I start to leave, but hesitate in the doorway. I don’t want to walk away with this dark cloud hanging over my head. My life is changing in fundamental ways right now, and that means I need to design this new life of mine intelligently, with light and not shadows.

  I turn around to look at my old boss. “Frank, thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here with you and your team. I learned a lot. I met a lot of cool people, and I enjoyed working for you.”

  He doesn’t say anything. He completely ignores me, as if I’m not even standing there. I shrug and walk away with a heavy heart.

  Nobody ever said doing the right thing was going to be easy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I pick Sammy up from daycare on the way home from my meeting with Frank. Normally the little punk doesn’t want to come with me when I arrive because he’s having too much fun with his friends, but this time when I get there, I find him sitting in a chair in the director’s office waiting for me. My heart sinks when I notice that his eyes are red-rimmed; he’s been crying hard. I guess it’s time to clean this closet out, too.

  “Hello, Sharon,” I say, trying not to sound as stressed as I feel. “What’s going on? Why is Sammy in here with you?”

  Sharon, the director, stands and motions for me to shut the door. “Sorry, I tried to call you, but I wasn’t able to get through.”

  I fish my phone out of my purse and see that I have several missed calls. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I was so distracted taking care of some things, I didn’t even notice my phone was buzzing.” Mom of the Year strikes again!