She's the Boss (28 page)

With uncanny timing, the lift pinged open and I stepped in.

“You coming?”

“Nah,” said Hillary, “I’ve got more work to do.”

Right as the doors were sliding shut, Carter glanced up from across the room and held my gaze. Exhaustion was layered into his face in fine lines and his dark eyes seemed to be telling me something.

Something was brewing. That look he gave me set off alarm bells ringing in my brain. An unholy alliance was developing and something dreadful was about to go down very soon.

My apartment felt depressingly empty. I headed straight to the kitchen, got myself acquainted with a stiff drink and collapsed onto the sofa. With the lights turned off, a sort of soporific mood descended upon me and I found myself staring into my drink. Thinking.

My overwrought mind was teeming with implications. I tried to stop the inevitable momentum of these thoughts; that same old loop that was circling like vultures inside my head. I took a deep swig and closed my eyes in despair. I needed to confide in someone.

Someone I didn’t work with.

Instinctively, I dived into my handbag, fished out my iPhone and called Maddy.

“Hey, Kars,” she answered on the third ring.

“Maddy,” I said emphatically, “the shit’s about to hit the fan. I just
know
it. Tomorrow at work, everything will be blown into fragments and I shall lie amongst the trampled flowers.”

“Quit being so melodramatic.” She laughed. “Slow down. What’s going on?”

“I think Zimm Communications is going to buy out Lightning Speed and we’re all gonna lose our jobs.”

“Calm down, Kars. No one’s going to lose their job. They just can’t fire everyone. Who’s going to take the calls?”

“The call center in Malaysia. The very one I helped set up!”

“Don’t be silly. Why would you even think that?”

“Because Carter kept going on and on about lions and gazelles.”

She made an exasperated sound. “You’re not making any sense now, Kars.”

“It has something to do with outsourcing. Then he slipped . . . something about a new contract. And at work today, the head of Zimm Communications was there.”

There was a deafening silence from the other end of the line.

“Maddy? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” she said quietly.

“So what do you think I should do?” I asked anxiously.

“You need to confront Carter about it.”

“I can’t.” And I really couldn’t. Carter and me . . . well, we seemed to be stuck in an emotional limbo land. Not to mention, he’d been immersing himself in his work and maintaining his distance from everyone. Myself included.

“Well,” said Maddy, breaking into my thoughts, “then you won’t find out about what’s really going on until it’s too late.”

After I clicked off the phone, I downed my drink, feeling it trickle down the cold pit in my stomach, thinking it was quite possibly already too late.

Chapter Twenty

“Hillary, have you seen Carter? I just popped into his office and he’s not there.”

She looked at me, a mild panic surfacing on her face. “He’s in the boardroom meeting with several high-ranking executives.”

“Oh.” I felt my shoulders tense up. “Are the people from Zimm Communications in there too?”

Hillary gave an imperceptible nod. “Afraid so.”

So it was happening . . . the wheels were now in motion, I thought, with a slight drop of my heart. I became alert with expectation and all around me, speculation continued to run rampant. A sort of grand scale panic had taken hold of the office. I felt the nervous bustle as people began engaging in bitter talks about a possible takeover by Zimm Communications.

Behind me, voices grew closer. I craned my neck to find Truong walking toward me with Inge in tow. “Kars! We just heard Carter talking about you.”

“Me?” I said in some surprise.

“Yep. He’s in the boardroom with all the head honchos.”

“Were you eavesdropping on the meeting?”

Collectively, they shouted, “NO!”

“All right,” Ingerborg confessed, “we were.”

“In the shadows of Kremlin . . .” Truong lowered his voice and said in a decidedly cloak and daggerish manner, “we spied on the traitors, the saboteurs, the enemies within.”

“Stop it, Truong!” Inge quickly cut him off. “Kars, forgive us for indulging in a little harmless espionage. We didn’t have any Soviet era eavesdropping bugs or anything like that. I promise. We were just pressing our ears to the door.”

“So what was Carter saying about me?”

“He was vouching for you. He said if you wanted something done right, ask Karsynn.”

I allowed myself a quiet, glowing smile. “What else did he say?”

“He said that you were a solid performer and insisted that you be on board.”

“On board with what?”

“The new management team.”

By 2 p.m. it was all over the news. Zimm Communications Inc. had completed its $12.6 billion buyout of Lightning Speed Communications, creating a sprawling telecommunications giant serving thirty seven states.

“You’re WHAT?” I raised my voice, looking desperately at Carter.

He could not meet my eye. “I’m not just a director here. That was just a cover.”

I looked at him in alarm. “So who are you then?”

There was a small silence and then he said, “The Executive Vice President of Operations.”

“And what about right now?” I kneaded my hands together, twisting my fingers. “Are you still a senior VP now that Zimm has bought out Lightning Speed?”

He stared down at his desk for a few moments then raised his head. “I was involved in negotiating the new contract with Zimm.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Quietly, he said, “Yes.”

“So why did you lie about who you were?” I cast my eyes around the room, half expecting a camera crew to come leaping out of nowhere. “Are you filming for an episode of
Undercover Boss
?”

He shook his head. “I wanted to see how things really worked. And getting to know you has been an eye-opener. You have a different take on what’s going on than on what I was being told.”

“Why?” I asked directly, eyeing him warily. “Why did you go through this . . . this sham?”

“I wanted to identify how things could be improved. And, and . . .” There seemed to be a long and tortuous journey from his brain to his mouth.

As he hesitated, I added wryly, “Is Carter Lockwood even your
real
name?”

“It’s Carter Price. Lockwood was my mother’s maiden name.”

We looked at each other, not really sure what to say.

He took several, long, deep breaths. “Look, Kars, we need to streamline the business and sometimes the best decisions for doing things are not always the fairest or the most popular.”

Streamlining. Humph. Such a
sanitized
word.

“By streamlining do you mean slash, downsize the workforce, scale back, fire, lay off?”

Carter gave the smallest nod, unflinching.

“But why?” I implored. “Zimm’s CEO flies around in a private jet and he gave himself a thirty million dollar pay raise this year. And now you’re cutting five thousand jobs? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Outsourcing always makes sense in a recession,” he patiently explained, as if I had the mental acuity of a two-year-old. “The cost of labor in Malaysia is a fraction of what it costs here. The cost savings from this restructuring will allow Zimm to invest in expanding its subscriber base and that will help improve earnings.”

Carter sounded so indifferent. So cold, cut and dry . . . like a textbook.

“Improve earnings? Seriously? I just don’t know how the CEO of Zimm is going make ends meet with just thirty million dollars in his bank account,” I smirked. “Poor guy must just struggle daily.”

Carter raised his eyes heavenward.

I was now ranting, “Why doesn’t the CEO and all the top level execs—including you—just take a pay cut and sell off all your private jets? That will save plenty of jobs. But
nooooo
. You guys would rather lay off the hardworking employees so that you get a big pay raise.”

Carter regarded me evenly and said by way of appeasement, “You still have a job. We’d like to retain you as Project Manager. Your job will be to ensure that the transition goes smoothly.”

I chewed on my bottom lip. “What about the others?”

“I’m afraid we’re shutting down this center. And the centers in Boca Raton, San Jose and Cleveland.”

“So that’s it?” I felt suddenly enraged. “We are all expendable? That’s the real bottom line?”

“My role is to maximize profits,” he replied in neutral tones, “not make the employees happy.”

“Your role is to make the shareholders happy,” I shot back. “Follow the money, so to speak! Cut corners in order to fatten your own pockets at the expense of hardworking people. Line your pockets and move on.”

Carter visibly bristled. “Yes, I have an obligation to do everything legally possible to maximize profits for my shareholders by running this company in the cheapest, most efficient way possible. But all that enables us to compete more effectively in the global sense.”

“So cheap labor wins, huh? And to hell with what it does to anyone else? To hell with keeping jobs in America?”

“Corporations are not set up to be patriotic, Karsynn. The goal of business is to make a profit.”

I laughed harshly. “But how can you and the shareholders expect healthy dividends when you sow only greed in your business plan? Where is the compassion toward the people who work for you? Where is the social responsibility?”

“Like I’ve said before, and I’ll say again—the goal of business is to make a profit.” Carter was beginning to sound like a broken tape recorder.

“But there should be a balance,” I said sharply, my anger returning at full force. “There should be a balance between profit making and considering the impact of your actions. Thousands are going to lose their jobs, Carter.
Thousands
,” I said disparagingly. “And all the jobs are leaving America. That’s so wrong.”

“Let me ask you this.” He paused and looked me squarely in the eye. “Hypothetically speaking, if Zimm Communications decides to move its operations to Michigan or Kentucky because wages are lower there, is that still morally wrong?”

I delayed my response, giving my thoughts a chance to catch up.

Carter forged on, “What you need to understand, Karsynn, is that every economy on this planet is intertwined, and a benefit to the global economy is a benefit to
every
economy.”

“Hypothetically speaking, Carter, what do you think would happen if every job in America was outsourced? Huh?” I raised my voice. “Then what?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. For once he was apparently lost for words.

In the end, he gave me the same old rigmarole. “Bottom line is, we need to cut costs. The reality is, capitalism does not work without cheap labor. Period. And we can run our business a whole lot cheaper in Malaysia than we can in America.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you must,” I beseeched. “That’s the moral imperative.”

His eyes suddenly flashed. “Kars, you’re foolish if you can’t understand how the free market works and you’re completely naive if you can’t accept the global mindset. Your idealism is all very nice but pragmatism is the only way to survive. We live in a global economy and it’s time you got out of your little shell and see how this world is changing.”

“Naive?” I drew in my breath with a loud hiss. “I’d rather be naive than selfish! You owe more to society than simply lining your pockets and feathering your own nest! And you know what? I’d understand using outsourcing as an option if it were a matter of survival; if the choices were to outsource or the company goes bust. But Lightning Speed and Zimm both posted record profits in the billions! BILLIONS! So don’t call me naive.” I stopped and took in a shaky breath.