1.
CARL WILSON, a typist with the Purchasing Department of San Miguel, California, hunched over his word processor keyboard and fought back bitter tears. Struggled to turn his thoughts away from the bad news, to force himself to type another bid document. But no success. He could not keep his mind from what he'd finally heard -- the official decision. He would not get the promotion.
Day-before-yesterday the grapevine told him no one in the department would be chosen. Carl hadn't wanted to believe it. But now Kristin Fulton, the analyst herself, had informed him, in her office, in her official voice. He would not be promoted. Asked her who, then, was selected? "We decided to transfer down a principal clerk in the City Attorney's office," was all she would say.
So. Not Carl, not one of three clerks in the department who had qualified, nor even any applicant in the City who had passed the admin-aide examination. It was to be a transfer. From the office where Kristin used to work....
He remembered the grapevine grumbling, "After all those department pep talks about how good we are, after all those meetings stressing productivity and success under pressure, after all that, now Kris and Laura have chosen to ignore the exam results, pass over three qualifiers in the department, and transfer down Kris' friend from the Attorney's office."
The grapes were sour. Oh, it was all according to regulations. Such transfers were perfectly legal. But still... Carl was crushed. He had really wanted that promotion.
If grapevine was right, the new contract administrator would be Cerise Chimera. Carl didn't know her, and still struggled against believing she was a personal friend of Kristin's. But they had worked together in the City Attorney's office. That much he believed was true. But were they friends? Carl struggled to believe that was only ugly rumor.
The phone on his desk rang. Answered it. His ex-wife Pat, a file clerk in the criminal division office.
"Carl, have you heard?" She was laughing.
He nodded, invisible to her. Must not let her know I am crying. "About Cerise?"
"Yes. Have they said anything to you?" Pat was no longer laughing. Carl could hear the anticipation in her voice. She would hear something from him now, and in return, if he were tactful, Carl might get her to tell him more.
"I just now heard officially. The analyst told me I didn't get it. I asked her who did and she said a principal clerk from the City Attorney's office. But she didn't tell me her name."
A pause. "How did you know it was Cerise?"
"Rumor. Someone in the office told me two days ago that Kris was going to hire her friend."
Carl heard a subtle smack of lips in the phone. Then Pat was speaking very softly, making sure no one in her office could hear her. "Kris Fulton, you mean?"
"Uh-huh."
"Ah yes, they do know each other pretty well. When Kris was in the Attorney's administrative office, she and Cerise worked closely together... on criminal division budget, staffing, that sort of thing, I guess. But..." her voice got softer, even more conspiratorial, "I never really knew what exactly Cerise was doing here... she certainly hasn't supervised us the way she should have, she has had no idea what our functions are, and it's my understanding that she needed a lot of Kris' help just to do her financial paperwork."
"Huh?"
"I won't say any more."
Oh-oh, Carl thought. She's tightening up. Time for a change of tack. He let a different sail out into the wind. "Are you guys sorry to see Cerise go? She is your principal clerk, right?"
Pat chuckled into the phone. Carl almost remembered why he had fallen for her fifteen years before. She could tell a good story when she wanted to, and that chuckle meant she had something she was dying to say. "Oh, we're sorry alright," her tone was sarcastic, then she shifted into a slightly more serious, but still funny pitch, "we're so sorry that we're dancing on the tables down here."
"She was worse than Jean?" Carl had worked in the Attorney's office, seven years ago. Jean Cooridge had been the principal clerk then, and had still been around when his ex-wife started there.
Pat sputtered into the phone, "Oh yes. Jeannie at least knew what was going on in the office. She took her little naps every day, and delegated most of the supervising work, but she stood up for us when things got bad, she knew what we had to put up with, and was always approachable. You remember how she put up with you! I never thought I'd say this, but I miss her. When Jean retired, this office really went downhill. Cerise hasn't shown a single sign she knows what we do here. From what I hear, the only thing she is really good at is going to interviews and impressing people."
A little light flickered in Carl's brain. So that was how she had convinced the assistant Purchasing director. It wasn't just that she was Kris' friend and had her reference, no, that would not be enough for Laura Schwartz. It was her shining performance in the interview. That had clinched it for her.
"Pat, what...."
"No, Carl, no more questions. I've told you too much already. If you ever tell anyone what I just said...."
"But I'm the one who's going to have to work with this woman."
The ex-wife laughed. "That's your problem now." Then she got a bit more serious, "I really am sorry you didn't get the promotion. I know you wanted it."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
After a moment of silence, she asked, "Is the job very hard?"
"Oh, a lot of technical details and working with contractors. Yes, from what I see, some aspects are rather difficult."
"Hmm. Cerise will probably be okay communicating with the public, but... well, the technical stuff will give her trouble."
"How so?"
"No, no, I have said enough. And don't tell anyone there...."
He sighed into the phone.
"I mean it, Carl, if any of this gets back to me...."
"All right, all right. But thanks for letting me know what I've got to look forward to. Maybe she won't last very long and the job will be open again."
"There you go."
Carl felt a presence nearby him. Looked up. It was Laura Schwartz. The assistant director herself. She stood in the doorway of his cubicle. He immediately smiled and then said into the phone, "So you still want me to babysit tonight?"
"Huh? Oh, somebody there? Okay, bye." Pat understood. He was being watched.
"Yes. See you then." He hung up. Turned. "Laura?"
"Carl, I just want you to know that if you desire any feedback on your interviewing skills, Kris or I would be happy to talk with you, help you prepare for the next time. There are bound to be openings in the other departments. You should prepare for them, not just go cold into the interviews." Her eyes sparkled with a chilly fire. He felt flattered and threatened. She was both criticizing him and offering to help.
His first thoughts were to shout out: Never! I'll never take your advice. Today you have lost me. Forever. But then, a second idea struck him: There could be the same opening here, sooner than I might imagine. Cerise is not going to last more than six months. He smiled. "Yes. Thank you. But not right now."
She nodded, turned, and left. Watching her back retreat across the clerical pool, Carl ignored the glares from several other typists. They did not like him being civil to management. He shook his head and frowned. The others noticeably softened. Ah, he thought, they've heard I didn't get the promotion. They think I'm frowning at Laura.