10.
In April of the next year, slightly over five months after Cerise left his floor, Carl finally got the chance to ask Kris why she had hired her friend. Actually, the little devil on his shoulder did it to him, when he told Carl to write Kris a nasty memo after she spoke to him during work about the Wheel of Fortune.
He was feeling particularly harried that day, and had a load of photocopying to do, and was standing at the machine, feeding pages into the input slots, when Kris came up behind him, and while waiting her turn, asked the apparently innocent question, "So, how's waiting for the Wheel of Fortune going? Heard anything yet?"
A page was sucked in crooked and the machine jammed. Muttering curses about the stupid machine, Carl lifted the lid and re-adjusted the page. Then, glancing sideways at her, "No. Still waiting."
She nodded and moved on. He finished his job and left the machine.
By the time he had returned to his cubicle, Carl's frustration had burst into a full burning fury. This was the woman who had directed Sandra to put him on a performance plan, to specifically instruct him not to engage in any conversations unrelated to work. Now, in a single attempt to be nice, she had distracted him at the very moment the copy machine jammed, and uttered a question that was clearly "unrelated to work."
Carl was filled with rage. He blamed Kris for what was, essentially, only an attempt to be nice. Seated at his PC, he drafted a scathing memorandum accusing her of encouraging him to violate the performance plan which specifically directed him not to engage in conversations which were not related to work. All his resentment towards her burst out in a silent torrent that raged and roiled into his word processor.
"I am under the gun here," he wrote, "and your hand is on the trigger. It would seem extremely inappropriate, not to mention improper, for you to attempt to engage me in personal, non-work related conversations."
At the bottom Carl typed three cc's. Copies would be given to Senior Clerk Sandra Graves, Assistant Director Laura Schwartz, and Director Sharif Rakelford. Carl signed the one-page memo, made the photocopies, and walked them around the office by hand, leaving a copy on top each of the four in baskets. The typist felt an immense sense of relief to find all four were away from their desks at the moment when he delivered the memo.
Back at his own desk again, the little devil on his shoulder was dancing for glee. Evil advisor thought he had really gotten Carl into trouble, now. However, in this mythology of psyche and conscience Carl has found one thing to be true: after the shoulder-demon gets his way, he loses power. Then remorse, conscience, and the good angel's advice can combine against the devil, to speak together with new strength for good. Carl's anger was now transformed into chagrin at having given in so easily to the bad angel.
Nothing happened on that day he gave the memo. The silence into which it fell was frightening. Carl would have preferred his four recipients to rage out to his little cubicle and throw the wadded papers back in his face. But they did not.
Writing at home, that night, he shivered with fear for what he had done. What evil had Kris committed to bring on his anger? Merely tried to ask him something polite. Yet that had unleashed all the resentment he had buried inside himself. When he finally threw himself into bed and forced himself to sleep, he dreamt ceaselessly of bus crashes on the way to work and dams breaking upstream from his childhood home. When he tried to escape by flying away, his ankles were trapped in the powerlines. He awoke tangled in sheets, his mouth achingly dry.
Finally awake, Carl realized he must confront Kris with what can only be called an apology. But he was so wary of what they might say to each other that he carried a micro-cassette tape recorder in his coat pocket, in case he needed to prove in future personnel hearings exactly what was spoken between Kristin Fulton and himself. For this reason I have been able to transcribe almost verbatim the conversation which took place in the analyst's office. However, we still must depend on Carl's memories to detail his thoughts and feelings at the time.
Carl made the first move, heading to Kris' office at around nine o'clock, when he figured she'd had some time to settle in for the day. Her door was open. Knocking lightly on the door frame, he waited for her to look up. She smiled somewhat meekly at him, and he knew, in that instant, that he had hurt her. It was not a pleasant feeling. He felt ashamed.
Kris closed the file on her desk and gestured. "Would you like to come in and talk?" she asked softly.
"Yes, please." Carl slipped his hand onto the door, "Can I close...?"
"By all means. If you like."
He shut the door behind him, sat down, and took a moment to compose himself. Then began, "Kris, I want to apologize for... going off the deep end yesterday; I... I guess that whole performance plan really upset me more than I realized."
The woman nodded. "I must admit I was surprised, and yes, hurt a little; I mean, I thought nothing could be safer than to ask you about than Wheel of Fortune. But I am grateful you have come to see me, Carl, it makes me feel a little better. I had thought we were friends. As much as anyone can be, in the office." She paused. Then, "You know, I didn't even see your memo in my office, at first. I went to meet Laura, and she gave me the copy you gave her."
Kris reached into her in basket and pulled out four sheets of paper. Carl realized with a shock that Laura, Sharif, and Sandra had all given their cc's to her. A sudden twinge of conspiracy ran up his spine. Was this how it was? Did this mean they all stood behind her, no matter what he said or did? Or was it that they all knew how petty his action was, and just wanted to wash their hands of any involvement?
Kriston Fullman continued, "She gave it to me and remarked that someone obviously didn't like me." Kris laid the papers in front of her, "But at least when I came back to my office I found you had given me the original. So I... well...." her hand rested on the papers, half touching, half beginning to lift them.
Carl suddenly realized what was the most polite thing to do. What she wanted him to do. He reached out his hand, "If you like, I would be happy to take it back."
Kris smiled, handed them to him. He folded them over and stuffed them in his pocket. Then turned his eyes back into her face. She wore a look of mixed curiosity and uneasiness.
"Carl, what was troubling you? Something obviously had upset you to bring out such an action."
He laced his fingers together and thought. How to say it. Honestly, forcefully. "I think I blame you for the performance plan that Sandra gave me."
Kris nodded. "Because I supervise Sandra and she supervises you."
"Yes."
The analyst sighed, leaned back in her chair, gazed out the window for a moment, then turned back to Carl. "It is true I made the suggestion to Sandra that she develop a specific plan to deal with your... excessive talking, and that she give the plan to you during your performance review."
Kris struggled with what to say next. He could see conflicting feelings moving across her face. Then she set her lips and continued. "I know, Carl, that your high spirits are often a good thing, and many times I myself truly appreciate your little verbal jokes and word plays... but... well, there was a time, earlier this year, when it seemed to me every time I looked out my door your head was popping up over your cubicle wall and you were saying one thing or another to the other clerks. Both Sandra and I felt that your constant talking was interfering with the work flow. So I suggested she develop a performance plan."
Carl frowned. Then sighed. Looked at Kris' face. She was waiting to see if he would say anything. When he didn't, she continued.
"I wish she could have written something more original. But all our time is precious, and so she simply lifted a routine format from our discipline manuals. At the time, I approved her use of that format, but now... I think you might have found it... well, perfunctory and impersonal. You are a fairly intelligent man, Carl, and I believe we may have insulted you by not giving you our criticisms in a more personal, individual format. Do you feel that might have been the case?"
"I... I must confess I did find it rather... pedestrian. Some of the points in the plan didn't seem to apply clearly to my situation. But... others did directly criticize my... talking."
"Yes, well, personal conversations, as I am sure you can guess, are a universal problem in offices. But I'm sorry now I did not insist that Sandra edit it more carefully, to concentrate on the points that were directly applicable to our situation. But this is how we learn how to supervise. How you will, too, if you choose to seek advancement within the City. You certainly have communication skills which could be applied as a supervisor, if... if you can gain a little more judgement in choosing when to make a joke, when to give help, and when to just let your people work without interference."
Carl smiled. It almost sounded like Kris was willing to take on a mentoring role with him. But that was not what he wanted. He did not want to carry the burden of supervision. He had enough problems creating his own science fiction worlds at home. He wanted no more burdens than his simple work chores here. Still, something told him that she was a resource. That there was knowledge he could gain from her, from her experience, from her very way of thinking. He felt the micro-cassette recorder turning slowly in his pocket, and realized that he would have a lot to write in his journal tonight. He might not have time to work on his poetry or fiction.
"Kris, how did you promote into administration? Did you start with a business degree?"
She smiled. "No, I actually came up from clerical. I started out like you, a typist. Over at 10th & D, with Services. But I had the good fortune to work for an admin-aide who believed in offering all the training she could to her clerks, to prepare them for advancement. I learned how to formulate and analyze a departmental budget, make adjustments to expenditures, handle supplies and purchasing, just about anything the office was responsible for. So when the time came to interview for senior clerk, I had everything I needed and more. And I didn't stop training. While working as a senior, I went to City College and studied business math, statistics, computer systems, anything I thought would be useful. Using that knowledge, and my work experience, within another five years I moved off the clerical ladder and into administration."
"Ah. Admin-aide?"
"Yes. And then, in three years, I became an analyst trainee."
Carl nodded. This is how they play the game. This is how the civil service on the planet Djardon in the stars of Castor will be set up. Those who are not born into an oligarch's family will be able to work their way up by merit. "That's impressive, Kris. I like seeing that someone can advance from where I am now. Could you see your way to giving me some specific advice?"
"Sure. Anything."
"Well, I'm thinking of taking a class at City next semester. Any particular course you would suggest?"
Without blinking an eye, Kris answered, "Have you taken statistics?"
"No."
"That's a skill I have found invaluable. Get in on whatever aptitude level you are qualified at, and follow it on up. But... you already have a degree from the university, don't you? Didn't you come back to the City after being in school?"
"Yes."
"You major was...?"
"Creative writing."
"Ah. Well. You could use that as icing on the cake, to show your communication skills; but what you really need is to get a solid business mathematics foundation. And accounting. And especially computers. That might be the best direction for you. I know you are good at working with computers... your performance with our new PCs has shown me that. But it wouldn't hurt to get some class work in, too. Yes. If you go to school next semester, either take math or computers. Maybe think about working toward a certification, or even a second degree in business machines." Kris paused, chewed on her lip.
Then she continued, "Come to think of it, your skills are not just in computers per se, but are really in the direction of teaching others how to use computers as office tools. Both Sandra and I have been impressed by the way you help the other clerks adjust to the new formats for word processing bids and quotes. Every knows you are the resident whiz. You might think about eventually concentrating in that direction."
Carl rubbed his cheek. "Yes. I have enjoyed that. But... I am troubled by the resistance some of my... co-workers have voiced. They seem to be so content with typewriters, and unwilling to make a change, or to adjust."
Kris got a hard look on her face. "Like Joan."
Carl frowned. Of course, Kris would have heard all about that from Sandra. "Well, yes; her, and a couple others."
"We have to make these changes, Carl, and the people who can adapt, like you or I, will take advantage of the changes as they occur. But, unfortunately, if some people can't adjust, then they will just have to get out of the way or...." she stopped suddenly.
My God, Carl thought to himself, she's actually threatening people's jobs, here. He waited for her to say more, but Kris was frowning, her lips sealed shut. Carl decided she had realized how bitter her words sounded, and was hoping he wouldn't press her on them. Besides, he thought, I am only one of those clerks. She may be worried I will tell them what she said.
By coincidence, Kris' glance now fell from Carl's face, and slipped down to his coat pocket, where it stopped for a moment. He was abruptly worried. Does she know I am recording all this? But almost as quickly, her gaze rose back up to his face and Carl felt she had only broken their exchange out of concern for the harsh words she just let slip out.
In a flash of intuition, the clerk knew what to say to ease their way. "Kris, I hope that what we say in here will be just between you and me."
She smiled back at him. Then, with a slight lean forward, almost conspiratorial, she said, "You know we really have it pretty good working for the City. It is harder than hell to fire anyone. Even someone in my position."
He nodded. Now she is trying to draw me in with her, he thought. But in spite of this sense of warning, I can't help but like her even more. I have seen her weakness. She is not a machine, even though her work makes her act like one sometimes. And she has tried to show me the way to succeed, and let me know that there may be victims along the way. If I do not follow the right path, then I will be one of those left behind. Unless I escape to another world. Get away from the planet of Purchasing. I wonder if she... but... she said it is hard to fire people....
"Well, at the risk of exposing myself, that is one reason I have always preferred to work for the government," Carl ventured. "The civil service protection. It isn't like that in private industry."
Kris laughed. "No, it isn't. I know that from personal experience. Before I got my first clerical job with San Miguel, I was working in an insurance office. When the boss heard I was taking a couple hours off to interview for an opening with the City, he called me into the office and fired me on the spot."
"Bastard."
The analyst smiled. "Yes, that's what I thought, too. But his doing that only made me more determined not to turn back. Before that, I had second thoughts about leaving him... imagine that, I was worried about loyalty to his company."
"I guess he sure took care of that problem for you."
"Yes." Kris shifted slightly in her seat. "Well, is there anything else that you wanted to talk to me about? Anything that has bothered you? This might be the best time to get it out in the open between us."
Carl thought about Cerise. Now, he realized, now is the time to ask her.
"Uh... well, I have been a bit troubled by the fact that you hired your friend to fill the contract aide position. And that... she didn't seem...." Carl watched Kris' face develop a slight frown, and decided to change his direction, put a little softening on his question, "... seem happy here. And that then she left you."
The analyst reacted to the last six words with a distinct relaxing movement. He had put it almost perfectly.
"Yes. When she came in that day to tell me she had a job with the Police Department, we both sat down and had a good cry. But what could I do... it was time for her to move on."
In the silence after those words, as Kris gathered her next thoughts, Carl understood that "it was time for her to move on" was as close as he would ever get to an admission that Cerise had simply not been able to do the job. It seemed to him that "time to move on" was another, softer way of saying "they'll have to get out of the way," Kris' earlier, more frightening statement about people who would not adapt to using computers instead of typewriters. He was tempted to call her on it, to point blank ask her if Cerise had been unable to do the job, and if that was why they had hired a senior clerk just to help her... but it seemed so tactless to do that... and then Kris had decided what to say.
"Carl, I know it must look bad, since you obviously heard that Cerise and I knew each other from the City Attorney's office. But I can tell you this: after the first round of interviews, both Laura and I compared our rating sheets, and point for point our assessments of her were almost exactly identical. She clearly seemed the best candidate for the position."
Carl only nodded his head. He would not tell her about criminal clerks dancing on tables in the Attorney's office when they heard Cerise was leaving them. That Cerise was known for giving great interview. Carl couldn't bring himself to repeat this gossip. He decided, however, that he would lead Kris to understand that he knew a little bit more....
"You know what you were saying a second ago about it being so hard to fire people from the City?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, my ex-wife Pat is a clerk in the criminal division, and she told me of the problems they had with Ernie Phillips. Missing files, and such."
"Pat Wilson is your ex? Well, it is a small world." As she spoke, the wheels of thought spun in Kris' face. Carl watched her expression slip from recognition into the slightest bit of worry.
Now she wonders what else Pat may have told me, he imagined. About Cerise. Even about herself.
But smooth as ice, Kris' tight lips moved back into a wry smile. "Yes, that problem was difficult. So you understand why we moved Ernie into another unit when Cerise came on board here. So he wouldn't have to work under her. After all, he seemed to be doing quite well with Purchasing. I honestly think he may have learned from his... uh, mistakes, let us say, in the Attorney's office."
With another flash of intuition, Carl realized he had given Kris the perfect opportunity to appear humanistic about this all. He laughed inside himself. She was good. Very good. He really was learning from her how to write about the bureaucrats on other planets. But, regarding Ernie, "Yes. I hope so. I personally have never known him to make a mistake with anything I give him."
Kris nodded. Carl glanced at the clock on her wall. They had been talking almost half an hour now. "Well, Kris, I must thank you for talking so freely with me. And again, please let me say I am truly sorry about the way I lashed out at you with that memo yesterday."
The analyst smiled. "Thank you, Carl. It really is a pleasure working with you. I value the openness and humor you bring to the office. And I know Sandra does, too."