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Subject: {Morgan} NEW Turnaround 3/16 M/F Rom. lite sex
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Author's note: If you are looking for wall-to-wall sex, look elsewhere. 
This book is a romance with a business setting. Beyond that, the sex is 
comparable to - or less than - what one would find in almost any work of 
popular fiction.

Permission is granted to post on any free site, as long as the copyright 
statement is included. Please advise the author of any such postings.

Comments are welcome and encouraged. Please address me at 
morg105829@aol.com.

I hope you enjoy the book. My plan is to post a chapter each weekday; it 
will take about three weeks for it all to be up. This is Chapter 3 of 
16.

Six-Month Turnaround

Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved.

Chapter 3

Cliff returned to his office at two o'clock to find Charles Purcell 
pacing the floor waiting for him. Sensing a confrontation, he asked 
Sandy to join them. Cliff was right: Purcell was loaded for bear. He 
immediately launched an attack on the decision to close the dining room, 
and Cliff heard him out.

When he finally ran out of steam, Cliff said, "There are two reasons for 
closing the dining room. First, it is a luxury benefitting only the 
highest-paid people in the organization. As such, it's a luxury we can't 
afford. Second, it's a source of antagonism to the workers. If they're 
against us, this company is in deep trouble. The room is closed, and so 
is the subject.

"Now the real reason I wanted to see you was to inquire about our 
banking situation. How many banks do we use, and how many accounts do we 
have? What is our average book balance, bank balance and float?"

Purcell looked at Cliff as if he were speaking Greek. "I don't 
understand. I can get my assistant to give us our balance at our 
principal banks. That's all we look at. The rest are nickels and dimes. 
But what do you mean by 'bank balance'? That's the banks' business, I 
presume."

"How many principal banks do we have, Mr. Purcell? Which is our primary 
bank?"

"We don't have a primary bank," Purcell replied proudly. "We spread our 
business around. It's the smart thing to do!"

"I'm sorry to disagree. It's a dumb thing to do. We are not nearly large 
enough to be an important customer to a substantial number of banks. I 
want us to be important to a good bank and I expect you to take 
immediate steps to ensure that we become so," Cliff stated firmly.

For Purcell, this was the last straw. He liked having a number of 
bankers to call on and to call on him. Coming on the heels of the 
decision to close his dining room - and he thought of it as his - it was 
too much. "Mr. Fitzpatrick, I cannot honor your request. I am the 
treasurer! Bank relationships are my responsibility, not yours. I will 
do no such thing! If you persist in this... this invasion of my 
authority, I will be forced to resign!"

Cliff looked at him with a steady gaze. "Is that your last word on the 
subject, Mr. Purcell? You feel I am overstepping my authority to look 
into treasury matters?"

Purcell smirked thinking that he had forced Fitzpatrick to back down. 
The sense of victory was in his voice as he said, "That's absolutely 
right! It is none of your affair!"

"I'm sorry to disagree again, Mr. Purcell. It *is* my affair. This 
company operates on money. It's our life's blood. You control it. It was 
obvious to me by your reaction to my questions that you know nothing 
about developments in corporate cash management over the last twenty 
years. Accordingly, I am accepting your resignation as treasurer, 
effective immediately." Turning to Sandy he said, "In my letter be sure 
to say it is accepted with regret, Miss Donnell."

Purcell was stunned. "But... but... I didn't resign!"

Sandy had been taking notes as they were speaking. Cliff looked at her, 
"Miss Donnell, is there something in your notes to the effect that I was 
overstepping my authority and if I persisted Mr. Purcell would be forced 
to resign?"

Sandy carefully reviewed her notes as she struggled to maintain a 
straight face. Finally she said, "Yes, sir, it's right here," and read 
the lines back.

"To save you the embarrassment, Mr. Purcell, Miss Donnell will type up 
your resignation. It appears that you have both the age and length of 
service to qualify for retirement. Wouldn't early retirement within the 
terms of our retirement plan be a more appropriate way for you to 
leave?" Cliff asked innocently. Purcell was beaten and knew it, so he 
just nodded. Cliff told him he could consider himself retired effective 
immediately.

Purcell left to clean out his desk and Cliff called Ezra Stiles. "Mr. 
Stiles, Cliff Fitzpatrick. Charles Purcell has asked to take early 
retirement, effective immediately and I have approved it. I am 
appointing my assistant, Sandra Donnell, acting treasurer until the 
Board can act to make her appointment permanent. I would appreciate it 
if you would poll the Board by telephone. Then, of course, we will need 
Board resolutions to change the signatories on all of our bank 
accounts."

Stiles was stunned. Purcell had been his ally, confidant, and one of his 
listening posts within the company. "Sandra Donnell as treasurer!? Mr. 
Fitzpatrick, are you sure this is wise? I mean..."

"Do you object to Miss Donnell, Mr. Stiles?" Cliff asked.

"Why, of course not! I mean..."

"That's great! Then I'll tell her it's all set. Thank you, sir, for your 
support!" Cliff hung up the phone and put out his hand. 
"Congratulations! As the new treasurer, it ought to be worth another 
five dollars a week... maybe even ten!

Sandy had been stunned when she heard herself named as treasurer. 
"You're serious, aren't you? Making me treasurer? But Cliff, I don't 
know a thing about being treasurer!"

He grinned at her. "I know you don't. Almost no one does. The only 
corporate position that is less known than that of the treasurer is 
corporate secretary. *No one* knows what the secretary does. Actually, 
though, it's easy. I'm serious when I say that after we get the system 
overhauled, I would be amazed if the job took you thirty minutes a day. 
There's only one thing that surprises me, though. I expected more of an 
argument from Stiles about naming you Purcell's replacement. Well, madam 
treasurer, let's start by listing the information you're going to need 
to do the job. First, check and see if we have facsimile numbers for our 
major banks. We do have a fax machine, don't we?"

She shook her head and smiled. "I don't think they were in general use 
when Mr. Murphy left, and nothing much has changed since."

"Call Kevin right now. He can have one delivered along with the 
computers today. We do have a spare phone outlet, don't we?" Again, her 
head shook. "What's Kevin's extension?" She told him and he dialed the 
number. Kevin answered. "Kevin, this is Cliff Fitzpatrick. How long will 
it take you to have this office wired for a fax phone line and have a 
unit in here? Take all the time you need, as long as it's working by 
five o'clock today. Can do?"

"Can do! My God, sir, you're the first executive I've met around here 
who seems to know how to use a phone. It'll be installed by five!"

They hung up, and Cliff glared at Sandy. "Miss Donnell! You've been 
holding out on me," he said, accusingly.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what you're referring to," she said, 
trying to sound innocent.

"Miss Donnell, this is a company that plays telephone tag, isn't it? 
Where it's a status thing to see who waits for whom? Let's say I want to 
talk to Flood. You call him, and his secretary answers. You tell her, 
'Mr. Fitzpatrick for Mr. Flood,' or some such nonsense. Since I'm 
senior, he seethes but picks up his phone. You buzz me on the intercom 
and I pick up. Four people and I don't know how much time to complete 
one lousy internal phone call. Am I right?" he demanded.

She was giggling so hard, she couldn't talk. She just nodded her head 
vigorously, doing very attractive things with her auburn hair. Finally 
she spoke. "Forget the money for acting as treasurer. I want 
hazardous-duty pay for being your assistant! You know too damn much 
about what we do. It's not fair!"

He grinned, but ignored her comment. "How do we stop it? And I want it 
stopped now! If we have enough secretaries around here to play those 
kinds of games, we have too many with not nearly enough to do. Do you 
suppose you could quietly put that word out? Since my secretary - excuse 
me: the assistant to the president - is now doubling as treasurer, 
there's not much they can say, is there?"

"Clifford Fitzpatrick, you are a piece of work," she said with a cute 
grin. "You have only been here about half a day, and already you're 
shaking the place to its foundations. The next thing you know, you'll be 
talking about typewriters and copying machines!" she added shrewdly.

"I'm not as dumb as I look," he said with a smile. "I saw the 
typewriters. They look like refugees from IBM's museum. The company is 
going to get word processing equipment, probably PCs similar to what 
we're getting. I wasn't kidding though. I detest the idea of 
secretary-as-status-symbol and from what you tell me I'm sure many are. 
Who runs administration, by the way?"

"Mr. Purcell did, to the extent anyone did. Do you want me to do that, 
too?" she asked skeptically.

"What about Kevin? Could he handle the additional work? It's about to 
become a real job, though." Just then there was a knock on the door. It 
was Kevin with some technicians to install the computers. They discussed 
where to place them, and Kevin called for a computer table for Cliff's 
office. Another computer was going behind Sandy's desk. When the men had 
started to work connecting up the equipment, Cliff asked Kevin to join 
them for some coffee. The threesome trooped down to the cafeteria. It 
was Cliff's third visit of the day.

He was greeted by Janet Simmons who had tears in her eyes. "What's 
wrong?" Cliff asked anxiously. "I thought you would be pleased! Why the 
tears?"

Mrs. Simmons tried to smile through the tears. "I'll bet you're here for 
coffee, aren't you? Could I have it brought over and join you for a 
couple of minutes?"

"We would be happy to have you join us, but I can carry my own coffee," 
Cliff protested.

"I know you can, sir," she insisted, "But not today!" She motioned to 
one of the workers who brought over four cups of coffee and set them on 
a table in the far corner as far from the noise as possible.

When the four sat down, the older woman smiled warmly and said, "Mr. 
Fitzpatrick, this has been the best day I have had at this company in 
years! Bill Stevens came down here earlier and he couldn't believe what 
you had said. You did say we can go ahead with the renovation, didn't 
you?" Anxiety was apparent in her voice as she said the last words.

"Consistent with minimizing disruption to you and your people, Mrs. 
Simmons, I would like it completed as soon as possible. I also asked 
Bill to consult with you on the details and possible equipment updates. 
I gather the plans were prepared several years ago."

"It's truly a miracle! Thank you so much! I guarantee you'll never 
regret it."

Sandy spoke up quietly, "Janet, when are you and Bill Stevens going to 
get married? Isn't it about time?"

Cliff was surprised to see the older woman blush like a young girl - a 
beautiful young girl, at that. "Sandra Donnell, you stop that! It's none 
of your business what Bill and I do on weekends." She blushed even 
deeper at her admission and hurriedly excused herself.

Sandy shrugged. "She's a widow and Bill's a widower. It's funny, really, 
to see them together. They're like a couple of kids. I guess it will 
happen one of these days."

Cliff turned to Kevin O'Rourke and explained the administration 
situation. "Kevin, is this one of the places where the powers can tell 
to a hundredth-of-a-cent what it costs to make a copy of something, but 
totally ignore the cost of the people walking to and from the copiers, 
waiting in line, and that sort of thing?"

"You got that right!" Kevin replied. "It's even worse, though: To get 
the lowest possible cost per copy, you get successively higher-capacity 
machines. That means one big new one replaces two, three or even four 
small, older ones. Distances to walk increase, but that's not all: Even 
the best are mechanical and they do break down sometimes. Only now a 
breakdown - even with quick service response - is a minor disaster. What 
do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Will you take over administration? I'm interested in lowest *total* 
cost - not per-copy cost. Interested?"

"Yes, sir! When do I start?"

"Right now. However, I want to talk about word processors first." They 
continued the conversation, and Cliff said that it was unlikely the 
replacement would be one-for-one. He indicated his belief there were 
some secretaries as status symbols who would be leaving first. Kevin 
indicated he would look into additional computers as soon as possible. 

When they returned to their offices, Cliff found a message saying that 
the Board had been polled by phone and elected Sandra Donnell the new 
treasurer.

He smiled, shook hands with Sandy and said, "Congratulations! That was 
one of the shortest acting appointments on record. Now I want you to get 
a list of all of our banks, starting with the largest in importance to 
us. Send a copy of the Board resolution and indicate that a formal copy 
with the corporate seal will follow by mail. We want an activity 
analysis for every account as soon as possible." He explained that an 
activity analysis was a bank's way of keeping score. Although there are 
several ways of presenting it to customers, it basically shows the type 
and amount of different types of activity Murphy uses, and finally 
indicates the extent to which the relationship is considered profitable. 
He concluded by saying, "Given the kind of guy Purcell was, I'm sure 
Murphy Manufacturing will turn out to be *very* profitable."

He then asked her to get copies of the bank book ledger sheets and bank 
statements. When she returned with a supply, he went to his new 
computer, brought up a spreadsheet program and showed her how to set it 
up. The columns going across were Date, Bank Balance, Book (or Murphy's) 
Balance, and Difference. He pointed out that interest is earned on 
weekends and holidays, so he reminded her to be sure to record a Friday 
balance as the balance for Saturday and Sunday as well. "It's remarkable 
how many people forget to do that. They take the bank balance numbers, 
add them up and then divide by the number of entries. Companies can lose 
a lot of money that way."

After he made sure that the two computers were linked so data could be 
easily transferred between them, Sandy went back to her desk and went to 
work. Although she did not have Cliff's familiarity with the spreadsheet 
software, she was much faster at data entry so their speeds were 
comparable.

Later, Cliff was pounding away on his keyboard, when there was a knock 
at his door. He said, "Come in!" and continued to pound away.

He heard Sandy's voice: "I need help! Could you open the door, please?" 
He got up and went to the door. Sandy was standing there with a large 
pizza box and four bottles of beer.

"I know you're planning to work me all night," she said with a grin, 
"But there's no need to starve, too."

He looked at his watch and was shocked to find it was eight forty-five 
and the office was completely dark. "My God! Why didn't you tell me? Or 
better yet, why didn't you just go home? If I'm too dumb to know what 
time it is, there's no reason for you to be, too."

"You were busy and I like pizza. I hope you like pepperoni and 
mushrooms? That's what I bought, so let's eat. I'm starving to death." 
She opened the box on his coffee table and pulled out a stack of 
napkins. "Thinking ahead, sir, I hope you noticed that the beer bottles 
have twist-off caps. Would you mind opening two, please?"

Cliff quickly shut down his computer and opened the beer. He pulled his 
chair around to the front of his desk and put his feet up on the desk. 
Sandy put the pizza on his coffee table and they started munching in 
companionable silence. "This is very good, Sandy. Thanks so much. I've 
nearly forgotten how good a pizza can be. Stephanie doesn't like it. I 
guess she thinks it's plebeian." He raised his beer bottle in a toast, 
"Cheers!"

Sandy raised her bottle to return the salute. "Please excuse me, Cliff. 
If there's a dainty, ladylike way to eat pizza, I haven't found it yet. 
I hope you'll forgive me for looking like a slob."

"Sandy, why do I think you're fishing for a compliment? You are the most 
un-slobby individual I've met in years. Incidentally, what did you do 
before you joined Murphy? As usual, I'm a day late and a dollar short. I 
should have read your personnel file before I came in today."

Then he grinned and added, "While I'm on the subject, would you please 
enter your birthday on your calendar with a note to yourself a few days 
earlier to buy yourself a nice birthday gift, and then wrap it nicely so 
I can present it to you? I read somewhere that top executive secretaries 
are great at that!" He grinned and ducked when she took a mock swing at 
him. "Assault! Sexual abuse! I've been threatened by a person of the 
opposite sex. I would take it up with Personnel, except I have a funny 
feeling they're in the same class with Purcell. Am I right?"

Once more she grinned and nodded. "I'm afraid so. They're really not 
much good. By the way, there's a regular meeting of the Grievance 
Committee tomorrow. Purcell was chairman. Who do you want to take his 
place?"

Cliff looked puzzled. "I don't understand the question. It's the 
treasurer's function. You're the treasurer. Therefore, obviously, you're 
the new chairman... chairwoman... chair... Whatever."

"According to the International Association of Parliamentarians or some 
such, the position is chairman. As a woman, I'm addressed as madam 
chairman. Do I get an extra dollar or two a month for the additional 
responsibility? My God! Two raises in a single day! I can't stand it!"

Cliff tried to look pensive. "Well, let's see. How often does the 
grievance committee meet?"

"There's a regular meeting once a month, and often special meetings," 
she replied.

"I don't know, Miss Donnell. A whole dollar for only one meeting a month 
sounds excessive. How about twenty-five cents?" he asked brightly.

"And how about if I throw a shoe at you, sir?" She grinned at him. "You 
sure know how to flatter a girl. You really do."

Cliff reached into his pocket for his wallet. He took out a 
twenty-dollar bill and gave it to her. "Seriously, Sandy, this is the 
best dinner I've had in ages. Thank you for being so thoughtful. I don't 
know what the company policy on supper money is, but it's the least I 
can do. Okay?"

"Not okay. Do you have a five hiding in there? I'll take that for your 
share, but that's absolutely all. I had to eat anyway."

He took back the twenty and gave her a five, reluctantly. "You still 
haven't told me about yourself. How old are you, and what did you do 
before you came to Murphy?"

"I thought I got you off that," she replied with a wry grin. "I'm 
twenty-six years old, my teeth are sound, I'm single - as you know - and 
I've been working here for years. I started working vacations and 
summers when I was sixteen, so depending on how you count, I'm getting 
as old as some of the office equipment." She looked at her rear end and 
grimaced. "For that matter, if I don't start getting some exercise, I'm 
going to be as broad as one of our ultra-high-capacity copiers!"

"There you go, fishing for compliments again. Except this time it won't 
work." Cliff had already noticed that Sandy had very slim hips and 
lovely legs. Her rear end was not nearly as voluptuous as Stephanie's. 
"Nevertheless," he continued, "You *are* getting a bit broad in the 
beam. I think exercise would help!"

Sandy stood up and twisted around. Her conservatively cut skirt was 
hanging the way it should. There were no bulges or straining seams. She 
glared at Cliff. "I hate you," she stated matter-of-factly. "You are a 
bastard. Your parents never married, I can tell! That was mean, nasty, 
unkind, and... and... untrue. I *am not* broad in the beam!"

"I was just trying to be agreeable" he said, holding up his hands. "And 
besides, my parents were too married. They told me so!" He smiled at her 
and said, "I think it's about time to knock it off, don't you? Sandy, 
seriously, I apologize for being so thoughtless. If there is a next 
time, just leave. And thanks so much for the pizza - it was one of the 
nicest dinners I've had in months. Can we declare a truce and get out of 
here?" He smiled and held out his hand.

She smiled back and took his hand. "It's a deal. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Cliff was at the office at seven-thirty the next morning. He was pleased 
to see that all the executive parking signs had been removed and there 
were a few cars that appeared to belong to workers in some of the former 
executive spaces. He went up to his office and found Sandy at her desk. 
Entering his office he wondered again what to do with Stephanie's chair. 
Moments later Sandy came in with a large cup of coffee for him. He 
looked at her with bleary eyes. "Where's yours?" he asked. She came back 
a few minutes later with her own cup and her notebook. He regarded her 
carefully and said with a grimace, "There ought to be a law... probably 
is, as a matter of fact. People shouldn't be allowed to look as cheerful 
as you do so early in the morning, particularly before having coffee. 
How do you do it? And what time did you get in here, anyway? And where 
did the coffee come from?"

Sandy smiled brightly. "I got in a while ago and the coffee came from 
the machine Kevin's people installed yesterday afternoon. I told him the 
very survival of the company depended on the availability of coffee. And 
it only takes me three hours at home in the morning to look cheerful by 
the time I get in."

He sipped his coffee in silence, finished the first cup, and then went 
looking for the coffee pot. He refilled his cup and Sandy's and returned 
to the office. "In spite of rumors to the contrary, I *can* function in 
the morning," he said. "Now we have to prepare for next week's planning 
session. I got the impression yesterday that the members of the 
executive committee don't expect to see nonmembers present. Am I right?"

"You're absolutely right. They like to think they know all there is to 
know about the business. Are you suggesting we should have a larger 
group?"

"Much larger, and I'll tell you why: I want more people from sales - 
people who are in day-to-day contact with customers. I don't know much 
about Flood, but he strikes me as one of those potentially dangerous 
guys who sees only what he wants to see. The type who, when he travels 
to visit customers, only sees the company's friends: the guys who will 
say what a great job Murphy is doing. I have no problem with friends, 
but I want to know how we're *really* doing. Particularly, I want to 
hear about problems. How wrong am I about Flood?"

"I don't think you could be any 'righter'," she replied. "I'll give you 
a short list of people. Can women attend?"

"You are attending, and you appear to be female. Why?"

"I have an idea. There is a saleswoman, Jane Miller, who is a hot 
ticket." She giggled softly.

"What's so funny about Jane Miller?" Cliff asked.

"Last year we had some Murphy Manufacturing T-shirts made. Although Jane 
only has small accounts, she really hustles. She went into one company 
and the purchasing manager said that if she would wear the T-shirt wet, 
he'd give her an order. She went out to her car, put on a T-shirt, stood 
in a sprinkler, then went back in and got the order. And she's well 
built, too."

"Sounds like the kind of person we need in the meeting. Particularly 
with small-account experience. I would like to have someone who can talk 
about them from firsthand experience."

"Why am I attending the session, by the way? To take notes?" she asked.

"As treasurer. We're going to be talking about competitors, and I've 
found that banks know a lot about what's going on. It's not that you'll 
have the answers, but I think you'll put together a good set of 
questions. Similarly, we want someone knowledgeable from Purchasing. 
Often, the same salesmen who call on us call on some of our competitors. 
Moreover, salesmen love to talk. It's amazing to me how much purchasing 
people know about what competitors are doing, but no one ever thinks to 
ask them."

They spent the next hour discussing people, and then moved on to discuss 
facilities. "It sounds like we'll have a group of about twenty or so. We 
want a hotel facility that will take some work to get right. Sandy, I 
don't mean to sound pompous, but too many hotels only hear 'business 
meeting' and 'twenty people'. Regardless of what else you may have said, 
you find one of those tacky green-topped tables set for twenty in a 'U', 
a' T', or something similar. The chairs are those horrors beloved of 
hotel banquet departments, primarily because they stack. I want 
comfortable chairs and small tables - only to hold coffee cups and that 
sort of thing. We need two easel pads and lots of wall space. By the 
time we finish the three-day session, there will be about forty pages of 
notes hung on the walls. Can you line something up?"

"I'm sure I can. Now, were you serious last night when you said I was 
going to be on the Grievance Committee?"

"I didn't say you were on the Grievance Committee. I said you were 
Chairman of the Grievance Committee! By the way, where and when does it 
meet?"

"It meets in the board room in ten minutes. That's why I asked," she 
said. She looked like there was something else on her mind, and Cliff 
asked her about it. "It's the matter of meeting in the board room. 
Purcell set it up there a year or so ago. I think he did it to put the 
union at a psychological disadvantage. I was wondering... Could we move 
the meeting to the cafeteria after it's fixed up? I would do it now, but 
it's much too noisy."

"It sounds good to me. Shall we go?"

They entered the board room and Cliff was introduced by Max Kaufman to 
the other union members of the grievance committee. The union people 
looked uncomfortable wearing suits and ties. In addition to Cliff and 
Sandy, management was represented by Bill Stevens from operations and 
Clarence Budd, Director of Personnel.

Cliff opened the meeting. "Gentlemen, I'm sure you know Sandra Donnell. 
She was elected treasurer by the Board of Directors yesterday, 
succeeding Charles Purcell who decided to take early retirement. I have 
appointed Miss Donnell to replace Mr. Purcell as chairman of this 
committee. Does anyone have any problems with her serving in this 
capacity?" Cliff noticed that Sandy was warmly received by both the 
union and by Bill Stevens. The only one who looked uncomfortable was 
Budd. Since he reminded him of Purcell, Cliff wasn't surprised.

They moved to the agenda. There was no old business so they immediately 
turned to new grievances. Max Kaufman spoke first. "Madam Chairman, 
welcome! On behalf of my associates and myself, I would like to say 
we're looking forward to working with you.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick," he said, addressing Cliff with a hint of a smile, 
"You're a dirty guy! We spent most of the last week preparing for this 
meeting. Our primary grievance this morning is the condition of the 
employee cafeteria and the basic unfairness of a heavy subsidy to the 
executive dining room while the workers pay full price. Then you come in 
and double-cross us. Before we even have this meeting, the word's all 
over the plant that the dining room is closing and the cafeteria is 
being completely renovated. I ask you, Mr. Fitzpatrick, how do you think 
it makes us feel? Like a bunch of horse's asses, is how! We prepare all 
the facts and figures - and we're not used to doing that, you know - and 
don't even get a chance to use them. The members are going to start 
wondering what they need a union for if you just give them things before 
we get a chance to demand them.

"And then there's that parking thing. That was *really* nasty. We never 
even thought to ask about that one, and you just go and do it." Max's 
smile was broad by now. "It's obviously a vicious management plot to 
break the union! Right, boys?" The other union members all loudly agreed 
with their president, with broad smiles on their faces.

"Seriously, Mr. Fitzpatrick and Miss Donnell, thank you! I think it's 
going to make a real difference. And I want you to know we appreciate 
Bill Stevens asking our opinion about the plans for the cafeteria. We 
know it isn't required and damned seldom happens. I almost fell over 
when I asked him where the executive section was going to be and was 
told there won't be one. He said you were adamant on the point, Mr. 
Fitzpatrick. Is that true?"

"It's true, Max. Look, this company is in trouble, and I think we all 
know it. We can't afford any internal bickering because the problems 
we're facing in the market are big enough. We spoke yesterday about 
changes in the plant. I don't have a clue what they might be, but I'm 
certain there will be some.

"I authorized Bill to get going on the cafeteria for two reasons. First, 
it was long overdue. It's not a luxury. Second, I wanted to do something 
tangible to show that I'm not antiworker. We'll probably have some good 
fights in the future over work-rule changes. I can't be sure. I can be 
sure that I'm going to want to do things that I believe to be in the 
best interest of this company and its workers. Let's face facts: I 
haven't bothered to look at the collective bargaining agreement yet. 
They're usually pretty fat documents written by lawyers. However, 
regardless of the agreement and what it may say about job security, the 
only security that really counts is the economic health of this company. 
If Murphy Manufacturing turns turtle, that contract will be worth its 
weight as scrap paper! He looked at Sandy. "Do we have anything else to 
discuss? Madam Chairman?"

Sandy spoke up in her capacity as chairman. "Is there any other new 
business? Hearing none, is there a motion to adjourn?"

The motion was made, seconded and carried. The union men gathered around 
Sandy to shake her hand and wish her well while Max went over to Cliff. 
"Thanks, Mr. Fitzpatrick. I can't make any promises about the changes 
you may have in mind, but I will promise we'll give you a fair hearing, 
okay? You know, some of the guys were shook up when they heard the new 
president was a young ex-consultant. Frankly, some of them are scared. 
They *do* see the troubles in the company. I can't see how you could 
have got a better start with them. Even the chronic gripers aren't 
saying much, and you know as well as I, those guys can *always* find 
something to bitch about." He extended his hand and said, "Good luck! 
We're all pulling for you."

They shook hands and Cliff and Sandy returned to his office. Finding a 
message on his desk to call Stephanie he picked up his phone and dialed 
her number. Sandy sat down in a chair this time, with a quirky little 
smile on her face. He reached Stephanie's office, then her secretary and 
finally Stephanie.

"Cliff, darling! I'm making plans for the weekend. You are coming down, 
aren't you? I've organized a little dinner party Saturday night for just 
a few friends. And Cliff, if you're real nice, you might not even have 
to rent a hotel room," she added coyly. "You just might find yourself 
staying overnight! What do you think about that? Of course, it depends 
on how well you behave. You'll be here at six, sweetness?" He agreed, 
made kissing sounds into the phone, and felt more than a little silly as 
he looked at Sandy who still had the same little smile on her face. He 
hung up the phone and looked at her.

"Okay, say it," he said to her.

"Say what?" Sandy asked innocently. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Say what you're thinking. There's obviously something on that mind of 
yours besides very lovely hair."

"Okay. But remember, you asked for it. There are two things: First, I 
notice that you haven't made much progress with Stephanie on the 
secretary-as-status-symbol thing. Have you?"

Cliff reddened. "It's different for a woman. Steph says she has to have 
her secretary answer her phone in order for her to be taken seriously."

"Do you really believe that, Cliff? And I'll bet you five dollars she 
hates being called 'Steph,' too."

"No, I guess I really don't. As a matter of fact, Steph treats her 
secretary like dirt. It's embarrassing, sometimes. I gather the girl is 
very well paid, but anything that ever goes wrong is the secretary's 
fault. Steph doesn't hesitate to blast her regardless of who's around, 
either. I was in her office one day when she went off. She ripped that 
girl to shreds with me sitting there watching. That girl is brave. She 
just stood there and took it, even though I could see tears starting to 
flow. She just said, 'I'm sorry, Miss Simpson.' I wouldn't have blamed 
her for throwing something." He reached into his wallet and took out a 
five-dollar bill. "And she hates 'Steph.' But how did you know, and 
what's the other thing?"

"Call it a good guess. I'm sure I'm underrating the woman, but she seems 
to fall right into the pattern. As far as the other thing, I hate to see 
a man led around like he has a ring in his nose. Let me guess: There's a 
cross between a hint and a promise that you'll be spending Saturday 
night between her satin bed covers. Am I right? That's, of course, 
assuming that you are good, whatever that translates into. I... I... I 
think I hate her!" Sandy finished vehemently. She stormed out of the 
office before Cliff could respond.

He thought about what she had said, and realized, painfully, that she 
was right. In fact, he thought, she's more right than she could know. He 
thought back to the occasion he had described when Steph had been 
berating her secretary in his presence. It was almost as if the girl had 
been stripped naked in front of a stranger. Worst of all, it was obvious 
to Cliff that the fault was Stephanie's, not the secretary's. He 
wondered why the girl didn't just tell Steph off and quit. Then he 
remembered a comment Steph had made about the money being very good, and 
that the girl couldn't afford to quit. He also thought about Sandy in 
juxtaposition with Stephanie. Why is it that I think Sandy would spend 
the night with a man in a much more honest way, without using sex as 
some sort of reward for good behavior? he wondered.



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