Message-ID: <14773eli$9808281623@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Bill Morgan" Subject: {Morgan} NEW: Six-month Turnaround 8/16 M/F, Rom. Lite sex Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980826164541.25200.qmail@hotmail.com> 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 8 of 16. Six-Month Turnaround Copyright 1992, 1998 by Morgan. All rights reserved. Chapter 8 On the following Monday, Sandy came into Cliff's office carrying a stack of papers and looking puzzled. "Cliff, there's something wrong here. I need help. I've been going over the Stores Division local-store accounts and I can't figure it out." "Let me guess," Cliff replied, "We've got too much money in the store accounts?" She looked at him, amazed. He just grinned and continued, "We've got about seventy-five stores around the country, each with its own account. They're run on an imprest basis at amounts ranging from $2,000 to $5,000. That means they run like petty-cash accounts. The balance we carry on our books is fixed, and we balance it against deposits and payments. I guess the large majority are around the $2,000 level, so our total book balance on the accounts is around $200,000 or so. Am I close?" "It's $225,000," Sandy said, still puzzled. "Okay," he continued, "Each store deposits its receipts into its account each day. We clean out the accounts from here. So I guess you're puzzled because you found about $25 million or so in accounts that are supposed to have about one-tenth of that?" Sandy looked stunned. "It was over $30 million! Didn't I do something wrong?" "Not at all. You just found the money to pay for reconditioning our production equipment and then some." His smile widened into a grin. "Now what do I get for solving your problem? Something nice, I hope? "Sandy, I've been teasing you. I did a little checking awhile ago and expected about what you found. It works this way: First, the $2,000 level is fixed. The people in accounting who balance our bank statements never look at the absolute numbers, they just reconcile them. Our typical store does about $50,000 a week in volume but we only clean out the accounts and bring the money in once a month. Assuming four-week months - and there are 4.3 weeks, actually - an account with a nominal $2,000 has about $200,000 at the end of the month. Then with the usual accounting delays, it's probably mid-month in the following month before a check is written to bring the account back to its imprest level. But by that time, there's another two week's deposits, or $100,000. Keep in mind, I'm rounding low. First, there are 4.3 weeks, not four, and I'm not allowing for clearing times. We could easily be three weeks into the new month before the check hits the bank. So, when our accounting says an account is back to $2,000 it is really still greater than $150,000. How does that sound?" "It sounds like I hope our children get their brains from their father, not their mother!" Suddenly, Sandy glared at him. "Clifford Fitzpatrick, you are a beast! You can access all my data on your computer screen and probably did. You knew I was going over and over these numbers, and you never said anything! You just wanted to see me suffer. I hate you!" "Golly!" Cliff said with a grin, "You didn't hate me last night. In fact, I would have to say you were... quite affectionate." She put her nose in the air. "That was different. I was so frustrated, I needed some affection. You lured me to your bed under false pretenses! It doesn't count." He tried to look puzzled but his grin kept breaking through. "Lured? Gee, I sort of remember being attacked by a slim young woman who wasn't wearing many clothes... any clothes at all, as a matter of fact. I guess it must have been someone else." She gave him a light kiss. "It had better have been me! Anyway, Clifford Fitzpatrick, back to the mundane. Given the glint I saw in your eye, there's an easy way to handle the problem. What is it, so I don't have to reinvent the wheel?" "There are a couple of things we need to do first. Number one: How are we coming on the proposals from the big banks? Number two: I've got to check with Steve Muller on that West Coast store chain that's interested in buying our units." "As far as the banks are concerned, I've received proposals from all except one," she replied. "As it stands now, the best offer by far is from Bank of Chicago. They're committing to a $50 million line of credit, as well as being prepared to work with us on our cash management program." "Okay, here's what we're going to do," Cliff said. "We'll get depository transfer checks and shift the store accounts to deposit only. When the store manager makes his deposit, the form he uses combines a deposit slip with a no-signature transfer check. There's a postage-paid envelope he uses to mail the check to a regional clearing bank. The regional bank wires each day's collections to our principal bank. This way the full amount of the deposit is taken out each day. We could even fine-tune it after it's up and running, by running a negative book balance with the deposit banks depending on how good or bad the mail service is. But that comes later. "Miss Treasurer, it sounds like you just picked up about $30 million. There's one more thing. For any local payments the store manger writes checks on a zero-balance account at Bank of Chicago; for payroll, we'll do something similar, although we'll need local paying banks to cash the pay checks. Several states don't look kindly on what they see as playing games with their voters' paychecks." He looked at her and smiled. "How does it sound to you?" "It sounds like we're in some money," she replied. Just then there was a knock on the door. Bill Stevens came in with a load of papers. "Cliff, I got the information you asked for. The machine tool company's estimate just came in. It came to just under $6 million! Now where in hell are we going to get that kind of money?" "Our esteemed treasurer has already taken care of your problem. The key question now, Bill, is how long is it going to take for repairs, particularly for the five operating machines?" "Cliff, you're serious about the money, aren't you?" Bill said. Sandy and Cliff both nodded in unison. "What do I need to do to get the authority to move ahead? I've got a couple of my guys working on an investment proposal, but as financial writers, they're pretty good operating people." "What investment proposal?" Cliff asked. "Those guys will take more time writing the proposal than it will take to overhaul the equipment! Have you combed through the estimate? Do you have other quotes?" "Yes, sir! The estimate is complete. The one we want to accept is from the people who built the machines. We got four other prices, three of which were higher. The fourth is a little lower but we're not satisfied the company knows how to handle the equipment we have. It's at least semi-custom stuff, and I don't think this is a time to learn-while-you- earn, particularly when they would be learning on us." "What do you say, Sandy? Go for it?" Cliff asked. She put her thumb up. "Let's do it. Bill, could you get me the name of Micronics financial type? That's the company isn't it? I may be able to save a few more dollars on payment terms. I understand they're about three times our size and very highly rated for credit. You wouldn't have any problem with at least a partial prepayment, would you?" "Not at all! Anything that moves the project along faster has to help. I'll be right back." Bill went back to his office, made a phone call and came back with a slip of paper which he gave to Sandy. She looked at it and went to her office. Thirty minutes later she came back with a big grin on her face. Bill and Cliff were reviewing the staffing proposals: Neither were happy with the picture that emerged. They both looked up when Sandy returned. "I think I just saved between $120,000 and $150,000," Sandy said proudly. "I agreed to a $2 million payment up front, in return for a four-percent credit. Then we're getting 2 percent for cash on the balance. I agreed to pay invoices within ten days by Federal Reserve wire. And I was invited to join the Association of Corporate Treasurers. Bill, the slip you gave me said M. A. Kahn. It turns out the M is for Marcia." She glared at Cliff and added, "And as for you, you have been holding out on us again. It seems Marcia is a fan of yours, having read several cash management articles you wrote... which, of course, you neglected to mention." The glare changed to a grin. "She asked me to give you her very best wishes for a great success at Murphy, and she's delighted we're working with her company again. Incidentally, Bill, she's going to get her people on this right away. It seems there's nothing like a chunk of cash up front to stimulate a supplier's interest. A crew could be here as early as this afternoon. Are you ready for them?" "I'll call my guys who are sweating on that investment proposal and liberate them. We should be all set. Sandy, I think you ought to know what we've been talking about. There are going to have to be major work realignments on the shop floor. Over the last few days a junk dealer has been taking away that dead inventory. It'll mean an asset write-down on the balance sheet, but actually, we're way ahead. Incidentally, you'll be getting a big check from the scrap company. We don't have the final numbers, but they've been hauling it out as fast as they can load trailers. We're getting about 30 tons to a trailer, and I suspect we're already over 500 tons. The price isn't bad at all. "The problem, though, is all the quality checkers. Believe it or not, it turns out we really do have two people checking for every person making! It is far worse than anyone thought. Cliff and I agree there will have to be a major layoff. There's just no way normal attrition will take the work force down to where it needs to be. Cliff, how about if Sandy calls a meeting of the Grievance Committee? Normally, we only have the regular meetings plus any the union asks for. But we have the right to call for one ourselves, although I don't think we ever have." "It makes a lot of sense to me, Bill," Cliff replied. "Sandy, why don't you check with Max and explain what we want to talk about. He may want to bring a somewhat different group of people with him." Sandy agreed and went off in the direction of the shop floor. When she returned, Cliff was alone in his office reviewing customer reports and planning on a trip to visit key customers starting with Magna Motors. He didn't like what he was seeing. A major change from the Flood days was that the sales reports read very differently now. It was clear Flood didn't like to receive bad news. As a result, the sales reports used to read as if they had been written by Pollyanna: "Every day, in every way, things are getting better and better!" Following the planning meeting, it was clear the sales force had taken the need for accurate market intelligence to heart. There had been a sudden and dramatic change in the tone of the reports. The one on Magna, particularly, scared him. The list of product complaints was too long, particularly coupled with Murphy's prices, which, while a bit lower than Ajax's, were not low. Before turning to Sandy and the union, he called Bill Stevens again. "Bill, it's Cliff. I'm going to visit Magna Motors in the next couple of days. What can I tell them about product quality? How soon will we be able to make promises?" "I'm not sure, Cliff." Bill replied thoughtfully. "What does Sandy say about meeting with the union? It's largely up to the workers... and I'm not confident about their morale at all!" "Last question," Cliff continued: "When will the revamped cafeteria be ready? With the upcoming layoff, it's more important than ever." "With a little overtime, we can be all set on Monday. How's that?" "That's great, and do it. I'll get back to you after Sandy and I talk." Sandy was seated in a chair waiting for him to get off the phone. When he hung up, she said, "Cliff, they can meet at four this afternoon, and I set it up. I heard you ask about the cafeteria. Could we hold the meeting there? I'd like to get the workers as comfortable as possible because the subject matter is going to be rough." Cliff called Bill again. "Can the cafeteria be in shape for a union meeting at four? We could start with a little show and tell. If we can reopen formally on Monday, we ought to be in pretty good shape now." "Can do, Cliff. You might pass the word to the union folks though so they don't bother to dress up." Sandy made the call and was back quickly. "What are we going to tell them, Cliff? There are some people who are going to be very upset." "I wish I knew." He smiled at her. "Trust me? I don't have the faintest idea what either of us is going to say. I *do* know the situation we're looking at is real. We're not trying to pull a fast one on anybody. Care to wing it with me?" Instead of answering, she climbed on his lap, put her arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss. * * * They were waiting in the cafeteria when the union representatives came in. Clarence Budd was obviously nervous, not knowing what to expect from the meeting. Bill and Janet Simmons gave a tour of the revamped facility. Since it had been in operation while the renovation was in progress, Janet focused on the behind-the-scenes changes that they were less likely to be aware of. Kaufman liked what he saw and said so. Janet's people had set up a table for them in the back of the room, and they all sat down while Janet went in back to rejoin her staff. Sandy opened the meeting. After the formal segment, she turned her notes face down on the table. "Max, we've got a problem. Its dimensions just became clear this morning and we wanted you and your people to hear it from us as soon as possible. This is the Grievance Committee, and I'm not even sure it's the right forum. That's why I talked with you this morning about the subject matter." Sandy had already noticed that the union group had five more people than it had had the previous time. "It's not a grievance, it's a layoff. Bill will explain it to you." Stevens reviewed for the union people the findings of the planning session. They had all seen the stale product being trucked out and a crew from Micronics was already busy dismantling one of the good machines. This brought Bill to individual responsibility and inspections. "Guys, believe it or not, we really do have twice as many people inspecting as we have making. There are some companies that brag about things like that. We are no longer among them. What we want to do is make each person responsible for his own quality. We're building up the maintenance staff so we're not going to have the equipment problems we have all been living with for so long. Things should be a lot better for all of us." Then he explained how the statistically-based quality control system would work, and finally came to the layoffs: "What it means is nearly half the work force is looking at a layoff. We can't figure out a productive way to use them. What we've been doing is living with poor raw-materials utilization and terrible scrap rates, combined with lousy delivered quality. The company can't survive that way." Bill looked very unhappy as he said, "How do you want to proceed now?" Kaufman looked around the table at his people. They were visibly shaken by the news they had just received. He asked if they could meet alone at the table for a few minutes. Cliff rose to his feet, followed by the other management participants. "Max, we're going to get some coffee and take it out on the floor. Why don't you ask one of your people to come and get us whenever you're ready? There's no rush: Take as much time as you want. Come on folks." He got a cup of coffee in a paper cup and left followed by the others. He was amused to see Budd scurry off in the direction of his office. "I wonder who he's going to call," he said. "I'll bet it's the estate trustee, Ezra Stiles. Sandy, what about Stiles? We've still got about five months to go." "I don't know, Cliff. I don't think he's going to like what he hears, but I think your contract is solid. I don't think there's anything he can do." They walked around the plant and spent some time watching the technicians from Micronics working on a machine tool. Bill talked with the crew chief and came back to report they had found the machine in better shape than they expected so the price would be adjusted downward, at least on the first unit. Then they just continued to walk around the floor. At one point they were near the cafeteria and could hear the sound of angry voices coming from inside. "I don't like the sound of that," Bill said. Cliff shrugged his shoulders. He didn't, either, but there was nothing he could do. Sandy was looking very worried. "I'm scared," she said finally. "It's taking much too long. They've been going at it for over an hour." They walked out to the parking lot in time to see Clarence Budd scurrying towards his car. Cliff noted it was well back in the line indicating he hadn't arrived very early that day. "I don't like to see that, either," Sandy said. "And he doesn't look like he's going home." She turned to Cliff, "I hope your agreement with Stiles is as solid as I think it is!" Suddenly, she grinned at Cliff and added, "Just because I own this joint is no reason you need to pay any attention to me, but I think Mr. Budd is about to be numbered among the missing, too." Bill Stevens had looked at her in astonishment when she referred to her ownership. He knew it, of course, but didn't know Cliff did. "How long has this young man known about you, Sandy?" "Since he was here about a week," she replied with a smile. "Jane spilled the beans, and frankly, I'm delighted she did." She took Cliff's arm in hers and squeezed. "I've developed a close working relationship with my new chief executive officer!" Bill kissed her on the cheek. "I noticed the way your eyes glow whenever Cliff's in range. And I always assumed the way he looked at you was a function of a weak mind. But I guess love is like that sometimes." He looked at the couple standing arm in arm. "You know, the Murphys would be very proud. The two of you are going to be taking this company places... very good places." He put out his hand to Cliff. "Congratulations. I assume this is your secret, so of course I'll maintain it. Nevertheless, I think you're a very lucky guy. She's a very special girl. But looking at you, I think you already know that." "Thanks, Bill. I appreciate it. As far as being lucky, I certainly know that, too." He looked around, saw they were alone, and kissed her soundly. She ignored Bill, wrapped her arms around Cliff's neck and melted into his arms. Bill tapped them on the shoulder: "Someone's coming." Cliff checked his watch. It was five-thirty; the union people had been meeting for nearly an hour and a half. He saw it was Max, coming alone. The union leader looked like he had been through a fight, and from the sounds they had heard, he had. He joined the three of them. "Can we find a place to sit for a few minutes? I want to rest, brief you and let my guys cool off." They found a couple of small stacks of lumber to sit on, and Cliff noticed that Sandy didn't even bother to look before she sat down. Obviously she felt this was no time to be dainty. Max wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and looked at the three of them. "Where's Budd? Is he going to be in the next meeting?" Sandy said, "No, Max. And - for you, alone - I think he'll soon be numbered among the missing. Does that bother you?" The union leader smiled for the first time. "Not at all! It makes it simpler, in fact. I'm going to level with you. The people trust Bill and they trust Sandy. Cliff, you're the new kid: We don't know you. On the other hand - and I said this to you at the time - you sure started off right. They're prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. But they don't trust Budd nearly as far as they can throw him... and at about 250 pounds, that's not very far. "I've got a deal to offer. It's not a very good deal, but it's the best I could get. I guess you know we had a war in there. It was the old-timers like me against the kids. You know unions: They are political organizations. I'm kind of proud of our local. We are pretty democratic. But there are times - like right now - when I wish we weren't. I trust you people. I'm convinced we are on the same team. "The problem is talking to my people. On seniority rules, they say it's easy for me to trust you. I've got more than enough seniority to keep my job. The kids don't. They want to hit the bricks. We said the only thing that would get them is the prospect of being the highest-paid people in the unemployment line. Mr. Fitzpatrick, there are some of us who have learned to read financial statements, too. We also see the conditions: the lousy product we ship, the machines that are so worn out they can't maintain tolerances. Yes, and the absurdity of two people inspecting a single person's work. We know we can't survive that way. "We heard a lot about what went on in the planning meetings. It wasn't supposed to be a secret was it?" Cliff shook his head, no. "Everything we heard made sense. If this can be made to work, this company is going to survive and then prosper. It will be a much better place for us to work, and for the next generation, too. I don't disagree with a single damned thing you're doing. I only wish it had been done years ago. The kids don't understand, though. Some of them don't know the difference between a real job and make-work. Worse, many of them are economic illiterates. If they see a number on a balance sheet in seven digits or more, it's more money than the Mint. They don't realize how fast it can blow away in a big company. Anyway, you know there's been a fight in there. "The best I could come up with is this: We will allow you to address a general meeting of the membership, any way you want. Give a speech, make a presentation, answer questions, whatever. It's up to you. Then we put it to a vote and see what happens. What do you think?" Bill Stevens was the first to speak. "I guess that's what we'll do then. Max, I'm going to impose on you one more time. Who do you think should speak?" "Bill, I think you all should. Look, I know there are only a few of us who know who Sandy really is. I'm going on what you've told me. The company's back is to the wall. I believe you. The kids think this is an impersonal big corporation like Magna Motors and Ajax Industries. I think we just have to let it all hang out. Let them know there is a Murphy that owns this company. Let me ask you, what are the risks of doing it?" Sandy swallowed hard. "Max, when is the meeting? You're putting me on the spot, you know? This is for your ears only: The problem is I don't control the Murphy stock formally until October 1, and that's almost four months away. Right now, Ezra Stiles votes it as trustee. While you were meeting, Budd scurried out to his car and went off... somewhere. We're pretty sure it wasn't home, and our guess is it was to see Stiles. I know Charles Purcell was a Stiles informant in the company. He and Budd were as thick as thieves, so I wouldn't be surprised if he is, too. "The problem is, we don't know what Stiles *could* do! Frankly, the answer could be nothing, but it could be a lot. I had my personal lawyer review Cliff's contract. He con siders it unbreakable. However, it *can* be litigated, and that could be just as bad, or possibly worse. If Stiles got some friendly judge to issue a restraining order, even if we ultimately win in court we're tied up in the meantime. And we can't afford to be distracted right now, let alone tied up. Max, it's the company I'm worried about, not me. Can I think about it and talk it over with these guys first?" "When is the meeting, Max?" Cliff asked. "I would like to get it over with as soon as we can." "How about Thursday evening? I think that's about as soon as we could schedule it. Sandy, please think about what I said. Everyone knows and trusts you. I understand your problem. I just hope you'll be able to find a way." The group went back to the cafeteria. It was obvious to the three management people that tempers on the union side had not completely cooled down. They had a very brief meeting with Max formally presenting the union offer of a meeting which was accepted for Thursday evening. The meeting adjourned and the three went back to Cliff's office. "May I ask Janet to join this seance?" Bill said. "It seems to me there are two things to think about: The first is how important Sandy's participation will be to the workers. I think Janet could be a big help. She has a good feel for things like this. The second is Stiles, and neither of us can comment on that one." "It makes sense to me, Bill." Cliff replied. "What do you think?" he asked Sandy. She nodded agreement and Bill went off to get Janet. Then Sandy picked up the phone and called Ezra Stiles. As she guessed, he was still in his office. "Hi, Uncle Ezra!" she said. Although her voice was bright, she made a face to Cliff. "We had an interesting meeting with the union today." She listened for a few moments. "My, you get your information quickly! I'm impressed." She made a thumbs down sign to Cliff as Stiles continued to talk. Finally he stopped speaking and she continued, "The reason for the call concerns my inheritance. I haven't said anything, but you know quite a few people know that the Murphy family is only me. Is it supposed to be a secret? I can't recall ever asking you before?" She had earlier motioned to Cliff who had picked up the phone on her desk. When Bill returned with Janet, on impulse he turned on the speaker feature on the phone so all three could listen. The speaker was on as Sandy asked her last question. "No, Sandy," Stiles replied. "There's absolutely nothing in the will or anything else I know of regarding maintaining your inheritance as a secret. It's just something we've done going back to when you went to work for MacDougal. If I remember correctly, it was your idea, wasn't it?" "I think so, Uncle Ezra. As a matter of fact, I'm sure of it now. I only wanted to check to see if there was a more compelling reason, and you say there's none at all, right?" "That's right, Sandy. There's none at all." She concluded the conversation and hung up as the others came into the room. "I'm glad you were listening. Did you all hear his reply?" she asked. They all had and said so. "I don't know why, but I have a feeling it's important that you all heard it. Particularly Bill and Janet: you're impartial. That's one thing out of the way, though. I can talk. Now should I? "Cliff, I'm most concerned about you. I would rather cut off my arm than do anything that would be seen as undermining your authority. What do you think?" "None of us have had a chance to talk about what Max said, but personally, I agree with him. I would like you to speak. You're a real person: the owner. I'm the boss: hired help. I think they'll listen to me, but I think you can swing them. My vote is for you to speak. Janet, Bill had the excellent idea of asking you to join us. What do you think?" "Sandy, I agree with Cliff. Bill told me some of what Max told you earlier. You can't believe how economically ignorant some of these kids are! If an amount is more money than they ever carry in their *pocket*, for heaven's sake, it's more money than the Mint. 'The union will take care of me. We have a contract!' As if the contract will magically produce the money to fund it. I think you should." Janet continued, "I have a question, though. What's the risk? Aside from Stiles, I mean. Maybe I'm missing something." Bill spoke up: "I think Janet has said it all, and raised the real question: Why not?" Sandy looked at Cliff speculatively. "I don't think it will change the way you feel about me. I guess there is no reason. I just had this idea of playing secretary to try to learn how a company works. I guess I ought to see about joining the Junior League or something. Okay, I'll do it." As she said the words she looked very dejected. Cliff thought the time had come to let the cat out of the bag a little more. "Darling, I hope you'll stay. You are not just Assistant to the President, you're the assistant general manager. Everyone sees it. I've heard it said that we seem to be two people sharing a single brain. I've had the eerie experience of starting a sentence and having you finish it... in the same words I would have used. Do we have to cripple the company? Can't the Junior League wait awhile?" She had been looking at him as he spoke. By the time he finished, she was beaming. Instead of answering, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him slowly and lovingly. When they finally broke, Janet gave Cliff a kiss and then kissed Sandy. Cliff was surprised to see tears in the older woman's eyes. She had her arm around Sandy's waist as she looked at Cliff and said, "I've been a widow a long time, Cliff. I remember when Sandy's parents were killed. My God! That was nearly fourteen years ago. You probably gathered that Sandy grew up at the plant. I tried to be a mother to her, and I still think of her as my little girl. She even used to bring her report cards to me. I've been waiting so long for the right guy to come along. Cliff, she's really a one-man woman, and I think you're the lucky man. I think of her as my daughter, and I'm so proud of her... of both of you." "Mom," Sandy said after kissing the woman, "When are you going to let Bill Stevens make an honest woman out of you? Will you do it if I tell you Cliff and I are going to be married? We are." "Looking at the two of you together, that's certainly no surprise! Cliff, please take care of my little girl." "Little girl, indeed!" Sandy said, feigning indignation. "I'm a five-foot eight-inch woman!" "I certainly will," Cliff replied to Janet. "I guess we're agreed, then. Sandy will give her talk. Now the question is what kind of talk do we give? My thought is we keep it simple. I think anything elaborate - a slide show, for example - will make the suspicious ones think we're trying to put something over on them. I think we do it best by keeping it as simple as possible. What do the rest of you think?" "Let's do it!" Bill and Sandy said in unison. Everyone laughed at that point. Cliff and Sandy went home to Sandy's apartment. Cliff had moved in, but had installed an unlisted phone number of his own. The phone in his apartment used the call- forwarding feature to divert any calls for him to his phone in Sandy's apartment. He used to tease Sandy about "his and hers" telephone answering machines. In bed that night he noticed Sandy was more relaxed. He asked her about it. "I guess it's the fact that more things are coming out into the open, Cliff. I'm beginning to understand that, deep down, it's bothered me to have to play a role." "Does that extend to playing wife?" Cliff teased. She ran her hands over his body, and snuggled closer. "I can live with that," he heard her murmur, "And I plan to, for a long, long time!" * * * Thursday morning there was more news from Max Kaufman. The meeting was scheduled for eight in the evening. And in spite of their differences, the union people had united in keeping the subject quiet. They didn't want the press to hear of it. It was scheduled at a nearby hall the union often used for membership meetings. Bill, Sandy and Cliff went over to the hall together. Sandy had given a lot of thought to her clothing for the evening, and finally wore a simple beige dress that looked very good on her. Max called the meeting to order. They had agreed that Bill would speak first, followed by Cliff, and ending with Sandy. Bill explained the situation in the plant quickly and succinctly. Then Cliff got up and spoke about the layoffs. He finished his speech by saying, "I'm sorry about this. It's certainly not your fault, but it isn't mine, either. I came in and found the mess. We just can't survive if we try to have one person producing and two people inspecting what he's produced. We're going back to the way things used to be. You people are crafts men! You're good. You know how to do it right, and we're upgrading the equipment to make it possible. Why in hell do we need *two* people looking over your shoulders? It wasn't that way when John Murphy, Sr., founded this company. And it's not going to be that way when his granddaughter, Sandra Donnell, gets control of her stock. Ladies and gentlemen, I think you all know Sandy. Not many of you know she *owns* this company! Or at least, two-thirds of it. Sandy?" Sandy got up and went to the podium. Cheers, particularly from the old timers, rang out in the hall. She had no prepared speech, so she just waited for the hall to quiet down. Finally, it did. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here tonight for two reasons. First, to say that I've been involved every inch of the way in the decisions Bill and Cliff reviewed with you. I don't like it any more than you do. "But my job is to save this company! We are in tough shape right now. If our competitors had the slightest hint of how bad things are, I would fear for *all* your jobs. Some of you think owning a company is easy: All the owner does is cash the dividend checks. It's never that easy. I started to work in this plant ten years ago when I was only sixteen. I have a union card. I operated machine tools... although not even Cliff knows that. I've personally performed just about every job there is in this plant, certainly all the grubby ones. There are a lot of familiar faces here who can tell you that what I just said is true. "Well, what I'm telling you now is true, too: We have to have these layoffs. It's why managers get paid what they do. It's not to make the easy decisions. It's to make the hard ones. This is a hard one, believe me. It's got to be. For those of you directly affected, I'm sorry. With luck, we'll build this company back to where it ought to be and you'll all be rehired. That will be one of the happiest days of my life. "Until then, let's hope. Let's work to make it happen! Let's work to re-create all those jobs!" There were tears visibly running down her cheeks as she finished. She stood up straight looking out over the hall as some men rose and started to applaud. The applause spread. Soon, the entire hall was on its feet applauding the young owner. There were no cheers, no whistles. They were applauding someone they felt was on their side. They had been prepared to spend most of the time fielding questions. Max joined Sandy at the podium and waited as the applause wound down. "Are there any questions?" he shouted. There was silence in the hall. "This meeting is adjourned!" he declared. As he held Sandy's arm to guide her back to the others, he could see the tears still rolling down her cheeks. She went into Max's arms and he held her. "Sandy, thank you. No one else could have done what you just did. It worked because there are too many guys out there who know you and know it's true. I had forgotten, but now I remember you on your hands and knees scrubbing wash rooms. You did do all the grubby jobs. Did you ever wash dishes in the cafeteria, though?" Sandy smiled through her tears and held up her hands, "How do you think they got this awful?" Max took them in his. "They look awfully good to me. I guess you recovered." He looked at the others. "We scheduled a vote for tomorrow but I think you won it tonight. Sandy, let's get those jobs back. Okay?" Cliff had loaned her a handkerchief, and she was drying her eyes. She gave him back his handkerchief and put her hand out to Max. "It's a deal! Let's make it happen quick." The vote the next day was a formality. The strike vote was heavily defeated. Subsequently, Sandy got a call from Ezra Stiles. He pointed out to her that she had revealed herself as the Murphy heir, and that was contrary to the spirit, if not the letter, of the will. Again, Cliff was listening as she responded, "Mr. Stiles, that's interesting. I asked you that very question a few days ago. You said there was no problem. It's curious, too, Ezra. There were three other people who heard you tell me that, so I would suggest you not try to make an issue of it. Incidentally, it has become necessary to terminate Mr. Budd as personnel director. We were planning on giving him six-months pay in lieu of notice. Do you think that's fair enough? Stiles agreed that it was. He hung up, obviously miffed that his plan had been thwarted. Cliff pretended to be stern. "Miss Donnell, hiring and firing are the prerogatives of the chief executive. Are you presuming to encroach?" Before she could say anything, he had her in his arms, and kissed her. She could feel her knees buckle as she clung to him. When they separated, her eyes were glazed. Although Cliff tried teasing her again, all he got from her was a loving murmur. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----