'It's not my letter,' Simon was saying. Jeez, how embarrassing, right in front of other staff.
'Stop intervention,' Jonathan ordered. 'Sit down, George. '
Then Jonathan remembered. What had Simon said? Something about Accounts, that he'd worked in Accounts. Accounts with their big system who did all the monitoring. The really big boys. Simon would have swept up after them, wiped their asses, what does he know about the system?
George was talking to him, and Jonathan realized he had not heard a word. He was losing this, he was not handling it.
'. it's the same story. We have to wait for extra-contractuals before we know what the job costs, and so we can't bill. ' George was smiling his noncommissioned, sleeves-up, man-on-the-shop-floor smile.
'That's not what the people upstairs think. '
'Well, with the best will in the world, they're not down here doing the work are they?'
'They don't have to. George, I'm sorry to pull the rug from under you, but I want to change the agenda for this meeting. '
George sucked his teeth, scoring points, tut, bad meeting management.
'You know I would never do this normally, but I've just had an intervention on Simon as you came in. How is he taking it?'
The shop-floor smile was still there. 'Like a prince. He's calm, in fact, you could say he looks quite happy about it, like he has a card up his sleeve. You give him a good severance deal or something?'
'We can't afford severance deals. This is in confidence. Simon is changing people's performance scores. He's got access to Accounts somehow. The machine can't change them back. '
'You're joking,' said George, his pink face going slack. Then he began to chuckle. 'No wonder he looks so pleased. He's changing people's scores. Well, well, I didn't know he had it in him. '
Managers must never lose their sense of humor. Jonathan managed to find an answering smile. 'It's one way of getting your own back. ' there was sweat on his forehead.
'Changing yours, is he?' George's red moustache seemed to glow redder.
'Screwed both of us. You're in charge of monitoring. ' Jonathan's own smile was a bit harder. 'So. How could he have done it? How can we stop him?'
'Beats me. Unless he got hold of the password when he was in Accounts. '
'You mean the access code. '
'No. This is different, it really lays open the whole network. I think only the Chairman has it, maybe Head of Accounts. You get hold of that you can change any information you like and then ice it, so it can never be changed. Change it invisibly I mean. '
'Great for when the Auditors call. '
'I expect so. '
'Can you change it on verbal? By mail?'
'By camel, I imagine. It's only a rumor but I've heard a few funny things. '
'From Simon?'
George grinned back at him.
And then in waltzed Harriet. It was 10:10 after all, and here he was, still in his previous meeting, so his time management score would be fucked, and Harriet would know that, and wouldn't she just love that?
Harriet loved something. She had gone doo-lally with pleasure. She started to do a dance around Jonathan's desk. 'Ring around the rosy, a pocketful of posy, husha, husha, they all fall down. ' Harriet roared her hearty, Hooray Henry laugh that Jonathan had not heard in so long. 'Did you know that that is a song about the plague?'
'Someone's caught a cold,' said George and his and Harriet's eyes seemed to harpoon each other, and both of them grinned.
Bad behavior from staff depressed their own scores, but insubordination knocked the stuffing out of their manager's profile. They knew it. They were enjoying this.
I am fed up with this crap, I am fed up trying to keep people happy. I am not responsible for keeping people happy.
'Harriet. The stress has gotten to you, 'Jonathan said. 'Come back when you're more in control. '
'When you are more in control, you mean. ' Harriet was beaming, and about to chuckle again. 'Come on, George, let's leave him to it. '
'George. Please. We're not finished. We still have to talk about invoicing. '
'Oh Jesus,' and both he and Harriet cracked up.
'I want a breakdown of every invoice on this printout and why it's late. Friday will do. And please remember, that you are responsible for ensuring we hold to financial targets. If you don't, you aren't meeting the minimum requirements of your job. I'll give you a box four marking. And if it doesn't improve, I'll write one of those hilarious little warning letters. Oh, and Harriet, your anti-blood pressure medicine. I know about it. It does have strange side effects, doesn't it. I can recommend Medical Leave. I will be recommending a check-up. '
In other words, baby, you may just have lost your job. Harriet's smile slipped.
He verballed it. 'Action. Store session. Copy. H. Pednorowska's behavior to the Medical Department. '
All this counseling shit to one side, the thing he knew he was really good at was being a bit of a bastard.
'Harriet. George. Thanks for coming to see me. Harriet, I'm sorry you're unwell. George, I'm sure you'll be able to cope with your invoicing problem. Please ask Simon to come in and see me. '
Their smiles had not quite faded.
'Meeting over, Team. '
Gloves off. Simon had slow reaction times. He needed time to think about things. Well, he had had a whole month to work through this, thanks to Jonathan being so nice. It had probably taken him all month, but he had done it. And he's got me by the balls. He can change my scores, and leave no trace, unless the Chairman is prepared to admit the existence of the password. The computer's got me and George on record and knows our suspicions but that's not proof. I have to wrong foot him. I could say that he'd been monitored telling Harriet what he'd done. But what if he hadn't, or asked 'how could they read the note, it was in code?' Jonathan would just have to wing it.
Simon came back in. He looked as calm and unperturbed as this morning. 'An impressive display, Simon. '
Simon was saying nothing.
'It wasn't age, you idiot,' said Jonathan. 'It wasn't slowed-down reaction times. Don't you know when you're being let off? they knew, Simon! that's why you were fired. You didn't think you could use the Chairman's password without all the right protocols did you? they were letting you go without any noise. Then you had to go and tamper with my scores this morning, you stupid, dumb, poor, idiot little lamb, and I don't know if I can stop it this time, Simon. I think they're going to send you to jail. '
Simon sat unmoving, in silence. But silence was not a denial, or shocked surprise. Would that be enough?
'I mean, as if I didn't signal it, as if I didn't near as dammit tell you, in those private little sessions, you've got a month, keep your nose clean. I don't want to see you go to jail!'
Jonathan raised his hands and let them fall. 'I really thought you were smarter than that. '
Simon had not moved, not an involuntary flicker of the eyeballs, not a heave of the prison-patterned shirt. Except, he was weeping. He sat very still and a thick, heavy tear that seemed to be made of glucose crept down his cheek.
'They always have one up on you, don't they?' he said.
In the corner of Jonathan's screen, a tiny white square was flashing on and off, in complete silence. A security alert.
'You work your butt off, they keep you dancing for twenty years, and they make a fortune out of you. '
This was going to be very sweet indeed, thought Jonathan. Talk about two birds with one stone. Fancy Accounts letting something like the password out. They'd all be for the high jump. Bloody Accounts, who were always breathing down Jonathan's neck about invoices, or performance scores or project costs or unit cost reduction. They would all have their necks wrung like chickens. What a wonderful world this could be.
