Sometime Soon (8 page)

I now notice their pink tinge.
“Uh-oh. What’s up?”

“Tom sent out a message over the
weekend. There’s an all-hands meeting this morning, no exceptions, no excuses.”

“What about?” I ask, searching my
Inbox.

Nate shrugs. “No one knows.”

I briefly wonder if it concerns the
shenanigans Rob pulled on Karthik. But that’s typical Rob, hardly worthy of an
impromptu all-hands meeting.

I sip my hot coffee as Nate and I
speculate. Then a thought occurs to me. “Oh no,” I say out loud.

“What?”

“At the last company I worked for,
when they called a surprise meeting like this, it was to announce a buyout.”

“You think we’re getting bought?”

“Could be.”

“Marketing and finance departments
are the first to get axed in a buyout,” he says, leaning against his flimsy
cubicle wall. This seems ill-advised since Nate is not a small guy.

I think about Nate’s new family
addition and quickly backtrack. “But who knows. It could be anything.”

I glance at the email and see that
the meeting is set for 10 AM in the large conference room.

The large conference room is not
quite large enough to hold all of us. The seats around the wooden oval-shaped
table are occupied first, and the rest of us stand nearby, leaning against the
walls and spilling out into the hallway. Nate and I squeeze into the packed
room and find some free wall space along the side. Tom Norton, Vice President
of our business unit, sits at the head of the table, with Joan to his right.
Whatever the topic, it’s important enough to pull Joan off the front desk all
morning.

Once everyone is settled in, Tom
stands and glances around the room. The quiet buzz of conversation fades as we all
focus on him. Tom looks like a vice-president. He has an easy confidence about
him, with his tailored navy suit and his side-parted steel-gray hair. Other
than a hello in the hallway, when he’s sure to include my name to show me that
he actually knows it, I have never had a conversation with Tom. All my dealings
start and end with Rob, who has managed to get a seat at the table this
morning. He’s leaning back in his chair, appearing unconcerned. Karthik and his
team of engineers are grouped together in the back.

“You’re probably all wondering why
I’ve called you here,” Tom begins. He eyes travel around the room, taking us
all in. “Well, I won’t keep you in suspense.” His serious face softens. “Friday
afternoon we entered into an agreement to be acquired by Napa Networks.”

A quiet shock settles over the
room. I can’t believe I guessed right. Nate throws me a strained glance as his
face begins to flush red. The quiet soon dissipates as whispers and low
mumblings take hold. I look over at Rob, trying to see if he is surprised by
the announcement, but his expression remains unchanged.

Tom puts his hands in his pockets,
and he appears to be gauging our reactions. “This is a smart move for us. The
wireless market is flooded with products and services, and we’re having a tough
time getting to market with the latest and most timely technologies. With the
resources of Napa Networks behind us, we can push harder and sell into more
channels…”

I start to tune out at this point.
He’s regurgitating the same business platitudes I’ve heard every time a company
I work for makes a tremendous shift in plans that requires selling it to its
employees. Scanning the room, I see the shell-shocked faces of the younger,
less experienced workers mingled with the sardonic, yet accepting faces of the
more experienced ones. I count myself among the latter group. This buy-out is
right on time within the general pattern of my work history. At about three
years in, either a buy-out occurs, or the company starts having financial
difficulties, or the project I’m on is discontinued. A good three to five-year
run is the most one could expect these days in the high-tech industry. This is
something my family, especially my father, who has been with the same company
for nearly thirty years, cannot understand.

“Nothing will change in the short
term,” Tom is saying. “But as we begin to integrate our departments, some
reorganizing might be necessary. Although I want to assure you, at this time
there are no plans to cut any positions. Every single one of you is important
to our business and to the future of this company.”

“Napa Networks is in California.
Are they going to keep this office open?” This question comes from one of
Karthik’s engineers in the back.

Tom nods his affirmative answer.
“Although they may move us out of Cambridge,” he adds. This inspires some
unhappy moans.

“If they pay for my move, I’ll go
to California,” someone jokes. Uneasy laughter fills the conference room.

“I’ll be sure to let them know,”
Tom responds, seeming relieved by a lightening of the atmosphere.

We are all aware of Napa Networks.
They are the giants in our industry. They are also notoriously cheap, paying
much lower salaries than the industry standard. According to their reputation,
 in an extreme cost-saving measure, they recently circulated a memo to
their employees listing the ways in which each individual employee could help
the company save money. The list included limiting the number of toilet paper
sheets used during bathroom visits, washing and reusing the provided plastic
utensils, and restricting the provided free soda to one can per day. I heard
that when Napa cancelled the company bonus last year due to having missed their
quarterly results by one penny per share, employees rebelled by using massive
amounts of toilet paper and consuming their own weight in soda.

Tom concludes the meeting by
thanking everyone for his or her time and hard work. I’m betting Tom will
collect a large payout when the buyout goes through, and we will never see him
again. He couldn’t care less whether the office is moved to Timbuktu or whether
we all keep our jobs.

We shuffle out of the conference
room, returning to our cubicles in order to huddle and gossip. Nate and I have
barely sat down when Rob approaches. “How’s the baby?” he asks Nate.

“She’s good,” Nate says
distractedly. “Did you know about this?”

“I got the word on Friday,” Rob
says.

“What do you think?” I ask.

Rob shrugs. “Hard to know. Like Tom
said, nothing will change in the short term. But in the long term it could mean
more opportunity, or it could go another way.”

“Do they need two wireless security
marketing groups?” Nate asks.

“We have the advantage there,” Rob
replies. “They’re buying us for our security technology. It’s something they
don’t have yet.”

“Really?” Nate asks hopefully.

“Yup. Although, it’s not rocket
science. It’s just marketing,” Rob adds, the right side of his mouth hitching
up.

My resumé is updated, as always,
and I’ve kept in contact with the recruiter who got me this job. But the
economy is terrible, and I now have a mortgage payment to consider. Despite the
rhetoric, there’s no guarantee that anyone’s job is safe. Even if mine were, I
don’t like the idea of working for Napa. Perhaps it would be smart to put out
some feelers. The idea of leaving my fate in the hands of a billion dollar
corporation to which I matter not at all, is unsettling at best.

The office buzzes like a beehive.
It’s my turn to need a frappuccino and a chat. I email Bryn, and we meet at
Starbucks ten minutes later. I’m relieved to be out of the office. The entire
day, and perhaps the next few months, will be fueled by nerves and gossip.

The late morning is bright with an
occasional chilly breeze that hints at the impending fall. Thinking of the
summer ending only adds to the glum mood into which I’m slipping. Bryn and I
take our frozen drinks to the outdoor patio table.

“I’m not surprised really, but I
don’t know if I’m up to job hunting,” I say dismally, after having explained
the situation to Bryn.

“You’ll be fine. And you might not
even need to find another job. Maybe you should wait and see what happens. Napa
is doing pretty well these days.”

“Maybe.” At first, I was sure I
wanted to get a head start on job hunting. Sitting around hoping it would all
work out is not really my style. I prefer controlling my own destiny. But I
don’t want to be hasty, either. Perhaps the rumors about Napa aren’t true.
Perhaps I will love working for them. Maybe rationing toilet paper is a good
idea that I will want to adopt at home, too.

“You could call a few recruiters
and see how the job market is,” she suggests.

“I should at least do that. I have
a mortgage now and a cat who expects to continue living in the high style to
which he has become accustomed.”

“Everything will work out,” she assures
me. “So, now tell me some good news.”

“Good news?
Bryn nods at me.

“Um, I haven’t gotten into a car
accident in the last three days.”

“No,” she says, nudging my leg
under the table with her sneakered foot. “I’m talking about the Café Blue guy
you were going to call. You did call, right?”

“Yes, I called.” Then I entertain
Bryn with stories of my sudden dating bounty.

“
Two
guys,” she exclaims,
eyes wide, bobbed hair bouncing.

“That’s right. Of course, I hardly
know either of them, and it’s unlikely that either will become a relationship,
but I’m feeling pretty good about myself at the moment.”

Bryn gives me a grin that is both
humoring and chastising. “Miss Optimistic,” she deadpans. We’re both sucking
our frozen coffee drinks when Bryn’s expression becomes serious. “Have you
talked to Katie lately?” she asks.

I give her an exasperated look as
the cold mouthful goes right to my head. “Yes, I have, and she could really use
her friends right now. You need to get over this and call her.”

“What do you mean? Why does she
need her friends?”

I’ve said too much, I realize. I
don’t want to betray Katie’s confidence.

“Is everything okay with her and
Mike?” she asks, more curious now that I’ve clammed up.

I sigh and decide to tell her only
what she already knows. “They still can’t agree on a wedding date. But I’m sure
it will work out.”

“They’re arguing about the wedding
date?” she asks cautiously.

“I didn’t say they were arguing.
Just having some trouble picking a date.”

Bryn puts her frappuccino aside and
leans toward me across the table. “Are Katie and Mike having problems?”

“No…. I don’t know.” Her curiosity
is making me uncomfortable. I don’t like being put in the middle this way.

She stares at me.

I lean back in my chair. “If you
want to know what’s going on with Katie, you should call her yourself.”

“I don’t have to call Katie. I
already know what’s going on.”

This gets my attention. Did I hear
her right? I look up from the straw I had started to twist around my finger.
“What do you mean?”

Bryn becomes very interested in the
top of the table.

What?” I ask again. “Bryn, what’s
going on?”

She glances up at me, and her eyes
begin to tear. Embarrassed, she turns her face away and looks out toward the
busy street. “Mike has been calling me,” she tells the passing traffic. Then
she faces me, wiping at a tear that has made a path down her cheek.

“Mike has been calling you? On the
telephone?” I ask dumbly.

She nods.

“Why is he calling you?” I thought
Bryn hardly knew Mike, the same as me.

Bryn starts to speak again and then
stops.

I take in her tears and her pinched
expression. “Are you and he….?” I begin, but I can’t finish it.

“No,” she answers quickly. Then she
softly adds, “Not really. He kissed me once. Right after we got back from the
Bahamas.”

“He kissed you?”

She nods again. “In the parking lot
at the grocery store.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “My car wouldn’t
start. I was at the store that’s just down the road from Katie and Mike’s
place. I had milk and cheese and some ice cream, and I didn’t want them to
spoil while I waited for a tow truck. So, I called to see if Katie could come
get my groceries and store them in her refrigerator. Only she wasn’t home. Mike
was there and he offered to help.

“He came down with some jumper
cables, and he tried to get the car started for me. The whole time, he was
telling me these funny stories about his kids who he’d just seen. When he
finally got the car started, I was so thankful, I jumped up and hugged him. But
he didn’t let go of me, and he kissed me.”

I can feel my eyes widening at her.

“I kissed him back,” she says, her
eyes meeting mine almost defiantly.

I just blink at her.

“I felt terrible,” she continues,
rushing her words now. “I pulled away from him and drove off, leaving him
standing there in the parking lot.” She takes a shaky breath, seeming to sink
into the chair as she exhales.

“You kissed Mike?” I ask again,
sure that I’m misunderstanding this.

“Yes. When I leaned back from the
hug, he grabbed my face and he kissed me.
We
kissed, Andy.”

As I’m absorbing this, she
continues.

“Then he started calling me. I
missed the first call. He left a message on my machine saying he needed to talk
to me. I figured he wanted to apologize or ask me to forget the whole thing. So
I called him back at work. But he didn’t want to forget it. He wanted to see me
again.”

I feel a knot forming in my
stomach.

“I refused to see him though,” she
says defensively, her eyes wandering back to the street.

“You’re talking to him on the
phone?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

“Yes. He still calls me. During the
day, mostly. When we’re both at work, to talk. But I don’t ever call him.” She
makes sure to tell me this, obviously thinking it somehow means she’s less
guilty.