Taking Stock (3 page)

“I told your girl already. I have my phone bill in my hand. I called you at two o’ seven and believe me I wasn’t on the phone with you until
three forty-five
. The call lasted six minutes and change.”

“My apologies if we’ve made a mistake, Mr. Johnson. Would you mind faxing that bill to me
?
That would help speed this along.”

With a few well-chosen words, Gregg turned the hostile maniac into a rational customer that was still displeased, but cooperative. The man that drove Marissa out of her cubicle on the edge of tears was no challenge whatsoever for Gregg. He instructed Mr. Johnson to fax in the phone bill and he did as asked. As they waited, Gregg printed a few pages of the Johnsons’ account information and signaled Marissa to fetch them. By the time she returned, Gregg had logged their call into the system and was out of the chair waiting for her.

He motioned her to sit.

“Sorry you got such a difficult problem for your first solo call.”

The problem hadn’t seemed difficult for Gregg.

“Don’t worry about it. You can’t fix every problem on your own. Even experienced CSRs need help sometimes. That’s why I’m here. You did exactly the right thing.”

“Didn’t seem that way,” she sniffed.

“Trust me. You won’t get many of those. Remember you can’t win an argument. Just offer to help. Be positive and stick to the facts.”

“Easy for you.”

“Believe me it wasn’t at first.” Gregg’s attention swung across the room. “Listen, I’m going to go chat with someone from IT about this. Stay off the phone for a while. Go get a coffee. When I get back, we’ll listen to the tape and talk about what happened.

“You’re going to do fine. Don’t worry.”

Gregg smiled and zigzagged off through the cubicles.

Halfway across the call center Gregg stepped into the most popular work area at BFS. Bob Hicks managed this group from a cubicle just spitting distance from the corner office. On paper Gregg and Bob were peers, but Bob had relationships with the executive team that Gregg might never achieve. His location between the coffee station, the printer station, and mahogany row may have gained him his popularity, or else it was his penchant for hiring women with looks that drew a flood of male loiterers to his area. These stunning employees garnered more rapid salary increases than any team on the floor. Gregg’s team consistently scored the best customer satisfaction ratings in the department yet their salaries lagged behind Bob’s employees. If the customers had met Bob’s team in person, the satisfaction numbers would have been closer, too.

Gregg closed in on Brad Foster, vice president of information technology, who also happened to be the CEO’s brother-in-law and Bob’s inspiration to work his way into senior management. Brad was never too busy to trot down to the nineteenth floor if someone on Bob’s staff needed help, but when Gregg had a problem, his repeated calls went unanswered. If not for Gregg’s relationship with
Eric
a Fletcher, Brad’s ace technologist, he’d be sunk.

Brad leaned over the printer station wall, engaged in an intimate conversation with a new blonde that Bob had undoubtedly prepped for his arrival. She was enthralled by whatever Brad was saying, thrilled to be talking to a vice president on her first day. She’d be having dinner with him by midweek.

Brad was telling the woman how critical the relationship between systems and service was and why he spent so much time down here servicing Bob’s needs. It seemed like the reverse to Gregg as he stopped outside the cubicle entrance and got a look at the silk blouse Brad was talking to. Gregg excused himself and waved the papers in his hand. Brad reluctantly shifted his attention to Gregg with a penetrating glare that said he didn’t appreciate the interruption at such an inopportune moment. The young lady seemed disappointed as well, though next week when she’d come to her senses, she’d welcome this same intrusion.

Brad made no move to examine the papers Gregg extended. Seconds passed awkwardly and Gregg pulled them back. Brad’s audacity was infuriating. He took every liberty being the CEO’s brother-in-law afforded.

Gregg explained the serious nature of the problem and the customer’s threats to file suit and a complaint letter with the attorney general’s office. Brad’s eyes returned to the young blonde’s neckline unencumbered by the weight of Gregg’s words. Brad was similarly unmoved by the tale of Marissa’s distress and Gregg’s assertion that the problem was systems related. He didn’t flinch at the mention of criminal negligence. Gregg dropped his voice to a whisper and warned, “This kind of attitude will get us a class action suit or an SEC probe for sure. You can’t ignore legitimate complaints. It’s your responsibility to protect our customers. If you don’t, you’re putting the entire firm at risk.”

Brad didn’t even turn to face him. It was as if he believed the systems staff was infallible and that any issue that arose had to be of Gregg’s creation. That or he had no interest in his job other than the fringe benefits it provided. He deserved a hard right to the side of the head.

Gregg paused, appalled by Brad’s stonewalling. He stood tall, hands on hips, and waited. He wasn’t leaving without an assurance that something would be done.

The young woman turned away from Brad and measured Gregg, trying to understand if he was some sort of crackpot or if someone in Brad’s position could so completely shirk his responsibilities.

Brad couldn’t ignore him any longer, not if he wanted any chance with the girl. “What exactly do you want from me
?
”

“Help me track this down. This guy’s phone bill shows he called before the deadline on the twenty-eighth. I need to know if our records agree. If they do, and I think they will, I need to know why we didn’t get his order in until the twenty-ninth.”

“How much does he want
?
”

“Three thousand plus.”

“Good motive to doctor up your phone records, don’t you think
?
”

Gregg waved the statement. “This complaint is legit.”

“You want me to have someone spend hours searching through phone records
?
For what
?
You know the policy. You know this happens a dozen times a day. Deal with it. Don’t come to me because you can’t have a difficult conversation with a client.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job. I can’t just shoo this guy away. He has a legitimate gripe and I need to know what went wrong.”

“Nothing went wrong. I just told you what happened.”

The young girl was learning about Brad’s cooperation with the CSRs.

“You guessed. You don’t know. Tell me precisely when the call was taken and when it was entered. Then I can go back to this guy, not before.”

“Gregg, I know it’s tough for you, but sometimes you need to do what’s right for the firm. Do you have any idea how much time this kind of research takes
?
Do you think I can tie up one of my developers every time some kook screams at one of those college drop-outs you put on the phones
?
”

The girl reeled back in her seat. Brad didn’t notice.

“I am doing what’s right for the firm. You’re the one who’s confused.
Brenda
n took the original call. He’s one of my best reps. There’s no way he waited over two hours to enter the order. No way.”

Brad ripped the sheets from Gregg’s hand, took two steps to his left and dropped them in the shredder. The motor clicked on automatically. Even so, Gregg nearly got around him in time to get hold of the pages before the machine sliced them into two dozen indecipherable strips.

Gregg stared at the paper going into the machine, dumbfounded.

“That’s what’s right for the firm,” Brad mocked.

Gregg felt half a dozen sets of eyes on him.

The paper disappeared and Brad clicked off the shredder.

“What kind of shit is that
?
” Gregg asked. He wasn’t looking forward to asking angry Mr. Johnson for another copy of the phone bill. He couldn’t tell him what happened. When he didn’t explain, Johnson would assume Gregg was even more incompetent than before.

Brad stepped around the corner and rested a hand on Gregg’s shoulder. He wasn’t especially tall, but Brad was an exercise fanatic. His biceps bulged and his pectorals pressed outward to form a resting place for his tie.

Brad’s voice was barely a whisper, “Listen, sit on it a few weeks, then call the guy back and tell him our records show exactly what they show. He called late. It’ll save you and me a lot of trouble.”

Gregg had a clear shot, a strong right to the abdomen. His father would have decked him already and he’d expect Gregg to do the same. Brad would never know what hit him, but it would cost Gregg his job.

Humiliated, he turned back toward his desk without a word.
  

Gregg wished he’d had the foresight to copy the phone bill or at least write down the Johnsons’ number and the time of the call before offering his only copy to Brad. Mr. Johnson wasn’t pleased, but he accepted Gregg’s explanation of a coffee spill without his earlier animosity and faxed it again without complaint. A minute later, phone bill in hand, Gregg went outside to cool down. He remembered the astonished looks of the two girls nearest him when Brad ran the documents through the shredder. They expected him to fly off in a fit of rage and even he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. He was embarrassed, a bit ashamed, maybe, but it was what he needed to do to survive here. Father would have grabbed a handful of Brad’s shirt, dropped him and probably gotten a date with the hot blonde in the process. He would have been fired of course, exactly why father worked for himself on the farm. Gregg wondered how valuable a job was that required him to humble himself to strangers day after day. Was this opportunity worth the softening his brothers teased him about
?

He walked across
Franklin Street
and into Post Office Square Park. It was little more than a tiny patch of grass surrounded by shrubbery and fruit trees to screen out the passing cars and city bustle. The fountain and surrounding benches were the main attraction in summer, but the water had yet to be turned on for the season. It was warm enough for the hordes of office dwellers to venture out and cram every square inch of grass during lunchtime, but the landscape looked pristine. The ropes around the lawn kept the people on the brick walks and benches and allowed the grass to soak up the spring sunshine without being trampled. The winter respite wouldn’t last much longer.

An SUV appeared from under the park. The bushes screened the ramp that led to six stories of underground parking buried beneath his feet. It was the latest thing in
Boston
. Bury the infrastructure and cover it with grass. Workers from the Big Dig had done the same with the expressway, burying the northbound and southbound traffic in tunnels and preparing to build a green park for kids to play in. Unfortunately, they ran out of money before they finished. City people got excited about grass. Grass meant relaxation, vacation, time to play. Odd the things people latched on to. Gregg lived here, but he wasn’t one of them, far from it. He came from a place that was green as far as you could see. Green in every direction. He belonged there. He was at home there. City life was a necessary stop on his road to something bigger.

On his second lap around the park, his anger cleared and he thought of the one person who could help. His body turned on its own to face her office up on twenty-two as if some sort of spiritual magnetism drew his soul to hers whenever she came to mind. His hands began to sweat as he crossed
Franklin Street
. He weaved among the flowerbeds that subtly doubled as bomber barriers and strode back into the lobby. Gregg wasn’t a rube like his brothers, who lost control whenever a woman of the appropriate age entered the room. They latched onto the first pretty girl who returned their flirtations and they were both married before they were twenty. There were thousands of women at S.M.U. and Gregg had dated his share. He could charm a girl off a barstool as well as he could calm an angry customer on the hotline, but he wasn’t willing to settle for any girl.