Week from Hell

Not a stroke story. I'm not even sure quite where the idea for this came from, but if something seems to ring a bell with another story, my apologies to the author, although as has been said, plagiarism is the ultimate complement.

My name is Tom Moss, and my wife's name is Sara. We have two kids, both off in college, and we have been married for just over 25 years. We're both in pretty good shape, my wife because she works out on a ski machine in the basement, and me because my work keeps me moving pretty well.

I'm a field services engineer, well; actually I am a manager of a group of field services engineers, although being a manager doesn't do anything for me except give me a bigger paycheck and a hell of a lot more to do. I am still expected to do all the calls I can, and pick up after the guys that work for me. There are several managers who are my peers, and we are each responsible for a different area, although there can be some crossover at times.

My wife is a senior purchasing agent, for one of the companies that we supply systems to. Although we sell directly to the end user, we also sell to companies who add a bit to their cost, along with some special tweaks to the software that runs the systems, and resells them.

About a year and a half ago, the director I reported to retired, and someone from outside was brought in to "bring new life into the company." I had my nose somewhat out of joint over that one because I had thought that I was in line for a promotion to John's slot, so when Keith Zolinkowski came in I was all prepared to dislike him from the start.

After watching his management methods for a month or two, I hadn't seen a damn thing that changed my mind. You've seen the type – they know all the buzz words, are up on the latest theories, and have never been in the field, learning that you don't get everything out of a book. They also are not willing to listen to those who have to deal with day-to-day problems, but insist that you follow the book, or you get dinged on your performance reviews.

Almost immediately Keith instituted a policy that if a supplier had a problem with getting parts to us, or with the quality of those parts, one of the field service types was supposed to go running out to the supplier and see if they could fix the problem.

The problem with that was none of us were manufacturing engineers, and certainly were not quality control engineers. The result was that the suppliers begin to resent us, particularly the people who had to insure the quality and timeliness of their deliveries. I instructed all of my people that if they saw a particular solution that others hadn't, then by all means they should bring it up. But they should always defer to the suppliers' engineers unless they could prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the supplier was wrong. That policy worked pretty well, and after a few months, our relationship with the suppliers improved, and they begin to show us things that we would never have figured out by ourselves without a whole lot of work.

About a year ago, Keith instituted another policy (among many) that had him going to the various purchasing agents for our products and taking them out to lunch, or dinner, in order to improve our relationships, as well as find out what we could do to improve our products for their purposes. I supposed that made some sense, but the thought in the back of my mind was always along the lines of what the hell were the sales engineers supposed to be doing? As sales were a completely different group, it seemed to me that he was stepping on a lot of toes.

In any event, it would up that Keith was taking my wife out to lunch once or twice a month, as he did a number of other purchasing agents. All of these lunches were one on one as nobody wanted to discuss their requirements with a competitor.

I told Sara to watch him, because I thought he was a slimy, backstabbing bastard, but Sara just blew me off. I'm sure that it had to do with Keith being a very charming man when he wanted to be; and second because Sara had a hard time believing that anyone would do anything that wasn't straight forward. In a word Sara was naïve in some regards.

I had always had to travel a bit, but most of it was a one-day trip. I would get up at 4:00 or 5:00am, so I could be onsite by the start of business, or maybe a little before, and then be home by 7:00pm at the latest. Now, with the trips to the suppliers, I had to go out of town for a couple of days once or twice a month. It wasn't often we had that significant a problem; it was just that any little hiccup would cause Keith to send me out. I was told that it was important that someone from management be on scene, even though my engineers were often sent.

It turned into a mess for my home life. It seemed as though almost every time Sara and I had something planned, a trip to a supplier would come up and things would get put off. You could tell in the atmosphere around the house. When I told Sara that I had to take off on another of these stupid trips she would get her nose completely out of joint, and things would be frosty for a couple of days after I got back. After a year of this shit, she was getting really tired of it.

Our 25th anniversary was coming up, and I had put in for three days of vacation, wanting to make sure that nothing came up to screw it up. I had managed to get tickets several months ago to a play that was really supposed to be wonder. I had reservations at a local restaurant for dinner after the play, and was planning on spending the rest of the week with my wife, celebrating our life together.

You guessed it, the day before my anniversary, Keith sent me an email and told me that I had to go to one of our suppliers to deal with an intermittent problem with the "black boxes" we were getting from them. I wrote back and told him that I had my 25th anniversary coming up, and that I already had been given approval for my three days off, and I wouldn't be able to go.

The response I got was blistering. Basically I was told that if I didn't put the company first, then that would be reflected in my annual review, and further that he would be required to look into whether or not I was setting a proper example for the engineers working for me.

I had seen this once before. Bob, one of my peers, had refused to go on a trip that was going to conflict with his son's graduation. Keith had written a performance review that was absolutely devastating. Bob had been given every shit job that came down the pike, and when they didn't work out perfectly (from Keith's viewpoint) he was given a reprimand. Ultimately he was put on a performance plan, and just before the poor bastard was going to be fired, he quit. Yet Bob was one of the best managers, and engineers, that I had ever known. Apparently you did not cross Keith. It took Bob months to find a new job, and then it was only at a significantly reduced salary.

So I bit the bullet, and told Sara that night that I was going to have to take off for two days to do the business trip. Sara was pissed beyond belief, and let it be known.

The morning of our anniversary, I woke up in the wee dark hours of the morning, and caught a flight to our supplier. Sara barely kissed me goodbye, she was still that pissed.

When I got there, about 7:30am, I asked for Tim Martin, the head of the quality control department. When Tim saw me, he was incredulous that I was there.

"What the hell are you doing here? I called Keith yesterday morning and told him that the problem had been figured out, and the stuff was even going to be delivered a day early."

I explained that this was all news to me, and asked if he could at least explain to me what the problem had been, then I could complete my report and maybe get the hell out of there.

It took all of the morning to get the full explanation, which was actually very simple. A supplier had been a bit short of a part needed, so had supplied a part that was very similar, but much faster. As the black box had been designed with the slower part in mind, there occasionally was a "race condition" which resulted in a lockup. The choice was to go back to the original part, or fix the race condition. They fixed it almost immediately, in a manner that allowed for both parts, and were off and running.

By noon, I was ready to leave, and called Sara on her cell phone to tell her that I was going to try to change my reservations to be home in time for the evening's festivities. Unfortunately, her cell was turned off, and like an idiot, I didn't leave a message, just deciding that I would try to surprise her. Well, I wasn't able to get a different flight until later that afternoon, one that would get me home in just enough time to drive from the airport to the theatre for the second act.

I landed, found my car, and drove like a madman to the theatre. I got there just as the intermission was ending and went to the will call windows to pick up my ticket. To my surprise, I was told the ticket had already been picked up, and that the play was completely sold out.

Okay, so I went to plan 'B'. I drove around looking for Sara's car, but no luck. That wasn't too surprising as parking was at a premium, and God knows where she had to park.

I waited until the play was over, then stood at the front entrance, hoping she would come out that way, rather than through one of the side doors, at least one of which opened onto another street. Again, no luck.

I called the restaurant to see if the reservation was still valid, but was told that it had been canceled that morning.

Having no other options, I simply went home, fixed myself a bit of dinner from leftovers, and waited for Sara to come home. It was getting later and later, and I thought that she must have gone to dinner somewhere else, so I made a drink, actually a rather strong one, and went to bed with my book, intending to wait up for her.

I must have fell asleep, because the next thing I knew the sun was streaming in the window, into my eyes, and it was 7:30am.

The first thing I tried was calling Sara's cell. It went immediately to voice mail, so it was turned off. I next tried Sara's twin sister (not an identical twin), and Tara had no idea where Sara was.

Incidentally, Tara had two children also, a bit younger than ours, and was widowed. Her husband had been killed in an auto wreck about five years ago. Tara and I were friendly, and I had helped her out with her genealogy work a year or so before. Tara's husband had really been into researching genealogy, and when he was killed she took it up with a vengeance.

Sara and Tara had been adopted as babies. Sara didn't seem to really care, but Tara was determined to find out who her folks were and all the other stuff that seemed to flow from it. Their adopted parents had been helpful, to the extent that they could. They knew that the biological parents had been killed in some kind of an accident, and thought that there might have been a brother or sister, but just weren't sure. They had been stretching their resources adopting twins, and just hadn't had the ability to take on a complete family.

In any event, Tara hadn't heard a word from Sara in days, so I started on the hospitals and the sheriff's department. Nobody had a clue where Sara was. No accidents, no "Jane Doe" admissions. Nothing.

About 9:30 I gave up, and went into the office thinking that it would at least take my mind off things. Every 30 minutes or so I would call Sara's cell, and then her direct line at her office. No joy.

I was in the break room getting my tea, when I heard Keith outside in the hall talking to someone.

"Boy, talk about banker's hours."

"A friend had tickets to a wonderful play last night, her husband couldn't make it, so I got the pleasure of going to it with her."

After Keith told him what play, I got a bit sick to my stomach. It was the same play that I had gotten tickets to for our anniversary. It had been sold out for months.

"Yeah, the play was wonderful, but afterwards I took her to dinner and then the evening got even better."

They moved off down the hall, and I couldn't hear anything more.

I finally got Sara on her cell about 11:00am, and as soon as she answered, I asked:

"Where have you been, I've been worried sick about you. I tried calling you last night, and then again this morning. You've had your cell turned off, and I couldn't find you. Christ, I've even been calling the Sheriff's department and the Highway Patrol."

"I went to the play you so generously provided for my entertainment, then went on to dinner, then to bed. Without my husband, I might add."

Christ, she was still pissed.

"Okay, I'll talk to you tonight."

"Goodbye."

After she hung up, I started thinking. Obviously she had lied to me, but what the hell was she pulling? Was she having an affair? What was I missing?

Then Keith's boast about the night before kind of hit me, and I really got a bit sick to my stomach, and had a headache that you wouldn't believe.

I tried to continue work, but by 1:30 or so, I simply decided to give it up as a bad job, and went home. When I got there, I found that Sara had apparently been home after I left, because some of her clothes were just tossed on the bed.

Sara finally showed up about 5:30, walked in and kissed me, then apologized for being short with me that morning.

I didn't say much, just got us two drinks and told her I wanted to tell her a little story.

I explained to her about the trip to the supplier, and about how I had come home to try to go to the second act of the play with her only to find the tickets had been picked up. I went on about looking for her car, and ultimately waking up that morning and not finding her at home.

As my tale went on, Sara got a look of horror on her face, and I could see tears running down her checks, smearing her mascara, which kind of left her looking like a sad raccoon.

"So now, what can you tell me about where the hell you were last night?"

Sara looked at me, tried to talk a couple of times, then finally finished off her drink and went and got another one, bringing the bottle back with her.

"Keith had called a couple of days ago, inviting me to lunch today and I had agreed. When we got to lunch, I was still pretty angry at you about the anniversary and you being out of town. We were talking during lunch, and Keith mentioned that he thought you had said we had an anniversary coming up. I told him that it was yesterday, and he said that he was quite surprised that you had volunteered to go on this supplier trip when it was our anniversary."

"That set me off again, and I thought what the hell, so I invited Keith to go to the play with me. I explained that I had brought a change of clothes with me to work, and that I would change at work, and meet him at the theatre."

"Keith said he would have to go home to change, then suggested that I meet him at his place because it was right on the way to the theatre, and offered to drive us, so we wouldn't have to get parking for two cars. He also offered the use of his spare bedroom for me to change in."

"I agreed, thinking that it would certainly be easier to change in his spare bedroom, than in the ladies room at work."

"When the play was over, Keith invited me to dinner, telling me that at least he could pay me back for the ticket for the play, and besides, on an important day like that, I shouldn't be alone."

"We went to dinner, had a drink before dinner, then shared a bottle of wine during dinner. I might have had a bit too much, but I certainly wasn't drunk. When we got back to Keith's place, I went in to get my things, and when I came back out, Keith had poured us both a glass of brandy, and insisted that we share it before I went home. One thing led to another, and I wound up in Keith's bed with him."

By the end of this, Sara was crying so hard it was almost impossible to understand what she was saying. I couldn't get a look at my own face, but I am willing to bet that it was stony.

"So you spent the night there?"

"I – yes."

"And given what time you showed up in the morning, I assume you fucked him again this morning."

"Oh Christ, I – yes, I did."

I decided that I might as well get the whole damned story now, rather than have it dragged out."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just last night – I swear to God it was just last night."

Things went on in this vein, and if Sara can be believed this is what happened. Incidentally, I tend to believe her, as she really can be naïve, but I am withholding judgment.

Keith had started his calls on the purchasing agents about a year ago, as I said. Initially it was just once a month or maybe six weeks, but after a two or three months, the frequency increased to about every three weeks, sometimes even every two weeks. As time went on, they started talking a bit about personal things as well as work. Keith was always charming, and professional, and always made sure to complement her on her husband, saying that I was a real asset to the company, and was really to be commended for volunteering for all the extra travel. Sara was also complemented on being understanding, because so many of the other wives were getting unhappy with their husbands being gone so often.

Some of the wives had complained to their husbands that they thought they were having affairs behind their backs, but that he was sure that I wasn't, although he did think that some of the other men were having affairs.

He had asked at the "anniversary lunch" if we were having problems, because he couldn't imagine my not staying home for my anniversary. When Sara had told him we weren't, he had simply responded that he was glad to hear it, because so often men that are having problems at home use travel to get away from it, and then changed the subject.

When they would have these lunch meetings, and the talk got around to personal things, he would often ask if we had anything planned, and suggest that perhaps we might want to do this or that. He was also quite sympathetic when I "volunteered" to do a trip during the times that we had things planned.

Once or twice, when we had things planned, and I had to go out of town, he had called Sara, saying that the lunch would have to be put off, because he had something that had come up at the last minute, but could they do dinner instead. They had, apparently on two or three occasions.

When Sara got done, I didn't say a word, I just went into the office and grabbed my laptop, and booted it up, accessed my e-mail, and pulled up the response I had gotten from Keith about not being able to go to the supplier because of my anniversary. When it was up, I put the laptop on her lap, and told her to read it.

"Oh my God."

"I have never, not once, volunteered to take one of those trips."

The rest of the night was along these same lines, but the upshot was that I told Sara to sleep in one of the kids' rooms, because I really didn't want to sleep with her.

Probably about 11:30pm or so, Sara went up and got what she needed out of our bedroom, then I heard the shower running for what seemed like the longest time. When it was done, I gave her a few more minutes, then poured myself a last drink and went into what had been our bedroom.

I didn't drink the drink; I had already had more than enough, undressed and turned off the light. Despite all the alcohol, I didn't sleep well at all that night. I missed having Sara beside me, and the bed still smelled somewhat like Sara.

I tossed and turned, hopefully sleeping more than I thought I had, but I finally woke up about 4:30 and went downstairs. I grabbed my laptop, and transferred everything on it that I wanted to my home machine, and by the time I had finished that, I could hear a shower running upstairs. Like last night it seemed as though it was running forever.