The Corporate Ladder

He'd learned a lot about people and developed a sense of which ones were lying and which ones were telling the truth. He'd become a pretty good detective albeit not the kind who carries a badge and a gun. He'd had an exposure to surveillance procedures although those duties were directly handled by the Criminal Investigation Division. If the IG discerned that a there was a chance that a real crime had occurred, they would bring the CID into the loop; after a suitable period of overlap, CID would take the ball along with JAG if the investigation warranted it. He and the senior CID agent had become friends and he had let Joel tag along on a number of occasions.

In the majority of cases, his investigation would discover a violation of regulations that was not technically criminal in a civilian sense; the transgressions required correction, non-judicial punishment or possible court marshal. The IG would meet with the senior commander if it was short of a true crime. If it got to the court marshal stage, everything was turned over to JAG and the senior commander in play with recommendations. The IG would follow up to ensure appropriate action had been taken but that was usually as far as their involvement went.

Joel collected his thoughts; he'd made a decision regarding Melissa's veracity and trustworthiness. It was time for him to stray over the line and hang his dick out, figuratively speaking.

"Okay, Melissa, I suppose you could be one of Davidson's evil stooges and this is all a setup to find out to what level Simon had contaminated me. As I intimated earlier in the day, I don't have much to lose here. On the other hand, having known you all of a few hours---and recognizing that I'm a very trusting soul and a sucker for a pretty girl---I'm buying everything you just told me. Now what are we going to do about it?"

"We? Joel, I didn't mean to draw you into this in that way...I..."

"Hold the phone, Melissa. First I more than respect Simon and like him...I love the guy. He got fucked by Brett Davidson---not the first...won't be the last. I was determined when you and I talked this afternoon to smile, thank you for the offer, take care of my people the best I could over the next two weeks and then leave with or without a severance package.

"When you told me who I would soon be reporting to I almost fell out of the chair. Before I picked you up tonight---and after I chatted with Simon---I had decided to finish the job Simon began. I don't have a plan; knowing what I know, I will have no problem playing the role of frat boy and adoring underling. Win or lose---I'm going after him."

"He's very slippery, smart like a sociopath...never has witnesses---or at least ones that won't back up his story. He covers his tracks...looks people in the eye and lies. He gets his little frat boys who adore him to lie for him. He once had the unmitigated gall to look me in the eye, shake his finger in my face and say, 'I did not have sexual relations with that woman, Miss whatever-her-name-is. He said...she said. He's a senior VP; she was an intern. She lost and he won. He's a God damn sexual predator...he's even been accused of rape but he beat it...no one was willing to pursue it. The company bought her off. What in the world makes you think..."

"I get the idea that Simon was all alone when he went after him. I'm not---that is assuming you're on board...not to mention the fact that Simon knows him better than either of us and still has files and we will stay in touch. Any chance that the job you find for Mike Bowman could be something that reports to me?"

"Why?"

"Mike has been an exceptionally loyal plant foreman and a good friend. I went along way toward repaying that loyalty today by standing up for him. Do you know what he did before he went to work for us?"

"I should but I don't."

"He was a state cop---a detective. He shot a kid one night; it was a righteous shoot and he was cleared of any misdeed. The kid was eleven years old. Three months later he turned in his gun and badge and came to work for this company as little more than an hourly worker. He had a way with people and was the foreman within five years. He would be helpful to have around."

"I think I could swing that. Look, as long as you kiss his ass and join his little social cabal often enough to become one of the gang, Brett isn't going to pay any attention to what you do! He's a terrible manager! For you, job one will be gaining his trust and coming off as one of the boys. I've got files out the ass and they're as useless as Simon's files."

"Not if taken together they enable us to predict his behavior...feed his tendencies...set a trap for him. From what you told me, even if he got caught red handed screwing the help he'd slither out of it. No...it has got to be much bigger than that...outrageous---even illegal. If he's getting bolder, he just might be getting less cautious in his arrogance. I don't know yet; we'll figure it out.

"I need to look back into some of the old personal notes I kept from the military. I seem to recall a 'smaller' version of a Brett Davidson and we nailed his ass by predicting his behavior and placing something in front of him which he couldn't walk away from---and he took the bait."

"What did you do in the military?"

Joel told her.

"Shit! And I thought you were just a well meaning amateur who was bound to get taken down and take me with him. Okay... I'm in. I've got work to do here for a couple of days; need to get the ball rolling on Mike Bowman...I'm in."

Joel dropped Melissa back at the Holiday Inn an hour or so later. They exchanged a professional, business hug which might have lasted a couple of seconds longer than propriety would allow.

Joel was in the plant early the next morning and dressed in his best suit. Brett Davidson breezed in just off the corporate jet a little before nine with a big grin on his face, a very expensive suit on his back and an unlit Cuban cigar in his hand. The man wore cologne, for God's sake! The ring on his finger was beyond ostentatious; he had a spare tire under his custom made shirt and a twenty-minute tan on his face. He was gregarious but left no doubt as to who the big cheese was.

Joel played his best frat boy; he stroked Davidson's ego; he talked about golf and even chuckled lasciviously when Davidson commented on what a fine little ass the 'HR bitch' had and how much he'd like to get a piece of that.

Davidson stuck a Cuban cigar in Joel's pocket and said, "well, let's get this over with; I've got a tee time to make and a dinner to follow. I'm looking forward to you coming to work for me, Joel. You'll love Dublin and there is more fine tail in the headquarters---and downtown at the University---than you can shake a stick at. You'll be a good addition to my team."

As badly as he handled the announcement, Joel wasn't even sure why he'd bothered to show up. Maybe he just liked flying on the Corporate jet. If anything, he had made a bad situation only worse. Fortunately he was out the door in under half an hour after one final comment about how ugly the female employees were and how much he "felt sorry for the poor bastards."

Melissa had intentionally waited until she saw the limo pull away before entering the building. Joel gave her a brief overview of Davidson's performance. She seemed to be waiting for his reaction before saying anything.

"What an unbelievable ass hole! This is going to be more fun than I realized."

The lights were turned off just over two weeks later. Melissa shook the trees for some extra cash and salvaged fifteen employees not counting Mike. Joel elected to take the cash payout rather than moving expenses since he really had nothing of value to move. What he did value he boxed up and had shipped to a warehouse in Delaware, Ohio.

He took a couple of house hunting trips to Ohio and found a small, old house in a cute little town on a reservoir less than a ten minute drive from the office. It had good lines and an oversized yard; it needed a lot of functional upgrades but he was a good negotiator and got it for a good price.

He liked the idea of fixing up an old house and was handy with tools. He had decent savings and the new job came with a significant bump in pay. There were several other financial payouts associated with his relocation so he decided to sell his sooty car and buy a new one when he got to Ohio. He was making plans to do so when his soon to be new secretary informed him that the job came with a company car.

He and Simon got together several times; Joel took copious notes. They both left town within a week of each other. Joel was eligible for up to three months of temporary housing at no charge in a Residence Inn. When he told them he really didn't need it, the company cut him another check. When he had not requested any assistance selling a former home or buying a new one---he got another check. It was raining money. On his last trip to the company HQ prior to moving, he bought some good quality bedroom furniture and had it delivered before he arrived.

He had picked a contractor to come in and see what needed to be done to bring the house up to date. He had planned to do some of the work himself but with all the company checks that kept arriving he had ended up having much of it done by the contractor.

After closing out the final details at the closed plant and moving into his new digs, he made the short drive to his new office almost a month following the initial announcement. Contractors were still coming and going but his new home was taking shape. It was almost furnished. He had a couple of quick chats with Melissa on his visits to Dublin. He already had his key and electronic building pass; he knew where his office was located. It had been completely upgraded prior to his assumption of occupancy. He'd even been able to pick out the art work on the walls.

Mike was to become his special assistant for non-union operations. He had previous experience in deterring union involvement in plant operations. He was currently in a three week training program learning the legal ins and outs of what was allowed and forbidden when it came to union discouragement. Davidson had wanted to meet Mike before signing off; Mike was a bright guy and a former investigator who didn't have a sexist bone in his body. He played his role to perfection and Davidson invited him to join his "team."

Davidson took Joel around and made introductions; those he bothered to make to females were limited to the attractive ones and his attitude to the women was blatantly demeaning. He introduced him to the big boys up to and including the CEO. Among the whole group only one had served in the military, in the same branch Joel had and pledged to stop by when he had time to exchange war stories.

Joel's job entailed frequent contact with Melissa since non-exempt HR issues in a predominantly non-union company were always critical and needed to be dealt with quickly.

He bought some new golf duds and even sprung for an over-priced and high end set of clubs which he didn't really need. He spent a few evenings at a driving range and played a few rounds on his own to get back into the game. It would take time to get back to his prior form but he was certainly not going to embarrass himself.

He played the game, drank Single Malt on the company tab and smoked cigars with Davidson and his entourage. None had served in the military; all were impressed that he had. He said the right words, leered at the right women and quickly gained acceptance. On their first company-sponsored golf outing, he drove the ball straight down the middle 290 yards on the first hole, a long, straight par 5. He came in six over par, easily ten strokes better than the next score and he didn't cheat on his score card---all of them cheated repeatedly. He was rapidly becoming Brett Davidson's favorite new protégé.

His secretary or admin was a jewel; she was a sweet young thing of twenty-six with a sharp mind, honest as the day is long, who genuinely enjoyed her work. She didn't want to be an executive; she wanted to do what she did, hopefully as her career progressed with more senior executives as the years went by. She was very close to Brett Davidson's admin; they were close friends. On more than one occasion when Joel had submitted his expense reports, she had come in and told him that he wasn't including certain expenses that everyone else did. She handled all the expense reports for Brett's department and she knew what was allowed and what wasn't and Joel was cheating himself---not the company.

"Look, Joel, I'm just an admin. I'm not always comfortable with how flagrantly some people abuse the expense policy but it has been made clear to me that it's none of my business. If the guys upstairs don't care---not that they even know---then why should I?"

"Sindi, it's the company's money and I am a stockholder---albeit a tiny one. I'm not comfortable stretching the policy. I would ask you: if you ever see me remotely stretching it, tell me and I'll remove the item from my report."

She got a gleam in her eye. "Well, maybe if you had the chance to see some of the other reports---just as an example of what appears to be permitted..."

"That might be helpful, Sindi."

"Well, wait a minute; let me get to your computer. Write this down; it's the password I use to get into the expense reports. This will get you access to everyone's in the department---current and back five years. That should help give you a good picture of...what's going on."

"Can I download these if I want to save them for later?"

"Sure! Just like you'd download any other file on the server; they're just Excel files on a template."

The following day Joel came to work with a 750 MB portable hard drive. It took only a few minutes to download every expense report in the department five years back. He took the hard drive home that night and flipped through the files uncertain as to what he would do with the data. It was time to expand the team. The next morning he walked down the hall to Mike Bowman's office. It was time to bring Mike into the loop.

"Hey, buddy! Keeping busy?"

Mike got up and closed the door.

"I've gotten to travel a bit and met some really nice people but frankly---not that busy at all. I appreciate everything you've done for me but I am bored out of my gourd."

"Well, you are my special assistant; I have a special project for you. I don't want to take you away from your family but we need to talk---off site. Have you got anything on the schedule that would preclude a long lunch---say noon to two?"

"Hell, no; everyone else around here takes long lunches. I guess I need to get with the program."

"Trust me, Mike. It'll be a working lunch and the best I can promise is BLTs and homemade corn chowder at my house. I'll come by and pick you up later."

"Best offer I've had all week."

Joel brought Mike up to speed starting all the way back with Simon as he prepared the sandwiches and heated the soup. Mike had the history by the time they finished their soup. Joel showed Mike the expense reports; what Joel still did not have was a plan.

"Joel, I've got an old friend from my LE---Law Enforcement---days who is a forensic accountant; he consults for some of the top LE organizations in the country---right up to the bureau. He'd know what to make of this and he owes me more than one favor. Let's call him."

After the call, Joel backed up the expense reports to data DVD's which took most of the next hour. On the way back to work, they dropped the DVDs off at the closest 'pack and send.'

"Mike, I don't have a plan here and I highly doubt that fudging a few expense reports is going to get it. Don't get into this; it's not your fight."

"Joel, Brett Davidson is the biggest jerk I've ever met; Simon was the best damn plant manager I've ever worked for. I'm in...is this team just the two of us?"

"I talk to Simon regularly; I have most of his files. Melissa is on board too."

"I'm impressed and not feeling quite as lonely."

"My admin—Sindi---not in, but she knew exactly what she was doing when she gave me access."

"Do you have a general plan?"

"We need to understand this prick better than he understands himself. Know what his vices are---and which ones he can't resist and set a trap for him. It has to be big---really big and far more than 'he said-she said'."

"Can you get more personal data---social security numbers, credit cards---that kind of stuff?"

"Let me work on it."

Late that afternoon Joel stopped by Melissa's office.

"I'm uncomfortable chatting here in the building. When's your next official HR visit to one of our facilities and can you come up with an excuse for me to be there? We need to talk."

"Day after tomorrow...just a day trip...the plant North of Louisville. I'm driving. It's a little longer than I like---three hours---by the time I fly it's almost a wash. Want to ride along?"

"You bet!"

"I'll pick you up at home it's not that far out of my way."

At just after six in the morning Joel settled into Melissa's car for the three hour drive.

"You are doing a very good job as it applies to playing your role. The people that don't know you are sure you're just like the rest of that cabal. Congratulations," Melissa said.

"Yeah, right. It almost makes me puke. Since we're probably going to do some real work today let me bring you up to speed." When he had finished, Melissa spoke.

"What do you need from me?"

"Social security numbers, driver license numbers, credit card numbers—at least the corporate cards."

"Those are part of the personnel records I peruse on a daily basis. I'll have to transcribe them by hand but it shouldn't take long. What then?"

"I don't know yet. We need to trace his movements, find his obsessions and hope that at least one of them is bad enough---even illegal---to topple the throne. Mike and I agree that the big boys won't do shit---unless it involves very bad publicity for the company or a major violation of the law which becomes very public. I'm way past getting the guy fired...I want more. Otherwise he'll just go somewhere else and do the same shit."

Melissa was a damn good HR person; he loved watching her work. For his part, he got the chance to visit a facility he had not seen before and learn. The plant management team seemed very surprised that someone from HQ didn't mind getting his hands dirty and would listen rather than pontificate. He had made new friends and he felt damn good about it.

He and Melissa hit the road later than they would have liked. He offered to drive and she took a cat nap. He would steal a glance at her sleeping form as often as safety allowed. She looked like a tired little girl slumped up against the head rest. He hated to wake her but he had to pee, needed coffee and was famished. She awoke as they pulled off at a rest stop which had an assortment of respectable chain restaurants.

"I'm glad you stopped," she said, as she began to devour the fresh hot biscuits provided as they awaited their dinners.

"I love to watch you eat---how the hell do you eat like that and stay...in shape?"

"When have you ever watched me eat before...oh, yeah! The lobster. I love lobster."

They chatted more personally than they had in the past. For the first time Joel got a glimpse of who she was and how she had gotten here. Tired, hair a bit flat from sleeping in the car and clothes a little wrinkled she should not have had that effect on him that night. He was tired but the fuzziness that began to creep through his brain was something more than fatigue. He was seeing the future...picturing her in it...with him...children...babies...together.

"Joel! Are you okay? Do you want me to drive? I thought I'd lost you there."