The Taming of the Shrew

Chapter 9

9
“So how was your weekend?” Penelope asked Wanda as soon as she entered the office.  Wanda rolled her eyes.  Penelope wasn’t fooling her; she was really asking about the date with Dexter.  However, Wanda wasn’t one to give personal information so easily.
“Hmm, what was that?” she asked, pretending not to hear.  “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“I was just wondering how you spent your weekend,” Penelope repeated, following her as she weaved through a maze of cubicles.
“It was okay, thank you.  I took the kids to the park and relaxed most of the time.”
Penelope persisted, “Was that all?”  Some people really had nerve!  Turning around, Wanda arched an eyebrow.
“What is it that you really want to ask, Penelope?”  Penelope fidgeted nervously under Wanda’s direct stare.
“I was just curious to know how your meeting with Mr. Barnabas went,” she replied, somewhat sheepishly.            “Great,” she replied, a trifle shortly.  “We had a drink and then we left.  Satisfied?”  Penelope nodded then hustled back to her cubicle.  Hearing a slight cough some distance behind her, Wanda spun around to see Dexter.  He was making his way towards the corridor that led to the offices.
He joined her, “I think you left out some juicy parts.”
She groaned.  So he had overheard.  “I wouldn’t have to be dealing with this if it wasn’t for your big mouth.”
“Enjoying a taste of your own medicine, I see,” he grinned.
“For your information, I don’t provide information on people’s personal lives.  That being said, it doesn’t mean that it isn’t told to me.”
“I could imagine,” he replied, knitting his brows.  She stuck out her tongue at him playfully.
“Now now,” he admonished teasingly, “I will not be responsible for what I do next if you don’t keep that in your mouth.”  He chuckled as she made a face.
“I understand that I set the bar very high for you, but you’re just going to have to move on, I’m afraid,” she said, wagging her index finger at him.  “We agreed that we’d be professional.”
They approached the VP office.  “I promise that I will try,” replied Dexter, “once you stop teasing me.”
“Not a chance,” she said mischievously, “get used to it.”  With a wink, she strutted to her desk, leaving Dexter staring appreciatively at her swinging hips and shapely butt.  ‘I grabbed that,’ he thought in awe and a healthy dose of self-satisfaction.  When she was well out of sight, his thoughts ran towards his office mate.  Sighing internally, he opened the door, bracing himself for the cold chill.  To his surprise, he was greeted with a desk, similar in size to Miriam’s, with a computer and phone.  It was neatly positioned in a corner, with a potted plant and a filing cabinet finishing the look.  As Dexter went to inspect his new work space, the door opened and Mark poked his head in.
“I see Mary finally came through with that work station Dexter.”
“Yes,” Dexter nodded.  “I thank you for any intervention that you’ve made on my behalf.”
“I didn’t do anything this time,” Mark chuckled.  “Thank Mary for that.  And speak of the little angel.”  He swung the door open wider to make space for Miriam.  “How was your weekend?  Breaking the poor lads’ hearts, I suppose?”
“Only in my dreams Donny dear,” Miriam replied drily as she hung up her coat.  She caught Dexter’s eye.  “I assume the work station is up to your standards, Mr. Barnabas?”  There was a hint of frost in her voice.
“It is fine, Miss Jacobson,” he replied in kind.  Mark raised his eyebrows.
“Okay kiddies, play nice,” he said in a half joking tone.  “Mary tends to be grumpy when she hasn’t had her morning coffee,” he whispered loudly to Dexter.
“Very funny Donny,” Miriam replied as she made her way to the percolator.  “Pour you a cup?”
“No thank you for the millionth time.  You know I don’t drink that stuff,” Mark grimaced.  “Though,” he added suddenly, “maybe Dexter does.  Didn’t Starbucks originate from America?  You should ask him.”  He said his last comment in a loud whisper, then chuckling, he excused himself.
“Would you like a cup?” Miriam asked reluctantly.  It would’ve looked extremely petty on her part if she ignored Mark’s hint.
“Thank you but no, I already had breakfast,” he answered.  She shrugged as she turned to pour herself a cup.  As he settled into his desk, Dexter’s eyes fell on a folder at the end of her desk.  He realized, with sudden chagrin, that it was the report that Mark asked him to review; her report.  As he did not want to start a confrontation so early in the morning, he wavered between asking a question or letting it be.  Suddenly, he realized that if he didn’t say something, not only would he not be doing what he was hired to do, but he would be no better than her staff.  He cleared his throat loudly.
“Problems?” she asked, looking up.
“Did you have a chance to look through the report I left on your desk?” he asked.
Miriam tried not to roll her eyes.  “No.  I wrote it, so I already know what it said.”
‘Here we go again,’ Dexter thought.  Patiently, he said, “I outlined some suggestions for you to review.”
“Oh you did?”  With eagerness that Dexter presumed to be exaggerated, Miriam leaned forward to retrieve the folder and quickly scanned its contents.  Tossing it to one side, she resumed what she was doing earlier on her computer.  Dexter closed his eyes and slowly counted backwards from twenty; he was determined not to be broken by this wretched excuse for a professional.  After doing this, he exhaled and assumed his poker face.  This was not a good sign.
“So, do you have any comments to make concerning the suggestions I made?” he asked in a surprisingly pleasant tone.
“No,” Miriam replied, not looking up.
“Good.  It will make it much easier when I tell Mark that you’re on board.”  He got up to take the report, but Miriam was faster.
“What do you mean ‘I’m on board’?  I don’t remember agreeing to anything of the sort!” she exclaimed, holding the folder away from his reach.
“Didn’t you say that you had no comment on my suggestions?”
“That doesn’t mean that I agree!”  Dexter leaned against his desk, crossing his arms.
“Either you have something to say, or I carry this to Mark.  Despite your silly attempts, you are not going to prevent me from doing my job!”  His tone was firm and businesslike, but his face was a mask of intimidation.  Miriam tried not to squirm under his piercing stare.  She suddenly wondered if this was how her staff felt when she addressed them.
“Fine.”  She wrenched open the booklet.  “I find all your comments are not in the best interest of Knightons.”
“Why?”
She glared at him, “Because you want to alter the existing capital structure, for starters.  Our debt to equity ratio is optimal, and I refuse to mess with it.”
“It only seems optimal because market conditions here are favourable.  Besides, we are speaking in regards to Knightons entering a new market.  Entering new markets means you need more money to spend.”
She was unperturbed, “Issuing an IPO raises the chances of unfavourable shareholders becoming involved in company decisions.”
“A risk that any publicly trading company faces.  And your fears are unfounded, since the Knighton family owns controlling shares in the company.  Are there any other concerns?”  If he was irritated, he hid it well.
“What of our reserves?  We have over five hundred million plus stock in blue collar firms.  Couldn’t that cover the cost of a launch?”  Dexter swallowed a chuckle.  She was hopelessly clueless about market expansion strategies.
“Look Miriam, your company is seeking to enter one of the largest markets in the world.  A successful launch calls for a lot of money.  And reserves,” he added, “are meant to stay in the business as a contingency measure.”  Miriam sighed and Dexter saw it as a sign of her relenting.
“I understand how you feel about this decision,” he said, trying a different approach.  “You’ve ran this department efficiently for the past two years.  But this is a major venture that the firm is undertaking and we need the finances to fund it.  Plus, we need your uncanny ability to help us price the shares.”
“You are aware that our circulating share prices will fall if we do decide to issue an IPO?”
“Yes, I am aware of that.  Are there any other concerns?”
Miriam sighed again.  “No,” she conceded grudgingly, “I can’t think of anything else.”  ‘Hallelujah,’ thought Dexter as he moved to retrieve the booklet from her desk.  As he headed towards the door, he suddenly turned.
“Miriam,” he began.  She looked up.  “I just want to say that I appreciate that we were able to have a dialogue on this matter.  We don’t have to agree, but the important thing to consider is that we’re both on the same side.”  Since she did not respond, he left.  But though she said nothing and despite hearing everything he said, she was still on the war path.  She was unaccustomed to her every concern being shot down, and particularly annoyed that it was done by this consultant.  ‘Just you wait,’ she thought vindictively, as she devised various schemes to sabotage his proposals.