Shadows of Innocence - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

         Thirteen years worth of Mondays driving into the parking garage on North Elm and walking two blocks to the Lincoln Building had become routine. This Monday things were different. There was a heavy feeling of finality in the air of the parking garage as Eddie clicked the car alarm and saw the headlights blink. As a programmer Eddie had a prime work schedule for Monday through Friday from 9 AM until 6 PM with whatever time was needed for lunch. 9 AM meant nothing to Eddie. There were very few days over the last thirteen years that Eddie arrived at his desk after 8 AM. There was no one in the company of 350 employees that could match Eddie’s over-zealous dedication to punctuality, except for one person: Donald Jermaine, President and CEO.

         The clock on top of the Lincoln Building read 7:53 AM as Eddie entered the revolving door. Twenty seconds later across the marble lobby floor of the 23 story Lincoln Building Eddie was on the elevator to his eighth floor office. Any other Monday Eddie would be in the corporate break room making the first round of coffee for himself and those co-workers that would start to arrive several minutes later. This morning after thirteen years someone else would have to brew the first container of Colombian coffee. Eddie felt his limited time prior to 9:13 AM could be better utilized doing other things.

         Late Sunday the mailroom delivers all postal arrivals, UPS, FedEx, and other courier services drop-offs to the different offices throughout the building. An average Monday gives Eddie between 18 to 24 pieces of mail, Inter-Office envelopes, or packages. Eddie could start on the most critical overnight and second day packages in the hour’s time before his crucial meeting with Donald Jermaine. The metal brief case was set down next to Eddie’s desk and the ergonomic five-way chair was pulled back from the huge oak desk. Eddie reached over and turned the volume knob up on his sleek combo radio CD player to the local rock station that bragged about playing any and all kinds of music. This morning that did not matter. Any music to drown out the reality of the situation would suffice. Elton John put out some undistinguishable lyrics in the background as Eddie reached over for the mail in the In-Box. For the first time in over 650 Mondays at CSS, the In-Box and package table was empty. There obviously was some kind of big mistake. Someone had to have been sick on the night shift in the mail room. Eddie knew that a quick call down to the mail room would solve this mystery. There was no need to get paranoid at this point.

         The phone rings loudly in the mailroom in the basement. No one usually calls down there at this time of day.

“Mailroom. Joey speaking. How may I help you?”

“Good morning, Joey. Eddie Stinson here, programmer 8th floor, Office C. There seems to be some kind of mistake. There is always mail and packages waiting for me in the In-Box and arrivals table. There is nothing today. What’s the deal?”

“All I can tell you Eddie is there is no mail or packages for you today. Is there anything else I can help you with?” Joey quickly ended the conversation.

Eddie immediately analyzed Joey’s carefully chosen words. “What do you mean exactly, Joey, by saying ‘All I can tell you’”? Eddie asked.

         “I can’t say any more Mr. Stinson. Please respect that. I have so much work to do.” The line went dead. Eddie could only laugh at how unsubtle Mr. Jermaine’s tactics were. Eddie hung up the phone and leaned back in his desk chair and spun the chair away from the desk to gather his thoughts. Eddie stopped his chair’s rotation dead in its tracks as what was against the wall was as subtle as a ton of bricks. There were five large folding cardboard boxes with a roll of shipping tape next to it.

         If Eddie Stinson was going to leave Computer Systems Solutions, he was going to go out with his head up and he was going out his way, on his terms. No one has to tell Eddie to pack his things. He has seen too many sets of security guards come and escort an employee to the front door with those dreaded cardboard boxes left behind. Eddie can remember clearly the words spoken just two months ago to Jerry Johnson, a Windows platform technician.

         “Mr. Johnson, please hang up the telephone. Do not touch your computer terminal. Surrender your badge now. Don’t touch a thing. Everything you have will be boxed and shipped UPS to you within three days. Do not say a thing. You are as of this moment no longer an employee of CSS.” A security guard walked next to Jerry Johnson and the other followed closely behind until they reached the door and exited the building.

Eddie was bound and determined to leave CSS with dignity intact and not between two wanna-be security guards that look more like Love Boat captains than cops. The first item to enter the cardboard box was the silver-plated framed photos of his mother and father, both who have passed away. Next to enter the box was the 16 by 20 inch diploma for his Masters of Science degree in Computer Science from Cal Poly University. Eddie quickly exited to the break room and opened the doors under the sink area and got two big rolls of paper towels. The next item to be wrapped was the ten year plaque that he had hanging on the wall behind his swivel chair. The last item for the first box was the Employee-of-the-Month award for March of 2001, the time in space when he closed the deal with Advanced Computronics for over $10,000,000. The crystal paperweight became the first item to enter the second box after being covered with five layers of paper towels. Eddie had to pause and think for a few minutes. After thirteen years which pens, pencils, staplers, paper clips were his and which was the property of CSS?

         “This is Eddie Stinson. How may I help you?” Eddie answered routinely on perhaps his last call ever taken at Computer Systems Solutions.

         “Mr. Stinson, this is Susan Miller, Mr. Jermaine’s personal assistant. This is a reminder that you have an appointment at 9:13 AM this morning. Please be there on time. Mr. Jermaine is a busy man.”

         “9:13 AM? Is that some kind of a joke Ms. Miller? What if I show up at 9:12 AM or heaven forbid I show up at 9:19 AM? What are you going to do? Fire me? Shoot me? Buy me a clock? 9:13 AM, Ms. Miller? What kind of game is that?” Eddie spoke the words with a sting that would come from a man that has nothing to lose.

         “Please Mr. Stinson. Don’t shoot the messenger.” Again the line went dead. Eddie argued with his emotions. “I deserved that” he thought to himself. “No I don’t deserve any of this. I have always worked hard for this company and played by all the rules and did it with class and integrity. I will not be intimidated by today’s meeting. I may be leaving this company but I am going out yelling and screaming and swinging.”

The ringing of the telephone in Office C on the eighth floor brought the packing mission to a temporary halt. Eddie glanced at the LCD clock on his desk and watched the minute digit go from 6 to 7 as 8:27 AM rolled into view. Eddie decided quickly to take the high road and to leave the company with class and grace. He would not make a scene behind closed doors with Donald Jermaine but would not care if bridges were burned to the ground. Eddie learned years ago that you cannot go full speed ahead while keeping your eyes in the rear-view mirror. Leaning forward with his elbows on the desk Eddie put his head into his hands. Something was wrong, terribly, terribly wrong. Thirteen years of loyal, dedicated commitment to excellence could not be thrown out with the trash because of being four minutes late. There is a piece of this puzzle mystery that is invisible to Eddie and he has to find out what it is before the meeting. Susan Miller obviously knows. Joey Loper definitely knows. Paychecks create loyalty. Paychecks also invoke silence.

There is a very thin line between rage and pain. There is a similar distance between reality and that part of life that borders lunacy. Eddie was torn between the four. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Who would want to work for a man that would dismiss a loyal employee of 13 years because of a one time four minute lateness? A boss that inflexible was teetering on the edge of insanity and irresponsibility. Eddie wondered if it was stress or even senility affecting the senses of his otherwise reclusive boss.

“Maybe it is my own fault.” Eddie thought to himself. Thirteen years of working in a small size company and how much did he really know about the owner? Eddie barely knew his co-workers except for the monthly company meetings and the Christmas party and summer company cook-outs. Had Donald Jermaine, CEO, founder, and owner of Computer Systems Solutions ever given Eddie a sign to come in and talk and tell me about your life. Eddie wasn't hired to be best friends with any one. Eddie was hired because he knew firewall protections for mainframe networks better than anyone else in the business. His corner office on the 8th floor, affectionately known as Geeksville, was his little spot to earn a living and do his work and not make trouble. But now Eddie was a half hour away from the unemployment line and he did nothing wrong.

These last 30 minutes were going to be Eddie's finest moments with the company. As a programmer and systems analyst Eddie had to analyze his situation and come up with just the right words to depict his justifiable rage over the unwarranted impending dismissal. The carefully chosen words must be forthright enough to state his anger and feelings but yet leave the door open for a recommendation for future employment with another company. Was there something that Eddie did that wasn't apparent to him, but was obvious to everyone else? Surely some other competitor would hire him when the only blemish on his 13 years at CSS was that he was four minutes late for drinks and salmon. Eddie knew that there was something being held back. Why was he not in the loop when it was he that was the sole recipient of the results? How could a mailroom clerk and secretary know the score and Eddie not have a clue? Primal rage began to erase Eddie's steel hard reasoning as an analyst of system problems. What recourse did Eddie have? It was not a public company. It was not a government job. It was a small privately owned company with one man making all the decisions. Donald Jermaine. What exactly were all those lines of legal HR goobltity-goop on his contract that he signed so quickly over a decade ago? Where is that contract? Why would there ever be a need to save it for any reason? That's it. Human Resources can solve this mystery. They have to play by the rules. They are there for all employees and serve as a buffer between management and the hourly employees and mid-management.

3-4-7-2. Eddie dialed the number for the manager of Human Resources. The ring on the other end of the line went to six and there was no answer. The manager of HR was always in his office by 8:30 AM. Why did he not pick up the call? Caller ID had to be the answer. Eddie slammed the phone down into the cradle of the receiver and stormed out of his office and took the steps to the 9th floor Human Resource office. The door was closed and the name tag John Hiller, Human Resource Manager was on the laminated plate below the glass. Eddie paused just long enough to peer through the window to see John sitting behind his desk shuffling some papers. All formal protocol was shelved. This was not a normal situation. Eddie opened the door without knocking with a style that body language said all that needed to be spoken.

“Mr. Hiller, I just called you two minutes ago and you did not answer the call. May I ask why?”

“And you are who, Sir?” came the curt, direct reply from Mr. Hiller.

“Stop right there, Mr. Hiller. We are a small company. You have records on every employee. I have worked here for 13 years. I am in no mood to play games. You are bound by your very position to answer certain questions that I have of you. I would advise you from a legal standpoint to mark your words very carefully for you may have to account for every syllable in a court of law. I am going to repeat myself and I expect an answer from you. Who am I, Mr. Hiller? I am that person on that file in front of you: Edward Stinson. Now, why did you not answer my call?”

“Mr. Stinson, I understand your anger. I can imagine how you feel over this situation. I respect your outburst. I actually expected something more confrontational than your outburst. Please respect what I am about to say to you. I know what it is that a Human Resource manager does. I do my job very well. I do not report to a board of directors or to a senior staff member. I report directly to one person. Donald Jermaine. You are scheduled to meet with him at 9:13 AM this morning. That is all I am permitted to tell you. I am sorry.”

“You know more, and you know that and you realize that I know that. I cannot believe that a person who chooses Human Resources for a profession would sell out an employee for a steady paycheck. I guess you can sleep well at night between trips to the bank. I appreciate your response Mr. Hiller as it shows me clearly where your priorities are. Don't ever make the mistake of calling yourself a 'people person' as others do that enter the Human Resource field. You are far from it. Have a great day, Mr. Hiller and have a wonderful night's sleep.”

Eddie turned to walk out the room and Mr. Hiller spoke with a different tone in his voice. It was a softer tone without the professional scripted barbs at the end of each word.

“Eddie? Eddie. Please be on time. 9:13 AM.”

Eddie Stinson slammed the door to the Human Resources office sending an echo down the hallway. It was now 8:52 AM. Eddie had some more packing to do. Next to go into the cardboard container was the photo from the summer picnic of 1999. Eddie forget his current situation long enough to smile a broad grin as he saw the muddy clothes from being on the losing tug-of-war team. Such memories old photos can bring that linger around worker's desks. The summer picnic with sack races, volleyball, softball, and that dang old tug-of-war. It was such a surreal moment in time to see the computer technicians and programmers who did not even own a pair of “play shorts” dressed up in their newly purchased printed shorts with white socks pretending to play childhood games. All for the sake of pleasing one man. Donald Jermaine. The company had spent thousands of dollars on consultants to tell them they needed more division of home and work and that the company that 'plays together – stays together'. It was such a sight to see 30 year olds who only a decade and half before were walking the halls of their high schools with pocket protectors full of mechanical pencils and their glasses taped up. Now they are trying to play the games they never did as a child. It was not a pretty sight. Actually it was a very muddy sight. Both tug-of-war teams somehow managed to drag the other team through the mud pool in the middle. Eddie thought it quite odd that no one dared mention that picnic ever again or any social event. The events were to justify the recommendations from the consultants to do more things outside the walls of Elm Street. It was cosmetic only. It accomplished nothing. No one on the 8th floor knew anyone on the 5th floor, and those on the 4th floor did not even know those across the room. But the company made great money and they knew balance sheets and how to meet budgets. No one knew anyone else's children's names or even if they had children. When 6 PM came, men in suits ride silently down crowded elevators and scattered to various parking garages and drove their BMWs, Mercedes, Volvos, and Lexus cars to the suburbs. That's the way it is at CSS. That's Donald Jermaine's company.

The digital clock radio on Eddie's desk read 9:05 AM. Eddie's desk was clear except for the radio. The photos, the awards, the paperweights, pen holders, coasters, and coffee cups were all neatly packed away. The walls were bare. The plaques and awards and college diplomas all neatly boxed and sealed with tape. There would be no escort from this room by security in front of his peers for Eddie. It may require the use of Greensboro's finest law enforcement to take him out in handcuffs but Eddie had a thing about not going out like the others he had witnessed over the years. Eddie knew he was a puppet to the corporate puppeteer on the 10th floor. When Donald Jermaine wanted something done and pulled the strings, Eddie performed for 13 years. When system problems were encountered Eddie danced nicely through the problem without a word. Eddie got things done. But Eddie was not leaving CSS a puppet. The strings would be cut and Eddie would dance for no one but himself. There was so much uncertainty about the next few minutes of Eddie's life. There were so many unknown factors that Eddie could not put into his analytical mind to come up with a solution. There was only one thing at this moment that Eddie was sure of.

When it would become time for Eddie to leave Eddie would walk out the door with his head held high and Eddie would not look back. He would not even give that one last slow glance around the office or room or lobby or even look at the building. That was Eddie's creed. He would never look back. There would be no hands placed on Eddie's arms to lead him out of the building. That was the one thing Eddie was positive about. Eddie had committed no crime and broken no laws, federal, state, local or company policy. There would be no need to place hands on Eddie to physically remove him from the building. Thirteen years of dedicated loyal work without issue earned that right. The Human Resource file on Eddie was empty. Eddie never had issues or problems. Eddie never created drama. Eddie was a company man through and through.

Something about this situation was not right. But Eddie was not leaving the building under the assistance of the security and HR department. He was going to walk out the front door with a firm quick stride totally alone and unassisted and unforced. If there would be any hands placed on Eddie without proper provocation Eddie would respond as any citizen in this land has a right to. Eddie would leave as no other employee has left the building. It would be on his terms at whatever means necessary.

The telephone rang at 9:08 AM. Eddie picked up the phone and smugly and sarcastically announced for the last time of his employment at CSS, “Eddie Stinson, Senior Programmer, how may I help you?”

“Mr. Stinson, this is Susan Miller, Donald Jermaine's personal assistant. You have a meeting with Mr. Jermaine at precisely 9:13 AM. You need to be heading this way now, sir. Please don't be late.”

“Why Ms. Miller, I wouldn't dare think of being late. That would be so like me wouldn't it? I will be there is 2 minutes, Ms. Miller. Will that make everyone happy?” That response needed no answer as Eddie slammed the receiver down.

Eddie took the elevator to the 10th floor and as the elevator doors opened he walked directly up to Ms. Miller's neatly appointed desk. There was not a word spoken. No words were needed. The tone had already been established. Susan Miller rose from her seat and walked toward the double doors of the board room and said “Right this way, Mr. Stinson. Mr. Jermaine will be joining you shortly. Is there anything I can get for you? Water, coffee, or...........”

Her words were cut off sharply by Eddie who shut the board room door in her face giving her the answer she needed. She was the messenger. She was not the message. The clock on the board room wall read 9:12 AM. Eddie was early. Eddie was always early. For 13 years Eddie was always early, to the day. Three days ago Eddie was late. Four minutes late.

The clock on the wall clicked to 9:13 AM. The room was cold and quiet. There were no hands on the board room door. It was indeed 9:13 AM. The clock moved again. It was now 9:14 AM. The room was silent and filled by just one person. 9:15 AM came and went in silence only interrupted by the sound of Eddie's heart racing. Eddie hated mind games. Eddie has always hated mind games.

The clock clicked to 9:17 AM. The doors of the huge boardroom opened. Eddie turned towards the door. There stood Donald Jermaine, CEO and owner of CSS. It was 9:17 AM. It was not 9:13 AM.

Donald turned quietly and closed the double doors one at a time. The sound of the latch seemed to amplify in the emotional coldness of the dark room. Neither man spoke. After all, this was a mind game wasn't it? To speak first would be a sign of weakness. Eddie did not owe Donald Jermaine the courtesy of a welcome greeting at this point. Last week or last month or last year that would have been the proper thing to do. But not today. Eddie held his chin up proudly and not as a cowering man about to face the wrath of an owner that apparently had lost his ability to deal with humanity. There were too many years of respect and decency ingrained into Eddie's core being to let a weekend of emotion destroy. The last act of professional and personal courtesy brought Eddie to his feet from the cushioned leather chair. Still no words were exchanged. Both men stared directly at each other.

Donald Jermaine broke the strained silence.

“Mr. Stinson, do you have the time?”