The Long Delirious Burning Blue, page 6
I perch on the edge of the filing cabinet near her desk and rub my eyes. Were Monday mornings always this bad, or is it only recently that I’ve begun to dread them so? I had to force myself into the office this morning; must’ve sat there in the car for a good five minutes or more, staring out across the parking lot and wishing the building away. Just another mirage: blink and it’s gone. And Paul Simon on the radio in the background: ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’.
Ah, but I was never allowed to be the crazy one, was I?
I’m not sure I even know how.
Come on, Cat – what are you frightened of? Just close your eyes and jump. The water’s warm, and it’s fun!
Loosen up, Cat. Mummy’s going to teach you to do the twist. No, don’t just stand there – God, you’re so wooden. Swivel your hips – let yourself go, why can’t you?
‘There has to be a way to fit Sherri in. Run it all by me again.’
Janie sighs, reaches for the message slips and shuffles through them one more time. ‘Jeff wants to talk to you about the trial team for the Seattle case; I’ve booked him in at one-thirty. Neil wants to talk to you about Henshaw and Finch; apparently he’s not happy with some of their work on the Anderson case. He’s down for two. John is coming up at two-thirty: he wants you to take a look through some of the old marketing materials for Calmate. Says they’re likely to be an issue in Seattle.’ She squints at something she’s scribbled on one of the pink slips, holds it a few feet away, then shakes her head and reaches for her over-sized glasses. ‘The good Lord knows – my eyes are getting worse every day.’ She places them on her nose and glances up at me with a wry twist of her mouth. ‘Sixty-two and my eyes are shot to hell. Can you believe it? Jeez, I hate getting old.’ She focuses back in on the words in front of her. ‘At three you have a conference call with the Seattle trial team. Then at four you have a meeting with Tom; he has some ideas he’d like to share with you –’ she looks up and smirks ‘– about the opening statement for Seattle.’
I groan. My boss is constitutionally incapable of leaving us alone to just get on with our jobs. I’ll be lucky to be through by six – it’s going to be a long, long day.
Janie slaps the messages back down on her desk and peers up at me over the top of her glasses. ‘Bottom line: you just don’t have the time to see Sherri today.’
I grit my teeth against a sudden sharp desire to howl. ‘She needs to see me.’
‘You don’t have the time. You have a pile of e-mails a mile long and your in-tray is two feet high. And besides – you already spent two hours with her last Wednesday on the exact same subject.’
‘She’s struggling, Janie. She’s just had a baby and the baby keeps getting sick. Her husband doesn’t lift a finger, she’s falling behind in her work because of all the time she’s taking off to look after the baby and Tom is just looking for an excuse to fire her.’ My voice is high-pitched and tinged with desperation.
Ah, no. This won’t do. This won’t do at all.
Janie’s face softens and she sighs again, loudly. ‘Bless your heart, Cat, but you can’t do her job for her. You’re not responsible for everyone’s problems, you know?’
I clench my fists. I need to get a grip. Such a little thing. Such a little thing, so why does it seem like the end of the world? ‘I’m not trying to do her job for her; I’m just trying to help her find a way through this. It’s not her fault the baby is sick. What’s she supposed to do? I don’t see why we can’t cut her some slack for a few months until it all settles down. She’s a good lawyer. She’s just going through a rough patch.’
Janie’s voice is soft, but firm. ‘Okay – but not today. I’ll tell her you’ll see her tomorrow.’
I don’t want to give in. There seems to be too much at stake. ‘There’s no time at all this morning?’
‘You have the department heads’ meeting.’
The coup de grace. I let my head fall back and exhale loudly. ‘I know,’ she says, ‘I know. Your least favourite meeting in the whole wide world. It’s at ten, in the boardroom. I put the papers in a plastic wallet on your desk.’
‘Thanks.’ I should walk away now, but there’s a part of me that still won’t let go. That’s never known how to let go. ‘But if it’s not till ten, maybe I can fit Sherri in beforehand.’
She slams her hands flat on the desk in exasperation. ‘Right. Sure you can. But if you do that, when are you going to check your voicemail and answer your e-mails and talk to whoever feels like popping his head round your office door and saying hi – because you don’t do “turning people away” either – and when are you going to find the time to even pee, goddamn it?’
In spite of myself I laugh, and for a brief, blissful moment the tension is gone. Good old Janie. Wonderful cheerful Janie, the perfect secretary. Everybody’s mom. And just as fiercely protective. Along with Jack, she’s about the only thing that keeps me sane some days.
Some days.
‘And if you try to even suggest that you see her over lunch, I’m going to resign. Okay?’
‘Okay. You win. Sorry. Let’s leave it till tomorrow.’
‘That’s better.’ With a flourish, she throws the message-slips into her trash can. ‘Not that tomorrow’s a whole lot better, but we have a little more room for manoeuvre.’ She tilts her head to one side and looks me up and down. ‘You look tired. Cup of coffee?’
I put a hand out to restrain her as she swings her chair around to get up. ‘I’ll get it. You want a cup too?’
She grins, and her face crinkles into the hundred little lines that she says are her penance for a life in the sun. ‘Sure. I just started a pot; it should be ready by now.’
The coffee smells good and fresh, and thankfully she’s made it strong. The blinds in my office are down to protect me from the early morning glare, but I have a sudden yearning to see the sky. I pull at a cord and sunlight floods into the room. Across the way in the R&D building the lights are on in Jack’s office: another early bird. It feels good to know he’s there.
I turn away from the window and my eye falls on the in-tray at the corner of my desk. Janie wasn’t exaggerating. Wearily I make my way over, sit down, and turn on my computer. The red message light is flashing on my telephone; while I wait for the computer to load itself up I dial into voicemail. There are ten new messages since I last checked at the airport on Saturday morning. Seven of them are from Tom. By the time I get to number five the hands are clutching at my throat again and my breathing is shallow and rapid.
It’s only seven forty-five in the morning.
‘Catriona, are you with us?’ Tom’s voice cuts sharply into my reverie. Shit. There I go again. He doesn’t sound amused. Tom isn’t accustomed to being ignored and has no patience at all with inattention. Normally we get along pretty well, though we’re not exactly kindred spirits. Sometimes he scares the hell out of me. There’s something about Tom that is vaguely inhuman: sort of like a male corporate version of a Stepford Wife. Though distinctly more sinister.
I look around; twenty pairs of eyes are fixed on me with varying degrees of amusement. The silence is absolute. ‘Sorry, Tom. Just that Monday morning feeling. Guess I haven’t had enough coffee yet.’
He looks at me as if I’m from another planet; Tom doesn’t permit himself lapses in concentration and can’t understand why anyone else would have them either. Across the imposing cherry-wood boardroom table, Jack winks and pushes the thermos jug in my direction. The corner of my mouth twitches in response, and I help myself to another cup of coffee. The black leather chair squeaks as I try to settle back into a position that’s comfortable.
God, I hate these meetings.
Tom drums his fingers lightly on the table. Mike Smith, seated next to him at the top of the table, sits up straight and clears his throat. ‘Okay, guys: I think everyone’s here, so let’s get started.’ Mike is the Senior VP for Human Resources and Corporate Affairs; pretty harmless as corporate executives go, but a bit too wishy-washy for my liking. Not someone you can rely on to stick his neck out for an employee in trouble, and far too closely attached to the rule book. And to Tom: he follows slavishly wherever Tom leads. They came up through the ranks together, twenty-five years of steady progression. All the way to the top.
‘Tom and I have asked heads of function to come along to this meeting to debate a number of important new initiatives that the Corporate Affairs department has been working on for a few months now. The first of these exciting developments that I’d like to focus on is the drafting of our corporate mission statement.’
I let my eyes drift around the table; my fellow department heads are looking at Mike with expressions that range from the enthusiastic to the vacant. Jack looks distinctly nonplussed; I badly want to yawn, and loudly, but I know that Tom, like the night, has a thousand eyes.
‘Now, you’ve all had a chance to take a look at the statement, and some of you have already fed back comments to me.’ Mike beams at Lorena, Vice President of Human Resources and the only other woman around a table of men. She has the advantage for Sanderson of being Hispanic as well as female, thus providing the company with a rare opportunity to check off two boxes on their diversity policy at the same time. Mike’s gratitude for this heaven-sent blessing at such a senior level knows no bounds; Lorena is the light of his life. I fight back an urge to roll my eyes; Jack’s knowing smirk across the table doesn’t help at all.
Mike carries on in his dreary monotone; I suppress another yawn. I’m already bored out of my mind and we haven’t even begun. I can’t seem to concentrate this morning; my thoughts are all over the place. Everywhere but here, in this boardroom, surrounded by earnest, fresh-faced and largely well-meaning executives discussing aimless initiatives that detract from the real business of keeping the company afloat. Not that keeping the company afloat seems nearly as important to me as it once did.
I’m getting old, and jaded.
The air-conditioning is positively arctic; I pull my light linen jacket more closely around my body. From time to time, snatches of corporate cliché flit in and out of my head, tossed back and forth between Mike and Tom with dazzling frequency. ‘We need to get all of our ducks in a row here … Make sure we’re all singing from the same hymn book … Make sure everyone sees the big picture … We all need to walk the talk on this mission statement …’
The new corporate mission statement. I can hardly bear the thought of it. What do we need a mission statement for? Don’t we already know what it is that we’re supposed to be doing? It landed on my desk about a week ago, a paragraph laden with words and phrases that didn’t seem to have any meaning at all, and filled to the brim with glowing examples of the very best in business jargon. Tom and Mike are completely united in their love of the latest catch-phrases. If you can go into solution mode rather than come up with a possible answer, they’ll be happy. If you can ramp up the enthusiasm to go forward covering all your (level) bases while delineating the building blocks necessary to nail internal barriers to the wall and keep the train on the tracks, they’ll be positively ecstatic. After all, it’s a no-brainer, isn’t it?
I pushed the mission statement to one side, murmuring imprecations against time-wasting Corporate Affairs initiatives, and I haven’t looked at it again since.
So maybe I’d better listen now.
I sit up straight and do my best to look attentive as Mike prepares to read it aloud. He clears his throat noisily before beginning.
‘Our mission as a subsidiary organisation of one of the leading global providers of pharmaceutical healthcare is to create, produce and market quality and innovative health solutions to meet the medical requirements of our customers. Our corporate ethos incorporates both the prevention and treatment of diseases, aiming to enhance the health and quality of life of our consumer base. In so doing we are committed to embedding the principles of corporate responsibility and to the process of engaging in dialogue with stakeholders. Sustainable development is one of our key business principles.’
Oh, for God’s sake.
Tightness in my chest. Stomach muscles clenching.
Easy, Cat. Take it easy.
I take a deep breath, look up. Mike is grinning proudly around the room as if he’s just written the Bible. Everyone else is nodding wisely.
Come on, guys. Can’t you see this is bullshit?
‘Excuse me, Mike – can I ask a question?’
‘Sure, Cat.’ He looks gratified.
‘What does all this mean?’ Swallow. Take it easy now. Smile.
He blinks and tilts his head to one side. ‘Sorry?’
I indicate the piece of paper on the table in front of me. ‘Look – maybe I’m missing something here, but I really don’t see the point of this. It doesn’t say anything at all.’
‘Sorry?’
Am I the only person that thinks this is nonsense? Or just the only person who cares enough to open her mouth? What is the matter with everyone?
Swallow it down. Calm. You know how to do this. You’ve done it a thousand times. Sweet reason. Smile.
‘To begin with: it takes two long and tortuous, not terribly literate and largely jargon-laden sentences to tell people what they already know – that we’re a pharmaceutical company that makes drugs to cure or prevent illnesses.’ I look up at Mike and raise an eyebrow. ‘Well, no shit.’
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jack slump down into his chair and bury his chin in his open-necked shirt. I ignore him. ‘Then there’s a whole bunch of stuff about stakeholders and sustainable development and corporate ethos – whatever that is – and corporate responsibility and embedding this and engaging on dialogue about that … But what does it mean?’ I look around the table. Blank faces. ‘What’s it for? It’s not telling anybody anything in the least bit novel or meaningful about who we are or how we do business.’
Tom’s voice slashes through the silence. ‘Of course it is. For one thing it’s telling them we’re committed to dialogue on the major issues facing our business.’ I turn my head; his eyes are a stony grey. Flint.
Now would be a really good time to shut up.
‘Layperson’s translation: it’s telling them that we’ll happily sit down and have a nice little chat with anyone who might be interested in us and what we do, if they’d like us to at all, ever. Terrific. How very neighbourly of us. There’s just one problem: it isn’t true.’ It’s clear from the set of Tom’s jaw that I’m not providing the kind of ‘debate’ he and Mike had in mind. ‘We don’t talk to anyone who wants to talk to us. The Corporate Affairs department spends an inordinate amount of time avoiding uncomfortable “dialogue” with precisely the “stakeholders” that this statement is meant to reassure.’ I turn from Tom to Owen, Vice President of Corporate Affairs. He looks away. ‘How many journalists have you brushed off in the last week who wanted to have a cosy little chat about the issues surrounding chronic use of Calmate?’
‘Come on, Cat.’ Owen says, with a sideways glance at Tom. ‘You know we don’t talk about matters that are the subject of litigation.’
‘Which rules out pretty much everything we do, doesn’t it? So who is it that we’re really saying we’ll talk to? And what about?’
Tom’s face is rigid, his mouth set in a thin white line. Mike glances over at him nervously and leaps in to try to help. ‘To stakeholders. About issues facing the business.’
This is going round in circles. I toss the mission statement on the table in exasperation. ‘I’m sorry, Mike – I don’t mean to be difficult here –’ I ignore Jack’s choking cough ‘– but I just don’t get it. We’re going to all this effort to produce this statement and we’re all going to sit around this table and agonise over a form of words, and then we’re going to proudly proclaim it to the world as if it’s saying something dramatic. But all it says here is hey – we’re a pharmaceutical company, in case you couldn’t figure it out from our company name, and if you want to talk to us about anything, we’ll be happy to talk back to you. Excuse me if I don’t find any of that particularly earth-shattering.’
I have a reputation for speaking my mind, but something in Tom’s eyes is telling me I’ve gone way too far this time.
‘Catriona.’ His voice is cold as ice. ‘I absolutely take your concerns on board, but I think you’re over-simplifying things.’
Over-simplifying? The monster is awake again, springing into life and taking hold of my throat. Over-simplifying? ‘I don’t think I am, Tom. I’m sorry.’ I pick up the paper again. My hands seem to be shaking. ‘Here’s another bit: “We’re committed to embedding the principles of corporate responsibility …” What on earth does that mean? Embedding? Embedding them in what?’
Once again Mike steps into the breach. ‘In what we do. It means that – well, it means … it means that we’re committed to being a responsible company.’
‘As though we have a choice not to be? As though it’s something to applaud?’ Most of the other occupants of the room are looking down at the table and each one of them appears to be holding his breath. Lorena is staring fixedly at me with an expression of utter perplexity on her face. Mike looks as if he’d quite like to weep; Tom grins fiercely like the face of death. Jack is covering his face with one hand and peering out at me from between two fingers.
Unfortunately, I’m on a roll; I can’t seem to find the ‘off’ switch.
‘And besides – why should people believe it just because we say so? What are we going to do to be responsible? Isn’t that what we should be talking about? Because that just might be interesting to people. It certainly would be interesting to me.’
Tom places both hands flat on the table in front of him. He leans forward slightly. I hadn’t noticed before, but his head is far too big for the rest of his body. It sits on his narrow shoulders like a boulder perched on the edge of a cliff, just waiting to fall off. ‘If you check your calendar I think you’ll find that Mike has called another meeting next week to talk about the development of our corporate responsibility programme. I’m sure you’ll be taking that opportunity to entertain us with more of your views. But if you have nothing more constructive to say on the matter at hand I’d like to move on.’ He glances around the table, his voice deceptively mild. ‘Does anyone else have any comments on the mission statement?’
