- “This… Practice… Has got to end now. Look at what it has brought about
-
high editorial staff turnover, leading to a decline in quality and slip ups in meeting delivery schedules. Continuing in this manner is neither sustainable nor healthy for this company. Allison & Omari is a publishing firm. Publishing! We do books, magazines, periodicals. Information! Content! These are key to the survival of the company!” I said.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
11:35am
Day 15
Conference Room, Allison & Omari
Things do get ugly in the board room.
And maybe I contributed to it.
An urgent meeting with the Directors and the President was convened. Elise was there as the meeting secretariat, and I roped Sally in to provide some counsel and insights on any of the scenarios that may be discussed.
Hubert, the Sales Director who we’d been trying to fix a meeting with, showed up with Lay Eng, his deputy.
The moment we sat down, the blame shifting started.
“Subra, what’s wrong over at Trade Publications? Why the sudden departures?” First shots fired by Hubert.
“What’s wrong are the unrealistic promises by the sales team to meet unrealistic delivery deadlines. That and the fact that your guys haul up the editors at any time of the day. Do you even understand how terribly disruptive that is?” countered Mr Subra.
“Complain, complain, complain. Is that what you guys are good at besides pushing pens around a desk? We are the sales team. We bring in the revenue that pays your bloody salaries! You should be grateful that we give your desk-driving editors exposure to the real world of meeting clients and building relationships!” spat Hubert as he jabbed a finger at Mr Subra.
The absurdity of the argument was incredible. Mr Subra shook his head laughed at the irony. “All these years… The tune doesn’t change.”
Sally weighed in: “The time taken away from the editors, how do you quantify that in dollars and cents? What’s more, going off on sales pitches is not in their job description. In fact, no other publishing firm that we know of builds sales pitches into employment contracts of editorial staff. Even if they did, there has to be justification and fair remuneration. It just does not make sense, professionally or ethically, to force staff from one department to perform the duties of another. And without fair compensation or adjustment in workload.”
Hubert crossed his arms and sat back. “But we’ve always done it this way,” he said stubbornly.
Time to put my foot down.
At the back of my mind, the millions of dollars invested in this acquisition hung in the balance.
Hubert threw me a smug look. “Balancing the profit and loss is the way to ensure any company’s survival.”
“Good job doing the balancing, can you explain why Manticore now owns us?” Mr Subra pointed out.
I had enough of this unproductive shit.
“Hubert,” I said, “As the Sales Director, I need your buy in to help bring a mindset change that will help turn things around. The key first step, is to get your guys to do their homework and leave the editors to to their work. Are you in? Nor not?”
“You can’t make me. Right, Mr Chiang?” asked Hubert.
The President had been silent all this while, watching the drama unfold. Should give that fucker a coke and popcorn.
“As company President, I don’t thi-” he began pompously.
I lost it. I don’t know why.
“AS COMPANY PRESIDNET, YOU ARE ON NOTICE FOR GROSS ORGANISATIONAL MISMANAGEMENT, LACK OF FORESIGHT AND GENERAL INCOMPETENCE, LEADING ALLISON & OMARI TO WHERE IT IS NOW!!!” I screamed, both hands planted firmly on the table.
I had no authority to say that.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. Even Mr Chiang slumped lower into his seat.
Elise and Sally’s jaws were hanging open.
Turning back to Hubert, I said as calmly as I could muster, “Hubert, are you going to be a part of turning things around at Allison & Omari? Or are you not?”
He scoffed, took out his chequebook and scribbled on a cheque.
Pulling it out from the book, Hubert scrunched it into a ball and threw it at me, where it bounded off my cheek. I didn’t flinch.
“I resign. Effective immediately. There’s my 3 months’ salary in lieu of the notice,” he said.
Turning to Mr Chiang, he said, “Chiang, it’s been a good run. But I’m done with this sinking ship.”
“Good luck with your little save-the-company project,” Hubert said sarcastically to me as he stormed out of the conference room.
Mr Chiang took it as his cue to leave as well, softly whisting
My Way
as he slunk off.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
12:05pm
Day 15
The Cave, Allison & Omari
We stepped out of the conference room, and there was a deathly sort of quiet in the air.
The ruckus in the room, my outburst, was clearly heard by those whose desks were within earshot.
Mr Subra said nothing, but gave me a fatherly smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder as he walked past.
Lay Eng, the MILF-y Deputy Sales Director, gave me an understanding nod as she went to catch up with Hubert, who was probably now clearing his room.
With the absence of a Corporate Services Director, the Finance and HR Senior Managers who joined in the meeting also hurried past us.
“That went well,” said Sally drily.
“Indeed,” I exhaled. “I need to call Corporate and inform them of what’s transpired. Sally, can you update the others?”
I turned away, not immediately noticing that Elise looked a little lost and overwhelmed.
“Elise,” I said gently, “Can you talk to those editors again and let them know that some welcome… change… Has arrived? Try to convince them to stay. Get Mr Subra to be part of the conversation as well.”
She nodded. A pause. “Are you OK?” she asked with a look of concern.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.
I’d gotten to rant and finally put Mr Chiang in his place. But somehow… Somehow the catharsis, the satisfaction… Wasn’t as great that I’d thought it would be.
At the back of my mind I wondered: have I kicked a larger hornet’s nest?
I set up a 3-way call with Darren, Nuruddin and myself to tell them exactly what happened in the conference room and the resignation crisis at the crucial Trade Publications Team.
There was a long pause on the line.
Finally, Darren broke the silence. “Dude. You were out of line. Way out of line,” he said with a heavy sigh.
I didn’t bother to say anything in my defence. My outburst was unprofessional.
“Darren, shall we reassign Allison & Omari to another Consultant? No offence, bro, but your judgement is quite impaired, if you ask me,” said Nuruddin evenly.
We were silent again. And this time I spoke.
“Darren, Din, I fucked-up. If I created a mess, I’ll clean it up,” I said, not wanting to add anything more lest I worsen the situation. “We’ll wrap things up fast, and I’ll be gone from there. And hopefully leaving the company a better place than when I got there two weeks ago.”
I heard Darren sigh even more heavily this time. “Buddy, you may be listed as Consultant 1 in the Manticore organisation chart, but the others we hired after you have years, if not a decade, of experience more than you. We’re friends, but that doesn’t give you too much leeway to make mistakes.”
This is it, I thought, ’the talk’ before you get the boot.
“But,” Darren continued, “You know publishing, you know Allison & Omari, you know the rot that needs to be removed. Do what it takes, but please remain objective. And professional. OK dude?”
We then engaged in a discussion on who should succeed Hubert. Lay Eng was the obvious choose as she was already the Deputy Sales Director, and I shared that she wasn’t like the other lazy-assed sales personnel.
“Bro, no hard feelings yeah?” said Nuruddin.
“None whatsoever, bro,” I replied, and I meant it.
The call concluded, I updated the turnaround team and Elise, and sought out Lay Eng to inform her of her promotion. I emphasised once again that editors will now not be touched by the sales team, unless there was a major trade or publishing fair. Mr Subra’s permission would need to be sought in all cases.
“You know my work style… It hasn’t changed. I know what the others were doing was not right, but I was only one person against an ingrained practice,” said Lay Eng.
“Now you’re that single person who can effect that change. For the better.”
She smiled as I retreated back to my room.
I spent the rest of the day holed up in The Cave, drafting an email to all Allison & Omari staff announcing Hubert’s departure and who his successor would be. A separate email was sent to both editorial and sales staff, declaring that the source of much resentment amongst the editors was no more. The sales team will need to pull their own weight.
This latter email eventually caused a fair number of sales personnel to leave. But then, the company would be better off without those freeloaders.
I buried my face in my hands, the toll of the day had exhausted me.
I detected a familiar scent.
“I’m sorry to see you like this,” said Elise.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
6:05pm
Day 15
The Cave, Allison & Omari
I exhaled heavily into my hands, that were still covering my face.
“I’ll be OK.”
“Try to leave earlier today then,” Elise said as the settled down into the chair in front of my desk. “You up for dinner?”
A click, then a whirring sound started up in a newly installed little box in the corner of my room. I leaned over to look at the blinking indicator lights.
“Dinner sounds good. But can you give me about half an hour?” I asked.
Elise nodded, got up and left the room, concern still written all over her face.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
8:45pm
Day 15
Arcade centre, Basement 1, Bugis Junction
I told the turnaround team to pack up and leave for the day whenever they were done, adding that staying too long was counter productive. They didn’t need to be told twice, and started to pack up at around 6:40pm.
Elise and I left Allison & Omari together, deciding to see what dining options there were at Bugis Junction. The walk from Beach Road to there was relatively silent, and without much fuss we decided on Johnny Rockets, a 1950s American diner themed restaurant.
The mood during dinner was sombre at first, but after dropping some coins into the quaint jukebox and selecting some of my favourite tunes from the 50s and 60s, my spirits lifted at the heartfelt and sometimes witty lyrics.
And from the starting topic of my love for oldies, the conversation flowed freely: Elise talking about how much she adored her niece, how close she was to her sis, her school days, the places she grew up, etc.
I had a strange, deja vu feeling while sharing more about myself.
Wasn’t it about a month ago - or was it two - that I went through the same conversation topics with another woman?
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to let a wave of fatigue pass. A sudden flash of Adeline appeared in my mind’s eye: her sitting across me in the Mido Cafe, 情人的眼淚 (“Lover’s Tears”) playing in the background amidst a 1950s Hong Kong eatery setting.
It felt like another place, another time… Another me.
I opened my eyes and looked at Elise, and the contrast of the moment stunned me: before me sat a fuller-figured girl, with us in a booth seat in a 1950s American diner setting, with Neil Sedaka’s
Next Door to Angel
playing off the jukebox.
I’ve described Adeline as waif-like, delicate; Elise in contrast, was built for sin.
Two very different settings, two very, very different girls.
My brain couldn’t process the mix of emotions.
“Venus to Mars: come in Mars,” Elise chirped as she waved a hand in front of me.
I snapped out of my thoughts and smiled apologetically.
“You spaced out again.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Memories.”
“Good ones?“she asked, trying to keep the conversation going and to anchor me in the here and now.
Good memories? Oh god, if Elise knew…
“Mixed feelings,” I replied noncommittally, and was saved from further dwelling on the subject when the food arrived.
We chatted over the meal, and again I found that it was easy to express myself with Elise. I told her how disappointed and ashamed I felt about losing my cool in the conference room, and how remorseful I was knowing that I had let Darren and Din down.
Did I get over-confident? Was I just lashing out because I’m now able to fight back, unlike all those years ago?
Then I asked myself: why am I telling Elise so much?
… And wouldn’t she have someone else to spend the evening with?
“So…” I began. And I couldn’t find the right words to broach the subject.
“So…?” asked Elise with a quirky smile.
Ah fuck, just ask.
“I enjoy your company… So is there someone special in your life worthy of your attention?” I ventured.
Elise sat back and crossed her arms, and I thought I saw a cloud come over her.
“No, not anymore. Not for a while,” came her soft reply as she looked down at her empty plate. A random thought: boy, can she eat. It’s great seeing a woman be able to finish her food. I liked that.
But as curious as I was to ask what happened, I decided to drop the subject.
Calling for the bill, I enquired if Elise would like to go somewhere else for dessert, or do something silly like play whatever games there were in the arcade below the mall.
Turns out Elise can hold her own pretty well in The House of the Dead.
She was dressed in an off-white satiny sleeveless blouse, paired with very well cut black pants that showed off her perky bum. While playing games, Elise is the sort who would move her body to duck or recoil a bit if hit, even if there was no motion control for the game. So while she was blasting zombies, she’d be moving quite animatedly next to me.
A small crowd of spectators had gathered, not so much to see me rack up a high score, but to admire a female gaming goddess. And those sweet bouncing assets. She had the sexy, gun-toting female agent look down to a T.
We had only changed a few dollars worth of tokens, but we made them last well into the game. I think the male onlookers would have willingly given Elise more tokens, just to watch her delicious body at play. They looked disappointed when the game over screen came on.
After holstering the guns, we agreed that it was getting late, and tomorrow was still a work day and best to head home.
On the train ride back, I got to focus my full attention on how lovely she looked.
Good luck should her future boyfriend or husband be the jealous or possessive sort, I thought. The looks Elise got everywhere would drive an insecure man nuts. I, for one, would take that as a point of pride to be able to be in the company of one so desired.
Pushing the thought aside, I wished Elise a good night and alighted one stop before her, at Bedok.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
11:02am
My flat in Bedok
“Hi hi. Was all work for the rest of the week since dinner on Tuesday. You looked much better, but was wondering how you’re doing?” read the first message.
A moment later: “I’ve just dropped Beebee off at my sister’s place. Wanna catch up?”
I’d just finished showering from my run, and saw Elise’s SMSs.
I smiled at her use of the term ‘catch up’. Not as if we’re buddies who haven’t seen each other in years.
“Sure,” I messaged back. “Any place you wanna go? Where shall we meet?”
“The usual place,” was the reply, “See you in 15 mins.
"
At first I was mystified. ‘Usual place’?
Where’s that? At Bugis, where we head to everyday on the way to work?
I remained baffled as I shrugged on a polo-T and a pair of cargo pants - my usual weekend/off-day garb.
Slipping on my shoes, it dawned on me that she probably meant the bus stop where we met two Saturdays ago.
I chuckled, remembering that Elise could be a little ditzy with her choice of words at times. Well, all part of her charm.
As I locked the door to my flat, I realised that she didn’t mention where we’d be going.
Ah, just go with the flow, I told myself. The me at work likes things planned and orderly.
Outside of work, I could do with a little spontaneity from time to time.
Have you ever laid your eyes on a woman who’s so absolutely beautiful, that your breath catches in your throat, your heart skips a beat, and the sheer magnitude of her loveliness washes over you like a blast of cold water?
That was exactly how I felt when I spotted Elise at the bus stop.
A pastel floral print summer dress kissed each sensual curve of her body. Her shoulders were bare, save for the two thin straps of the dress, which were probably not needed as Elise’s ample bosom was more than capable of holding the dress up. The low scoop neckline of the dress teased onlookers with the hint of the firm, tantalising boobs held within.
From Elise’s full breasts, the dress tapered down to her slim waist, before flaring out from her bum and ending just above the knee.
From below the hem of her dress came two long, shapely legs, toned by light exercise and yet another bias towards her bestowed by nature. A pair of bohemian sandals showed off her cute little painted toes.
Elise had swept her luscious locks up into an elegant, asymmetrical bun. Simple diamond ear studs adorned her thin earlobes, and it seemed that she didn’t have makeup on.
And, by God, she didn’t need any.
For where she stood at the bus stop, the late morning sun still managed to catch her mostly perfect facial features. Though under the shelter, Elise looked radiant, as if the Sun – the giver of life itself – bestowed its rays of light on her in worshipful admiration.
These words – these silly, stupid, weak words – simply could not do justice to how wonderful Elise looked that moment my gaze rested on her. Every detail of the vision that was Elise, could send poets into despair at the lack of finding the right words or turns of phrases.
Her smile, as she saw me approaching, elevated perfection to another level.
“Morning,” I said, standing more than an arm’s length away so that I could admire her discreetly.
“Hi hi,” she replied merrily, “Let’s go!”
“Where’re we headed to?”
“Dunno… Let’s head into the station and we’ll decide from there!”
On sheer impulse, we boarded the first train that pulled into Bedok MRT station, and it took us eastward. Alighting at Tampines, we headed to check out the newly-opened Tampines One mall, first heading to a burger joint at the basement for an early lunch.
Elise and I made our orders, collected them, and found an empty 2-seater along a quiet wall. Inserting a straw into her cup of diet coke, Elise’s eyes never left her order of an upsized cheeseburger, anticipation written all over her face.
Throwing all decorum into the wind, she took a massive bite out of the burger, and I burst out laughing.
“-art?” she managed to say with a mouthful of beef.
“The way you’re attacking that thing. What a contrast to the first day’s lunch, where you were taking such lady-like bites out of your sandwich. And that was a cheese and falafel sandwich – rabbit food compared to what you’re eating now,” I chuckled.
Elise looked slightly self-conscious as she dabbed at some sauce running down the side of her chin.
“Might’ve had a full breakfast that day,” she said, trying to recall. “Besides, first impressions count. Especially since you guys were a bunch of corporate bigwigs. From Manticore, some more…”
“Well, hope that after about 2 weeks of working with us, you’d find that we’re not a bunch of stuffed suits,” I said through a handful of fries in my mouth.
A naughty twinkle came into Elise’s eyes. “Not everyone’s a stuffed suit; the turnaround team’s OK at least.”
Rolling my eyes, I took her bait and said, “OK, so I take it that there’s something wrong with the Consultant?”
“Yes,” Elise stated simply. “There’s stuff that he needs to let go of.”
Two weeks. I’ve barely known her for two weeks, and she’s playing counsellor with me already. I found this amusing, and very frankly, so endearing.
Swallowing my bite of burger, I relented, “Right. So Dr Tan, what’s your professional assessment of this patient? Salvageable, or a total nutcase?”
Elise shrugged her sexy shoulders, and grinned. “I dunno. Seems like a basket case so far, but then again, I’d need to learn more about this patient’s… past history… to give a proper prognosis.”
We continued the witty banter for a while, before the more serious sharing of how things were. I mentioned my ‘man-date’ with Darren and Din on Friday evening (which was last night), where we spoke at length about what had been going on at Allison & Omari since I went in with the turnaround team. The teething problems were to be expected, the turnaround team’s recommendations and progress were fine. The sudden threat of departure by the Trade Publications editors was going to pose a challenge to Allison & Omari’s recovery, but they were glad that we managed to reduce the numbers of editors who eventually resigned. That was the silver lining from my outburst at Hubert and Mr Chiang.
Brushing a dropped french fry off my pants, I added, “I mentioned who you were and how you and Mr Subra managed to talk some of the fence-sitters into remaining. So… If you have any intention of transferring to Manticore Corporate, or any other Manticore company or affiliate, things can happen… Thanks for your help, Elise.”
She beamed me a smile, one of those where her eyes closed into two semi-circular arches. Cute.
To say that I was full from lunch was an understatement.
Elise drained her cup of diet coke, gave a satisfied sigh and excused herself to go to the ladies.
She had decimated everything on the tray. Eyeing her still flat stomach and slim waist, I wondered whether the laws of physics were bent in her favour too. I mean, how the hell do you stuff so much food without it showing up somewhere on the body?
Boobs, came a crude thought.
What she eats must have gone to those sweet peaks. I smiled pervertedly and continued trying to finish my fries.
From the burger place, we explored the rest of Tampines One, noting that most of the tenants comprised the same-old brands. We hopped by Tampines Mall, where Elise found the shops there to be more her cup of tea.
She asked me a few times if I wasn’t too bored going window shopping with her. I’d been well trained following my mum and sis on shopping trips in my younger days, so I was totally fine with it.
“Anyway, you’re not getting off scot-free,” I said to Elise. “Gonna bring you shopping for a wireless router and a few spools of cat 6 network cables. It’ll be SO fun!”
Elise had an expression of horror and disgust.
But really, window shopping with her was a pleasure. She had good taste in clothes, and looked good in just about anything.
She’d be the type of girl that other women would love to hate.