Read The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book Page 51
Some were fidgeting nervously, as though the proverbial pea was pushing up through their thick leather seat bottoms; others found solace by manipulating the different objects within the bounds of their small territories on the long polished table, water glasses, lined paper pads, VBI embossed pens and; one or two could have been mistaken for wax figures, staring straight ahead without the least signs of life, the best way to avoid detection by prowling predators. Not having heard anything further from Milly since the violent hunting lodge incident, and his jeweled cross fabrication after their interview with Sanschagrin, Abelard simply resumed his role at VBI and presided, as he usually would, over the edgy gathering.
The ten executives reporting to Abelard, the VBI Pharma division boss, knew that this meeting would not end well for some. The little magenta pills – for these finance types colour was the common code they all used to identify the products purveyed by their company – had become a big red headache. The losses from production runs that had to be destroyed due to poor quality control were mounting. Abelard was furiously discomfited by this persistent problem. He had been assured by Badger Valois, who now reported to him, and was the operations head, that all would soon be as it should. That was more than a month ago.
“Badger,” Abelard began, in a flat, inscrutable monotone, “not only has the fourth consecutive batch had to be destroyed, which would already be unacceptable, but we have now lost a second large magenta pill customer. Harry, our very own bean counter, tells me this will reduce our earnings by over 10% for the quarter. I’m sure there is a perfectly good explanation for this regrettable turn of events. If you can satisfy us, we will end this meeting and return to our day jobs. The floor is yours my friend,” Abelard’s intent less veiled than before.
“Everything checks out, the raw materials are pristine, the machinery has just been inspected by the FDA, the packaging line is working perfectly and shipping has just been given top marks by our own internal audit team. The trouble,” Badger paused to cast a malevolent look towards Taylor Hemlock, the human resources chief, “is almost surely with sabotage by disgruntled employees. I don’t know if Taylor has told you about the little problem we are having over at the plant. The people who push the little magenta pills around, checking for defects, making sure no contaminants leak into the processing tanks and so on, have been complaining about abusive treatment by the supervisors. I would have to guess that they have taken matters into their own hands, since nothing seems to have been done about their grievances.”
“That’s bullshit,” Taylor Hemlock sprang to his feet. “I have set up a committee to give me recommendations by the end of this month and all indications are that the folk on the magenta line believe that their complaints will be addressed,” he all but shouted at Badger and then turned to Abelard. “You might want to check a little more closely on those glowing reports that Badger has been feeding you about everything working properly.”
Abelard had in fact looked at those reports and didn’t believe them. Nor did he have any faith in Taylor’s committee or any committee for that matter. He could no longer count on these two and they would have to go. He would waste no more time.
“Badger, Taylor, Alberta is expecting you to come by her office this afternoon. I will be in at our magenta pill plant tomorrow to see about its future. This might be a good time to take a break. See you all in fifteen.” Abelard moved briskly through the door which led from his private conference room directly to his office. Behind his desk he leaned back heavily in the tightly tensed, cloth upholstered chair and reflected on the swift justice he had just administered. Everyone in the room knew that a meeting with Alberta, arranged by the boss, was little more than a pre-dismissal formality. Alberta would already be prepared with an attractive severance package to entice the pariahs to leave without a struggle and a threat of long, expensive litigation should the package not be sufficient encouragement.
Abelard was quicker than most when it came to weeding out those he found wanting, could no longer count upon or who displeased him in other ways. He recalls always being like that. Procrastination, vacillation, the appearance of indecisiveness, Abelard knew were all fatal flaws for a leader. Human nature being what it is, these are like open sores begging to be jabbed; rules are broken, discipline is but a fond memory and the more adventurous are grabbing for ever larger shares of the take. When his law is broken, when a subordinate can no longer be relied on to do his bidding, there can be no outcome other than swift sanction. His memories were full of incidents that could have ended his career had he not acted swiftly and unambiguously. Brigandage, an alternative employment during the tiresome peace that now and again broke out to interrupt the lucrative Hundred Years War, counted many. The industry, which engaged men of a rather violent nature, demanded stern leadership. He attributes his enviable success in this enterprise to his uncompromising decisiveness. Among many he immodestly recalls one particular incident which plainly highlighted his outstanding leadership abilities.