Wednesday, January 21, 2009
All's Well That Ends Well
The next day I got up early and drove into my office, ostensibly to clean out my desk. When I arrived, Ray was sitting at my desk and Richard Head was no where to be found.
“Did you give yourself a demotion,” I asked Ray, “or are you adding my job to your responsibilities?”
“Actually,” replied Ray, “I thought we could talk.”
“I'm afraid that I don't have anything to discuss.”
“At least let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Real coffee, or the crap they put in the machine?”
“The good stuff, of course.”
“OK,” I said, “but you're buying breakfast, too.”
We drove to the coffee shop, ordered food and drinks, and sat down. We ate in silence for a bit, then Ray said, “I don't want you to quit.”
“And I want to play centerfield for the Detroit Tigers, but we can't always have what we want.”
“This is a bad time to be out of work, Frank.”
“I don't care. I have some money in the bank. My cars are paid for. Besides the house, we don't have any debts. And if I get desperate, I can always hire out the cat for entertainment.”
“I thought your cat died, Frank.”
“I still have one left. Look, Ray, I'm sick of the bullshit. I'm sick of the whining. I'm sick of the paperwork. I'm sick of trying to meet meaningless metrics while delivering crap applications. I'm sick of the whole dance. And I'm really sick of Dick Head dumping all of his anxiety onto me. I need some time to take care of myself and my family. So I'm walking away now before I stroke out.”
Ray considered for a moment. “How about this … it is customary to give your employer two weeks notice before leaving. Take that time off and forget about this place. Then call me and let me know how you feel.”
“No. I've made up my mind.”
“Well, I'm not accepting your resignation for two weeks. Call me anyway. That can be your exit interview. In the meantime, I'm going to talk to Mr. Head. If he feels that your project is in such jeopardy, I'll take over management of the project. You would report directly to me.”
“Won't happen. Dick Head will whimper too much. He'll put all of the blame on me.”
“Let me handle that.”
I thought for a second. “I don't know, Ray. We haven't always worked so well together in the past.”
“That's because I didn't have the experience to know that you don't need any guidance. You know the client well enough that I don't really need to be involved. They trust you and I trust you. And Dick Head will be out of the picture.”
“I don't know, Ray.”
“Don't make up your mind now. Go home, take it easy, get things settled around the house. Call me in two weeks and we'll talk then.”
I finished my food and coffee, went home, and went to bed. I think better when I'm asleep. When I woke up, Angela came in, made me get naked, and … um … gave me a massage. With her tongue. Afterwards I felt much better.
I spent the next two weeks catching up on Maribel's basketball team, working with Luke to get him settled in and determining a plan for treatment and schooling, and tinkering around the house. I thought about work for about ten minutes. When it came time to call Ray, I told Angela what I had decided. She agreed with me, so I dialed my employer.
“Ray,” I told him, “I will come back under one condition. I want more money.”
“I can't do it, Frank. The economy sucks, and raises are frozen.”
“I realize that. I want a bonus. I know that you wrote performance bonuses into the contract with the client for this project.”
“Done. When you finish delivery, I'll make sure that you're well rewarded.”
“Now,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Ray, I want the bonus now. In time for Christmas. We're ahead of schedule and under budget. I know you can do that.”
After a pause, Ray said, “Done.”
“For the whole team, Ray.”
“Of course. I can sell that. You guys deserve it.”
“And I want it grossed up. I don't want everyone to lose half of their bonus to taxes.”
“I don't know, Frank.”
“So can I come and clean out my desk or do you just want me to send my stuff to me?”
“Let me see what I can do, first.”
“Just make sure my good coffee mug doesn't get broken.”
“C'mon, Frank. I need you.”
“Then gross up the bonuses. You have budget authority the account. You've told me that yourself.”
“Bonuses have to be approved by HR.”
“But not the size, just the range. Those are my terms. It's a small price to pay so that you don't have to let Dick Head screw up the whole project.”
“I can't promise for sure......”
“Yes you can, Ray.” I hoped I could count on the popularity of Barak Obama to seal this one.
At last Ray said, “Yes, I can. Okay. I'll call you later and you can give me the full status of the project.”
I rang off, then
sat back with a smile. I probably would have come back without the bonus, but I knew that my project was too valuable to the account for Ray to take any chances. Besides, if my project went well and the client was happy, Ray could be in line to be a regional manager, something that he badly wanted. Even if part of the bonus money came out of Ray's pocket, it would be worth it to him.
Politics being what they are, in order to toss a bone to Dick Head, the two weeks off that I took was officially called a “suspension” for “insubordination.” But Ray made sure that it was a paid suspension. Since I have no real desire to advance into management with this company, the demerit didn't concern me. Besides, Ray would make sure that I would get good marks when I delivered this project.
It has later turned out that Richard Head was taken off of the account and given the position of “supervisor of quality management” with the regional office. “Quality management” is another word for paperwork. It was a lateral move for Dick, but he is convinced that he has more responsibility. He is very happy with the move. I am very happy. Ray is very happy. Even the client told me, in confidence, that he was happy, too.
That weekend, Bernie and her mate took Colette and Luke out for pizza, and Angela gave me a long, luscious spanking as my reward.
So there you have it. You now know why I was absent from Fantastic Spanking for the month of September. It has taken me three months to explain an absence of six weeks. Since so much happened, I'm sure that you now understand. After all, you are the finest readers on the internet. On the plus side, over the ensuing period, more has happened on the Spanko front, which has given me more stories to tell.
Despite everything, things have turned out satisfactorily. There are still challenges, to be sure, but, right now, life is good.
Scratch that. Life is fantastic.
“Did you give yourself a demotion,” I asked Ray, “or are you adding my job to your responsibilities?”
“Actually,” replied Ray, “I thought we could talk.”
“I'm afraid that I don't have anything to discuss.”
“At least let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Real coffee, or the crap they put in the machine?”
“The good stuff, of course.”
“OK,” I said, “but you're buying breakfast, too.”
We drove to the coffee shop, ordered food and drinks, and sat down. We ate in silence for a bit, then Ray said, “I don't want you to quit.”
“And I want to play centerfield for the Detroit Tigers, but we can't always have what we want.”
“This is a bad time to be out of work, Frank.”
“I don't care. I have some money in the bank. My cars are paid for. Besides the house, we don't have any debts. And if I get desperate, I can always hire out the cat for entertainment.”
“I thought your cat died, Frank.”
“I still have one left. Look, Ray, I'm sick of the bullshit. I'm sick of the whining. I'm sick of the paperwork. I'm sick of trying to meet meaningless metrics while delivering crap applications. I'm sick of the whole dance. And I'm really sick of Dick Head dumping all of his anxiety onto me. I need some time to take care of myself and my family. So I'm walking away now before I stroke out.”
Ray considered for a moment. “How about this … it is customary to give your employer two weeks notice before leaving. Take that time off and forget about this place. Then call me and let me know how you feel.”
“No. I've made up my mind.”
“Well, I'm not accepting your resignation for two weeks. Call me anyway. That can be your exit interview. In the meantime, I'm going to talk to Mr. Head. If he feels that your project is in such jeopardy, I'll take over management of the project. You would report directly to me.”
“Won't happen. Dick Head will whimper too much. He'll put all of the blame on me.”
“Let me handle that.”
I thought for a second. “I don't know, Ray. We haven't always worked so well together in the past.”
“That's because I didn't have the experience to know that you don't need any guidance. You know the client well enough that I don't really need to be involved. They trust you and I trust you. And Dick Head will be out of the picture.”
“I don't know, Ray.”
“Don't make up your mind now. Go home, take it easy, get things settled around the house. Call me in two weeks and we'll talk then.”
I finished my food and coffee, went home, and went to bed. I think better when I'm asleep. When I woke up, Angela came in, made me get naked, and … um … gave me a massage. With her tongue. Afterwards I felt much better.
I spent the next two weeks catching up on Maribel's basketball team, working with Luke to get him settled in and determining a plan for treatment and schooling, and tinkering around the house. I thought about work for about ten minutes. When it came time to call Ray, I told Angela what I had decided. She agreed with me, so I dialed my employer.
“Ray,” I told him, “I will come back under one condition. I want more money.”
“I can't do it, Frank. The economy sucks, and raises are frozen.”
“I realize that. I want a bonus. I know that you wrote performance bonuses into the contract with the client for this project.”
“Done. When you finish delivery, I'll make sure that you're well rewarded.”
“Now,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Ray, I want the bonus now. In time for Christmas. We're ahead of schedule and under budget. I know you can do that.”
After a pause, Ray said, “Done.”
“For the whole team, Ray.”
“Of course. I can sell that. You guys deserve it.”
“And I want it grossed up. I don't want everyone to lose half of their bonus to taxes.”
“I don't know, Frank.”
“So can I come and clean out my desk or do you just want me to send my stuff to me?”
“Let me see what I can do, first.”
“Just make sure my good coffee mug doesn't get broken.”
“C'mon, Frank. I need you.”
“Then gross up the bonuses. You have budget authority the account. You've told me that yourself.”
“Bonuses have to be approved by HR.”
“But not the size, just the range. Those are my terms. It's a small price to pay so that you don't have to let Dick Head screw up the whole project.”
“I can't promise for sure......”
“Yes you can, Ray.” I hoped I could count on the popularity of Barak Obama to seal this one.
At last Ray said, “Yes, I can. Okay. I'll call you later and you can give me the full status of the project.”
I rang off, then
sat back with a smile. I probably would have come back without the bonus, but I knew that my project was too valuable to the account for Ray to take any chances. Besides, if my project went well and the client was happy, Ray could be in line to be a regional manager, something that he badly wanted. Even if part of the bonus money came out of Ray's pocket, it would be worth it to him.Politics being what they are, in order to toss a bone to Dick Head, the two weeks off that I took was officially called a “suspension” for “insubordination.” But Ray made sure that it was a paid suspension. Since I have no real desire to advance into management with this company, the demerit didn't concern me. Besides, Ray would make sure that I would get good marks when I delivered this project.
It has later turned out that Richard Head was taken off of the account and given the position of “supervisor of quality management” with the regional office. “Quality management” is another word for paperwork. It was a lateral move for Dick, but he is convinced that he has more responsibility. He is very happy with the move. I am very happy. Ray is very happy. Even the client told me, in confidence, that he was happy, too.
That weekend, Bernie and her mate took Colette and Luke out for pizza, and Angela gave me a long, luscious spanking as my reward.
So there you have it. You now know why I was absent from Fantastic Spanking for the month of September. It has taken me three months to explain an absence of six weeks. Since so much happened, I'm sure that you now understand. After all, you are the finest readers on the internet. On the plus side, over the ensuing period, more has happened on the Spanko front, which has given me more stories to tell.
Despite everything, things have turned out satisfactorily. There are still challenges, to be sure, but, right now, life is good.
Scratch that. Life is fantastic.
