have time to resolve my metaphorical misalignment.
“Welcome back!” Stu Barnes greeted me with an enthusiastic handshake. “What the hell happened to your hair?”
There was laughter among the group. I shrugged. “I only wear it this way to be cool — bald is the hip look these days. I can’t believe you haven’t shaved your own head.” Stu, the VP of operations at Hyler, had been my boss and mentor from my earliest days there. Although he must have been close to sixty-five, the bastard still sported a thick head of hair, with only a few patches of gray.
“Luckily, you’ve got just the perfect fat head to make the look work.” That was Amanda Payton, the VP of IT. Amanda had been on the career fast track, a bit like me, until she’d decided that the travel and time away from the family wasn’t quite worth it. It took me a little longer to figure that out.
Also around the table was Mark Goldman, the director of human resources, who’d just been an HR analyst during my time at Hyler. Sheila Chan was now the VP of engineering. Luigi Delgarno was still there as the director of manufacturing, though I was surprised he hadn’t retired long ago. Alice Sorensen from accounting and finance, and Leslie Frame, the VP of sales and marketing, rounded out the group. There were more comments, catcalls, and general expressions of skepticism that I was still gainfully employed, surprise at my early release from prison, and speculation about my questionable ancestry before everyone settled down to business.
“I can see by your comments that I’ve already gained the respect of the team,” I told the group. I had to admit, it felt really good to be back. For about three minutes. “OK, guys, you know why I’m here,” I said, “so lay it on me — what’s our situation?”
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as everyone looked around the table at each other. Finally, Amanda spoke. “Actually, we’re not quite sure why you’re here. We all thought Stu was going to be taking the job when Jim Flemming left.”
Stu held up his hands, palms outward. “Not that I wanted it. I don’t fancy myself in the role of grim reaper.”
Alice said, “We’re guessing that head office sending you in means we’re going to shut everything down that much sooner.”
“Shut everything down?” I asked. “Where is that coming from?”
Amanda sighed. “C’mon, Will, you know how things are going. The recession kicked the crap out of the recreation industry, us included. We know it’s just a matter of time before everything we make is moved offshore. You’ve been the special projects guy for ten years. You’re here to wrap things up.”
“It’s no big secret,” Luigi added. “We’re a manufacturing plant in America. Nobody does that anymore.”
Stu shrugged. “We’re just happy it’s you who’s coming in to do it, Will. It’s gonna hurt, but better that it’s one of our own.”
I looked around the room, feeling like the veterinarian who’s been summoned on a house call to put down the family cat. “Guys,” I protested, “that is not at all what I’m here to do. My job — our job — is to help make Hyler viable again, not close it down.” I paused for a minute and glanced at the faces around the table. “How bad is it?”
It wasn’t great. As Ralph had outlined, there were issues with production and efficiency, issues with product sales, and issues with delivery times on the products Hyler did sell. And a union problem: grievances, tension, mistrust, and an all-round deteriorating relationship.
I started to tune out as the details of the latest union problem were discussed. I tuned back in again when Stu said, “The bottom line is, if we take this grievance to the next step, we’re going to have a strike on our hands.” He folded his arms and stared at the paper in front of him on the conference table. “Quite frankly, maybe that’s what we should do.”
Amanda did not agree. “Are you nuts? A strike? Right now? That’s all head office would need to shut us down for good! They’re just looking for an excuse.” She suddenly remembered I was in the room. “Uh, I mean, I know what you said a minute ago and all, Will, but that’s the way it feels sometimes . . .”
“Maybe head office is right,” Stu persisted. “Personally, this union situation has me thinking that offshoring everything we do would be a pretty good idea.”
In the past, Stu was always the guy I turned to for sensible advice and he was a positive influence on every situation. He was the last person I’d have expected to make a comment like that.
“Stu, that seems a bit extreme,” I said. “Is it really that bad?”
I LOVE MY WIFE. Not in a starry-eyed, I’m-seventeen-and-still-in-love-after-three-weeks kind of way, but more in the been-married-for-nineteen-years-two-teenagers-pets-work-and-family-angst-and-I-still-can’t-wait-to-get-home-to-see-her kind of way. I won’t go into the details of the mushy stuff that somehow remains strong after all this time, but I will say there is no one I want to see more after a day like the one I’d just had.
I slumped into one of the kitchen chairs. “Do we have any Scotch?” I asked.
Jenny rolled her eyes. “You only drink Scotch when you’re trying to be dramatic.”
“Good point,” I said. “Vodka would be much more effective.”
For a moment Jenny looked concerned. “That bad?”
I sighed. “Only if you believe the management team, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t. They do have a vested interest in the future of Hyler.”
“Hey, Dad, what’s up?” Jake sauntered into the kitchen and plunked himself down across the table from me. “How was the first day back?”
“How do you feel about Indonesia?”
He gave me a puzzled look. “I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get it because you’re an idiot.” Sarah appeared on Jake’s heels, texting intently and editorializing, as she normally does.
“Hi, honey,” I said. She continued to stroll, text, ignore me, and provide commentary.
“Dad’s talking about Indonesia because that’s where he’s going to move all the work that Hyler does, after he fires everyone and closes down the plant. And since there won’t be any more jobs here, we’ll all be moving to Indonesia or some other crazy country where we can be sweatshop laborers and work with eight-year-olds fourteen hours a day so that Dad’s boss in Chicago can get paid ten million dollars a year.” She looked up at me and smiled, her eyes bright with sarcasm. “Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“What makes you say that?” I asked her.
“Duh, Dad. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Everyone at school has been talking about it for months. Most of the parents work at the plant, and everyone has just been waiting for the hatchet man to show up. That’s you.” A look of actual concern crept across her face. “When that plant closes, this place is going to suck.”
Jake made no attempt to hide his worry at her words. “That’s not what you’re doing, is it, Dad?”
I shook my head, trying to convey complete confidence in my words. “Of course not, Jake. Don’t
