Georgia on Her Mind(2)

My phone rings as Jillian exits. Caller ID tells me it’s Lucy—thank goodness.

I stretch around my desk with one booted leg and tip the door shut. The dam holding back the tears breaks.

“Macy, what’s wrong?” Lucy asks about ten times before I can suck it up enough to answer her.

“I am so angry, so, so angry,” I manage between sobs. I drop my head and braid back my hair with my fingers. Tears drip onto the faux oak desktop. I wipe them away with the edge of the org chart Jillian left behind.

“What happened?”

“Attila the Hun reorganized the entire operations department.”

“When?”

“Over the weekend, I guess.”

“And?”

“I am no longer manager of customer service.”

“What? Can she do that?”

“She just did. Flip-flop a few names on a chart and—” My head pounds from the sudden surge of emotions. Casper is a medium-size but wildly successful software company. Kyle Casper’s latest brainchild, W-Book, is destined to take the World Wide Web by storm. Everyone from little Johnny to Great-Granny can create and maintain a Web site. It’s as easy as W-Book.

But I digress. “You know how these things go, Luce. They do what they want. Changing departments and department heads at the drop of a hat is nothing new. I just never imagined it would happen to me.”

Lucy consoles me. “Macy, you’re so good at what you do. You earned that job.”

“You don’t think I know that? But as of this morning’s e-mail, I report to Mike Perkins, the new manager of customer service. He reports to Roni.”

“She could have at least changed his title,” Lucy notes in a soft tone.

“One would think.” I’m back to fuming. There is no reason, absolutely no reason, for her to replace me. My performance evaluations do not indicate unsatisfactory work or poor leadership.

I give 110 percent to Casper & Company. I arrive early, stay late. Last Thanksgiving I volunteered to work over the holiday weekend to help secure a half-million-dollar deal. And in December I donated the last two days of my Colorado vacation to accompany the VP of sales on a client visit.

“Macy, there has to be a reason,” Lucy concludes.

“Attila the Hun’s lunatic incompetence?”

“Talk to Kyle,” she suggests.

“He’s a coward. He’ll tell me to talk to Roni and then back whatever she says.”

“Then talk to Roni.” Lucy’s full of advice I don’t like.

“No. She did this—let her come to me.”

“Fine.” Lucy sighs. “Then live with it, no complaints.”

I laugh. “Do you know me at all?”

“Since the tenth grade. I love you like a sister, but I won’t spend the next year hearing you whine about what Veronica Karpinski did to you.”

Lucy knows me, all right. But nothing about her honesty changes the fact that I will complain. If this were mine to own, I’d darken Roni’s office door and deal. But this is her game.

I am, er, was, a department manager. Man-a-ger. Trainers, tech support, sales support and documentation reported to me. I watched out over them, my people.

Mike Perkins…Who’s she kidding? The staff can’t stand him. He’s egotistical, all the while being incredibly goofy. Every week he comes into the staff meeting, clears his throat about a hundred times and asks, “Do any of you need the latest episode of Xena, Warrior Princess? I’ve got it on TiVo.”

Every week. He frightens me.

I hear a light knock and look up to see Roni peering in, pushing my office door open.

“Luce, call ya back.”

So, the coward came calling. With my back to her, I give one last swipe of my eyes with the soggy org chart, then whip around with a faint smile and invite my former boss to have a seat.

“What do you think?” She picks up the hard copy of the org chart with her manicured hand as she pulls up a chair. She makes a face. “It’s wet.”

“Water.”

“Oh.” She drops the paper back to the desk. “Well?” She crosses her legs and swings her foot up and down.

“I don’t understand it.” My headache intensifies. I lean against the side of my desk for support. I suppose I could sit, but somehow standing gives me sense of control, real or imagined.

“Change, Macy. We’re taking the customer service department to the next level.”

The dark clouds outside my window produce a rumble of thunder. I look out just as a bolt of lightning flickers to the ground like a snake’s tongue. Suddenly rain rat-a-tats against the window.

“What next level?” I ask, facing Roni. “What are you talking about?”

“Mike Perkins developed a plan to weave training, tech support with product development. He’s added a few new tiers to our structure. Kyle likes it. I like it.”

A few new tiers? Corporate mumbo jumbo.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’re on board.” Roni smiles. Her foot is still swinging back and forth.

With bravado I ask, “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to make a change? I was a manager, Roni.”

“Just business, Macy. Don’t get offended.” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal.