Ron, Karen and I meet for breakfast at nine to discuss the layout of the January-February issue. Hand Ron the text and photos with my notes regarding placement. They will have the bluelines ready for my review in a week. They ask if I'm interested in rumors.
Leaning forward, I say, "Do tell."
They've heard that Dick Scope, the new president of Doc's Place, is not happy with me and has tried to fire me more than once. They also tell me that the word around Reno is that Dick is considering layoffs to assure stable profitability during remodeling.
Tell them they didn't hear this from me but Dick hired the new HR Manager under Louise Northcutt specifically as his hatchet man. His name is Marion Drull and his mission is to cut staff so Doc's Place stays profitable and Dick can collect his fat bonuses. Ron and Karen ask if my position is secure and I tell them yes.
Karen asks if Ferro is behind the layoffs.
"Of course not," I tell her.
Karen asks if Ferro plans to keep or sell Doc's Place.
"Oh, they'll keep it for sure," I tell her. "Think about it, Karen. The club is profitable and Ferro is plowing money right back into it in the form of remodeling, the museum and refurbishing items within the historical collection. You heard that Ferro bought the old Silver Dollar Buick, right?"
Karen leans forward and asks, "Jill, are you saying Dick Scope and this hatchet man, Marion, are cutting people without Ferro's knowledge or consent?"
"Dick Scope's new at this president gig, Karen," I tell her. "His experience is accounting, so his doing whatever it takes to get his bonus without regard to the effects on people shows his inexperience as an executive. However, Ferro just promoted him. How would it look if Ferro turned around and fired him a few weeks later?"
The streets are treacherous with new snowfall as I drive to Doc's Place, but I finally arrive for a meeting in Liz's office with her team. Several executives have passed the requirements, including Morty, Glenn and Carlos as well as their day and swing shift managers. We discuss their next trainees, the night shift managers. We also discuss how the team will arrange to be at Doc's Place for these late-night meetings. They feel confident in proceeding without me.
Liz asks me to stay after she excuses Thomas and Samantha. "Louise, Marion and I are gathering evidence against Jerry Pitkeros. We have discussed it with Dick and he agrees that the guy is just too much trouble. By terminating him now, Dick can promote the Beverage manager, Irv Backler, to Director of Food and Beverage, and we can begin training him in his new position."
"Good idea," I tell her. "So this is Dick's decision?"
"Yes. Whose else would it be?"
Shrug. "Is Dick firing anyone else?"
She looks away and then returns her eyes to mine. "Dick wants two people in HR to go. One will be Rose, the clerk who has been here thirty-nine years." Liz takes a deep breath and releases a sigh. "The other is a Personnel supervisor. We don't have enough to fire her for cause but Louise has decided she's the one. Nevada is an `at will discharge' state anyway."
"Who's going to drop the hammer on these HR people?"
"Well, Louise feels that she should be the one to do it."
"I disagree. Let that new guy do it."
"Why do you think so?"
"Louise takes this stuff too personally because she's worked with these people for years. Conversely, the new guy doesn't care since he doesn't know anybody. Tell her that you and I strongly advise having Drull cut Rose and that supervisor, Liz."
"Okay, I'll tell her you said so. She trusts you, Jill."
Back in my office, I find stacks of messages from various people. Toss them into the trash with the photo prints and text for Dick's supplement. Stuff my notes and sheets of paper for layout of the January-February issue on top of that.
Annette pokes her head in to ask me if I have time to step out of my office for a moment.
Follow her out, where several Gaming, Marketing and HR people have gathered. They begin cheering and applauding as I look at them, blinking.
"Congratulations!" says Louise and Kevin.
"What for?" I ask.
"First, the November-December issue has received its first publishing award for excellence," says Louise as she holds up a plaque. "This will go on display," she says. "Second, we have no less than 1,800 requests for reprints from collectors all over the world. Dick has already signed a requisition to print 2,000 more copies of this issue."
"Third," says Kevin, "Our subscription requests for Doc's Talks have doubled in the past week. We'll print 5,000 of your next issue. I hope it's a good one."
"Better than this one," I say.
Everyone applauds and cheers again.
"Fourth," says Glenn, "Kevin, Morty and I took your idea for inviting high-rollers coming to nearby casinos and sent them a copy. Guess what response we got?" Shrugging, I guess, "Two percent?"
"Twelve percent! Most of them came over the telephone!" Amid renewed cheers and applause, Glenn shouts, "These are high rollers that competing casinos invited to Reno!" When the noise dies down, he adds, "Most have not only promised to visit the museum but they've promised to begin visiting Doc's Place to play before then."
After handshakes and repeated congratulations, people begin returning to work. Back in my office, I telephone Margaret. We spend a half-hour making plans to gather my parents, sister and brothers to celebrate Thanksgiving at a resort near Salt Lake City.
The moment I hang up, Annette tells me that Louise would like to see me in her office. Walk up the hall to find Louise at her desk. Marion is facing her in one of the two chairs so I sit in the other.
"Thank you for coming over," says Louise. "What did you think of the impromptu little appreciation ceremony? Kevin and I pulled it together this morning."
"Nice. Thanks."
"You're welcome, Jill. How is the next issue coming?"
"On schedule."
"When will the blueline be ready?"
"After Thanksgiving."
"Good, good," she says. "I'm looking forward to it. You say it's better than this one?"
"Definitely."
"And how are the executive and management videotaping and training coming along?"
"On schedule."
"Uh, we have a few questions about that project we'd like to review with you, Jill. Would you please get the proposal and budget?"
"No."
"I'm sorry?" When I do not respond, Louise says, "Jill, Marion has a few questions about the project that no one seems to be able to answer. We'd like to review it before we move further."
Slide down in the chair, extend my legs and lean my head back against the wall.
"Jill, please," says Louise. "Marion just needs a few questions answered."
Relaxing, I wait.
Louise says, "Marion simply wants to compare the project's budget with its goals. That's all."
"We're under budget for the goals we've achieved so far, which, as I said, are on schedule."
"And what are those goals?" asks Marion.
Turning my head slowly, I look at him. He looks at me with a practiced, slightly friendly, but noncommittal expression. Wait and wait. When he averts his eyes, I look at Louise. "Anything else?"
While Louise stares, a frown on her face, I rise to my feet. "I'll have another status report next week, Louise." Turning, I walk to my office, grab my things and leave. The streets are slow going because of an early snow. The radio stations are talking about Kirkwood opening up this weekend. Squaw Valley and Mount Rose resorts are saying they'll definitely open by Thanksgiving.
At the bar where the university students hang, I find Heather and Jenny having an animated conversation about skiing in Utah. I've skied most of those resorts more than a hundred times. "Well hell," I say, "When they open up, let's go to Salt Lake and ski all weekend."
"That's what we were talking about, Jill," says Heather.
Look at her, blinking.
"Alta, Snowbird, Brighton, Park City, Deer Valley'they're all open," says Jenny.
"Hey, forty inches of snow pack and three feet of fresh powder this morning at Alta and Snowbird," says Heather. "Look at this shit," she says, pointing outside. "It'll snow all weekend. Can you and Sara get off work?"
"I am off work," I tell her, excited. "I'll call Sara."
We push for the door. "One of my roommates can take us to the airport," says Heather, "Let's meet at my place. I'll call and make the room reservations." "Don't bother. I have friends with a place in Sugarhouse," I tell her. "From there, we can run south on Highland Drive and Wasatch Boulevard to Little Cottonwood Canyon for Alta and Snowbird, or run east on I-80 to Park City and Deer Valley."
"They won't mind us dropping in?" asks Jenny.
"They're out of the country," I tell them. Actually, it was my grandparents' condominium, and they're dead, which qualifies as being out the country. "Perfect!" yell Heather and Jenny simultaneously. We split up.
At home, I call Margaret and ask her to tell Sara to come home, now, because we're going skiing in Utah. Margaret agrees to arrange charter and car reservations. Gather my ski gear, stack it in the garage and begin to pack when Margaret calls.
"I have a ten-seat charter waiting at the airport for your godson, Kmark, and his father," says Margaret. "You can hop in with them. A driver with a van is waiting for you and your friends at Salt Lake. The driver is yours for the long weekend. I called your neighbors in Salt Lake. When they saw the snow forecast, they prepped the hot tub and stocked your condominium with groceries. They figured you would want to ski this weekend." When I thank her, she says, "Hang on a moment for Sui, Jill."
"When you meet Donna, discuss anything you want," says Sui. "She checks out."
Ask, "Donna who?" but the line is dead. Shrug and keep moving as Sara bursts in and begins scrambling to pack. Her driver helps us stow our gear in the car so she can take us to meet the others.
At Heather's place, her roommate has his Ford Econoline van warming up in the driveway. Heather, Jenny, Sara and I jam our stuff in the back and walk inside the house. Her roommate spreads his hands and says, "Just called the airport. Flights are overbooked. You can fly standby but your chances suck. You can take my van if you want to drive." "Not necessary," Sara tells them. "My employer's husband and son have invited us to share their charter. We have a van and a driver waiting for us in Salt Lake City."
Heather hugs her, as does Jenny. A few minutes later, the four of us are in the van with our gear, whooping and laughing. When Heather asks what I told my boss at work, I say, "Nothing. I just left."
At the airport, ten-year-old KMark and his father, Marlon, welcome us aboard with three of KMark's friends. Once we land in Salt Lake City, Marlon, KMark and his pals say good-bye, climb in a limo and leave for the family chalet near Park City. Our driver helps stow our gear in the van and takes us to the condo, which has two bedrooms, each with a double bed. The driver agrees to pick us up early in the morning and take us to breakfast.
Show everyone the hot tub outside, where a heavy snow is falling. We order a pizza delivery, relax and get comfortable.
While everyone is eating and chatting, I use the phone to call the Salt Lake City Detectives. Bruno's captain takes my call and tells me that Bruno is working an undercover assignment out of state. He asks if it's critical that I talk to Bruno. Tell him no thanks and leave the phone number.
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