Chapter 8: Taking Charge

"It's when they open their legs that you're in real trouble. Just when you think you're in, you discover they've closed their minds." Doug 1 July 1992

July 1, 1992

After a great night's sleep, I rose early, thinking I would catch Mr. Oldham at breakfast. Alas, he was already gone. I ate quickly, reminding Suzanne on my way out the door that I wouldn't be home for dinner that evening.

Everything from the traffic to the elevator was slow that morning, resulting in making me late to work for the third day in a row. I'd barely set a can of tennis balls on my desk when Sharon came to tell me that my dad wanted to see me.

Wanda was already in Mr. Oldham's office when I walked in. She looked nervous when she saw me. I winked to show her there was nothing to worry about.

"Good morning, Sam. You have ten minutes to sell me," Mr. Oldham said.

Knowing that I was making his first appointment of the day wait in the lobby, I launched my pitch without taking a seat.

"Wanda, please tell my dad the steps I had to take yesterday to get you to prioritize my project."

"I couldn't, Sammy. I don't want to get you into trouble."

"Its okay, Wanda, we're all adults here. I'll get you started," I said. And then, to Mr. Oldham, "I walked into her office and demanded that she help me prepare for the briefing. Wanda told me that she was not my fucking servant. Now, Ms Rowell, you take it from there."

Still reluctant to speak, Wanda gave me an 'if-looks-could-kill' stare. "Time is wasting, Wanda. We only have ten minutes."

She cleared her throat. "Sammy closed my door and..."

"Slammed, Wanda, I slammed your door."

"He slammed my door, closed the window blinds and was behind me before I knew what was happening," she said, stopping as if that was all that happened.

"What else did I do?"

She looked at me and then at Mr. Oldham, as if to ask, 'do I have to'?

"What else did I do?" I repeated, moving in back of her chair, where she couldn't see me.

"Sammy put his hands on my boobs and nibbled on my ear," she said, shivering as she spoke to Mr. Oldham, like I wasn't in the room.

"How did you react to my playing with your breasts, Wanda?" I asked, noticing that Mr. Oldham was watching her closely.

"I warned Sammy that I would have to file a sexual harassment charge if anyone saw what he was doing."

"What did you suggest?"

"I told him he should lock the door if he was going to take me."

"What did I say to you, Wanda?"

"He said he loved me like a sister and he had no intention of doing anything to me."

Mr. Oldham breathed a sigh of relief and this made Wanda loosen up. "Sammy blew in my ear and told me to start spitting out graphs."

Mr. Oldham leaned forward to hold Wanda's attention. "Ms Rowell, do you have intentions to file sexual harassment charges against Sam?"

"Oh, no Sir, I would never do anything to harm Sammy," she said, tipping her head back and grinning at me. "I'll always be indebted to Sammy for the way he supported me when my dad passed away."

"Did you have prior knowledge about this meeting before you came to my office this morning?"

"No, Sir, I still don't know why we're talking about yesterday."

Mr. Oldham's nod was my cue. I stepped into her view and spoke to Wanda. "Yesterday, I observed that others are taking advantage of your generosity. I believe it's making you frustrated because you want to help everyone with their projects. What I'm proposing is that you report to me until the end of the summer. That's how we'll present it, but really, I'll be working for you, prioritizing your work, running interference. I promise never to get your attention the way I found it necessary to do yesterday. How does that sound to you?"

I guess Mr. Oldham could tell what her answer was by the look on Wanda's face. He stood up to indicate my ten minutes were up. I put my hand on Wanda's shoulder to guide her out of the office. "This is super. I've wanted to be Sammy's assistant for a long time," she said as I guided her away from Mr. Oldham.

As we reached the door, I heard him tell Sharon, "My son will prepare a memo for my signature."

Wanda was bubbling when she followed me into my office. She spotted my name on the door before I did. "Is this your office, Sammy? Can I move someplace near you? Why did you make me tell your father about yesterday? What do you want me to do first?"

"Don't sit down, Wanda. This isn't a meeting," I said, and saw that she was already seated, refusing to leave until I answered her questions.

"Okay, this is how it's going to work. You tell me what you need and I'll tell you what I need. There's no office nearby, so you'll have to stay where you are. Anyway, this arrangement is only for a few weeks. You did a good job of convincing my dad that this will work. Thanks. Now, the first thing I want you to do is to compile a list of your workload and send it to me. After I sort out the requests we can reject, we'll assign realistic dates of completion to the others."

"What can I do for you? I want to be your assistant, Sammy."

"You're too valuable for that sort of work. I have bigger plans for you, Wanda."

"You do?"

"Yes, after we get you caught up we're going to turn out some good shit together. I have concerns about the real estate market. That presentation we put together yesterday opened my eyes. Together, we're going to get a jump on it before a soft market takes us down."

"I already love working for you, Sammy," she said, already on her feet. I watched her wink at me as she left. I booted my computer and began working on the memo to announce the personnel change. It was short, simply stating that all requests for Ms Rowell's services would be submitted in writing to her and that S.K. Oldham was to be copied. I saw no reason to say that Wanda would be reporting to me or that the change was temporary. Anyone who could read between the lines knew that I would be returning to school soon.

The memo was sent to the entire company at ten-twelve A.M. and by ten-twenty, I had seven emails wanting to know the status of requests that were over a week old. Just then, Wanda marched into my office, looking like she was near tears.

"Everyone's calling me, wanting to know the reason for the red tape. What should I tell them?"

"Tell them to go fuck ... no, give them my number and tell them to call me," I said and saw her looking at me with a forlorn look on her face.

"They won't call you. They'll just yell at me."

"What's that?" I asked, looking at a folder she was carrying.

"This is what people want me to do for them," she said, handing it to me.

"Have a seat, Wanda," I said as I began thumbing through the paper in the folder. "What's this?" I asked, showing her what appeared to be a cocktail napkin with scribbling on it.

"Mr. Barker wants me to prepare a proposal for a new copier. All the numbers are there. He wants me to plug in some history to justify replacing an old one."

"Don't you know the word NO?" I asked her, extracting a tennis ball from the can before dialing Simon Barker's number. Wanda stuck her tongue out at me. "Barker," Simon answered his telephone.

"Sir, this is Sammy Oldham. I'd like to have Ms Rowell's phone hooked up in my office. She's going to be working in here part of the time today."

"That will take a work order. We won't be able to ... who did you say is calling?"

"Sammy Oldham, Sir. I don't have a work order form. Will a cocktail napkin suffice?"

"I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't recognize ... will fifteen minutes be satisfactory?"

"That will be great, Mr. Barker. I'd like to see you regarding this cocktail napkin, when you have a minute."

"I'll be there as soon as I take care of Ms Rowell's phone, Sir."

I resumed going through the folder, asking Wanda questions about each request. Over half of the requests required history from accounting. The more I saw of vague and misleading instructions on the requests, the harder I squeezed the tennis ball.

The telephone installer arrived and I was giving him instructions as to what I wanted when Simon Barker came in. Simon immediately approved a multi-line instrument for me and for my phone to be changed to Wanda's extension. Ten minutes later, the installer had completed his work and Wanda was answering her extension in my office.

"Have a seat, Mr. Barker," I said, unfolding the cocktail napkin with a flick of my right hand while squeezing the tennis ball with my left.

"That's ... that was ... the salesman offered to give me a formal quote ... I should have... ," Simon Barker stuttered.

"I think I get the picture. You were having a drink with the copier salesman and he started quoting prices and you copied them down on this napkin. How am I doing so far?"

Simon Barker was in his mid forties and quite capable, but I'd heard stories about him leaning too heavily on underlings. I didn't like the way he'd treated Wanda.

"Let me have that, Mr. Oldham. I'll have someone collect the numbers and resubmit my request to Ms Rowell."

He extended his hand and only dropped it when he saw that I wasn't going to relinquish the napkin.

"I worked in two of your departments the summer I was fifteen and I know you have a lot of balls..." pausing to toss the tennis ball into the air and catching it before adding, "in the air. But Ms Rowell is juggling a lot of balls, too. We all need to be sympathetic to her ... juggling act," I said as I placed the cocktail napkin into the folder and squeezed my tennis ball.

He got the picture; I was keeping his cocktail napkin. "I see your point, Mr. Oldham," he said as he got up and backed out of the office.

I'm sure that Simon Barker chalked me up as a smart-ass kid, wet behind the ears. And he may have tried to reciprocate by spreading rumors about my methods. But I pegged him as the worst offender and Wanda confirmed my suspicions by winking at me when Simon left.

I busied myself, answering the emails I'd received and contacting the requesters for Wanda's services. I must have made twenty telephone calls, explaining why the changes in procedure were necessary. Most were understanding, expressing praise for Ms Rowell's work and acting shocked that she was overloaded with work.

At the end of the day I had stepped on a lot of toes, but you would never have known it by the kowtowing I heard.

Eventually, the phone calls and emails tapered off. Wanda was able to go back to her own office to work and, thinking it safe to leave her on her own, I took a walk to accounting.

Donna's door was open so I went in and explained that Wanda's workload was double what it should be because she couldn't say no. Donna expressed her concern for Wanda and agreed to appoint an accounting point-person who would collect accounting data when it was required.

"I'm glad you're overseeing her workload, Sammy. Wanda's a diamond in the rough. Her activities should be limited to financial analysis and forecasting. That show you put on yesterday was a work of art."

"Thanks Donna. You're right about Wanda. I'll adopt your recommendation," I said, bouncing my tennis ball as I left her office.

On the way back to my office, I stopped by Wanda's office to give her the good news. She looked up and smiled.

"Are you going to draw the blinds and molest me?"

"No, I only did that to get your attention. Now that I have it, I want you to stop letting people walk all over you. We're going to limit your responsibilities to financial analysis and forecasting."

She cocked her head. "What about Mr. Oldham's monthly reports?"

"Let me see what you've been doing for him."

I looked over the reports she'd been doing and told her she could continue doing them. "But Donna's going to have an accounting person dig out the numbers for you. An announcement will be made tomorrow."

"May I kiss you, Sammy?"

"Wanda, you're an intelligent woman. I want that little girl act of yours to cease immediately."

She looked at me, aghast. "I'm sorry. May I kiss you, Mr. Oldham?" she asked in a sophisticated voice that made me laugh.

"I'm tired of seeing you dressed like a clown. Don't you have any business clothes?"

"I like baggy," she said, reverting to her child's voice.

"Everyone compliments your work, Wanda. I know you take pride in what you turn out. It's time you take pride in how you look. I'm taking you shopping on Saturday. Be ready at noon. We'll go to lunch first."

"Really, Sammy? ... I mean Mr. Oldham."

"My girlfriend will know where we can dress you in style."

"She's coming with us?"

"Don't you want an expert to help guide you in dressing for business?"

"I guess," Wanda said, sounding dejected.

It was nearly six and I was to pick Kelley up at six-thirty, so I told Wanda not to work too late and went to say goodnight to Suzanne. She was in Mr. Oldham's office, going over his appointment schedule and the notes he collected throughout the day.

"Come in, young man," Mr. Oldham said, and I knew I was in for a chewing out. "You created quite a firestorm today. What set you off?"

I took a seat in one of the chairs at his table. "Wanda had a folder filled with requests for work that any administrative assistant should be able to do. Hell, I could do most of that crap myself."

"You overstepped your authority today, Sammy. What did you say to Simon Barker?" Suzanne asked.

"Did I hurt his feelings?" I asked, bracing for an argument.

"He said you bullied him," Suzanne said, clearly upset with me.

"I'll be right back," I said, running down to my office and grabbing the folder. "Simon submitted this request to Wanda," I said, throwing the cocktail napkin on the table. Suzanne picked it up to examine it. "He expected her to research the history of his existing copier in order to justify a replacement. He acknowledged that he should have had the salesman prepare a formal quote. He also agreed to have someone do the research. Does that sound like I bullied him?"

Suzanne threw the cocktail napkin on the table and frowned. "He thinks you've taken a dislike for him," Suzanne said in a last attempt to stand up for one of her managers.

"He may mean that I took a dislike for his people skills. I worked in two of his departments when I was fifteen and never saw him. I doubt if he knows the name of the kid that sorts the mail."

"He's a busy man, Sammy."

"I told him that I know he has a lot of balls in the air."

Suzanne looked perplexed. I'd raised an issue and I was sure it was something she wanted to discuss with Mr. Oldham.

"If there's nothing else I'll be on my way. Kelley and I are going to her friend's home for dinner," I said as a way of excusing myself.

"Stay in your seat, Sam. There is one more thing," he said, looking me in the eye. "I don't want to ever hear about another incident like you described this morning. It would be trouble for the company, but that would be mild compared to the trouble you would be in."

I could almost feel Suzanne's ears perk up as Mr. Oldham continued to dress me down. "I expect you to read what it says about sexual harassment in the employee handbook. I would like fifty words from you on how you plan on conducting yourself in future. I'll expect to find your paper on the breakfast bar before I leave for work in the morning."

"Yes, Sir," I said, getting up and backing out of the room, knowing any explanation I offered would be unacceptable. Besides, I knew Suzanne was itching to find out what I'd done to deserve such treatment. Once she found out what I'd done to get Wanda's attention there would be hell to pay.

I don't know if Sharon overheard what Mr. Oldham said to me, but she caught up with me before I got to my office. "Sammy, you may want to see this before you leave. It's your travel schedule," she said.

I looked at her questioningly as she handed me the folder.

"Eloise brought it to me. I think she was afraid to give it to you."