Chapter 5: Pain and Progress

I remembered I had promised Sylvia the day we moved into the apartment that we would talk about our future. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I had promised, and I almost always kept my promises. The important ones, anyway. On Monday evening, I phoned her.

"Hi, Sylvia, it's me. I thought I would call and see when we could get together to talk."

"Yes ... of course. We did agree to talk, didn't we? Is Wednesday evening alright? I have to go out tomorrow night."

"Wednesday will be fine. Is seven-thirty okay? We can meet there if that's alright with you."

"Sure. Seven-thirty at the house. See you then."

When I hung up the phone I realized she had something to do Tuesday night, and the first thing I thought of was Tommy's observation that it was one of the two nights she went out when I was away. I wondered if I had the nerve to confront her about that when we met. And what of her absent-mindedness about having a talk? Did I really have to remind her about it? I found the conversation unsettling, and it would bother me until I could tell her what was on my mind.

I took two prospective service calls on Tuesday and Wednesday. One was for my former customer in Denver. They had replaced the F & C equipment with a competitor's import product, but they were having problems with them, particularly the manuals. They were translated into English, but not very useful translations, it seemed. They needed my help. I worked around my installation commitment to John in Plano and promised to be there next week.

The second call was a surprise. It was Byron Mulliner, the V.P. of Operations for Winston Candy. I knew who he was, but I had never met or talked to him before.

"Mr. Copely, your name has been given to me as someone who can help me with a fairly serious problem we are having in our North Carolina plant. We have purchased a very high speed, sophisticated vacuum packaging machine from Europe that is supposed to package cocoa powder. I don't want to admit how much we spent on it, but I can tell you it isn't performing anywhere near its stated potential. What I have right now is the machinery manufacturer telling me it's my people who don't understand how to set up and operate the machine. On the other hand, my maintenance people claim that with the language barrier and the attitude of the technicians that were sent over here, they are having a hell of a time getting the machine up to speed. What I need is someone to cut through the ... crap ... and get it working. Can you help?"

Well that certainly was cutting to the chase. "I can't answer that without seeing the machine and the situation, but I'd be willing to try. If you could have one of your people fax or courier me a manual, I could have a look at the systems and tell you if it's within my experience. It would only take me a day or two to figure out what I was looking at, then I could tell you if you would be wasting your money on me."

"That's honest enough. You've got a pretty good reputation in this company. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you can help. There's a lot at stake here. I'll make sure you get the manual pronto. And ... thanks for whatever help you can give us."

Now that, I thought as we signed off the call, was an ego boost. He's in trouble and he wants me to see if I can save the situation. But North Carolina was in Dave Thomas' territory. I picked up the phone again and called him.

"I've got no problem with that, Stan. I don't have any business with them, so feel free. You may have yourself a tiger by the tail, though. I hear they bought a Swiss Helmvac unit; the latest and greatest. Seven hundred and fifty thou, they say. Built like a Swiss watch, but just as finicky. Good luck!"

I knew Dave well enough to know that he wasn't someone to get involved in complex situations. Standard machine applications were fine, but he avoided any tricky or sophisticated units. I had a different view of it. I was always trying to learn how things worked. This installation was a challenge, and since I had the time, I would accept it if it was within my capabilities. The up side was the reputation I would gain if I could help.

I was going to be very busy in the next three weeks. I had the installation in Plano beginning next week. The machine should be on the road today or tomorrow, so I would expect it to be on the site Monday. I would phone the trucker Friday to confirm. Then I needed to get to Charlotte pronto to look at the Helmvac first hand and get a sense of what was going on over there. I had a feeling I was going to be a referee as well as an analyst.

And just to complicate things further, I had two service requests come in by e-mail. The Denver one I already knew about, but it was becoming more urgent. The second was not far from Dallas, so I might be able to handle that next week when I was in Plano. I called both customers to determine what the urgency was. It sounded like Denver, so I booked a flight Thursday morning, hoping I could get there and back by Friday evening. I was no longer wondering when the business would begin to roll in.

The Helmvac manual arrived Tuesday afternoon by courier and I set about reviewing it. It didn't take long to figure out what was causing some of the problems. The manual was unnecessarily detailed, making an already complex machine even more unfathomable. Part of the problem was nomenclature. Their words for some parts and pieces were different from what we would call them in North America. On top of that, all the dimensions and temperature controls were metric. Again, that was an obstacle to most American plants. Luckily, I had some experience with British and German-built equipment, and I had a decent working knowledge of the terminology. I had a plan when I went to Charlotte, but I had to hope for a bit of luck to pull it off.

I called Byron Mulliner. "Mr. Mulliner, I received the manual and I think I've found a couple of things that will help, no matter what. The manual is an English translation by the people in Switzerland. It features European nomenclature and metric dimensions. I'm going to recommend you have a North American translation done to give your people a chance to succeed."

"How do I get that done, and how long will it take?"

"I have a contact, Jacob Phaltz. He owns a company called Precise Word Services, and he provides exactly what you need. With your permission, I will contact him and get a time and cost estimate for a translation. I can assure you, he is very good at this sort of thing."

"Good. That's a good start. Go ahead and call him. Keep me informed, and ... thanks for the quick action. I appreciate it."

I called Jake at his Vancouver office. "Hi, Jake, it's Stan Copely."

"Hey, Stan. How are you? How are things at F & C?"

I filled Jake in on all the changes in my life lately, with the exception of my marriage. He was enthusiastic about my being on my own. We discussed the Helmvac project and he was confident he could get it done in a week to ten days maximum. He gave me a cost estimate and I promised I'd get an okay and a purchase order to him along with a manual within a day if Mr. Mulliner gave the approval.

He did ... almost instantly. I informed him I would be visiting his Charlotte plant early next week to see what I could learn in the short term. Again, Byron Mulliner was pleased with my quick response.

Within two days, Jake had the manual and a purchase order for ten copies of an "Americanized" version. That would eliminate the language problem to some degree. The rest of my plan would rely upon a bit of luck.

I had Tuesday to study the manual, arrange my flight, hotel, and car reservations, then relax for a while. I was astonished at how quickly I had gone from being unemployed to working full blast. The thing was, I was enjoying it. It was my company and my time, and I didn't resent the demands one little bit.

One thing I was going to have to do was make sure I monitored my commitments and not promise something I couldn't produce. The Helmvac project was a risk. Oh, I would get paid, but the big payoff would only come if I succeeded. When big companies get pulled out of an expensive hole, the word gets around. No amount of advertising would ever produce the results that executive word-of-mouth could create, good or bad.

On Wednesday, I treated myself to a day off. I had some time to think about all the changes that had happened so very quickly since I had left Faraday and Crosse. I didn't have a moment's regret over any of the decisions I made. Yes, I was busy, but it was because I wanted to be busy. I enjoyed it when I could help people. And now, I had control over when and how I could help them. I didn't have to ask anyone for permission other than the customer. I liked that a lot.

I reached into my pocket to see how much cash I had, when I noticed the note that Tommy had given me with the address where Sylvia had gone the previous Tuesday. I hadn't looked at it until now, but I immediately recognized the street name: Old Ferry Road. I could feel the anger rising up in me as I retrieved the phone book. I looked up Peter Ambleton, and there it was: Ambleton, Peter J., 14610 Old Ferry Road. She was seeing her boss.

I had only met Peter twice, the first time at his home when he threw a party to celebrate his promotion to branch manager, along with Sylvia's promotion to claims manager. I could recall his comments to a group of men standing around him as he extolled the virtues of the single life. Apparently, he was having no problem finding bed partners. I thought it was pretty sleazy at the time, but said nothing to Sylvia. He was pretty full of himself that day, and well lubricated with whiskey.

The second time was at their Christmas party last year. Again, he was drinking and boasting about his prowess with the women, but only when there were no women present. I hadn't changed my opinion of him, and since Sylvia reported directly to him, it wasn't a good idea to offer it to her. Now, I wondered why I hadn't. I also wondered how long it had been going on.

It gave me some ammunition for my meeting with Sylvia however. It also resolved my indecision about our future. I was going to go through with the divorce, and it would be on my terms.

It seemed strange to walk up the steps to my front door and ring the chimes that evening. How many times had I just turned the knob and walked in? Sylvia answered promptly, not showing any surprise that I had announced my arrival first.

"Hello, Stan. Good to see you again. Would you like a drink? Coffee?"

"Coffee's fine, thanks," I answered, watching her closely. She was being very cautious it seemed to me. On the other hand, she didn't seem to be nervous. I was going to have to be careful until I could tell just what she was feeling about our situation. We sat apart on the sofa, our coffee on the low table in front of us, neither having the words to begin the conversation.

Finally, I decided to start. "It's been several weeks since I ... left, Sylvia. A lot has happened since then. I'm sure you know I've resigned from F & C. I now have my own business, Copely Services. So far, it's going quite well. I'm glad I took the chance. I'm a lot happier this way, being my own boss."

"Yes, I'm sure you are. Can you make a living at it? I mean a steady living?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I can now. I was worried at first, but I've had more calls in the last few days, and I'm going to be busy for the foreseeable future. It doesn't mean any less travel, but at least I'm in charge. I can say yes or no."

"Well, that certainly is a big change for you. But, I suppose that means you'll be on the road just as much, if not more than before?"

"Yes, for now it does. But it's my choice. I can turn down a job ... or at least delay it if I want. I don't intend to burn myself out right in the beginning. I'm very busy now, but I had yesterday and today off. So far, no weekend work either."

I saw her shoulders slump. Was it a sign of defeat or resignation? I didn't know.

"What about us, Stan? What will happen to us?"

"I don't know. What do you want to happen?"

"I want things to be like they were before," she said.

I was already shaking my head before she finished the sentence. "No ... no ... that's not going to happen. I'm not going back to ... that! We were both miserable. We didn't talk to each other, and you had a hard time even being civil to Tommy and me. I told you when I left, I'm not going back there."

"I can change, Stan. I know I can."

"You've never even told me why you were so unhappy in the first place. I think you owe me that at least." I realized I was beginning to raise my voice and I could see that it was intimidating Sylvia.

She was shaking her head, but saying nothing. I was beginning to think this meeting was going to be a waste of time. I needed something to shake her up. It was then I decided to take a calculated gamble.

"Did you know that our son thinks you were cheating on me?"

Her head snapped up immediately. "No!"

I couldn't tell whether that was a confession of ignorance or a denial.

"He tells me you used to go out on Tuesday and Thursday evening, and not come home until after he went to bed. But you only went out when I wasn't home. You can guess why he thought what he did."

"I wasn't cheating on you," she said with a forlorn look.

"Oh? Just what were you doing at Peter Ambleton's house at night?"

Again, her head snapped up at the question. I sat as impassively as I could, trying not to show any emotion. She started to say something, then stopped.

"Peter likes to brag about his female conquests. Were you one of them?"

She brought her hands to her mouth, but still said nothing.

"I guess that says everything that needs to be said. I'll be filing for divorce immediately. The grounds will be irreconcilable differences. I will allow you to pick up the papers at my lawyer's office rather than having you served. However, if I get any grief from you or anyone else, I can easily change it to adultery, and the process server will find you at your office."

I was forceful when I made that statement, and Sylvia's eyes widened in shock. It wasn't in character for me to make threats. Well, she had another surprise coming.

"Just something else to keep in mind. There are another set of papers in my lawyer's hands ready to be delivered if necessary. They revolve around marital interference, sexual harassment, and violation of the Empire Insurance employee contract. If you force me to, I will have those papers served on Mr. Peter J. Ambleton and his boss. I would expect the fallout to be that both you and lover-boy would be unemployed rather rapidly. Do I make myself clear?"

She sat, looking completely stunned at my threat. I don't think she could have imagined our meeting would go this badly. She had still said nothing, so I rose and walked to the front door, turned, and said, "Goodbye, Sylvia."

A moment later I was walking down the front stairs toward my car. My impromptu threat was a complete bluff of course. I had no such papers drawn up, nor had I even discussed the matter with Carmen. But if it planted the seeds of doubt in their minds, it would accomplish my objective: a pain-free divorce with a reasonable settlement.

I called Carmen and left a message, asking her to call me on my cell. I would inform her of my one-way conversation with Sylvia and my bluff. That should cover things until I was back in town. I wondered as I drove back to my apartment if I had hurt Tommy's chances of any reconciliation with his mother. I also wondered if I would be able to explain it to him. I hadn't held anything back from him to this point, so I saw no reason not to tell him what had transpired.

I made the round trip to Denver, getting back home just before eight that night. The problem had been solved and the customer satisfied with my quick response. I had earned nothing but good will so far, but the money should start coming in pretty soon. It had better. I was getting close to the limit on my credit card.

I had the weekend off and did very little other than go skating on Sunday afternoon. Teresa was there, so we skated together while we filled each other in on the past two weeks' activities. It was a pleasant way to spend a weekend afternoon. I would be back on the road the next morning.

The trucker had confirmed that the Viking machine would be delivered to Autowash first thing Monday morning and I phoned John to let him know. I asked him to uncrate it and move it into position before I arrived, probably on Tuesday afternoon. I think he was shaking his head at how fast things were moving.

I flew to Charlotte and met with the production manager of Winston Candy during the morning coffee break. He gave me a rundown of the problems he'd been experiencing as well as the frustrations of dealing with the Swiss-based installation crew. I told him what I had planned and he nodded in agreement that it was a good way to start. We would call a meeting of the Swiss crew just after lunch to see if we could begin to repair the bridges between the two groups.