Chapter 15: Action and Reaction

"Good morning, Mr. Andrews, it's Oren Kavanagh. I thought you should know that I had a call from a Mr. Brant Morrisey in Los Angeles, representing Messers Ventriss. He has assured me that they will forthwith cease to spread misinformation as he called it, about Flex-Tek. Will that be to your satisfaction?"

"Only if he puts it in writing," I said. "I want a copy of it to circulate to anyone who they have been in contact with."

"Goes without saying, Mr. Andrews. I'll make sure the statement meets our needs and forward a copy directly to you."

"Thanks, and it's Andy, Oren. I think we've done enough business together now to be on a first name basis."

"Yes, of course. I hope this ends your problems, Andy."

"Me too. I think the letter will help if we run into any doubting customers."

I called Leo and let him know what had transpired. He was pleased that it was handled well and that we got the result we wanted.

By the end of May, all of the new equipment was installed and operational. We hadn't yet reached optimum performance on the new pouch machine, but that was to be expected. It was a very complex piece of equipment and it had to be set up exactly right for the film to form the pouch correctly at the speeds we were expecting. Nonetheless, we were producing good product and had taken a big load off Langley at the same time.

"East Bay is still having problems setting the filter inside the Keurig cup," Fiona reported. "Our press and slitter are waiting to produce more product, but our customer is having a technical problem that's holding back their production."

"Can I make a suggestion?" I asked. "Ask Grant if we could have Wick look at the machine. He's good at problem solving. He may be able to help them. We could take the video camera over there and see what's really going on with it."

"Great! I'll call Maureen right away. Are you sure it's okay with Wick?"

"Yeah ... pretty sure. I'll talk to him. Getting him away from the pouch machine would probably be a good idea right now."

In fact, Wick was fine with getting away and helping a customer. A short while later, I had a call back from Fiona.

"That was quick," I said. "Grant's okay with us getting involved?"

"More than okay. He was beginning to think it wasn't going to get solved. He'll take any help he can get. What about Wick?"

"I was right. It'll be a relief to get off the pouch machine for a while. You arrange for the timing and he'll be there."

Fiona led Wick to East Bay later that afternoon. She was late for supper that night. Tina and I were on our own. My fiancée didn't show up until nearly ten o'clock, looking tired.

"So ... what happened?" I asked as she came into the kitchen.

"I think Wick's got if figured out. By tomorrow morning we'll start up and see if the filters seat themselves properly. That was the main problem and so all our efforts were in that direction. Mind you, we spilled a lot of coffee on the plant floor getting to that point," she grinned.

"Okay, make sure you keep Grant informed."

"No problem with that. He was there with us all the way. I think we got some serious brownie points today."

"Well, let's keep our fingers crossed that Wick's got it solved."

"Have you done this before? I mean, lending our people out to help customers with their equipment?"

"Sure. It's all part of the service. There are some things we can't help with, but any time we can be of use, we try and make the service available."

She looked at me and shook her head. "Damn that's good to hear. We can't miss, Andy. We just can't."

Wick and Fiona were back in our plant the next afternoon. I knew they were coming because I had a very nice phone call from Grant Loren telling me that they were now in production on the coffee pods and Flex-Tek was the reason. He thanked me for making Wick available and for going the extra mile. Those are the kind of phone calls I'll take any day of the week.

We had heard no more from the Ventriss family and we had the letter from their lawyer outlining the agreement to cease and desist. Nothing was coming back from the customers, so we assumed that little exercise in harassment was over.

That evening, Fiona walked into the kitchen, took a large, red marker pen, flipped the calendar to July, and circled the 14^th. She turned to me.

"See that? That's our big day. West Langley United Church. Don't be late," she laughed.

"So ... after all the discussion, it's finally decided when we get married. Hallelujah!" I cried in celebration, folding Fiona into my arms.

"What about the reception?" I asked.

"Taken care of. Leo insisted."

"Leo? Wow, that's a surprise." Leo and Bernice lived on acreage south near the U.S. border. A large two storey home with and huge back deck and grassed area. It was ideal for the reception.

"Not according to Bernice. She said he's strutting around like a rooster, telling everyone how smart he was to put you in charge of Tracy."

"You've been talking to Bernice?"

"I have. She's the chief hen in the henhouse. I told you, I'm marrying into royalty."

I shook my head in disbelief. It seemed impossible that it had been barely six months since we had met and I had been lassoed like a lonesome steer. A few months of the single life and I was already destined for domestic life once more. There was a difference, however. I was going willingly, without hesitation, happily.

"I've made the plane reservations for the five of us," she said. "We go from Oakland to Seattle, then to Vancouver. Okay?"

"Sure. Where are we staying?" I asked.

"You will stay at your parents' place. My parents, Tina and I will stay at Leo and Bernice's home."

"This is all arranged, is it?" I asked, wondering why I hadn't heard anything about this.

"What do you think our mothers and Bernice have been doing for the last month? You just sit back and let us handle it, dear. I'm sure you'll be happy with the way everything turns out," she said with an air of confidence.

"So, I don't get to sleep with you until we're married, is that it?"

"You can handle a couple of nights on your own, big boy. Just remember, I'm being deprived too."

"Okie dokie," I said with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

Fiona made sure I knew what I was going to be missing later that evening.

"There's a Mr. Simon Rheinstad to see you, Andy," Donna told me over the intercom. "He's from the INS."

I had a brief moment when I wondered what we might have done wrong, but nothing came to mind. I got up and went out to the reception area.

"Mr. Rheinstad?"

"Yes, and you are Gordon Andrews, General Manager of this plant?"

"That right. How can I help you?"

"I have a federal authorization to check you employee files and interview some of your employees regarding their citizenship status."

"I don't understand. All the documentation on our employees has been filed with your office as recently as April. What has changed?"

"We received some information that there may be illegal immigrants working in your plant. We are duty bound to investigate the allegation," he said in an officious tone.

"May I ask who gave you that information?"

"No. Under the whistle blower act, we cannot divulge the identity of the person or persons."

"Well, nothing has changed since we last filed the report, so I'll have that file brought to you."

"Thank you. I appreciate you cooperation."

Donna pulled the file and handed it to me and I took it to Rheinstad. I showed him to a small open office and left him to peruse our file. I was worried, but I wasn't sure about what.