Chapter 1

Pete O'Neal was pissed. That snotty little executive assistant was making trouble again. And he was the source of the problem. The problem was sabotage.

"Mr. Phillips. As you've already seen, the program works as advertised. It is not rocket science. It will streamline your order and delivery system. Implementation should have been simple." Pete insisted, "I have interviewed your staff and found changes in the online training routine. Changes that make the procedures contradictory or too complex to learn."

Phillips said, "O'Neal, we have a huge investment here. Either fix it or we go back to the old system."

"Give me one hour with the staff and their laptops. I ask that you to speak to your Network guys personally to find out who made the changes. Get the answers first hand in private." Pete hoped he would not delegate the task.

"Johnson, call a staff meeting now. Get Chuck into my office ASAP." Phillips demanded. Johnson started to object.

"For once, Johnson, shut up and do as you are told. O'Neal, you have one hour."

Pete looked at the 'Dream Fulfillment Team' five minutes later. He passed out CDs to each person. "There seems to have been a bit of confusion here."

"You got that right." The whole team agreed. "The new system is nuts!"

"Please be patient for a few minutes. If we cannot straighten this mess out, I will buy lunch for the whole crew. Load the CDs, the files will self execute." Pete waited several seconds. Soon, everyone looked up. "Now you have the real help/training files. Now type in your query as you would using any help file."

"This is not the answer I got yesterday." One woman said. "This is the window I was looking for."

"This page updates inventory as I place the order. With one click, live." A man exclaimed. "No surprise backorders. Where was this page?"

"It was supposed to be there all along, clearly marked. 'Ctrl U' will keep it open in a small window. You can customize it to track the most popular items or the most heavily stocked."

Pete told them, "If you wish, press and hold shift/alt when you answer the call. Ask the caller's name and repeat it. The voice recognition function will automatically call up the caller's previous order history. No need to reenter information. You can ask if they enjoyed the wine rack or the DVD player or whatever they bought last. The customer will feel they're important enough to remember and you get feedback on the products."

Pete and the team engaged in a lively Q&A session. They were getting excited. "This will work." The supervisor said, "Satisfied customers make this job so much easier. Happy customers make Mr. Phillips happy. And if Mr. Phillips ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" The room broke out in laughter. "Seriously folks, we can give the Accounting Department good news to pass forward when this system gets rolling. Live inventory lets the warehouse guys keep up with trends."

Pete told them to keep the discs open but minimized until the master files were corrected on the server.

The hour passed quickly. Mr. Phillips had gotten his answers and been waiting outside the room for 45 minutes. When the meeting broke up, he stepped in, smiling. "You people good to go?" He asked the room.

"Mr. Phillips, yes, now that we can get quick simple answers to questions and get answers to questions we didn't know to ask. It makes the computer more like a partner than a tool." The supervisor said, "We can do more with less effort than ever. How did it get so weird?"

"I'm finding that out." Phillips said with some heat. "But it won't happen again. O'Neal, come with me."

A voice in the back said, "Psst. The boss is here. Look busy!" They all laughed and filtered back to the workstations.

"Thanks for not saying 'I told you so.' You knew what, or rather who, the problem was, didn't you?"

Pete nodded. "Johnson was the only one who insisted the files not be 'read only'. Claimed to want them open to improvement as the staff gained experience. 'Improvements' somehow happened first. Do you know why?"

"Chuck told me Johnson's cousin wrote the program I did not choose. He apparently made promises he couldn't keep." Phillips snorted, "He's cleaning out his desk now. My daughter can have the job. She grew up here and the staff likes her. Put that damn MBA to work."

"I'm just glad it worked out, sir." Pete admitted, "I was scared there for a while."

"Don't sweat it, O'Neal. Just don't offer it to my competition."

Pete was exhausted when he got back to his home office. He took the time to put his laptop and briefcase in the office and update his records. The office and meeting room occupied most of the first floor of his three-story brownstone. He closed and locked the entrance, intending to go upstairs and cook dinner.

He was disappointed. The kitchen was basically empty again. This was getting old, fast. Pete was pissed for the second time today. I need my own assistant, 24/7 to keep the kitchen stocked, answer the phone, and do light housework. Hell, I need a housekeeper, he thought.

Reconciled to another night out alone, Pete went to the corner bar and restaurant. He sat at the bar and asked for a menu. "Burger, medium, baked potato, sour cream, salad, bleu cheese. Sam Adams," he said, without looking up. Pete was not in a good mood. How do you find a housekeeper who takes orders he wondered? I am not easy.

He did look up when the food was placed in front of him. "Where is the beer?"

The bartender pointed to the mug that had been sitting there long enough to get the coaster damp with condensation. "You were too preoccupied to notice."

"Sorry to be so grumpy, miss. It has been a tough day and my refrigerator is empty." Pete said. "I can't live on bar food. You want a job?" That surprised even him. "I need a house keeper."

"Really?" She asked. "I go on break in ten minutes. If it's OK, I'll put you at a table and we can talk."

He agreed and she moved his plates and beer to a table near the window. What am I doing? Pete asked himself. He didn't know anything about her. Well, in for a penny.

She came over to the table and waited. He looked up from the salad and said, "Are you going to sit?"

"You weren't finished and I didn't want to disturb your meal." She lowered her eyes. "May I sit?"

"Do. Now tell me about yourself."

"I'm Allison Roberts. I've worked here for two years; make less than minimum wage, plus tips. I'm a widow, with a fifteen-year-old daughter. I'm thirty. Before you ask, I got pregnant in high school and married her father. He was killed drag racing with his friends on our wedding night. I graduated with my parents helping with childcare and went to City College part time. Mom and Dad live in Florida."

Chapter 2 »