Company - Max Barry [12]
There turns out to be not just one book but three shelves of them. Jones sorts through the abridgments, revised editions, and fictionalizations until he finds one “For the New Executive,” heads for the in-store café, and orders a latte. He is flipping through the book when a girl behind the counter catches his eye. She smiles at him and tucks a wisp of blond hair behind her ear. Jones sits up straighter. The girl serves a customer, but now Jones is completely distracted. When the line empties ten minutes later, he drains his coffee and strides up to the counter. The girl smiles at him. “Hi there.”
“Hi.” He hands over his book. She is very pretty.
“You looked like you were studying pretty hard over there.”
She was watching him! Jones wonders if it's the suit. This sort of thing never happened to him before he bought a tie. “I just started a new job. I have to practice looking like I'm working.”
She laughs. “Well, you were very convincing.” She zaps his book with her wand and checks out the cover. “The Omega Management System: Road-Tested Methods to Transform Corporate Duds into Superstars. Which are you?”
“A dud. But an ambitious one.”
“Ambition, huh? I could do with some of that.” She cracks the book open at random. “‘Companies that require a doctor's certificate in all circumstances experience 6 percent fewer sick days than companies that do not require a certificate. This translates into a productivity gain of 0.4 percent for the average Fortune 500 company.'” She looks at him, uncertain. “Is this for real?”
“Well, that's interesting,” Jones says. “It discourages staff from abusing the system, I guess.”
“My manager makes me get a doctor's certificate for a single day off work. I end up being sick for twice as long because I have to catch the damn bus to the clinic.”
“Yeah, that must suck. But they probably factored that in.”
“Factored it in?”
Jones clears his throat. “I mean, companies need to get the most out of their workers. That's business. The more efficient the workforce, the better the company.”
“I wish I worked for you.” She's no longer smiling. “Wow, you'd be a great boss.”
“Just give me my book,” Jones says.
Jones gets three steps inside Training Sales before Roger's head pops over the Berlin Partition. “Jones. Jones. Got a minute?” He walks to the coffee machine. Jones follows, carrying his briefcase. Roger lowers his voice. “Have you heard anything about my donut?”
Jones blinks. “What, like where it is?”
“No. I mean, did Holly say anything about who took it?”
“I thought Wendell took your donut.”
Roger shakes his head. “I bumped into him on the way out on Friday. He was a mess. He wanted to talk about old times . . . I got the impression maybe he hadn't taken it.”
“Oh,” Jones says bleakly.
“Now I suspect Elizabeth. You don't know the history, but this is exactly the kind of thing she'd do. Keep your ears open. Holly might let something slip. If she does, let me know.”
“Okay.”
“Good man.” Roger winks. He looks at the coffeepot, which is empty. “Were you planning on making coffee?”
“Let me just put down my briefcase.”
Jones walks to East Berlin, feeling unsettled. All of a sudden he can imagine Roger cleansing the entire Training Sales department, having one person fired after another in endless pursuit of this donut thief.
“Well well,” Freddy says, not looking up from his computer. “It's the department's new top sales rep.”
Jones hesitates. “Freddy, I feel awkward, too. But it's not really a promotion, is it? It's just a bunch of extra work for no pay.”