Company - Max Barry [56]
It is a male voice, rich and smooth. “Good morning. This is Human Resources. We have noticed an irregularity in your work patterns. We have some questions. Please report to level 3.”
Her first instinct is Roger. But he is on the phone, saying, “Look, I can probably get you a place in Training Delivery if Personnel Services gets consolidated. But what can you offer me if they cut Training?” If Roger was behind this, he would be watching her: she is sure of that.
So it's not Roger. It's just Human Resources. Her bowels tighten. That is much, much worse.
She turns and walks out of West Berlin.
A few minutes later she steps out of the elevator on level 3. In all the time Elizabeth has worked at Zephyr Holdings, she's never been to Human Resources, so her eyes widen at the dark blue walls and nonfluorescent lighting. She makes her way down the corridor, with its carpet so thick it feels as if it's snagging her shoes, and stops at the bare reception desk. She looks at the two doors, and as she does, the one on the right clicks open.
“Hello?”
Nobody answers. Elizabeth is not impressed. She has always found Human Resources difficult to get hold of, but this is ridiculous. She enters the corridor, her lips forming a hard line.
She notices it is getting warmer. Or is that her? It's hard to tell, these days. She feels a wetness growing at the small of her back, the shirt sticking there, and gets irritated. “Hello?”
A door to her left clicks open.
It is a small room, and the only furniture is a plastic chair. The chair faces a mirror. Elizabeth looks around. “Oh, come on.”
There is no response. She walks in, puts her hands on her hips, and looks at the mirror. “Is somebody going to talk to me face-to-face? Or are you going to hide back there?”
Silence.
“Fine.” She strides to the chair. Her nausea has subsided; she feels as if she could arm-wrestle alligators. She sits down and crosses her legs. “So?”
The voice comes as if from nowhere.
“Your name,” it says. “State your name.”
“Elizabeth Miller. Who are you?”
“State your employee number.”
“It's 4148839.”
“State your department.”
“You know my department,” Elizabeth says. “You called me there ten minutes ago.”
“State your department.”
Her lips tighten. She may be prone to falling in love with customers, but she can fight with the bare-knuckled passion of an aggrieved lover. “I'm not going to have a discussion like this. If you want to talk, come out and do it to my face.”
“State your department.”
Elizabeth keeps her mouth shut. Seconds tick by.
“State your department.”
“Unless I see a human being in the next ten seconds,” Elizabeth says, “this meeting is over.”
She waits. Sweat trickles down her back.
“State your department.”
Elizabeth stands up and walks to the door. She didn't even hear it close, but now it's locked. She turns to the mirror, hands on hips. “Open the door.”
“State your department.”
“It's Training Sales, you know it's Training Sales! Now open the door!” She knows as soon as the words emerge that this is a tactical mistake: she has given in without getting anything.
“Irregularities have been detected in your work patterns. Your bathroom breaks have sharply increased in frequency and duration.”
Elizabeth inhales. There have been rumors that Human Resources monitors employee bathroom breaks. Elizabeth hadn't believed them. She walks back to the middle of the room and faces the mirror. “I don't see how that's any of your business.”
“Perhaps you have a problem. A personal problem. You could share it with us. Human Resources is here to help. Human Resources is only concerned for your welfare.”
“Just the same.”
“Analysis suggests several possible explanations