Happily Ever After_ - Benison Anne O'Reilly [53]
‘It has come to our attention that a letter, signed off by the Lo-prez team and clearly on company letterhead, has recently been circulated to several hundred doctors. This letter makes false and misleading claims about one of our competitors. We have been advised that because this is a serious offence, we are likely to receive the maximum fine that can be imposed by the industry body, $200,000, and will be required to write to all doctors involved, outlining the misleading nature of these claims. The managing director is, understandably, extremely unhappy about this.’
He handed each of us a copy of the offending letter.
‘What I can’t understand is how this happened. This letter surely hasn’t been through the proper review process, otherwise it would never have seen the light of day. It reflects badly on our department, not to mention the whole company, and we urgently need an explanation of how it happened. I’m not yet sure what the ramifications will be.’
What happened next was entirely predictable. It was, as they say, like watching a car crash happening in slow motion.
Amanda quickly glanced in my direction before returning her attention to Edward and saying, in affected casualness, ‘Yes this is a very serious mistake but I don’t remember seeing this letter at all. I must have given it to Ellie to follow up on.’
‘You did not. I have never seen this letter, Amanda,’ I said calmly enough, but glaring at her.
‘Well who else could it be if it wasn’t me?’ she snarled, bearing her canines at me.
‘I don’t know but it wasn’t me,’ I hissed back, my eyes like slits.
‘Err…now, now ladies, calm down,’ said Edward. Beads of sweat had appeared on his nose. I was wondering if he had just had a scary vision of his future, when all those little girls of his became teenagers. ‘This is not about attributing blame.’
Oh yes it was, if Amanda was going to have any say in the matter.
‘How about you both go off and investigate how this happened and report back to me later today on what you can find. Then we’ll set to work to see if we can remedy the problem somehow.’
I hurried off to my office thinking, she is not going to do this to me. I am not going to take the blame. There’d been a series of cock-ups in the Lo-prez campaign in recent months, all of which could have been traced back to Amanda if anyone cared to investigate, but management had to this point been willing to accept her explanations. It wasn’t out of the question they might feel the need to act this time and scapegoat someone. It also wasn’t out of the question that the scapegoat could be me.
If I lost my job, I would have nothing.
For a long while I just sat at my desk, staring at that bloody letter. It was so embarrassingly bad, so amateurish, that it looked to have Amanda’s stamp all over it. There were even spelling mistakes in it for God’s sake. But what if the unthinkable had happened and I had missed it, one day after Issy had slept badly the previous night, or when I’d been depressed about my marriage? What if it really had been me? It seemed unbelievable but maybe not impossible; everyone makes mistakes.
I was still staring at the letter half an hour later when Melanie dropped me in a coffee. I sipped it slowly, then stopped…then checked my Outlook calendar.
I walked over to my office door, closed it quietly, danced a silly jig around the room, and returned to my desk to compose an email that I was certain would restore my battered reputation and save my treasured job.
You see, I’d just noticed the date on the letter. It was exactly ten days into the two week holiday I’d taken to the USA with Tony and Isabel earlier in the year. We’d gone to visit Andrew, who was by this time living and studying in Texas. We’d also stopped off in Hawaii on the way home. It couldn’t have been me!
I outlined all the relevant details in a carefully phrased email. I addressed this to Edward, Amanda, the head of marketing and our local MD. Then I cc’ed it to our international managing director, the Prime Minister, the Leader of the Opposition, the Pope,