VELOCITY - DEE JACOB [8]
Then Amy noticed an increase in service-related complaints. When she spoke of these matters to Randal, he told her much the same thing he told Elaine, that these were “teething problems” that were somewhat inevitable with changes going on, and that as WING became more fully implemented, these would go away over time. When the teething problems then began to grow fangs, the Tornado threw it all right back at her, insisting that the service complaints were Amy’s to solve. At one point he accused her salespeople of promising unrealistic delivery dates, when in fact the lead times being quoted were exactly what Hi-T had been working within for quite some time.
There were quality problems as well. The Tornado first said they didn’t exist, then asserted that they must be the result of the aforementioned unrealistic delivery dates – again, Amy’s fault – which rushed suppliers and workers so much that they could not always get it right the first time. In any case, he told her, the most important objective was to boost productivity, and to bring down costs.
“Quality,” he actually told her, “is secondary.”
The Tornado had said that about a month before announcing that he was leaving Winner. He left, but WING stayed. So did the problems that WING was supposed to solve.
2
At the end of a trying day, having stayed late to talk to a major customer who yelled at her over the phone, Amy left work in a state of utter dejection. She got into her BMW and drove listlessly home.
Her house was in a quiet neighborhood of tree-lined streets and older wood and brick homes that had been sumptuous in their day, decades ago. Amy and her two kids had lived there for one of those decades. She had bought the place with Aaron just after Michelle was born, and although her current salary would have allowed her to buy something newer and larger, this house always felt like home to her – cozy, familiar, safe. Besides, after Aaron’s death, she and the kids needed a sense of stability and continuity, and the house gave them that.
Her parents’ huge Ford was parked out front as usual when Amy drove into the driveway. Harry and Zelda lived about a mile away, and every afternoon Zelda would drive them over to Amy’s to be there when Ben and Michelle got home from school. On most days, unless Amy was bringing home takeout, Zelda would start making dinner, and the five of them would eat dinner together, after which Amy would drive her parents home in their Ford – Zelda didn’t drive after dark – and then jog back to the house. It was a comfortable routine, one that Amy enjoyed on most days. Tonight, though, Amy was beat; she just wanted to be left alone. But it was not in the cards.
Ben and Michelle were in the living room fighting over the remote control to the television as Amy walked through the front door. Ben was thirteen and had just gone through a growth spurt. He had the remote and was holding it high over his head where it was impossible for ten-year-old Michelle to grab it away from him – though she was jumping up and down, trying any way to get it. Whether by strategy or by accident, she countered her brother’s height advantage by stomping on one of his bare feet, causing him to howl in pain and lower his arm to where Michelle could latch her little fingers around both ends of the prize.
“Hey!” said Amy. “Stop that!”
When their tug-of-war continued, Amy held out her hand, palm up.
“Give it to me,” she said. “If you can’t share it, it’s mine.”
“But Mom!” they both whined.
Amy shot the look that they knew meant business. Michelle immediately let go of the remote, and Ben sullenly handed