Eisenstein was steamed that she addressed her response to the class rather than to him.
“I work in financial services, so we have classes that apply to all sorts of financial objects. A mutual fund is a good example. We have an object called fund that carries certain basic information like the inception date, manager’s name, etcetera. We use inheritance to push these common attributes to various types of funds: stock funds, bond funds, index funds, what-have-you. Each different type of fund needs different types of information stored, but they all have the same basic information from the fund class. The benefit of inheritance is this: say we hire a new fund manager and his name is Thurston Montgomery-Wadsworth and our fund manager name is only twenty characters long. Because we used inheritance, we change the fund object and the change propagates down through all the various types of fund objects that derive from fund.
“That’s how we use inheritance. Is that what you were looking for, Professor
?
”
Eisenstein didn’t even look in her direction. He wandered behind the podium and said, “So it seems even Miss Fletcher is clear on custom classes and inheritance and that means it’s time to move forward.”
At least half the class looked at each other hoping someone would speak up, but no one did. Eisenstein didn’t volunteer to elaborate, probably out of fear
Eric
a would correct him from the back of the room. Instead he launched into a discussion about connecting to SQL databases to retrieve information and display it on a web page.
Eric
a went back to work undisturbed for the remainder of the two hour lecture.
Sarah sat alone in the conference room on twenty-one, waiting for Stan to meander in and for Herman to come down from twenty-three. Herman invariably arrived twenty minutes late, according to Stan, and they were expected to be ready and waiting. Eleven minutes before two and all seventy-two pages of the blue binder sat in front of Sarah, like a weight dragging her away from the work that held her future. Investigating the letters would bring her and Gregg together. She’d been plotting ways to get his attention though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let it get physical anytime soon. It was more than Gregg. Every one of those letters held a story of something gone wrong at BFS, something she could fix. Since childhood she’d been the family soother, mediator, relationship fixer. This was the work she was born for.
The binder held little promise of fixing anything.
The plan described a most excruciatingly detailed work effort that would take the entire year to finish. Following it would earn Herman his bonus, but accomplish little else.
Stan burst into the room dramatically, “dunt, dunt, dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt.” The tune was unfamiliar.
These outbursts relegated them to windowless offices on twenty-one, while Herman sat on twenty-three with the execs. What kind of idiot was he
?
She didn’t want anyone speaking of her and Stan in the same breath. She planned to move up in BFS and that meant breaking away from Stan Nye. The further, the faster, the better.
“C’mon. You know where that’s from. I know you do.”
“No idea.”
“You’re kidding! Rat Patrol. Desert GIs fighting the Germans. The fifty caliber mounted on the jeep.” Stan held out his fists, jerking them back and forth a few inches as he spun in place firing at some imaginary foe. “A true classic. Come on. The sand blowing off the dunes and the jeep in mid-air.” Stan noticed the binder on the table. “You spend too much time reading crap like that. It’s rotting your brain.”
“Have you read it
?
”
“Bits and pieces. I can only take it in small doses.”
Stan swiveled a chair and sat across from Sarah with only a blank notepad and a single pencil. How could he come to a status meeting without a printed report
?
Would Herman tolerate such a waste of his time
?
He certainly disregarded theirs, but this couldn’t be acceptable in a company like BFS. Stan began scribbling notes as if he sensed her displeasure with his lack of preparation.
At
2:08
p.m.
Herman was still nowhere in sight. Stan had almost finished scribbling a high school caliber status report. BFS was nothing like PFCC.
She wanted to ask Stan what he thought of the binder and the work he was doing, but why
?
Stan was along for the ride, doing the minimum to collect his check. His opinion would be random and juvenile. Why distract him from hacking together his last minute notes
?
He was trying to appear more than marginal, futile as that effort was.
Sarah ignored Stan and reflected on Herman’s lecture about working the plan. Getting permission to investigate the letters was going to be difficult. Touting her idea so soon meant belittling his objectives and Herman wasn’t the participative management type. He wasn’t looking for the best way to manage the team. He valued discipline above all.
Herman tromped in, whipped the door shut, and took a seat at the head of the table. He carried the blue binder and a stack of battered manila folders, presumably needed as he stomped from meeting to meeting intimidating various people around the company. He pulled one particular file and pushed the others to the corner of the table. He focused on her coldly, not angrily, but an emotionless measurement that said he’d make his decisions based on the facts. He’d promote her or terminate her and feel nothing. He didn’t care which way it went.
“Glad you’re still with us,” he said to Sarah then turned to Stan. “Prepared like never before I see,
Stanley
. She’s rubbing off on you.”
The reprimand had no effect. Utterly unprepared and with little skill or enthusiasm for auditing, Stan looked squarely at his hulking boss without a hint of fear for the man others cowered from.
“Always,” Stan said. “After eight years, if someone even thinks the word embezzlement, I’m on ‘em.” The excited tone could have been pulled from a 70’s TV show where the enthusiastic rookie overestimates his ability and sails headlong into trouble. So fitting for Stan.
“Well Mr. Excitement, I wouldn’t be so glib if I were you. If Miss Burke here finds something you’ve missed, you’ll find your ass in a sling.”
“Roger that ten-ninety-one control. If she finds something I’ll be the first to issue the code twenty.”
Stan got stranger every minute and Herman didn’t look the least bit surprised. Sarah couldn’t tell if he understood the gibberish or if he was avoiding being drawn into Stan’s adolescent banter.
Herman grinned. “Stan spent his childhood watching Adam-12. He knows every code they used on the radio and he enjoys showing off something he knows that we don’t. At least it proves he can learn with prolonged exposure.”
“A good sign,” Sarah said, refreshed by Herman’s professionalism.
“I tried confusing him with military jargon and call signs, but that just encouraged him.”
“Were you a pilot
?
”
“No. Army logistics.”
Logistics sounded about as exciting as accounting and probably about as dangerous. Herman tired of small talk. “Ok, Stan. Tell me where you are and we can get back to work.”
Stan barely glanced at the paper in front of him, “I’m ready to sign off on fifty vendors.”
“Fifty
?
It’s nearly May,
Stanley
.”
“I’ve got packets out to the rest, but the follow-ups are dragging.”
“Stan, the AP vendors are a forth of the plan. At this rate you won’t be done until September. How are we going to finish if you can’t get the vendors done by June
?
”
“I didn’t write the plan, Boss. I just follow orders.”
“Good thing Sarah’s on board. At least now we’ve got a chance.”
“Good thinking, Captain. Maybe she can fix the transporter beam while she’s at it.”
Herman turned away flabbergasted. “Sarah, I’m going to put you on payroll verification.” He waited for a nod, but this was not a time to object. “I want you to check every employee on file. I want to know they exist for sure. Shake their hands, you understand
?
”
“Shake every hand. Right.” How hard can that be, she thought.
“I mean every single one. Audit their hours and document which people are working their fair share and which aren’t. I’m not looking for an extra fifteen minute break. I’m looking for extra weeks of vacation, people not showing up, that sort of thing. The security system on twenty-two should be a big help.”
Sarah nodded half-heartedly.
“What
?
You have a problem with payroll
?
”
“No, Sir.”
“C’mon spit it out.”
“We’re working hard to track down money leaving the firm.”
“Embezzlement usually involves taking money from the firm. Computers, desks, stuff like that, they get noticed.”
“But we aren’t doing anything for client services or investments.”
“You think we should pay more attention there
?
”
“Right.”
“We did extensive work on client services controls last year. This year they’re in the middle of a major systems implementation. Imagine the chaos down there with us and the IT guys crawling all over the place. Nothing would get done. Good thinking, but we’ll give them a pass this year and hit them next year when they’re more comfortable with their new system.”
The explanation restored some respect for Herman’s plan and his coordination with the rest of the company, but she needed to see those letters. If something was wrong at BFS, the answer was in the complaint file. She couldn’t let it go.
Sarah hesitantly slipped the letter from the binder and angled it toward Herman. He knew by her reluctance that she was looking for permission to step outside the box. He didn’t look pleased.
“What’s this
?
”
“A complaint letter from client services. There are dozens more.”
“Probably nothing.”
“What if it isn’t
?
”
“We screw up sometimes. Legitimate complaints get attention. The customer screams and we pay them for their loss. When that happens, you can be sure we investigate.”
“Who
?
Stan
?
” she scoffed.
Herman scowled and for a second Sarah wished she’d kept her attitude in check. “Whoever’s closest to the problem digs in.”
She couldn’t help herself, “Are they equipped to handle stuff like this
?
”
Herman picked up the letter. The aggravated look said she’d done enough pushing for her first week on the job.
He locked eyes with her when he was done.
“So you found a crusade already
?
”