The Case of the Disappearing Leaders

 

It was yet another cold and stormy night. I was sitting at my desk, reading the etching on the glass of my office door, rotagitsevnI etavirP, yrrebpsaR ylnatS, when a very sinister shadow came across it (the door, not necessarily my name on it).

The knob slowly turned, finally unlatching, and the door’s hinges creaked as light flooded in from the hallway. Backlit in the door was a tall figure, raincoat collar turned up to the point that it almost touched his low-slung fedora.

“You Raspberry?”

I put my head on my left hand’s fingertips in exasperation.

“Why does every person who walks through that door ask the same bloody question? Who’s name in on the door you just walked through?”

“Raspberry.”

“And who did you come here to see?”

“Raspberry.”

“And, according to the building’s directory, who occupies this office?”

“Raspberry.”

“Given all that, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked. You Raspberry?”

I knew two things instantly. One, this was not a hit man, at least not a very good one. Two, this guy was not street-wise at all. He must have been sent by my old nemesis, Monolithic Corporation.

“Yeah, I’m Raspberry. Waddayaneed?”

The stranger looked behind and around him prior to closing the door.

“I represent a client who runs a major corporation. Some of our lower-level managers have been disappearing suddenly. At the same time, our market share…”

At this his voice trailed off, as if he were suddenly aware that he was about to divulge something he shouldn’t.

“We shouldn’t have this level of competition” the stranger restarted, with sudden vigor. “We’re the biggest game in town, and these little pipsqueeks…”

Again his voice trailed off, for the same reason. Although I knew which corporation he referenced, I wanted to hear him say it.

“Which corporation do you represent?”

“Why do you need to know that?”

“So I know where to not start looking.”

“I’m not going to tell you that. But I can tell you that you should start looking over at Acme. Here’s a list of names. Good luck.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Of course – your retainer.”

The stranger scribbled out a check, tore it out, and pushed it across the desk.

“Alright, then. I never thought I’d do any business for Monolithic, but I’ll get to the bottom of your disappearances.”

“How did you know I was with Monolithic?”

“You just handed me a check.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Just a hunch.”

* * * *

I came across some old friends as I pulled into the parking lot at Acme.

“Stanly! How the heck are you?”

“I’m great, Marcus. You sure seem happier since the last time I saw you.”

“Yeah, you know what, I finally got out of that mid-level management position at Monolithic, and took a team lead job here at Acme. I took a cut in pay, but I’m much happier.”

“How so?”

“The short answer is, if you don't recognize merit, the meritorious start to disappear. They were so big, though, that the bad leadership calls will take a while to catch up to them. Here at Acme, if you can deliver, you can move up. We’re a fraction of Monolithic’s infrastructure, but I think we’re going to make some serious inroads into their customer base.”

“You may already have.”

* * * *

I met the Monolithic guy back at my office.

“I still can’t figure out how you realized I was from Monolithic!” he began. “I know I didn’t give myself away! How did you do it?”

“You gave me a check, remember?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Are you, by any chance, a senior-level manager?”

“How did you know that?”

“’Nother hunch.”