7-14-02, 7:45 AM

We headed to Shimmers. Kourtnee had the radio on, so she heard that there was a wreck on the Dorinda Expressway. She decided to take the R. G. Hanzly Expressway. That freeway was congested. It appeared that everyone had decided to take the same freeway. Kourtnee didn’t seem bothered by the traffic. She sung each song that was played on the radio. She had a beautiful voice. Of all the times, I had heard her sing; I had never heard her crack. I asked her if she had taken voice lessons. She said that she had. She also said that she and all of her siblings had taken art and music lessons. She said that Donna played the piano, George painted, Jordan sung also, and Thomas played the drums when he was alive. With each question that I asked, she quickly answered my question and went right back to he singing. The routine continued, I asked Kourtnee a question; she answered it, and then went back to singing. It was funny. I pulled the $20 bill out of my pocket. Kourtnee saw the money and asked my where I got it from. I told her that Mrs. Jackson had given it to me. Kourtnee smiled, shook her head, and said Mrs. Jackson’s name.

The drive to Shimmers lasted 30 minutes. When we walked into the lobby of the building, Brugeon Roberts, the security guard, said, “Good morning Ms. Adams. Good morning, little Miss Adams.” He handed me a badge. I looked at Kourtnee. She said, “This badge gives you access to Shimmers. Make sure that you wear it all the time. You can’t go on the IS floor.” I clipped the badge on my collar. I shook my head as I thought back to the incident that had happened just months earlier.

It was 8:29 AM. Kourtnee and I went to the seventh floor. Paula handed Kourtnee a stack of messages, then Paula nodded at me. I nodded back. Kourtnee and I walked into her office. I looked around her office. She had my Gospel Jam Youth Choir Director trophy on the wall. Kourtnee sat down at her desk. I looked on the couch. My racquet and racquetballs were sitting on the couch. I started walking towards the couch. Kourtnee said, “Leave those alone. Come here.” I walked over to her desk. She pointed to a stack of papers and said, “Go file those papers in those file cabinets.” I looked at her and said, “Isn’t Paula supposed to do this for you?” Kourtnee responded, “No, I do my own filing.” I looked at the stack of papers and asked, “When was the last time you filed something?” Kourtnee laughed as she said, “I don’t know.”

I grabbed half the stack of papers, walked over to the table, and sat them down. I went back, got the rest of the papers, and sat them down. Kourtnee picked up the phone and began making calls. I looked through the papers to try to figure out the best way to tackle this enormous task, and it was enormous. Some of the papers dated back to March. Good grief. I was going to be all day doing this. Kourtnee was talking to somebody named Arthur Brader. I heard the words lotion, after shave, and perfume. I walked over to the filing cabinets and looked in them. The files were in order by year, then by month, then by date. I decided which way would be easiest do all the filing. Kourtnee was on her second phone call. It was to a person named Terry Williams. Kourtnee had to leave a message for Terry.

It was 8:47 AM. Kourtnee put the phone down and told me to come on. She said that we were going to the Vice-Presidents meeting. She handed me a note pad and a pen. I took the pen and pad. We walked out of her office. Paula walked with us down the hallway to a conference room. (Paula tried to stand next to Kourtnee, but I walked in between them. Paula nudged me with her arm. Kourtnee told us both to stop.) We walked into the conference room. The carpet was mauve. The curtains on the windows matched the carpet. There was a large picture of Mr. Adams on one of the walls of the conference room. A large table that could probably seat 50 people was in the middle of the room. There were several cabinets on the walls. There were bagels, croissants, juice, and coffee sitting on the countertops of a couple of the cabinets. All of the furniture in the room matched. Michael Testarozin, the VP of Marketing walked over to Kourtnee and began talking to her.

I walked over to the window and looked out it. From the window, you could see the whole parking lot. I was deep in thought when Gilda Chambers tapped me on my shoulder. We spoke to each other and then she started talking. I didn’t pay much attention to what she was saying. (That’s rude, I know, but I was looking around the room.)

Most of the VPs were dressed in business suits. Two people there were not in business suits. I assumed that they were secretaries or something of that nature. Kourtnee walked over to Gilda and I. Gilda spoke and started talking to Kourtnee about some project that was going on at the plant. Gilda’s back was to me. I made a face at Kourtnee and she burst out laughing at me. Gilda turned around and looked at me. I had the most innocent look on my face. Gilda turned back around to face Kourtnee. Kourtnee was still laughing. Kourtnee apologized to Gilda. I think we really offended Gilda, because she walked off sulking. Kourtnee grabbed me by my elbow and playfully fussed at me. I flashed her a big kool-aid smile. She laughed again. I asked her who some of the people were. She pointed them out and told me who each one was.

At 9:07 AM, Felton Price, the VP of the company called the meeting to order. Paula sat on one side of Kourtnee and I sat on the other side of her. One of the secretaries, Amy Taylor, read the minutes from the last meeting. Next, Barry Anderson, the VP of Accounting took the floor. He was boring. He was monotone and there was no excitement in his voice. I was taking notes as best I could, but it was hard. Mr. Anderson droned on and on about expense reports, order forms, and fund requests. Kourtnee was doodling hearts on the paper she had in front of her. She must have been bored, too. Finally, Mr. Anderson was through. It was 9:26 AM. Robert Ruelas, the VP of productivity took the floor. Mr. Ruelas was over the Building Maintenance department. He began fussing about finding cigarette butts on the ground in the smoking areas. After fussing, he talked about a campaign to help with what he had just finished fussing about. It was called, “Put Your Butts Where They Belong.” Kourtnee and Paula put their heads down and began snickering. A couple of other VPs laughed aloud. I put my hand on my head and shook my head. The campaign would be set-up so that each department was responsible for a 30-minute period each day. Every 30 minutes, someone from the janitorial department would come check the smoking area and record whether there were any cigarette butts on the ground. A tally would be kept and each month, the departments with the fewest butts would get a pizza party at the end of the month. Mr. Ruelas opened the floor for questions. Mr. Anderson asked how much the campaign would cost. Mr. Ruelas only had an estimated cost. A couple of other people asked some questions. I leaned over and asked Kourtnee if I could ask a question. She said that I could. I asked, “What’s to stop someone from a different department from purposely leaving cigarette butts on the ground?” Everyone in the room looked at me and then at Kourtnee. Kourtnee did not flinch. She kept looking at Mr. Ruelas, waiting for his answer. Mr. Ruelas answered. His answer was not as complete as I thought it should have been. He said that everyone would be on the honor system.

Dr. Hardin Jones, the VP of the Legal Department took the floor. He began discussing a lawsuit of sexual harassment filed against one of the manager’s at a branch of Shimmers in Rysar, Maddocha. The subject of the lawsuit made some of the VPs body language change. Kourtnee’s did not change. I looked at her and asked did I need to leave. She shook her head no. Dr. Jones began discussing the suit. Apparently, a young man was denied a pay raise due to a low performance rating. He was suing Shimmers and his female manager for sexual harassment stating that he was given a low performance rating because he would not perform for the female manager. Dr. Jones said that the case had no merits because the male employee had a history of low performance ratings. A few of the VPs asked questions. Dr. Jones answered each question.

I glanced at Kourtnee. She had a stern look on her face. I couldn’t tell if it was concern, deep thought, or frustration. At that moment, I wished I hadn’t been in the room. Kourtnee leaned over towards Paula as she whispered something in Kourtnee’s ear. The stern look on Kourtnee’s face grew even sterner. I was almost nervous.

The meeting finally adjourned. Kourtnee quickly rose from the table. She immediately walked over to Dr. Jones. They walked out of the conference room together. Paula told me to go back to Kourtnee’s office and finish filing. Paula and I walked back to the office together. I went into Kourtnee’s office and began my filing. I didn’t see Kourtnee until 10:25.

Before Paula left me in Kourtnee’s office alone, she said, “Don’t say anything to anyone about the lawsuit.” I nodded my head.

I guess every company had some dirty draws stuck back behind the closet door.