Wild Fyre (16 page)

“You understand why we had to reverse a lot of your changes?” she asked.

“No,” Dale said. “The documentation could have been updated to match the new processes. Both quality and yield were improved.”

“Yes, but the certification requires that everything be documented and approved, right up the line. You didn’t do those things ahead of time.”

“The certification is meant to guarantee a standard of quality. My changes improved the quality.”

“But not in the sanctioned way,” she said.

Dale folded his arms.

“I’ve asked engineering to adopt all of your changes, but to do it appropriately,” she said, smiling. “And I’d like to increase your role in the company. I believe that when we’re done with this shakeup, we’ll hold a much stronger position. You were the agent of that change.”

“Engineering hates me,” Dale said.

“Rightly so,” she said. “You nearly cost them all their jobs. They all threatened to quit when Jack was fired. That’s why I hired him back. We can’t afford to replace a whole department right now. It’s almost summer.”

Summer was their busy season for manufacturing. Engineering support was crucial during this time.

“So, aside from engineering, do you have skills that can benefit this company, or am I writing you a glowing recommendation for your job search?” she asked.

“I’m good with computers,” Dale said.

The web wasn’t yet a thing that anyone cared about. Dale worked at improving the company’s IT support and eventually took the reins of the small department. And as soon as the world wide web began to capture a portion of the nation’s consciousness, Dale was on it.
 

Their boots were renowned for their custom fit. Now, by streamlining the communication between the customer and the manufacturer, Dale created a new revenue stream. People could order shoes directly, and the order would be entered in the computer system where it was tracked until it was fulfilled. Within a year, electronic orders through Dale’s channel matched the orders from physical stores. Within two years, the company was dedicated to fulfilling electronic orders. Even shoe stores who wanted to carry the popular boots would order through Dale’s mechanism. Some shoe store owners were purchasing their first computers just to place their orders. The customer got exactly what they wanted, and the company no longer had to estimate their production runs or scrap what they couldn’t sell. Revenues multiplied.

As the web matured, so did Dale’s career. He moved on to another job—helping a pottery company expand to mass production and develop their own web presence. Soon, he specialized in migrating companies from paper catalogues to online.
 

He started a family in his thirties. By the time he was forty-two, he opted for an early retirement. His wife managed a retail outlet while Dale took care of the kids. After a year, he grew bored. It was a hard thing for him to admit—taking care of his own children wasn’t satisfying enough for him.

Dale began his job search with small local businesses who were looking for help with their web sites. When his qualifications crossed the desk of Ed Statler, his job hunt was over. Dale had searched on his own for four months. When Ed got involved, Dale found himself in a job by the end of the week. Success in his third career—fourth, if you counted his brief role as daycare provider—was still a few months away.

Dale walked into the small empty shop and a little bell went off. It was tied to the piston that pulled the door shut. He switched his bag to the other hand. It held his favorite computer. He took a deep breath and let it out. These were nice people—he had met nearly the whole company during the interviews—so he had nothing to worry about. After a year with little kids, he wondered if he could even concentrate on a job for a whole day, or if he would need a break for a nap.

The shop was long and empty. It looked like it previously housed a trendy clothes store. There were still some hangers and display racks standing around. At the end of the room, light came out around the cracks of a closed door. Dale walked towards that. It was much brighter than the cloudy morning light coming through the glass at the front of the store. He hoped it was more encouraging, too.

He paused with his hand halfway to the door. He didn’t know if he should knock. Dale considered his jeans. They were Ed’s idea. Actually, they were Ed’s demand. Dale had just met Ed, but the recruiter seemed to know what he was talking about, and he had been adamant.
 

Ed had said, “You wear nice jeans, loafers, and a blue button down shirt. Got it?”

“No problem,” Dale said.

“No, I mean do you own those clothes?” Ed asked.

During his only meeting with Ed, Dale had been wearing a conservative suit. It was the kind his father said showed respect. If Ed hadn’t been so insistent, it would have been what Dale was wearing at that moment.

Dale put his hand on the knob and tried to feel comfortable in the jeans. He turned the knob.

“Impossible,” he said with a whisper.

The door opened to a catwalk that looked down through a metal grate to a manufacturing floor. About a dozen people milled around, working on machines. They weren’t producing—they were literally working on the machines, servicing or setting them up.

Spencer Christy, the new boss, came at a brisk pace down the catwalk. He wore safety glasses and held a clipboard. Aside from that, his uniform looked the same as Dale’s.

“Thank god, you came to do some work,” Spencer said with a big smile as he approached. He shook Dale’s hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Spencer was a young man with an enormous personality. “You wouldn’t believe the last jackass. He showed up in a goddamn suit. You ready to roll up those sleeves?”

“Absolutely,” Dale said. He felt his own smile mirror Spencer’s. Dale felt his heart swell. He hadn’t even realized how much he needed this. He yearned to feel useful and productive in a tangible way. For a year his only reward at the end of a long day was to recognize that his kids were still in one piece.
 

“Come on. You can help us get the new shrink wrap machine configured. Have you worked on one of those before?”

“No,” Dale said. He still wore his big grin.

“Then you’re in the same boat as the rest of us,” Spencer said. “We’re figuring it out from the manual. It’s a beast. I think it will be crucial once we get the new order system up and running. I don’t remember how much we talked about. What do you know about the operation?”

“Better start from the beginning,” Dale said. Spencer had said a million things during the interview and Dale nodded along. The job had been so much beyond his reach that he had barely listened. At the time, Dale understood why nobody wanted to hire him. His skills were a year out of date—an eternity in the web commerce world, where every process was reinvented each month—and even when his skills had been fresh, they had been hard to quantify.
 

“Nice—clean slate,” Spencer said. He bolted down the metal steps to the polished cement manufacturing floor. The space looked brand new and full of potential. “We do everything here, from design to packaging. Every toy we sell is going to be available in that storefront you walked through. That way we can just go up those steps and see the things the same way parents and kids will. They’ve got to be engaging and enriching. I want the kid to clutch the toy to her chest all the way home, until she’s dying to play with it.”

His smile was infectious. Dale imagined his own daughter and wondered how she was coping with day care. She had been pleased as punch when he dropped her off. Her two best friends went to the same day care, and she had always talked about going there. But talking and doing are different realities.
 

Dale hurried to keep up with Spencer, who was already at the machine several workers were trying to figure out.

“Dale, meet Caroline. Caroline, meet Dale,” Spencer said. Dale stuck out his hand. “Oh, I guess you guys already met, right? Caroline is the head of manufacturing. Dale is the new tech guy. He’s going to help you get this machine squared. You did shoes, right?”

Dale looked from the machine to Spencer.
 

“Oh, yes. Boots, actually,” Dale said.

“Bet you didn’t have one of these,” Spencer said. He thumped the side of the metal machine. Dale shook his head.

“I hate bad packaging,” Spencer said. “I don’t want anything sharp, hard to open, or wasteful. This machine is just the ticket. It puts a thin, easy to open, recycled, bio-friendly wrapper on a toy that even a kid can open.”

Caroline was nodding along as Spencer talked.
 

Dale glanced around the space. There was lots of light, plenty of room, and good airflow. The ceiling and walls were paneled to absorb sound before it bounced around. The floor was taped to describe the layout of the manufacturing process.

“You give me a shout when you’re going to fire it off the first time,” Spencer said. His words trailed after him as he moved on to his next project.

“How old are your kids?” Caroline asked.

“Five and three,” Dale said.

“Eleven and five and two,” Caroline said. “Girl, girl, boy.”

“Girl, boy,” Dale said. He grinned. “What do you want me to do?” Dale set down his laptop bag against the wall and rolled up his sleeves.

“I’m on step two-dash-four-point-two—leveling the outfeed roller process assembly bars,” Caroline said with a big smile. Dale laughed.

They spent their morning in close collaboration. Dale found his new co-worker intuitive, pleasant, and incredibly smart. She read the instructions aloud and then reasoned how the machine should work so she could translate them into actionable steps. Dale wondered how anyone ever managed to set up one of these machines without Caroline’s help. He wondered if even the manufacturer employed anyone more qualified to put together the machine.

One minute he was pushing up his sleeves, and it seemed that a few minutes later Caroline was pointing and talking about food.

Dale lowered the assembly manual and said, “Pardon?”

“We’re putting together a lunch order. There’s a meeting room over here where we all eat. You like Thai?”

“Love it,” Dale said.

“Great,” Caroline said.

Dale recognized many of the faces around the table from his interview, but he still didn’t have a lot of their names. Caroline sat next to him and introduced him around. They all had kids. They all talked about their kids. Dale’s heart thumped in his chest as he thought about his little son, alone amongst a room full of his peers.

“You were taking care of your kids?” the guy to Dale’s right asked.

“Yeah,” Dale said.

“You’ve got that look. You think it will be a big relief to go back to work, but you still worry about them, right?”

“Yeah,” Dale said. He took a big bite of spicy Thai food. It helped.

“Don’t worry,” the guy said. “You get over it quick. It’s good for kids to socialize. They have to develop relationships early so they turn out right. You know, people are pack animals. You look at any pack, like wolves, and all the cubs are kept together while the parents go out and hunt and stuff. It’s perfectly normal. It helps them bond with other kids their own age, you know?”

“Sure,” Dale said.

A woman across from Dale intervened, saving him from the talkative guy. She spoke low, bringing Dale into her conspiracy. “Spencer only hires parents of young kids. It’s probably illegal discrimination or something. On Monday, everyone just talks about their kids. Don’t worry, by Tuesday we’ll all be talking about TV or something else.”

Dale nodded. Caroline passed him a cell phone. It showed a picture of an infant wearing a giraffe hat. He nodded and passed the phone down to the pack-animal guy.

After lunch, Dale and Caroline fired up the machine. It worked great. They executed the diagnostics and actually ran a small batch of product through it. The operator’s manual suggested a one-person process. It seemed to run more efficiently with two.
 

“Where’s your office?” Caroline asked as they stood back and regarded the machine.

“I don’t know,” Dale said. “I’m not sure I have one.”

“We can fix that,” she said.

She showed him a couple of options and Dale chose the one next to the server room. He figured it would save walking back and forth even though the other office was bigger. It was four. Caroline bid him farewell. She had to pick up her oldest from school and then gather the other two from daycare.

Dale moved his desk to the other side of the office and set up his laptop. The passwords for the server were written on a sticky note and stuck to the corner of the monitor. Dale memorized them and put the note under the keyboard. He spent Monday’s final work hour patching the servers to get them secure. By the time the clock read five, he was ready to go home. He had labored all day and he had something to show for it. A machine was ready to use, and the servers were patched. He had accomplished something.

When he had picked up the kids, got them home and fed, and set them up playing with blocks in the living room, Dale realized that he had never been happier. He couldn’t wait for Helen to come home so he could tell her all about his new office. She was late. The kids had just fallen asleep when she finally came through the door and kicked off her shoes.

He sat on the stool in the kitchen while she put bread in the toaster.

“It’s the coolest place,” he said. “The whole back is manufacturing, but it connects to a storefront that’s in like a row of shops. You’ve got to come see it.”

“I’ve had enough of shops for one day,” she said. “Eighteen people quit this month alone. Can you believe it? Eighteen. I pulled into my parking spot this morning and before I could get out of the car, I just started crying. It’s a good thing I don’t wear makeup. I cried for five minutes.”

“I’m sorry,” Dale said.

“Yeah, and then Mary said she has to take Thanksgiving weekend. She can’t do that. I have two managers who want that holiday, and one of them is pregnant. How am I going to tell a woman who is eight months pregnant that she can’t take off for a holiday. Do you think she’ll ever come back to work if I do?” Helen asked. She sighed and took a bite of toast. She washed it down with the rest of her wine. “How was your day?”