CHAPTER 11
I’m at my new favorite restaurant again, eating the same meal I had the last time I was here. I sit alone and gaze out the window at the people walking by, wondering how their lives are, where they’re headed and what they do for work. I feel fortunate to be able to do what I love. Most people don’t have that opportunity.
And that has me thinking about Zimyra. She’s good at her position, but is it really something she loves doing? Is it her passion? Does she aspire for more, or has she settled for what she has? I know life down here is a lot slower than it is up North. That much I could tell as soon as I rolled into town. There is no bustling nightlife. No parties. No poppin’ social scene. It’s bland – something I’m not accustomed to. I’m used to company galas, business lunches, and day parties. Here, I’m a loner. I don’t have anyone to kick it with, not that I need that, but it would be nice to grab a drink and talk sports at least. Perhaps I haven’t been in town long enough to form those kinds of connections. I should probably venture out more.
“Good evening.”
My thoughts leave me when I hear a woman’s voice in my ear. I turn in her direction to see that she’s sitting at the table next to mine.
“Good evening,” I respond and have no intention of saying a word more. It’s been a while since I entertained a woman, but for some reason, nothing in me wants to. Perhaps it’s the mission. All my energy is going to my assignment.
I return to eating when I hear, “Are you from around here?”
I look at the woman again. She’s beautiful – has long, dark brown hair that matches the color of her eyes. Her makeup is not overly done. Her lips are a dangerous red that tells me she’s a little edgy. The dress she’s wearing grips her body like leather.
“No, I’m not from around here.”
“Where are you from?”
I glance at my vibrating phone to see Peter calling. He’s right on time to save me from a conversation I desperately do not want to have.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answer.
“Hey. How’s it going?”
“It’s going.” I summon the waitress, tell her to wrap up the rest of my food and when she brings it back, I quickly pay and head up to my apartment. I leave ol’ girl where she is.
“I hope you’re getting some good intel.”
“Yes, as much as I can, being that the manager hates my guts.”
Peter cackles in my ear. “What did you do?”
“She’s upset about me wasting her time when she gave me the tour. I tried apologizing. She accepted my apology, yet she’s still giving me the cold shoulder.”
“Oh, come on, son. I’ve seen the way you are with women. You’re a smooth operator. You mean to tell me you can’t charm an innocent, sweet-tea-drinking, country gal.”
I chuckle and say, “You should never try that accent again, Peter. And Zimyra isn’t your typical country gal . This woman is all business. There is no charming her.”
“Then fall into business mode. That should be a piece of cake.”
“It’s not when I’m supposed to be posing as a maintenance man,” I say, opening the fridge to place my leftovers inside. “I do, however, have a plan.”
“Which is?”
“I’m going to stay out of her way until I figure her out, and then I’ll try to feel her out. Right now, she’s making it impossible for me to do that.”
“I’m sure you’ll weasel your way in somehow.”
“Yeah…we’ll see. Hey, by the way, do you recall a requisition coming through from Atlantic Properties?”
“What was the requisition for?”
“It was a change to the maintenance reporting system. Zimyra said she put in a request and it was denied.”
“Oh, yeah. I do recall that.”
“You denied it?”
“Sure did.”
“I’m the operating officer. I believe requests as such fall under my umbrella.”
“They do, but when I saw it come through, I knew I wasn’t about to invest the thousands of dollars it would take to add that functionality to the website and the app—not to mention the regular updates. There was no way I was going to let that go through.”
“Well, what I can say is, being out here in the field teaches you some things. I have to go into the office every day and get a paper report from her in which she prioritizes first by urgency and second by the date submitted. She types up a report and hands it to me, to which I go with Mauricio to all the units listed. Mauricio completes the tasks, I jump in where I can, and we mark them off one by one as we complete them. At the end of the day, we turn in this report to Zimyra. She takes the report, updates her spreadsheet, then manually sends emails to the tenants to notify them that their maintenance request has been completed.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s complete nonsense.”
“It’s just a process, Ax. The way you explained it makes it sound complicated.”
“No, it is complicated. I mean, come on, Peter. If it’s truly a luxury complex, then the people running the joint shouldn’t be years behind in technology. And, by the way—how much does Zimyra make an hour?”
“She’s not hourly. She’s salaried.”
“How much?”
“Forty-two thousand.”
“Forty-two thousand dollars? That’s it? Who lives off that little?”
“You gotta remember, the cost of living is lower down there than it is up here, Axel.”
“I looked it up. The average salary is forty-five thousand, so she’s below average.”
“Ax—”
“Did she get a raise when she hit her one-year anniversary?”
“Uh…no.”
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t in the budget.”
“The budget? I know how much operating cash we have readily available. We have millions, and you’re telling me it wasn’t in the budget?”
“Look—I think you’re getting sidetracked, Ax. You’re down there to see what this woman is doing. That’s all. You’re not there to change things around or probe into her life—”
“That’s exactly why I’m here. I’m trying to find out who she is and how she’s making our business successful and now I learn that she didn’t get so much as a cost of living raise?”
I’m heated. Perhaps if I didn’t know her – and in many ways, I still don’t but I know enough – I would be so disturbed by all of this. But I feel like she’s getting screwed, and I’m the one who’s in a position to do something about it.
I say, “Here’s what we’re going to do. The maintenance system update she recommended, push it through.”
“Ax—”
“Peter, I don’t want to hear that we can’t afford it because I know that’s not true. I will pay for it out of my own pocket if I have to. Push it through. Have your secretary send Zimyra an email notifying her of this. Also, I realize we can’t issue a raise at the moment, being that she’s way past her year, but she’s getting a performance bonus ASAP.”
Peter huffs. “You do realize I’m the CEO of this company, right?’”
“You’re right, and you deserve to pop your collar, but while I’m down here playing undercover boss, this woman will get whatever she asks for. We already know she knows what she’s doing. Who knows—the upgrades she’s asking for may be the thing to make other complexes more successful.”
After a heavy sigh and a long pause, Peter says, “Okay. Fine. As long as you get some good intel, I’m here for it. Oh, and by the way, call your mother, too. She’s been freaking out since you’ve been gone.”
“Why?”
“She said you’re not bred for the South.”
I chuckle. “I’ll call her right after I hang up with you.”
“Alright, son. Keep your head down and remember your goal.”
“Got it. Later.”
I dial my mother immediately after I end the call with Peter and when she picks up, I ask, “Did you really say I wasn’t bred for the South?”
“Your father and his big mouth. He wasn’t supposed to tell you I said that.”
“What do you mean by that? I’m me . I fit in anywhere I go.”
“That’s what you think. That would be like one of them coming up here. They’ll stick out like sore thumbs and it ain’t no different with you down there.”
“Mother, I promise you, I fit right in.”
“Mmm hmm,” she utters, not believing a word I say. “How are you doing on your top secret mission? Your father won’t tell me why you’re there – just that you’re working.”
“I’m doing well. There’s no need for you to worry. I know how you get.”
“Why did you have to go down there in the first place?”
“For work.”
“Be more specific.”
“I can’t.”
“Mmpt, mmpt, mmpt…just like your father. You two are going to learn your lesson one day about keeping me in the dark about everything.”
“It’s for your own good, Mother, now I have to get back to work.”
“It’s after seven. Don’t tell me you’re still on the clock.”
“Mother, I love you. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight, Son. I love you, too.”
After a quick shower, I lay across my bed naked and ask myself why I’m going to bat for a woman who hates me. Yeah, Zimyra is on my mind yet again and I seriously do not like it. I don’t concern myself with anything but my job – yet she’s managed to infiltrate my thoughts every night since we met. I have to break that cycle. It’s too much of a burden to be thinking about a woman all the time. I’d rather think about money.
Speaking of, I couldn’t believe her salary. With her massive workload and the amount of steady income she makes for Leverage, she’s worth so much more. I’m beginning to see why employees complain so much when it comes to management. If, as a manager, you know a person is going above and beyond for your company – your brand – why would you not pay them accordingly? I’ll have to address this issue across the board when I return to my real job. In the meantime, I’ll stay the course. Tomorrow is another workday, and I plan on getting my hands dirty instead of watching Mauricio do all the work.