The Sheep Rise Up

 CHAPTER 2

The Cabinet Members, as President Peter Preston liked to call the eighteen executives, were herded into what he referred to as the Briefing Room. Several vice presidents commented on the excellent choice of Danish pastries offered with coffee. Kristen wondered if there would once again be a discussion as to whether the Danish should be cut in halves or thirds. At the prior meeting, Dan Minetta, whom Kristen privately referred to as the Vice President of Miscellanea and Minutia, suggested a vote.

            “Thank you all for coming so early on a Monday morning,” said Preston, a tall, dark-haired man in his middle fifties. “I’m going to tell you about matters that I’d rather you heard first from me, before hearing misstatements and exaggerations from other sources.

            “Enterprise, Inc. will need to spend considerably more money on projects that are necessary to keep the company progressing in the future. And we have been unable to convince our outside accounting firm to allow us to spread the expenses over future years when the related income comes in. They’re playing it two hundred percent safe, if you ask me. Like a bunch of scared bean counters. And because of that, in addition to the short-term drain on our cash position, our reported expenses for the next two years will be considerably increased, and that will decrease stockholder earnings and the market value of our stock—unless we cut costs elsewhere.”

            Preston paused for ten seconds and looked around at all the faces in the room. “I know that you care a great deal about the future of Enterprise and the benefits it provides to its customers and the public, just as I do. So next week I’m going to be announcing to the entire company that there will be an across-the-board wage freeze for two years. Until then, this is confidential. And to demonstrate to the rank and file the commitment of the President’s Cabinet, I’m asking each person in this room to accept a ten percent cut in salary.”

            Preston leaned his head forward, to his right, then his left, challenging his Cabinet to respond.

            In her mind, Kristen saw the tuition bill that was lying on her kitchen table.

            “I’m sorry to add,” Preston continued, “we can’t look forward to bonuses as usual a month from now, or next year.”

            Kristen visualized David snoring in bed.

            “Now, this doesn’t mean that Enterprise is in trouble,” Preston went on. “It means that, together, we are all investing in its future so it can become an even better and more prominent company than it is today.”

            Kristen wondered if anybody in the group would ask how much more money was needed to be spent on the projects. Or the reason the costs incurred for the benefit of future periods had to be reported as expenses for the current period. And how much the wage freeze and elimination of bonuses would save Enterprise. Being the chronologically most junior member of the President’s Cabinet, she wasn’t going to be the one to raise her hand. And those weren’t even the questions she really wanted to ask.

            What she really wanted to ask was, What’s in this for us? For me? The investment is being made with my tuition and grocery money. When the projects pay off, what do I get?

            She knew that nobody in the room was going to challenge Preston on that—and he wasn’t going to go there because the answer was almost certainly, Nada. And she also knew that Preston was gleefully rationalizing to himself that the silence in the room meant that everyone was very accepting of the plan—rather than that they badly needed their jobs.
            Someday, the planets will realign, Mr. Preston. The sheep will rise up and there will be no mercy for you.