"Because we are taught since early childhood not to fear these particular bugs, we accept them. We never think that these bugs are quite similar to others, which we fear in disgust. We never stop to wonder how these preconceptions came to be. We just accept them, and, most important, we act on them. When it comes to deeply set preconceptions, we don't have an open mind, and we never ask why." He turned off the projector and continued. "Alex, can you think of some commonly encountered preconceived ideas?"
"Yes, sure. All Germans like beer; women are worse drivers than men, that kind of thing?"
"Exactly. Those are broad examples, and they affect our judgment on a daily basis. For instance, if I had a German delegate visiting my manufacturing plant, I could assume that he likes beer, and would not ask him what he likes to drink. I could become tempted to act on my biased notion and make a decision for him, therefore offending him. Or I could be the sales manager of a company, in charge of assigning company vehicles to my sales reps. My preconceived idea of women's driving skills might influence my decision, and I might end up assigning the oldest, less-valuable vehicles to women sales reps. What do you think the consequences would be, in this case?"
"Well, the women sales reps would notice, would become demotivated, would feel the discrimination, and this would result in lost revenue for the company. Lower morale in the sales team could potentially lead to attrition, fractures in the team, revolt, and vindictive behaviors. Lawsuits for discrimination are also possible," Alex replied, without hesitation. Steve was nodding his approval for each item she listed as possible consequences. She asked, "Am I missing anything?"
"No, that's mostly it. How would you assign the company cars to the sales reps?
"Ideally, all the cars would be of equal value and in equally good shape. If that is not an option, there are two ways to fairly assign them. Based on previous sales results or based on a draw, with all the sales reps present. I think both ways would work."
"Perfect," Steven said, "and, by the way, statistics prove that women are, in fact, better drivers than men. Did you know that?"
She smiled. "Yes, I did. However, most people are still biased against women drivers."
"That is so true. You need to keep your biases in mind at all times. You have to ask yourself, every time you reach a conclusion, "Who reached that conclusion? Was it your freethinking, analytical mind? Or was it some pre-existing judgment you were not even aware of? Equally, when you see someone else's actions, decisions, or conclusions, you have to assume there could have been some preconceived notion influencing them." Steve leaned back in his chair, his body language saying he was done for the day. "Any questions?"
"Just one. Does superstition qualify as preconception, or should it even be considered a factor in analyzing human motivations?" Alex asked.
"What is superstition? It's a belief. Although irrational, it's widespread in its variety of forms, and it's influencing the human decision-making process, even for decisions of minor importance, such as refusing to pay a bill on a Monday or not walking under a ladder. Superstition is the preconceived belief that doom will follow certain actions. Therefore, it qualifies with flying colors."
"Thank you." Alex stood up, ready to go. She was hoping for another lunch invitation, but that never came.
An uncomfortable silence settled for a few seconds, ended by Tom's appearance. He entered the small office and pulled up a chair, so Alex sat back down.
"I will need just a couple of minutes with you, Alex."
Steve waved goodbye and left, closing the door behind him.
"One thing we haven't yet discussed about this job is compensation. I was actually surprised you took the job without the faintest clue about compensation."
Alex chuckled. "I am sure it's going to be a little better than what I previously earned."
"Correct. You will be making $145,000 per year, plus a significant bonus, conditional on your successful client-case resolutions." Tom paused, waiting for a reaction.
"Wow," Alex said in a soft voice, "that is a little better than before." It was almost three times higher, but instead of being thrilled, she suddenly felt afraid.
"This compensation will be deposited biweekly in an account of your choosing I'd recommend that you refrain from using your regular bank account. Setting up a special account, at a different bank, would be better."
Alex frowned, intrigued.
"In addition," Tom continued, "you will be compensated by each client, for the role you officially hold while working with the respective client. Those amounts should be deposited in your regular bank account. In case someone investigates your financial records, they will find nothing out of the ordinary with the deposits. I trust the compensation package is satisfactory?"
Alex nodded with enthusiasm. "And then some!"
Tom walked out the door, and Alex followed him.
"If you're done for the day, I'd like to walk you to your car," Tom said.
…17
Brigadier General Seth Nichols went through a heap of paperwork, turning page after page from a massive dossier. He wasn't finding what he was looking for, and he was losing his patience. He picked up the phone.
"Jim?"
"Yes, sir," his adjutant on the other end of the line responded promptly.
"Get me the Kandahar Airfield commander, Colonel Sheridan. What time is it there?"
"They're eight and a half hours ahead of us, so that would make it 2:15AM, sir."
"Get him anyway."
"Yes, sir."
A minute later, the phone rang.
"I have Colonel Sheridan for you, sir," Jim advised, then put the call through.
"This is Sheridan, sir, good morning." The colonel's voice was almost covered by the background noise of roaring jet engines.
"Good morning, Sheridan. I got your report on the friendly fire mess on the 20th. I've read the reports you sent me, but I see no conclusions were drawn yet. What's the delay? Do you know what happened out there?"
"Not yet, sir. We're still working on it. The reports I've sent are covering everything we know so far, but there are still questions to be answered."
"Well, how hard can it be? Did we fire on the Canadians or not?"
"That's exactly it, sir. Our ground systems do not show any record of a missile launch. But, as far as we know, we were the only ones flying drones in the area, and the Hellfire signatures have been confirmed — they were ours."
"I've seen you debriefed the pilots. What are they saying?"
"They are not saying much. They maintained their original statements, that it was an uneventful drone deployment, which was completed without anything out of the ordinary to report."
"Sheridan?"
"Sir?"
"You need to get to the bottom of this and fast, do you read me? We have to issue a full report as soon as possible. We can't delay this any further. The media is already on this, as you would expect."
"Yes, sir, we're on it."
"Keep me posted," Nichols said, and then hung up. "What a mess," he said to himself, closing the thick file that held no answers.
…18
Tom and Alex exited the elegant, white building, walking side by side. Alex started turning left, heading for her car.
"This way, please," Tom said, "follow me."
Intrigued, Alex followed, without asking anything. They must have worked on my car, she thought, that would explain a few things. Tom stopped between two rows of parked cars and handed her a set of car keys, attached to a simple, triangular keychain without any markings.