Oliver stopped mid-spiel. “Is there something I missed?”
Lori didn’t know what to say, and judging by the stunned looks on everybody’s faces, it appeared everybody was showing the same collective disbelief at what Oliver had said a moment ago.
“Let me clarify what I said,” Oliver said. He had been pacing in front of the white board and Lori saw he’d written recommendations in red marker. “Corporate Financial’s recommendation on saving money on your self-insured Health Care Insurance for your employees is that you stop insuring people during the last year of their life.”
There were several gasps in the room. Lori’s was one of them.
Wide eyes directed their stunned attention at Oliver.
“Well, as you know, most medical expenses are incurred during the last year of life,” Oliver explained. “They’re also the most expensive.” He said this as if it was the most normal and logical thing to say and that they were being obtuse for needing it explained further.
Lori could only think, I can’t believe I’m hearing this. The company that I and everyone else around me works for has just recommended to their client, who has a self-insured plan for their employees health insurance, to stop insuring people during the last year of their lives because that’s when they need the most care, and if they want to save some money well, they should just stop it right now!
Did I just hear that right?
Lori could tell she wasn’t the only Corporate Financial employee thinking this. The vibe she got from Ken, from Naomi, from Jack Snow and Herb Willis and Candace Baker appeared to mirror her own.
Oliver took a step or two back. He blinked; he looked totally confused by the reaction.
“What if the insured is an infant?” This from Naomi Miller, her voice puzzled. “A baby, under one year of age? I don’t understand.”
“That would be the last year of its life then,” Oliver said.
Luke Farris, the VP of Automated Technical, who invited Corporate Financial to help brainstorm methods on how the consultant group might be able to help save his company, appeared shaken. “That’s very interesting. What other methods would you recommend?”
And with that the subject was changed and Oliver continued his spiel, but by now Lori had had it with her boss. Judging by the climate among her co-workers—most of them, at least—they’d had it with him, too. She didn’t even attempt to take notes at the meeting, and when she and Ken drove back to the office she vented her fury. “What kind of fuckwad would recommend such shit? I can’t believe it!”
As for Naomi Miller, the consultant who’d questioned Oliver at the meeting, that was the last time Lori saw her. She later heard Oliver fired Naomi that afternoon.
Lori herself was fired two weeks later. Her dismissal came as a relief. She had been wanting to quit ever since that meeting with Automated Technical. Prior to that meeting, which she was sure she’d remember for the rest of her life, things had been okay at Corporate Financial. It had its good side and its bad side, and Oliver could be a real corporate pain in the ass, but for the most part it was okay.
Not anymore.
Things started changing after the meeting. In fact, it probably happened prior to the meeting, with Oliver, because shortly after the meeting one of the other consultants, Jack Snow, started behaving differently. Lori could never put her finger on what it was that made the vibe at work so different now, and she was glad to be rid of it when Oliver let her go.
Good riddance.
JUNE 2, 1995
Calistoga, California
Of all the companies Kyle Bauer visited on his daily UPS runs, the National Headquarters of Corporate Financial was the most impressive.
It also gave him the creeps.
It was a warm, sunny day when Kyle pulled his brown paneled van up to the front entrance. Ninety percent of his deliveries were made at the rear of the building, near the company warehouse. Kyle had never paid much attention to the building or the people until recently, when his boss told him that the executives of the firm made a recent request that certain packages addressed to them were to be delivered to security in the front lobby. The executives in question received packages every few days, and when Kyle walked through the thick double glass doors of the lobby to security he immediately got a whiff of the ambience of the place. It was corporate, sterile, very polished, just like all the other corporate lobbies of the other companies he made his UPS deliveries too. The people who worked in the offices looked similar, too; they looked dressed for the part in business suits and skirts, hair neatly groomed. Corporate American worker bees were indistinguishable everywhere.
But this place was different.
Kyle gathered three packages, one of them for Frank Marstein, CEO of Corporate Financial. Mr. Marstein had been getting a lot of these flat packages lately. Probably some kind of weekly financial reports. Kyle gathered the packages and his clipboard and walked to the lobby.
He ignored the feeling he got as he made his way across the lobby and headed to security. A guy in a blue three piece suit glanced at him briefly as he walked in, momentarily torn away from The Wall Street Journal, and then resumed his reading. Kyle set the packages on the security desk and waited for the guard to approach.
The security guard was a balding guy in his forties dressed in a navy blue suit. His ramrod posture suggested former military. He looked at Kyle, his features bland. “Can I help you?”
Kyle felt a trickle of unease. This security guard asked him the same thing every time he came in for a delivery. Either he was incredibly stupid or he had no short-term memory. Kyle said, “UPS delivery.”
The guard looked at each package, noted the addressee, nodded and looked at Kyle. “Very good,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“Can you sign in, please?” The guard indicated a sign-in log at the desk for business visitors.
They went through this every time Kyle was here. Usually Kyle just signed the damn log book, but this time he hesitated. “Don’t you think it’s a waste? I mean, I’m here less than a minute. I sign my name, and the arrival and departure time I put in are the same. Besides, I’m leaving now. Why—”
“Company policy,” The guard said. His features remained bland. He looked at Kyle, no change in his expression. No sign of annoyance, or displeasure, or anger or even humor at the absurdity of the policy. Just blank indifference.
Kyle sighed and signed the log book quickly, scrawling the times, then set the pen down. “Have a good day,” he said as he walked away.
The security guard nodded and remained at his post, watching while Kyle Bauer walked through the lobby toward the exit.
And as he left he couldn’t help but think that everybody he passed—the businessman reading The Wall Street Journal, the businessmen talking in a little group at the exit, the smartly dressed businesswoman passing him as she entered the building, the groups of people gathered outside talking, were secretly watching him. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. He got this feeling every time he set foot in the Corporate area of Corporate Financial. It was very slick, very… corporate. No, that was the wrong word. He’d made deliveries at corporate offices before, some just as high-level and polished and slick as this place. The atmosphere at this place was different. It was hard to describe, but it felt…
Well, creepy.
Kyle Bauer exited the lobby and made his way to his van, trying not to give the impression he was fleeing, but he couldn’t help it. It felt like the people he passed were watching him secretively, that the people working in the offices were watching him, that the people who had work stations by the windows that looked out over the parking lot were watching him, but he knew that was insane. He’d looked up at the building numerous times on his way in and out of the building and everything looked normal. People hadn’t been looking at him, peering at him as he left the building. Still, he got the feeling every time he left the lobby and he also felt something else, something that was of a greater magnitude.