Still, executives should recognize their CEO.
That was part of the test.
The chairman said:
“This is risky.”
“So is pretending survey dashboards tell us how people are treated.”
“What identity?”
“Corporate compliance transfer.”
“You cannot pretend to be an employee if paperwork—”
“I’m not pretending to have a false legal identity.”
She interrupted.
“My badge will have my actual name.”
“No title.”
“Anyone who bothers checking the company directory will know exactly who I am.”
The chairman laughed once.
“That’s cruel.”
“No.”
“It’s informative.”
The CEO’s first name was common enough.
Her surname appeared throughout company history.
But she had learned that people rarely investigated those they believed beneath them.
That was another kind of information.
The chairman said:
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
She looked toward the city.
“My mother cleaned office buildings at night for nineteen years.”
The chairman stopped joking.
The CEO continued:
“She would take me with her sometimes when childcare fell through.”
“I used to sleep on folded towels in supply rooms.”
“So if these complaints are real, I’m not interested in reading another sanitized HR summary explaining that managers sometimes need flexibility assigning duties.”
“I want to see the face of the person who thinks cleaning is humiliating only when she uses it to humiliate somebody.”
The chairman exhaled.
“When?”
“Monday.”
That Monday morning, the CEO entered the Chicago office wearing beige and burgundy.
The security guard downstairs scanned her temporary-access credential.
Then looked at her name.
His eyes widened.
He looked at the screen.
Then at her.
She raised one finger to her lips.
Not playfully.
Requesting discretion.
He swallowed.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She walked away.
He immediately texted his supervisor.