Wendy stared.
Derek chuckled.
“You know, for content.”
Wendy looked toward the security desk near the revolving doors.
A guard named Michael Grant stood there.
Late forties.
Former police officer, according to the personnel profile Wendy had reviewed.
He had heard everything.
He looked uncomfortable.
But did not intervene.
Interesting.
Wendy turned back toward Jenna.
“Would you call the founder’s office, please?”
Jenna reached for the phone.
Derek placed his hand over it.
“No.”
Wendy’s eyes shifted.
Jenna looked embarrassed.
Derek said, “We don’t bother executives every time somebody walks in with a story.”
Wendy’s voice remained calm.
“The appointment is visible on your screen.”
“It’s incomplete.”
“It has my name.”
“It has a name.”
“Yes.”
“Anybody can give a name.”
Wendy stared at him.
“Is there another Wendy Anderson scheduled for the founder’s office at nine?”
Derek looked toward the monitor.
He knew the answer.
“No.”
“Then call.”
His smile disappeared slightly.
Something about the simplicity of her response bothered him.
Derek was used to people becoming flustered under questioning.
Embarrassment created advantage.
Wendy gave him none.
He said, “Do you have identification?”
She reached into her handbag.
Driver’s license.
Placed it on the counter.
WENDY MICHELLE ANDERSON
Derek looked.
Then slid it back.
“Still doesn’t prove the meeting.”
Wendy exhaled slowly.
“Then call upstairs.”
Derek looked toward Samantha.
She smiled.
Jenna looked at the desk.
Wendy noticed the hierarchy immediately.
Derek performed.
Samantha rewarded.
Jenna withdrew.
Michael watched.
No one challenged.
Wendy had seen entire corporate cultures encoded inside smaller interactions.
That was partly why she was there.
Seven weeks earlier, JR Enterprises’ board had voted unanimously to appoint Wendy as its next chief executive officer.
The decision had not yet been publicly announced.
Only twelve people knew.
Board members.
The founder.
General counsel.
Chief human resources officer.
Wendy herself.
And two members of the transition team.
The official announcement was scheduled for noon.
At eleven, Wendy would meet the executive leadership team privately.
At ten, she would review transition documents with founder James “Jim” Reynolds.
At nine, she had deliberately scheduled what she called an observation window.
Jim hated the idea.
“You’re the incoming CEO,” he had told her.
“Not an undercover investigator.”
Wendy disagreed.
“Those are not mutually exclusive.”
He had laughed.
“What exactly are you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s why I want to see it.”
The board had spent months interviewing executives.
Every candidate received polished presentations about culture.
Employee engagement scores.
Diversity programs.
Retention.
Customer satisfaction.
All impressive.
Yet Wendy had noticed contradictions.
Front-line turnover was almost twice corporate turnover.
Exit interviews frequently used vague phrases such as “management inconsistency.”
Complaints involving disrespect were disproportionately withdrawn before formal review.
Internal promotion rates varied sharply by department.
Security incidents involving visitors were unusually high at headquarters compared with similarly sized corporate campuses.
Nothing individually proved dysfunction.
Together they formed a pattern worth observing.
Wendy wanted one hour in the building before people knew they needed to impress her.
She had expected perhaps indifferent service.
Maybe unnecessary questions.
She had not expected Derek.
Derek lifted his cola and took another drink.
“What exactly do you do, Ms. Anderson?”
Wendy looked at him.
“Why is that relevant?”
“To whether your story makes sense.”
“My story.”