“That one sounded real.”
She laughed.
They stood together.
Luis said:
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if Jim hadn't come through the doors?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I would have waited until nine.”
“What if they removed you?”
Wendy looked toward the lobby far below.
“I probably would have let them.”
Luis stared.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because once security removed a credentialed visitor without verifying the appointment, I would already know what I needed.”
Luis shook his head.
“You are terrifying.”
“I’m retired.”
“Still terrifying.”
Wendy smiled.
Then:
“Jim's entrance made the story dramatic.”
“But it wasn't what made the behavior wrong.”
Luis nodded.
They had discussed this before.
Many times.
Wendy continued:
“That’s what people still get backward.”
“They love the founder walking in.”
“The reveal.”
“The faces.”
“The reversal.”
“It gives everyone permission to enjoy the humiliation because the victim secretly had more power.”
Luis looked toward her.
“And you hate that.”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“Because most people being treated badly will never have a founder walk through the door.”
Silence.
That was the whole thing.
Wendy looked at the lights reflecting from the river.
“The question isn't whether the person you're humiliating might secretly be your CEO.”
“It’s why their title should matter at all.”
Luis nodded.
Then:
“For what it's worth, our front desk today has no idea who my mother is.”
Wendy looked over.
“Should they?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He laughed.
The anniversary ended near midnight.
Wendy left through the same glass doors she had entered twenty years earlier.
No photographers.
No executives surrounding her.
Cold Chicago air.
She walked toward the curb.
A young woman rushed from the building behind her.
“Ms. Anderson!”
Wendy turned.
The receptionist from earlier?
No.
A facilities employee.
Maybe twenty-four.
Uniform.
She looked nervous.
“I just wanted to say something.”
“Okay.”
“My mother worked here when you became CEO.”
Wendy smiled.
“What department?”
“Cleaning services.”
Wendy’s expression changed.
Housekeeping.
Derek’s word returned from decades earlier.
The young woman continued:
“She said after you started, contractors got included in the employee complaint system.”
Wendy remembered.
One of the reforms.
“Yes.”
“My mom said before that, they weren’t allowed to use the hotline because they technically worked for another company.”
“That's true.”
“She used it once.”
Wendy waited.
“Her supervisor was taking money from workers to give them better shifts.”
“I remember that investigation.”
“You do?”
“Not your mother’s name.”
“But yes.”
The young woman smiled.
“She kept working here sixteen years.”
“Put me through college.”
Wendy’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
“What's your name?”
“Alicia.”
“What do you do here?”
“Facilities planning.”
Not cleaning services.
Planning.
Wendy smiled.
“Your mother must be proud.”
“She is.”
Then Alicia said: