Matt considered his options when the contract arrived in his inbox. Call off this whole charade. He was certain that his time would be wasted once anyone at the home office realized what Suzi had done. Unless Linkedin was lying, he still knew people in operations there. He liked to do research on his desktop. Clacking keys broke the quiet thrum of the overhead ceiling fan.
The executives were the same, John Bowlin the always drunk CEO. Bobby Knotts, the bull headed COO whose only original thought was that he should be the CEO. Judith Carole, the director of operations who actually ran the company. He knew Judy would stop this as soon as it hit her desk. What would be the point in this trip down memory lane then? A waste of everyone’s time.
Lukewarm coffee didn’t have the same punch as fresh brewed, but Matt liked the way the taste profile changed as it cooled. The natural sweetness overtakes the bitterness and the underlying flavors come to the surface. Mandy, his last girlfriend, had thought it was psychotic. As the crude oil slicked down his throat, he found appreciation at how quick it went. He savored those little moments.
He clicked into the company to see more employees and what they had to say. The POM Squad hashtag still persisted, the Passed On Mob, some past HR manager’s idea of global team building. Cheerleaders instead of family, with khaki pants and polo shirts for a uniform. We can’t win without the POM Squad! Funny how the cheerleaders never got the spoils of victory.
Middle management saw the same constant churn that it had during his time there. Some lifers had been sent out on the ice flows, but he’d heard about most of those. The younger ones were still hanging around, carrots dangling just out of reach, although by now they weren’t the young ones anymore. New names, people that were blooming in the shit that was piled on the people they replaced. Fond memories.
Closing the website and reopening his email, Matt found the contract and opened the attachment. If I’m going to do the work, I might as well get paid for it. Matt clicked through the document; he knew it by heart. The computer forged his signature and initials, but what did that matter? Certainly not the most damaging use of AI. Click here, here and here. Matt demanded a 50% non-refundable deposit, something that he expected to kill this deal.
No more work on this until the money hits my account. Matt was determined, they would never get a cent in unearned labor from him again. No need to pick at scabs that were healed over. Needing some music to break the silence, Matt opened Sonique. “Summerslam” by Jobber queued up, the rattle of bass made his desk shake. Whatever path the algorithm carved, he would follow.
He’d been in a dark place after leaving Passed On. When he was talking to some friends from his tape trading days, one of them mentioned Sonique as a company to look out for. Matt decided to take the initiative when he saw they weren’t hiring and offered his services. Bill Timmors, the CEO, followed up with Matt and told him that they weren’t in a position to hire new people. In fact, he wasn’t sure if they would make it through the year. So Matt proposed a deal: he would help with organizational issues and lay the groundwork for long-term success. If, after a year, he had earned it the contract would come due.
Sonique was one of his first big wins, a company that said they were committed to treating artists right. Matt had negotiated 80% of the streaming revenue going to the artists and a pay scale for their employees that made them an industry leader. He had encouraged Bill to not do any exclusive contracts or highlight any specific artists. Big names stayed on at competitors and Bill threatened to pull the plug, but then smaller artists started pulling all their music off said competitors. Independent labels came next and some entire genres existed only on Bandcamp and Sonique.
Once word traveled through the ranks, the bulk of recording artists refused to work with anyone but them. Because Matt had encouraged Bill to take a modest salary and engaged in company wide revenue sharing, they attracted top talent for the office as well. Again, Bill bristled and balked but when the new CEO of Spotify was stabbed by an artist over streaming revenue he changed his tune. Last he had heard, the union had amended the contract so that Bill couldn’t take the company public. Every one of their employees was a millionaire now.
An email alert brought him back to the present, Suzi had responded. ‘Looks great, I’ve submitted the wire transfer. It should be there within two business days.’ The contract, with the non-refundable deposit was attached; signed, sealed, delivered. A pit formed in his stomach, this was real now. It was time to get to work.
“What are you hoping to get out of this?”
Matt pondered the question, his fingers dancing over mouse buttons as the cursor on the screen vibrated under his control. He’d spent the last four weeks on the phone, trying to make headway with people who were adept at keeping theirs down. This was always going to be more work than it was worth, but it was something that had to happen. Basking in the monitor’s glow had dried out his eyes, he was long overdue a trip to the river.
“Matt?” Tina spoke again, her strained voice clear over his phone’s speaker. “Why do you want anything to do with this?”
Tina was still entrenched, he was pretty sure digging holes was the only thing keeping her sane. She had sobbed in full-on hysterics when told her about his impending departure, how she couldn’t survive without him here. He reassured her she’d be fine—she was made of tougher stuff, and he’d always be a call away. She texted sometimes, but his phone never rang. Now, Matt thought, I bet she’s wishing she’d never answered.
“It’s the right thing to do Tina,” Matt started, clenching and unclenching his hand. Tina’s team was loyal, not just to her but to him as well. They had built it together and it was how he’d first made a name for himself at Passed On.
“Has anyone said yes?” Her voice cracked. Matt rubbed his jaw, fingers twisting new white strands just below his lower lip.
“People are scared, Tina. They don’t want to do this alone. I’ve got a few people, Kenny’s old team is the most gung-ho, but if you signed on…”
“Of course they’re scared,” Tina interrupted, anger or fear driving her pitch higher and her words faster. “Listen, you’ve done a lot for me, it’s why I’m still talking to you. But this is… this is too much!”
“What did that consultant say, at one of those meetings?” Matt asked. Emotion was good, but it couldn’t be in control. “That five percent of an organization is all it takes to enact change? The other managers, they’ll get on board. This is more popular than you think.”
Montoya squirmed at Matt’s side, as though his agitation had wormed its way under the dog’s skin and was working its way back out. ‘Get your bone’ Matt mouthed at the dog and gestured toward his dog bed. ‘Come on boy.’ Whimpering and whining, a plea for their routine, Montoya rested his head on Matt’s leg. Matt ran his fingers through the fluffy fur and scratched the dog’s ears. Soft and lush, it bought him some calm.
“I’ve followed you down dark roads before, but if anyone catches wind of what you’re talking about,” Tina’s voice caught and she took a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t lose this job, I know I always threatened to quit but I know you know what it is like out there.”
“They are paying me. Twenty-five k. And I’m funnelling every penny of it back into this. But here’s the kicker, I’ve been at this for a month. I’ve got one more until the meeting. No one has said a word to me. Suzi just made sure my travel arrangements were squared and that was that. They have no idea what is going on!”
“This feels reckless,” her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “I trust you, Matt. I really do. But, I don’t know about this.”
“Tina, they will never see this coming.”
“They didn’t listen to you when you worked there, why would that change now?”
Matt stood up, his thigh pushing Montoya’s head off as he rose. Betrayal flashed on the dog’s face, followed by raised eyebrows denoting concern. Leaving his phone on the desk, Matt started pacing, surprising himself that it had taken this long. Paws scraped the floor in lock step, their synchronized steps echoing off the walls.
“I’m not the person I was back then and if they won’t listen to me, we will make sure they listen to us.”
Matt’s stomach twisted as he marched and turned, marched and turned, marched and turned. Time stopped waiting for her to say something, anything. Five seconds in, hold, ten seconds out. Gray corners of his shirt darkened with sweat. Five seconds in, hold, ten seconds out. March and turn.
“How many?” her voice came through, measured. Resolute.
“You still have, what, seventy-five people with you? That would put us just under three hundred all in. We’d still need a hundred more or so, to be safe.”
“That’s if everyone agrees and if everyone shows. Just because you want people to, doesn’t mean they will.”
“That’s what the extra hundred are for. Listen, I’ve already got a hotel booked for 400 people.”
Tina laughed. “How much did that cost you?” The tension was gone from her voice. He knew she was in now. Matt sighed in relief.
“I’m taking a loss on this job, but it’s the right thing. Like I said.”
Tension abated, they talked over details and coordinated meeting up the day before the retreat. Sinking back into his chair, Matt gulped down stale coffee. Working with Tina again felt good. It hadn’t always been pretty but they got results. Unlike his agitation, however, Matt’s calm was not contagious. Montoya still paced around his office, refusing to settle. Matt gestured once again at the dog’s bed and bone, but Montoya only growled in response and left the room.