Clashing with the CEO, page 2
I sat on the edge of my chair, hands clamped at my sides, body rigid. Were we finally going to get worthwhile answers? What if the rumour about layoffs was true?
“Thank you all for coming,” David said. “I know you have busy schedules, but this shouldn’t take too long. For those who don’t know me, my name is David Green. I’m the Chief Operating Officer of this company, second in command to the CEO.” He paused, surveying the room. “I’m sure you’re all aware of the tragic loss we’ve suffered in recent weeks with the passing of our CEO, Alex Patterson.”
A sombre hush fell over the crowd.
“I want to offer a personal apology for the lack of clarity about the situation. I know you have been left with unanswered questions and rumours going around. The truth is, there has been a lot to work out behind the scenes before the business can move forward. But with those rumours spreading, I felt it was important to call this meeting, to set the record straight and provide you all with the information you need to know.”
Brooke leaned in, whispering beside me. “This sounds promising.”
I nodded, my fingers tapping an anxious beat on the armrest.
David continued. “The last few weeks have been difficult for all of us. I hope each of you has taken the time you need to recover from this tragedy, and I want to remind you that our on-site counsellor is available if anyone needs additional support.”
He took a deep breath. “I know there has been a lot of speculation about the circumstances of Alex’s death, as well as the future of this company. I’m here today to provide you with the facts—to the best of my knowledge—and to address any concerns you may have.”
The room fell silent, the anticipation palpable. All eyes were fixed on David, waiting with bated breath for the revelations to come.
“I’ll start off by confirming recent media reports. Zelthia Group—our parent company, based in Singapore—ran an audit which exposed financial discrepancies in the business. The police believe stress and mental illness were a prominent factor in Alex’s death. Let’s trust this outcome and leave the matter to rest. Please consider his family, who are still grieving, and withhold from speaking to the media.
“Secondly, I can now confirm that Zelthia Group has selected a new CEO. Someone with a very high position in Zelthia will take over here. Final arrangements are still underway, but we can expect the new CEO to take up the post early next month. Meanwhile, I will remain in charge. Please bear with me during this difficult time.
“Now, I’d like to invite anyone who has questions or concerns they want to share to raise their hands, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”
Several hands shot up. David picked someone, making eye contact and aiming a nod in their direction. An assistant passed a microphone down the row.
“I’ve heard the new CEO doesn’t have any experience in this sector. Is that true?” a man asked.
“He has a broad range of experience, but no, not in household appliances and whiteware specifically,” David explained.
“So, the new CEO is a man?” someone else asked.
“Correct.”
David pointed to another person in the crowd with their hand raised.
“Was Alex Patterson stealing money from the company?” a woman asked.
“We are still reviewing the findings of the audit, but I’m afraid it looks that way, yes. We will release more information once we have all the facts straight.”
More hands shot up, stretching towards the ceiling in a bid for David’s attention.
He picked someone else.
“What was the reason for the audit in the first place? How come we never heard anything about this?”
“Profits have been in decline for some time now, so I suspect that’s what caused our parent firm to investigate.”
The next person didn’t wait to be chosen. He yelled his question without the mic. “What Alex did must have been pretty bad. Is the company in trouble because of him?”
Someone else cut in before David could answer. “Why is Singapore getting so involved all of a sudden? Luxmore is a New Zealand business.”
“Yeah!” someone shouted.
“That’s right!” others chimed in.
The questions and opinions started coming thick and fast.
“Is Zelthia going to take control of the company?”
“Are they going to take our jobs?”
“There’s going to be a big restructure, right? That’s what I’ve heard.”
“I think it’s about time we got new leadership. A new CEO could do us a lot of good.”
Just like that, the organised manner of raising hands and waiting turn devolved into a free-for-all.
All I could do was watch on. I had the same questions everyone else had, and my voice wasn’t powerful enough to cut through the chaos, especially from my position near the back of the theatre.
Beside me, Brooke seemed much more relaxed about the situation. Her uncle was high up in the management team, which must have afforded her a sense of security. If job losses were around the corner, she would likely be safe.
David was turning redder and redder, trying but failing to restore order among the staff. I thought he might give up and storm off, but then a sudden atmosphere shift took place. The tone of questioning changed from frustrated outbursts to murmured enquiry.
“Who’s that?” someone asked.
“Is that him?” another person echoed.
I looked around, trying to see who they had noticed.
I heard the footsteps before I saw him. Leather soles thudding on the wooden stage, even and deliberate. He emerged from the shadows and approached the lectern.
I recognised him at once.
The man who walked across the stage in a flawless black suit was the same man I had seen in the lift on that fateful morning. I flashed back to that awkward moment, his penetrating eyes on me, his humourless, straight-faced remark.
“Your top’s on inside out.”
I slid down my seat in an aftershock of embarrassment.
Why is he up on the stage? He can’t be… can he?
The man made a shooing gesture, and David Green stepped out of the way like a meek underling. He took the stand. Under the harsh stage lights, he looked even more severe than I remembered. Hard eyes, clenched jaw, sharp nose, pursed lips.
“Wow. He looks sinister,” Brooke said.
“He does,” I agreed.
The man commanded attention with his pin-straight posture and his stern expression. He scanned the audience as if sizing us up, and he didn’t look impressed with what he saw. He clearly wasn’t going to tolerate our behaviour and wouldn’t speak until everyone had settled down. His fingertips drummed the side of the lectern. His jawline was stiff, his brow creased.
A hush fell over the audience like a blanket smothering a fire. All eyes were on him.
He tapped the microphone, causing a screech of feedback. Then, at last, he spoke. “How is it that so many people are gathered here? Who is out doing the work, running the business?” His voice had a low, luxurious timbre that made me shiver.
Confusion and nervous laughter rippled through the room.
“Anyone?” he pressed.
A woman near the front spoke with a slight tremor in her voice. “A few staff members from each department have stayed behind.”
“But coming here to argue and complain is a productive use of your time?”
“Staff aren’t machines. They’re human beings. Trust and transparency go a long way in business.”
“How wise.” His words dripped with snide sarcasm. “Your name and position?”
“Clara Evans. Head of HR. And you are?”
He smirked, dark eyes glinting. “How rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself.” He turned his attention to the audience at large. “My name is Neil Kingston. I’m sure most of you have put two and two together, but for those who are a bit slow, I’ll spell it out. I am going to be the new CEO of Luxmore Appliances.”
Fresh gasps and murmurs broke out.
Just as I suspected. That man, Neil Kingston, was the new CEO. I slipped further down my seat, mortified. I had tried to flirt with the CEO in the lift. What had I even been thinking?
“There’s no point wasting more time,” Neil said. “I’ll keep this short and sweet. Yes, the future of Luxmore is at risk. Is that the confirmation you were after?”
A collective sinking feeling was palpable. No one called out. No one dared say anything.
Neil continued. “For the company to stand a chance at survival, changes are going to have to be made, and not everyone will like them. Anyone who doesn’t wish to comply can walk away and leave the company at any time. Voluntary resignations will make my task of organising a restructure that much easier.”
Restructure. The word seared itself into my brain like a hot iron brand. It was true. People were going to lose their jobs—and I could be one of them.
The audience bristled. A few individuals were brave enough to raise their hands, but Neil ignored them. “Please, do not speak to the press. Anyone who does so will ensure their position is terminated. That is all I have to say on the matter at this point. I won’t be taking any questions.”
With that, he strode off stage and exited the conference theatre.
Brooke furrowed her brow. “What’s with that guy? What an arsehole.”
“We might lose our jobs,” I whimpered. That was all I could think about.
Chapter Three
“This is SO unfair!” Brooke wailed.
She had the same email up on her screen that everybody else did; a message from Neil Kingston outlining all the big changes that were coming to Luxmore Appliances.
“I know,” I said. “It’s only his first official day as CEO, and he dumps all this on us. What a prick.”
The list of changes included staff redundancies, an end to the staff trip to Fiji, the removal of the subsidy on cafeteria food, free car parking for senior staff scrapped, and a salary freeze on all management and executive positions.
Tension ran high in the office. My coworkers grumbled and groaned at their desks.
“The staff trip… Fiji…” Brooke’s eyes shone with uncried tears.
I swallowed my sip of coffee. “Wait. Jobs are on the line, and you’re most concerned about the staff trip?”
“Of course. It was my turn to go this year. I bought a new swimsuit and everything.”
To encourage staff retention, starting in their third year working at the company, employees were eligible to go on the trip that year and every third year after that. Or they were, until now.
A notification sound pinged around the room. One new message in the work chat. A light tittering started up before turning into a full-blown giggle fest. Even Brooke cracked a smile.
Wondering what all the fuss was about, I opened the chat. When I saw the picture, I had to hold a hand over my mouth not to laugh out loud and spray coffee everywhere. I snorted instead, causing some of the hot liquid to shoot up the back of my nose with an unpleasant stinging sensation.
Someone called Sunny from the IT department had posted an unflattering photo of Neil Kingston with a grumpy look on his face, edited to include a pair of devil horns, pitchfork, and a pointed tail. A repeating pattern of looping fire texture animated GIFs formed the background, reminiscent of nineties web design.
“Oh my gosh. What is this?” I asked when I had swallowed my coffee and recovered from laughter convulsions.
“Looks like someone had some spare time on their hands,” Brooke said, smirking at the picture on her screen.
In the days that followed, the picture became an office meme, spawning multiple humorous variations, including Neil in a tutu surrounded by sparkles, and Neil with his hair and nose removed to make him look like Lord Voldemort—that one was my favourite.
I was enjoying the latest rendition when the landline phone on my desk rang. At first, I didn’t realise it was mine. No one ever called me on it—everyone sent messages in the work chat. I wasn’t client facing, so it was unlikely to be an external call.
Wrong number?
I tentatively picked up. “Hello?”
“Is this Amelia Cross?” a man asked.
It was for me after all, and the use of my full name made it seem important. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Are you free to attend a quick meeting in ten minutes?”
I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden request. What meeting and who with? “Uh… Yes, that should be okay—”
“Excellent. Please report to the twentieth floor at four fifteen. Thank you.”
The line went dead before I could ask what it was about, leaving me staring at the receiver, my palms clammy.
The twentieth floor.
No one had ever asked me to go there before. What business could I have on the twentieth floor?
Unless…
My mind rushed to a terrifying conclusion. Could it be a redundancy meeting? Had the restructure already begun? Neil Kingston had only just stepped into the role of CEO. If it was as I suspected, then I hated him even more. How could he start firing people so quickly?
Heartless monster.
“Who was that?” Brooke asked.
“I don’t know. Someone asked me to go to the twentieth floor.”
“Whoa. That sounds scary.”
“I’m a little worried. My heart’s pounding.”
She waved her hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“That’s not what you just said!”
“I overreacted. Probably.”
“You’re doing very little to reassure me right now.”
She patted my back. “You’ll be fine, and if not, I’ll be here to commiserate with you when you get back.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Elbows on my desk, I rested my head in my hands and groaned. I didn’t want to commiserate. I wanted all of this to be nothing more than a bad dream. No new boss, no restructure, no changes at all. I was content with the way things were.
The minutes dragged by until it was time to leave.
“Are you going to the mystery meeting now?” Brooke asked.
I nodded.
“Good luck.” She held up crossed fingers on both hands.
With a knot of dread in my stomach, I marched towards my fate. The knot tightened as the lift climbed—sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…
The ding of the doors opening made me jump in fright. After a deep breath to calm myself, I stepped out and absorbed my surroundings. I had arrived in a luxurious reception area with a curved desk and a grey stone floor that was so shiny I could see my reflection in it. The yellow hue of the downlights and a bright bouquet of alstroemerias in a glass vase on the desk warmed the otherwise monochromatic colour scheme. White fibre-optic lights displayed the company’s logo on the wall—a stylised snowy mountain peak.
I approached the receptionist, a tall young man with floppy brown hair. His name tag said James Campbell. “Hi, James. I’m Amelia Cross. I was told to come here—”
“Yes. You may take a seat.” His voice was the same as I had heard on the phone—somehow energetic, yet bored at the same time. He seemed high-strung.
I dithered for a second, unsure whether I wanted to ask questions or just do as he said. When he fixed me an odd stare in response to my hesitation, I blurted my query. “Uh, could you please tell me what this is about? Who am I supposed to be meeting?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I’m sorry. Neil Kingston is going to see you.”
Neil Kingston.
The name I had feared. My heart sped up and my muscles tensed. Neil Kingston, the new CEO, wanted to see me. In all my time working at Luxmore, I had never met with the CEO before. He was far too big and important.
At least he has the guts to fire his employees face to face. No, I bet he gets a kick out of it.
“Please, take a seat. I’m sure he’ll be with you soon,” James said.
“But what does he want to see me about?” I asked.
James frowned. “I don’t know much except that he’s been talking to a lot of employees over the last couple of days. Sorry.”
“Oh. That’s all right. Thanks.”
I slunk to the couch, defeated. A glass pitcher of water with lemon slices and half-melted ice cubes sat on the coffee table. I poured myself a small cup.
So far, all signs pointed towards redundancy. Why else would the CEO be meeting a bunch of employees one by one in his office?
The top on inside-out incident replayed in my head. Why, oh why, did that have to happen? Mr. Kingston’s first impression of me was as someone who couldn’t even dress herself properly, and if he realised I had been trying to flirt with him, even worse.
I’m so doomed.
Gulping the icy, lemony water did little to deter my rapidly rising body temperature. My legs were beginning to adhere to the leather upholstery. Left for much longer, I might permanently fuse with it.
A woman emerged from beyond the reception area and strode towards the lifts. Had she just come from meeting Mr. Kingston too? Did that mean it was my turn now? I watched her with laser eyes, analysing her behaviour for clues. She didn’t look upset, but she seemed contemplative with her furrowed brow and the way she chewed her lip.
Hmm.
Someone else appeared a moment later. I noticed the baby bump first, then I took in the rest of her. She was an elegant woman, dressed in black, wide-legged trousers and a blue-grey silk blouse. No makeup, apart from a subtle shade of lipstick. Her black hair was pulled back with a chic claw clip. “Amelia Crook,” she called.
Peeling myself from the couch felt like ripping off Velcro. Sounded like it too. I cringed, hoping she didn’t hear. Once I had extricated myself, I introduced myself properly. “Actually, it’s Amelia Cross. There’s an Amelia Crook in the marketing department. Our names are so similar, we get mixed up all the time. Most people just call me by my nickname, Milly.”
“That is confusing. Milly Cross. I’ll remember that. My name’s Christine Liu. I’m Neil’s secretary.”
