His Rules

Chapter Two

I SAT at my desk on the 2nd floor of the building minding the business someone put in front of me. I was a lowly account specialist handling the mundane accounts that are a dime a dozen to an institution like ours but the livelihood of the people who bring them to us.

I had been with the firm for five years and the only reason I could see why I hadn't risen any further in the organization was that I wasn't cutthroat and scheming like most the other account managers, which appeared to be the way to get noticed. I was invisible in the organization. Necessary. Needed, even. But, invisible.

Imagine my shock, then, when my monitor chimed that I was scheduled for a meeting with Mr. Woodburn, the CEO, in 15 minutes. Imagine the worst-case scenarios that raced through my mind because there couldn't possibly be a good case scenario. I didn't really believe even my manager's manager knew who I was. Why Mr. Woodburn?

"Tina James?" I looked up to the voice standing at the opening to my cubicle. "I'm Trudy Michaels, Mr. Woodburn's Personal Assistant. You are aware of your scheduled meeting with Mr. Woodburn?"

I numbly nodded my head and gazed at her like a deer in the headlight we would see on the quiet country road back home. She was maybe not quite 30 years old, about a year younger than me. She was trim and maybe a couple inches taller making her 5' 7". She wore her brown hair to her shoulders. She had a very pleasant face.

"What ... is there some mistake? There must be some mistake. Why would Mr. Woodburn want to see me?"

She smiled warmly, which was a little reassuring. "There is no mistake, Miss James. I made the schedule myself at his direction." I just looked at her. "Miss James, I need to escort you upstairs. The 11th floor is restricted to limited access."

I shook my head and leaped from my chair. "Of course, sorry."

At the elevator, I noticed she used a different badge to punch the eleven button, then using it again to enter the office area. She indicated a chair by her desk.

"It may or may not be a few minutes. I assure you he is aware of the time and your meeting with him. He will let me know when he is available." She said it in such a way that it didn't allow any room for discussion, but her soft smile was again reassuring.

Her phone buzzed. She listened a moment, set the phone back down, and stood up. "Mr. Woodburn is ready for you now."

She showed me into the office, which was huge, lots of wood, plush carpeting, a small conference table, and sitting area to the side by the windows overlooking the city.

"Miss James." He was already moving from behind his desk to meet me. I heard the door close behind me. He was in his early 40's and maybe an inch over six feet tall. He had a toned, athletic appearance, which was reinforced by the easy way he moved across the office. He was quite attractive, more so in person than the impression I had from his picture on the website. His hair was brown with graying at the temples. It was a little longer than you normally see on executives of his stature.

He directed me to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and he returned behind it.

"I think there might be some mistake. Perhaps there is another James in the company?"

He opened a folder in front of him. I couldn't see what it contained, but there were several pages. He perused the first two pages.

"Well, let's see here ... Tina Marie James, Accounts Specialist on the 2nd floor under Mary Robertson. You are age 30, 5'5" tall, 120 pounds," he looked up with a smile, "sorry my dear for the personal information. I have been told how sensitive women can be about their weight." He chuckled and I laughed with him. He continued, "Long, wavy, blond hair extending down the back." He nodded. "Okay, the oldest child of three to Harold and Agnes James who are farmers near Lamont, Iowa." He looked up, "Lamont, Iowa?"

"The northeast corner of the state near the Minnesota border. It's all of about five-hundred people in the town. It just serves the surrounding farms." He nodded. He didn't really seem that interested and I flushed at the recognition that I gave him so much information about something that meant nothing to him

He looked at her sitting comfortably in front of him. Yes, he could reread the information and the reports another dozen times, but the woman in front of him was the rough shell of what he could bring out from within her, like a butterfly from the hard chrysalis. He read the details about her family and debated again if it would be helpful or harmful to bring them out. It was possible there was information from his investigator on these pages that even she hadn't opened her eyes to. This whole attempt could turn well or bad in the next few moments. Several women had appeared through his screening process, most of them younger, but none had shown this kind of potential. Not since Trudy had he found a woman of such potential and Trudy had not been anything as alluring as this woman. The personal nature of the information could offend her as privacy-invasion or reinforce suspicions that had haunted her.

Nothing had changed. His only course of action, if she was to be the one, was to plow forward to show her what she was. He always recognized the risk of using personal information. Whether to find her or understanding a large, potential client, knowing as much as possible had its rewards, how it was used could pose risk.

He had been studying the sheets in front of him and was now studying me. I wondered what it was he was considering. He already provided enough details to convince me I had to be the Tina James he wanted to talk to.

He was reading a report, "Raised in a strict, quite conservative farm home and devoutly aligned with a small very conservative Protestant group, which wielded considerable influence and control over the couple dozen family groups in the area. The mother was very subservient to the father." He looked over the pages at me. He seemed to be gaging more than my confirmation of this information about myself. I was shocked at how much he knew about a low-level employee like me from a nothing town and background.

"How ... why do you know so much?"

He smiled disarmingly, "Sweetie, I make it my duty to know what I need to know about people I may be dealing with."

He again was reviewing information while he was clearly considering both the information and what it meant.

Then he sat back. "Are you happy here, Miss James?" The question was such a surprise.

It came out of nowhere and seemed incongruent from the talk leading up to it. I stammered. It was the kind of question I might expect during a perfunctory performance review with my direct manager, a question asked of all employees, though the answer would be ignored. My eyes flitted around the room and his desk while I searched for some way to safely answer the question.

"The reason I ask is you have been here for five years and you haven't yet advanced much. Yet, when I look at your work quality and comments from clients you've served, your performance has been stellar. Clients seem to love you. Not a single negative comment. Usually, we accept some percentage of negative comments regarding Accounts people pushing products the client didn't want. You, on the other hand, have a good record of adding products but you avoid the negative impression. Yet, you haven't been promoted."

"I-uh..." I had the distinct feeling he already had an impression of why. If my performance was so good, could my attitude with male co-workers still get me disciplined or fired?