Susan 2

Nervously Nathan gestures me aside, so we won't be overheard, "Sue, can you do me a huge favor?"
"What?"
"Run this envelope to the Financial Building."
"We do have a courier contract."
He blushes, "truth is, my Dad is beating up on me these days. Checking all the courier waybills, taxi vouchers and long distance calls and such. And this isn't real business."
"As in?"
"Yeah, feel it, it's money, I owe Abe from the poker game."
"You could go."
"You know how he is, talk my ear off, I'd be gone two hours."
I laugh, "he certainly would, I'll take it."
"Thanks, I owe you, anything you like from the coffee bar downstairs."
I don't mind the air. I return to find two pod neighbors in heated debate over a manuscript for a romance novella. I do my best to ignore them, concentrate on my specialty, sci fi.
"Oh yeah," Naomi says louder yet, "let's go for a tiebreaker vote, ask Susan to read it."
Barb guffaws, "have you lost your ****ing mind? Fat lot she'd ever know about romance. I mean, when was the last time she had any of that?"
Both laugh.
Naomi walks the few feet over to me, grin, "guess you couldn't help overhearing? Care to read this?"
"It would not be fair to the manuscript, I'm prejudiced, believe all romance stories are pure dreck."
Easy laugh, "exactly what we want, open minded of a sort. So, if you say it's good, then it is, right?"
I grimace, "I can flat out guarantee that won't happen."
"Fair nuff, you read it, tell us about everything other than the romance. Review setting, characterization, plot."
Some days you just can't win. It actually was good and so I said.
Nathan drops by, collecting a dollar from everyone for the group lottery effort. Raises an eyebrow, "always meant to ask you, you 're against gambling, yet play this, why?"
"Publishing is psychotic enough, even when you're surrounded by people who know what they're doing most of the time. What if y'all won without me? Your Dad would hire all new staff."
"So you view it not as gambling, but insurance against the unthinkable?"
"Very nicely put, now you tell me Nathan. Suppose you won, what would you do?"
He doesn't hesitate one nanosecond, "you'd guess I'd rush off and be a surfer, but you're wrong. I'd march straight into Himself's office, tell him he's long past it, overdue to retire."
I laugh, but after I realize, his Dad's doing ok; it's Nathan I wouldn't care to bet on.
A few months later, I find myself sitting across from Himself.
Gentle smile, he proffers a chart, "pretty bad, eh? Represents sales of all sci fi, by all publishers." Takes out another chart, "somewhat better, your own results. Still, what do you suppose these two charts tell me?"
"First, my days are numbered. Second, don't bother sending my resume to the other publishers."
Another smile, "hate to throw you out on the street, so I won't. Your word what I say next stays secret?"
"I promise."
He groans softly, "had a knock-down-drag-em-out with Nathan."
"Bad?"
"I'll say, he's decided to make Aliyah (emigrate to Israel)."
"I doubt if he'll like it there."
Chokes with laughter, then sober smile, "which makes you in charge of Finance and Admin when he goes."
I groan inwardly, but what can you do?
Kind smile, "you are so good at math, so well-organized, surely it wouldn't be a problem for you."
"Actually, only a problem adjusting."
Sly grin, "look at the bright side; revenge on some who have ticked you off."
I smile wanly, but I know he's dead wrong. In my experience, revenge simply does not work. It creates a circle, whatever energy you put out, comes back to you in a slightly varied form.
As well, think climate. If we were prosperous, there's margin for error. We aren't, we're no better off than any other small publishing house. Any move causing rancor and dissension will pinch, where it hurts, the bottom line.
Translation: I hafta be fair and reasonable even dealing with the likes of Naomi and Barb.