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“Yes, Nina, you still have a job. As a matter of fact, I’m quite impressed with you. And I’ll be splitting my time between here and New York, so even though I’m not here, I expect certain standards of job performance.”
Knowing my dad, I assume her pay to be on the lower end, as he was a cheap son of a bitch. I’m sure bonuses came when his secretaries put out.
“Every morning, I’ll have a list of items I need for the day. I don’t even know what your job entails but I suspect my father wasn’t using you to your fullest potential.”
She lets out a snort. “I was told to look pretty and answer the phones. I was bored out of my mind, and the last day I worked for him, he told me he expected my dresses and skirts to be shorter. And I was to never wear slacks.”
I’m not surprised. “Are you ready to actually work? And I’ll tell you this, where I expect you to dress professionally, I won’t ever dictate your clothes or the length of anything you wear.”
“You mean I don’t have to wear four-inch heels anymore, sir?”
How the fuck has my dad gotten away with this shit? There are laws concerning such matters.
“Absolutely not, and please call me Xander. I don’t expect you to call me mister or sir. The first thing I’d like you to do is reach out to HR. I want the salaries of each employee who isn’t a VP, department head, or first-line manager. I expect the list to be in department order.” She doesn’t miss a beat and pulls for a notepad in front of her. “Have them list it according to job, the rate of pay for each employee, their last review rating, years with the company, and comparable pay rate of job for this area.”
I wait for her to get my instructions and continue. “I have sent out a meeting request for every department head, VP, and first-line manager. It’s a video meeting but everyone must log on, then send a confirmation that they attended. Please organize this information with me, and I need a list of every person who didn’t attend. If you don’t have the resources and a copy of every employee because my dad didn’t give them to you, please reach out to the head of HR and ask for it first thing, on my orders. We can set your hours, too. If you need to adjust them a little to suit your needs as a single mother, let me know. You work eight to five, right?”
“No, sir, I was told I’d work from eight a.m. until Mr. Lynol left the building. Sometimes he called me first thing in the morning and told me I’d need to be at work at seven when I was forty minutes away and had two children I was getting ready for daycare.”
My father really was a piece of shit. “I can’t promise there may not be a time I ask you to come in early, but I’ll respect you enough to give you the ability to adjust your own personal schedule. I’m so sorry for my father’s actions.” It makes me think of every other secretary he took advantage of throughout the years. “Also, when you reach out to HR, I need you to get the records of every secretary for the past three years. Please have them in Excel, list their names, what the reason for dismissal was, where they are now, and how long they were with the company. I need that on my desk by the end of business tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” She waits a beat longer. “Will there be anything else, sir?” She stumbles with her words. “I mean, Xander. Will there be anything else, Xander?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, there is. Can you tell me what your hourly rate is?”
She’s quick with her response. “I don’t have an hourly rate, just a weekly wage. I make six hundred a week but worked twelve-hour days.”
Fuck, if I don’t see red. That’s barely ten dollars an hour, the piece of shit.
“I’m so sorry, and I don’t mean to be intrusive, but how can you live on that with two kids?” I stop for a second and realize I’m out of line. “Wait, I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. I’m shocked and so very disgusted right now.”
She waves me off. “Don’t be, Xander. I can see I’ll like working for you, and knowing that hopefully I’ll make a difference. The short story is my husband wasn’t a great husband. But, he’s a great friend. We just weren’t good together. He pays for child care, and I have a small alimony. It’s how I barely get by.”
I pull out my phone, searching executive assistant rates for Minneapolis and am shocked at the disparity in rates. According to the average, she makes poverty-level pay. The median salary for an assistant in Minneapolis with the responsibilities she’ll have is over double what she currently makes.
“Expect a pay adjustment today. And, Nina, I look forward to working with you.”
Her eyes widen again, the second time since our little sit-down, but more so, it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Lynol…I mean, Xander, thank you so much.” She pushes out of her seat, and I watch her as she struggles in those stupid four-inch heels my father insisted on. “And please be sure to change out of those shoes as soon as you can.”
A large smile crawls over her face. “I have an extra pair set aside I wore when your father was out of the office. I’ll change into those now. And again, thanks so much.”
She’s out of my office, and for the first time since knowing I’d have to take over this business one day, I realize I can make a difference here. And it’s exactly what I plan to do.
* * *
The business meeting with VPs,department heads, and first-line managers was joined by half of those particular employees. Nina secured the largest conference room, I send out another reminder and encourage those who chose not to follow my orders to be there, or else.
Nina is with me as I enter the room that holds two hundred with stadium seating, marking those who disregarded me the first time.
I stand before the men and women, around fifty in attendance, less than half of what I’d expected. I lean into Nina. “Get with each superior of any person who is missing. I want a detailed report as to why they are not here. They are expected at my office by four p.m. And if it’s a VP, please send me their contact information.”
“Yes, sir…I mean, yes, Xander. Would you like me to stay or return to my desk to work on this?”
“Why don’t you go back to your desk. Any stragglers, I’ll take care of.”
My fear, and it’s reaffirmed, many think that the son of Lyle Lynol is weak and won’t conduct business like his father. And where I won’t conduct business like my father, I’m not weak, and I won’t accept laziness. I have different standards I expect to be adhered to.
