Russell Wiley Is Out to Lunch by Richard Hine

he hadn’t expected to find me in the office and just wanted to leave a voicemail.
    “Shall I hang up?”
    “Of course not. Didn’t I give you the file marked YANA?”
    “I didn’t see it.”
    “That’s right. I’m not allowed to show it to you.”
    “Why not?”
    “You are not authorized.”
    “That’s what YANA means?”
    “Yes, but forget I mentioned it. Just use what’s in the files I gave you.”
    “OK. But I’m not sure it’s the most compelling stuff.”
    “Be creative,” he said. “I’m relying on you.”
    He hung up the phone.
    Over the next few days and nights, I took Henry’s advice and developed some creative ways to use the quotes in my focus group files.
    When a lady in Philadelphia said, “I hate what you’ve done. It’s like you’ve taken an old friend and made him unrecognizable,” I simply selected the words, “It’s like…an old friend.”
    And when a war veteran from Minneapolis said, “I’ve never seen such a piece of shit. I want to read the Chronicle , not a comic book. Why couldn’t you leave a good thing alone?” I was able to spin the slightly more positive, “I’ve never seen such…a good thing.”
    I put these quotes under the heading, “Everybody needs an Edge !”
    After two weeks, I had assembled a forty-page presentation packed with benefit-oriented bullet points and enthusiastic quotes. I still had no idea what the Daily Edge actually looked like.
    Then Henry returned and told me the WICTY project was canceled and that Ann Stark had been fired.
    He walked me round the sales and marketing departments and introduced me to everyone. He joked with people that they may have seen someone who looked like me hanging around for the past two weeks, but that guy was an imposter and the real me was now officially starting.
    When the memo came out explaining that Ann Stark had left the company for personal reasons, Henry’s popularity soared and people viewed me with new respect.
    Henry grew more popular because, I discovered, the entire marketing staff had hated Ann Stark. They had given her the nickname S.R.M., which stood for Stark Raving Mad. Her departure meant they would no longer have to endure her instructing them to “let their creativity flow” with every assignment, only to insist later they change all the typefaces to her specifications and add a green border to everything.
    I gained respect because my new colleagues thought I had somehow played a role in getting Ann Stark fired. And if that were the case, it meant I possessed a power they might have cause to fear.
    I moved into my new office. Unlike the temporary one where Henry had left me, this one had a single window. Ellen showed me a catalog and invited me to select a potted plant. She informed me that I would not be allowed to water it because that task had been outsourced to a specialist company. I filed my work on the WICTY project into my new filing cabinets.
    Ann Stark was replaced by Colin Desmond, who lasted only seven weeks before being fired. Then came Barney Barnes, who was promoted to a more senior position reporting to Jack within six months. Then came Paula Davies, who lasted almost a year. After Paula was asked to leave, Henry did something surprising. He stopped looking outside for his next candidate. He promoted me.
    Last year, when we shuffled the deck chairs one more time, Jack Tennant became president of the Burke-Hart Business Group and publisher of the Chronicle , Henry outmaneuvered Hank Sullivan to become vice president of sales and marketing, and I was promoted into Henry’s old job as sales development director.
     
     
    Late in the morning, the day’s interruptions seem to have slowed and I somehow get absorbed in my work. I stick at it through the lunch hour, with an excuse at the ready in case Judd reappears. Suddenly, close to two o’clock, my hunger hits. I run down to our cafeteria to grab a cheeseburger and fries to go, then head upstairs with my hot food and