Businesses Should Really Pay More When They Expect You to Do Everything

"There! All done!" Mindy Cooper sat back and surveyed her desk. She'd removed everything that was in it and on it, scrubbed it thoroughly and then rearranged all of her supplies so that now her work space was as neat and as orderly as something fresh out of Office Max. Mindy looked around the rest of the tiny room that  Bernard referred to as her office. What a joke. The humane society had bigger kennels for their dogs than this room.

"How's it going, Mindy?" Bernard Morton came in, a distracted expression on his handsome face. He stopped when he saw Mindy's shining desk. "I see you've been busy."

"No offense but this place is a little on the crummy side. Don't you have a cleaning crew?"

"No, we don't. We believe that it should be up to each individual employee to clean his or her space. I'm glad to see that you already fit in with Kutrate Kemical's corporate philosophy."

Mindy stared at him. "Why don't you have cleaners?"

"We save a ton of money that way. Duh."

"Do you clean your own office?"

"Of course I do."

"What about the factory? Who cleans that?"

"The employees."

Mindy felt like her head was going to start to spin and fall right off her neck. Kutrate Kemicals had to be violating every rule in the EPA's book. "But you manufacture chemicals," she said slowly so that Bernard would understand her. "How can you have the people who make the chemicals be responsible for cleaning up too? I would imagine that keeping this place safe would take a lot of training."

"Oh, we train people. They know what they're doing. Of course," Bernard added reflectively, "we do have a fairly high turnover rate."

"People quit?"

"No, they die. Lots of sicknesses here. Kind of weird."

Mindy couldn't wait for Bernard to leave so she could start taking notes. "Was there something you wanted?"

"What? Oh, right. Yes. I need for you to order lunch for six. I'm having a meeting and we don't want to break for lunch."

Craning her neck, Mindy could see into Bernard's office. Five people were seated around the conference table. "How did they get in there? I didn't see anyone come in."

"I have a back door that I use for people who prefer to keep their identities anonymous," Bernard explained.

"Why would anyone want to be anonymous?"

"Mindy, this is a highly sensitive industry. Naturally people don't want anyone to know that their associated with it. Now please order three large pizzas--pepperoni--and two liters of diet soda. I'd appreciate it if you'd pick it up to save me the tip." He handed her twenty dollars. "Get them from the gas station. Pizzas are just five bucks there.

"Right away," Mindy said. "I'll bring it in when I get back."

"Don't bother," Bernard said quickly. "I'll come out and get it." Smiling his thanks, Bernard returned to his office and shut the door firmly behind him.

Hmmm. Who is in there that my new boss doesn't want me to see?

Mindy didn't know but she was sure that she'd find out before the day was over. She wasn't an intrepid girl reporter for nothing.