A Piece of Cake

The first day on a new job is always a tough one. Not for Sandi Cooper, however. Sandi's the cub reporter on the Schuyler Square Times and since she has no interest or curiosity in her subjects, her first day is proving to be a piece of cake and is making her wonder why everyone says journalism is a dying field...

"So...um...is there anything else you want to tell me?" Sandi picked at her nails. Time for a manicure. She'd stop by a nail spa once this wind bag finally shut up.

Laura Brady, principal of Schuyler Square High School, shook her head. "I don't have another thing to say. No one cheated on those tests. The kids all did better because they studied and because our teachers did such an amazing job teaching. The department of education should be proud of our school, not investigating us!"

"Well, okay," Sandi replied as she stifled a yawn. Good grief--who cared about test scores anyway? "That seems to sum everything up. Thanks for talking to me, Mrs. Brady."

"You don't have any more questions?" Laura asked warily.

"None that I can think of. Why? Is there something else you want to tell me?"

"Just put in your story that I'm not a liar or a cheat and that none of my teachers are liars or cheaters. My only explanation on how all those tests got their answers changed is that it's very possible my secretary did it. I had to reprimand her for taking too long at her lunches and I think this may be her way of retaliating."

"You want me to write that your secretary actually fixed all those tests?"

"Yes, I do," Laura said firmly.

"I suppose I should talk to her," Sandi said. "You know, get a quote from her."

"That's impossible. She quit her job and moved to the Florida Keys. You'll have to take my word for it."

"Okay," Sandi said, snapping her notebook shut. "Thanks for talking to me, Laura. You're my very first interview."

"I never would have guessed," Laura replied. "You're so... professional." She looked Sandi up and down before sniffing loudly. "Although I do think that you might want to consider a slightly less flashy wardrobe when you go out to meet the public. The press should look conservative. You look like a trollop in that low cut top and those heels."

Sandi shrugged. "And you look like a bag lady who just ate a lemon. To each their own, right? So this story will be in the paper tomorrow. Let me take your picture."

Laura instantly held up a hand in front of her face. "I don't want my picture taken! Just write the story and blame the secretary."

"You got it," Sandi said agreeably. She didn't blame the principal for not wanting her picture taken. If Sandi had on a grey suit with that drab white blouse she wouldn't want her picture taken either. This journalism stuff was a piece of cake. All she had to do now was go back to the paper, write up her story and get her next assignment. This was sooo much better than her last job. Then again, just about any job was better than waitressing at an all you can eat buffet. "Thanks. I'll see you around, Laura."

Next stop: Nails R Us.

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.