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Discrepancies

Kerry Lown Whalen

    Trina Harman did hard labour at a pizzeria while she studied for a Master’s Degree of Business. After gaining her degree and employment at a city bank, she was ready to climb the corporate ladder. Periodically a senior position became available at the bank, but not one of her applications led to an interview. When she looked at the organisational chart she observed that all senior positions were held by males. Trina resigned. She would not waste her time in a place where attitudes belonged to another century.
    She applied for a role in a large manufacturing company. At her interview she asked whether females held senior positions there. The selection panel chairman bristled.
    ‘We take gender equality seriously here. We don’t discriminate.’
    Heartened by his answer, Trina accepted a position in the finance department. It demanded high-level skills and a sound knowledge of the organisation’s operations. Over a two year period, she had opportunities to demonstrate her skills while acting in senior roles for absent colleagues. But Trina was never interviewed for promotions when they became available.
    Her friend, Sally, worked in the United Kingdom and she emailed her.
    ‘I thought the bank belonged to the dark ages, but it’s the same in manufacturing. What’s it like there?
    Sally’s response was upbeat. ‘It’s great. I haven’t encountered any barriers. But it helps belonging to the City Women’s Network.’
    ‘You’re lucky that employers are enlightened over there. Perhaps I should pack my bags.’

    Despite the company’s unofficial policy of promoting only males to senior positions, Trina was determined to turn this around. She had her chance when Nigel went on long service leave. For six months she acted as Operations Manager. Towards the end of her stint, she received a letter from the CEO praising her efforts. Then Nigel resigned. At a meeting of senior staff it was announced that Andrew Pike would be appointed to Nigel’s position. The role had not been advertised nor had interviews been conducted. Trina sat stunned for a moment before slinking back to her desk, angry words collecting in her mouth like bullets.
    The CFO, Langford Boyd, spotted her and lumbered over to commiserate. ‘Unfortunate decision, Trina, but I was outnumbered. No hard feelings I hope.’ His thick red neck bulged over the collar of his crisp white shirt.
    She looked up at him. ‘The appointment was unfair.’
    His florid face darkened. ‘Andrew is a neighbour of the CEO. Nothing I could do.’ A gust of whisky fumes was unleashed when he cleared his throat. ‘I’d be grateful for any help you can give Pikey. He’ll need it.’ With a pat to her shoulder, he headed to the board room for the celebratory nibbles and drinks.
    Trina crossed her arms and gazed into space. How would she respond when Pikey asked for help? Her first instinct would be to lead him astray. She looked around her to discover that most of her colleagues had disappeared, knowing they wouldn’t be missed while the managers indulged in finger food and fine wines. Her mouth watered at the spicy aroma drifting from the board room. She wandered into the lunch room, recovered her Greek salad from the fridge and picked up a fork.
    Robyn, a PA, bustled in. ‘Not joining the big boys for lunch?’
    ‘Not today.’
    ‘I’ve heard that Pikey got the promotion. It’s unfair.’
    Trina sighed. ‘Nothing I can do about it.’ She stabbed the last olive, chewed it and tossed the container into the bin.
    ‘You might have a case for discrimination.’
    She shook her head. ‘The decision’s been made. And I accept it.’ She rinsed her fork and headed back to her desk.

    She arrived at work next morning, eager to embark on a new routine. Whatever lay ahead, she’d be fit and ready for it. At lunchtime she planned to work out at the gym. Perhaps an aerobics class could dissolve the anger simmering in her gut.
     That afternoon Andrew called her to his office.
    ‘Afternoon Pikey,’ she said, and sat in the visitor’s chair.
    ‘Call me Andrew or Mr Pike, Trina.’ His brow furrowed as he studied the order printout.
    ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘An order from Sargents.’ He leafed through the pages. ‘We should’ve delivered a hundred boxes. Ten thousand arrived.’
    Trina grinned. ‘Whoops! Show me the order.’
    He clamped his elbows on the order book. ‘It clearly states one hundred. Not ten thousand.’
    ‘Well, someone stuffed up.’ She stood, ready to leave.
    ‘What’ll I do?’
    ‘Ring Sargents. Tell them a truck’s on its way to collect 9,900 boxes.’ She chuckled as she returned to her desk.
    Before lunch the following day she sneaked to the gym and forced herself to lift weights until noon. Despite aching calves and biceps, she breezed into the lunch room afterwards and made coffee while chatting to Robyn about her new black stilettoes.
    Andrew interrupted. ‘A word, Trina. My office.’
    ‘I’ll be five minutes, Pikey. I’m talking high fashion here.’ Robyn raised an eyebrow. Trina shrugged. ‘I’m at lunch. Who does he think he is?’ She waited five minutes before drifting into his office.
    Lines creased Andrew’s forehead as he studied the computer screen. ‘The orders have gone haywire. Instead of two hundred boxes, twenty arrived at PK’s. And seventy-five arrived at Dawkins instead of seven-hundred-and-fifty.’
    Trina nodded. ‘Do the boxes contain the correct items?’
    ‘Yep. It’s only the volumes that are wrong.’
    ‘Show me.’
    ‘No need to check. The numbers are right.’
    ‘There are discrepancies somewhere.’
    His lips tightened. ‘There’s not. I’ve checked.’
    She shrugged. ‘I can’t help you then.’

    The days stretched into weeks and, like a machine, Trina carried out the mindless and repetitive tasks of her job while helping Pikey with his.
    One afternoon she received an email from Sally.
    ‘I’ve been appointed recruitment manager for the London area. I have several executive roles on my books. Come over.’
    Trina emailed her. ‘Congratulations. It’s great news. I hadn’t thought about working in London but it’s appealing. Let’s see what happens.’
     Trina had saved enough money for a leisurely overseas trip. Like a travelogue, the places she wanted to explore ran through her head. The highlight at the end of the trip would be catching up with Sally in London and meeting her network of friends.
    Her phone rang. It was Pikey.
    ‘Come and sort out the equipment. There’s a big mix-up.’
     She strolled to his office and leaned against the door frame. ‘Why don’t you fix the equipment problem yourself?’
    ‘I’m still working on the discrepancies in the orders.’
    She sighed. ‘Have the storemen checked the numbers against the orders?’ It was a basic step.
    He nodded. ‘And I double-check them.’
    ‘It’s a mystery why there are too many or too few zeroes in the figures.’
    ‘It’ll be something simple. I’ll get to the bottom of it.’ He sifted through the pile of printouts spread across the floor. ‘Take the equipment mess to your desk and fix it.’
    She made a few phone calls before hurrying to the gym for a yoga class. To the tranquil strains of a haunting flute, she struck an inversion pose and allowed the music to wash over her. Pity for Pikey niggled, and despite her attempts to focus on the pose, a flash of insight suggested a cause for the ordering problem. She fidgeted until the class ended and rushed back to work.
    Pikey wasn’t in his office so she sat at his computer, accessed the order site and identified the problem immediately. His clumsy fingers had lingered on the zero key so that an extra zero or two was added by mistake. Conversely, his finger didn’t always tap heavily enough to register a zero. This explained the discrepancies. In a few minutes Tina corrected the errors and solved the problem.
    She scribbled a note telling Pikey what she’d done. As far as she was concerned, he could take the credit for solving the problem.
    She returned to her desk and made several phone calls about the equipment debacle. As expected, the measures she had implemented before her yoga class had overcome the problem.
    Trina now had time to focus on her own concerns. She emailed Sally asking for the position descriptions for a range of executive roles.

    On Friday, an e-mail arrived from Langford Boyd summoning her to his office. She arrived carrying a folder containing an itemised list of all the tasks she’d completed for Pikey.
    Smiling, Langford greeted her and pointed to the chair opposite. ‘Like coffee or tea?’
    ‘Neither thanks. Why the summons?’
    He leaned against the bookcase. ‘It seems young Andrew is out of his depth. Signs off on stock that hasn’t been ordered.’ He sank into his leather chair.
    Trina nodded. ‘There was a problem with the orders. I believe it’s sorted now.’
    She glanced around Langford’s office, her eyes settling on a gilt-framed photo of his wife and two daughters. Did Langford have aspirations for his daughters’ careers?
    He rested his arms on the desk. ‘It’s a delicate matter, Trina, but Andrew needs help. He’s struggling. Has no understanding of procedures. Regulations. Policies. Of anything really.’
    Trina sighed. An unsuitable senior appointment had been made. Rather than rectify it, the organisation wanted to bury it. With her help. The idea was both preposterous and unconscionable. She gathered her thoughts.
    ‘I understand your position, Langford, but I can’t help.’ She met his eyes. ‘My performance as Acting Operations Manager was exemplary. The role should’ve been mine, but Andrew was chosen. You didn’t give me . . .’
    Langford raised his hand and interrupted. ‘Naturally we’d pay you higher duties in your mentoring role.’ He straightened his tie. ‘Perhaps we could increase your salary permanently. It’s something we could consider.’
    She chose her words carefully. ‘I’ve provided Andrew with ongoing help.’ She pointed to her itemised list. ‘And promotion isn’t only about money or status. It’s about ability and fairness.’
    She watched his lips move as he defended his position, his jowls puffing up like a frog’s. But she wasn’t listening. Her mind was on other things – of how she’d travel the world before moving to London where Sally would find her a plum role in The City. There she’d meet business women from the networking site. Meanwhile Langford droned on, offering inducements to maintain the status quo. Trina stood and tapped her fingers on his desk. He stopped speaking.
    ‘Despite assurances at my interview, this company has not complied with Anti-Discrimination laws.’ She paused as Langford squirmed, his face a royal purple.
    ‘I intend to lodge a form of non-compliance with the Anti-Discrimination Commission today. My complaint lists every infraction. I don’t need to remind you that I am thorough and conscientious in everything I do.’
    With a flourish, she produced her signed resignation, placed it on Langford’s desk and swept from his office.

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