Page 34 of Stick to the Plan
“About time you called me. What does a man need to do to get your attention?”
My smile widens. I love working with Stan. We bonded when he was my fabrication engineer on a project years ago, and we have stayed close. Stan managed to retain his sense of humor as he earned promotions. He lacks an inflated ego or any patience for office politics. Yet he gossips like an old biddy and always knows what was going on.
“You know, Stan, most of the managers are happy when they don’t hear from me. Means things are going well. I called you as soon as I finished my tea break.”
“You actually took a break? That’s progress.”
“Har har. My workaholic tendencies aside, what exactly is the problem?” I sit in my chair and lean back, lazily tapping my pump.
“The plastic pellets came in for your smart screen project today.”
“Still waiting to hear the problem, Stan.”
“They’re pink.”
I freeze, trying to process what he just said. “Excuse me?”
“The pellets that arrived are pink. Barbie dream-house, bubblegum pink.”
With a groan, I reach into my bag for my tablet, already searching through my email. “Hold on, let me check the purchase request I submitted. This definitely says gray. Do you have the SKU number off the box? It should be Alpha Bravo Tango 8843 Golf.”
“Nope, this is Alpha Bravo Tango 8843 Foxtrot.”
I groan. “What the foxtrot?”
Stan chuckles at my misery. “Want to bet they let the intern process the purchases again?”
“Probably. Thanks, Stan, let me call the vendor and see what I can do.”
“Thank me with more of those raspberry bars you made for my birthday.”
“Finish my screens on time and I will.” I tease him back. Stan is the only one at work I let my professional mask slip for.
Disconnecting the call, I shoot a quick text off to Colin, letting him know I need to take care of something from my desk. First, I reach out to purchasing to check the SKU on the request sent to the vendor. They have the correct color there. Next, I called the vendor to trace the issue. It takes three hours, but I finally work my way up to the senior account manager on the phone.
“Ma’am, standard process is for no exchanges to be processed until the original order is returned.” His voice is flat, annoyance clear in his tone.
“I understand, but can’t you make an exception since your company did not process the original order correctly?”
“So you say, however, your company accepted the shipment.”
I take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to dispel a brewing migraine and keep the frustration out of my voice.
“Honestly, sir, at this point I don’t care how the mix-up happened. Not trying to point fingers; I just want the material I ordered so production can move forward. I’m sure you understand why I can’t go to my customer with a pink product when they are expecting gray. That might be a bit of a shock.”
The manager chuckles faintly. Encouraged, I plow on with my monologue.
“Normally, I would be happy to overlook who did what, however I just don’t have the time to wait. It’s already six here, all shipments have already been picked up and I won’t be able to overnight these pellets back to you until tomorrow. You’ll get them Wednesday. Take another two days to process the return and the new shipment. Add another two days for shipping back to us. By the time I have the right materials for my team, I’ve lost a week of production time and can’t make my deadlines. All because somewhere along the way, someone hit an f instead of a g on a keyboard. Doesn’t that seem a little silly?”
“Well, when you put it that way, based on our long-standing history with C.A.E., we can bypass the standard process. I’ll mark this order top priority and overnight you a new package first thing in the morning.”
“Excellent. I’ll collect the unopened bags from engineering tonight and send them out on the first truck in the morning. Thank you very much for your help, and have a lovely evening.”
Hanging up the phone, I give myself a little victory fist bump. I am a fixer. This is what I excel at. With one more sigh, I crack my neck before shooting a text to Stan, asking him to pack up the pellets and leave them on his desk for me. That complete, I set a reminder for the morning to getthe box to shipping before the first FedEx pickup. My phone vibrates with Stan’s reply, a thumb up emoji followed by a cookie emoji.
A shadow falls over my desk as I shake my head at Stan’s antics. Colin sits on my desk at my elbow and smiles down at me. “Pack up, bird, it’s time to go.”
I lean back in my chair and stretch my legs out in front of me, raising a single eyebrow. “Go where?”
