The message was clear: Swear fealty to the company and never break that oath. But screw around with the company and you will surely pay the price. It was drilled into them from the very beginning — from when they first took their seat at a desk, in the company handbook they received along with your first paycheck, in every memo and notice that the company sent to its loyal employees, in every long, boring speech made at every official occasion, and in every sideways glance made by the department supervisors as they passed in the hallways. Plaques in several places within the company’s many offices offered this message:
A single infraction is cause for dismissal and legal action may be taken against you. Leniency may in rare cases be granted by the board of governors, whose decisions are final and cannot be contested.
So when Ryszard L. Driscoll received a memo on his desk calling him before the board of illustrious governors, he had less than a glimmer of hope that his case would be heard with leniency and compassion. For at this moment, according to the disciplinary division of the human resources department, Sector D of the home office, sub-sector 3, he was facing dismissal and forced restitution of the funds he was accused of embezzling. This was not going to go well for Driscoll, for he knew he could never afford to repay the hundreds of thousands of dollars he stole from the company. That money was long gone.
So here he was — walking down the Hall of Ultimate Authority towards the company’s elaborate boardroom. Stopping midway, he stared with trepidation at the imposing brass door that would bring him to his interrogation and subsequent determination of appropriate punishment.
Driscoll thought for a moment about how he spent the money. Nothing tangible that he remembers — mostly travel, dining, parties. It’s amazing how quickly three quarters of a million dollars can disappear with absolutely nothing to show for it.
“Why would they possibly be lenient with me?” he whispered to himself. He doubted that he would be let off with merely a reprimand, for he had been caught red handed in the crime. The proof was incontrovertible and the company’s case was iron clad. Driscoll had manipulated invoices and shipping records for the purpose of diverting hundreds of small amounts of money into his offshore accounts. There could be no leniency. Only a stiff punishment. This realization froze him in his tracks.
He stood motionless in that hall for an eternity. Literally. For the rest of time, forever and ever, Ryszard L. Driscoll was a man standing in the Hall of Ultimate Authority of an international mid-sized corporation with a reputation for vengeance. As long as he never walked through that imposing door to the company boardroom he would never have his punishment meted out to him. He was safe until the very end of time. For all eternity and beyond.
But no. That was not to be. With a long, slow creak, the imposing door opened from within. He was taken aback at how the darkness behind the door seemed to reach out into the hall and darken all that was around him. It seemed to grasp him by the shoulders and pull him towards the door.
“Enter if you please, Mr. Driscoll”, came a voice without a body. It was a woman’s voice, soft and nurturing. A voice specifically designed to disarm Driscoll and to put him at ease, which it did not. He noticed his hands were trembling. His mouth was dry. His upper lip had beads of sweat.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
He moved slowly, but stumbled as he went in, tripping over a step he did not see, and looking up found himself facing the members of the board who were staring down at him from an elevated platform. Powerful lights were pointed at him, making it difficult to make out the faces of his accusers. This was intentional. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark room with blinding lights when the voice said, “Have a seat in the red chair, Mr. Driscoll”. The voice was less reassuring this time, but not quite menacing.
He did as he was told. Compliance was definitely his strong suit. As he sat motionless in the red chair, the charges were read and the punishment was pronounced: Ryszard Langston Driscoll, accused of embezzling large sums of money from the company and betraying the trust placed in him, would be forever banished from the company cafeteria. It was a nice cafeteria too — clean and bright, with a wonderful view of the city. The food was pretty good, even on Meatless Mondays. But from this moment on he was to eat his lunch at his desk, without even the privilege of purchasing snacks or beverages from the vending machines. His brown paper lunch bag would forever be his scarlet letter, his self-flagellation, his hair shirt. This action, the board of directors expected, would serve as a warning to the employees that a single infraction is cause for dismissal but that leniency may be granted in rare cases.
And as Driscoll suffered the ignominious punishment of the lunchroom banishment, the company saw an insignificant reduction in the number of embezzlement cases.