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GRETCHEN MEADOWS, HEAD of R&D and Suzanne’s direct link to Teaberry, was watching things unfold at Lexi Corp. She was, in fact, toasting Suzanne for a job well done with a healthy helping of Glenlivet single malt scotch when the explosions were being heard on the local news channel. The congraulatory toast turned to uncomplimentary thoughts and a verbal eruption when she saw Suzanne being walked out of Lexi Corp. in handcuffs as a scroll on the screen read Lexi employee detained as a possible offender. The newscaster then switched from his serious to his happy face as he dropped the bombshell that there were no fatalities from the incident and only some minor cosmetic damage to the Lexi facility. After this quip, his mannequin- like co- anchor Evette turned to him “Oh Frederick really, cosmetic damage? Really, you are too much.” She giggled and, changing from happy face to serious in the blink of an eye, informed her audience, “Suzanne Verassing, Human Resources employee of Lexi, apparently brought the explosive known as C-4 into Lexi Corp. along with an arsenal of weaponry and began firing at Lexi’s security guards. The guards then contacted the police with the details and gave a description and location of Ms. Verassing’s whereabouts. Part of the lab was damaged when explosives allegedly set by Ms. Verassing were accidentally detonated by Lexi security guards.”
The TV droned on but Gretchen was no longer listening; she was trying to figure out how to salvage this disaster. Only she knew about Suzanne, for Suzanne was on the payroll in the research part of the budget. As in research, steal and then destroy. Suzanne was a pro. She would hopefully keep her big mouth shut. In the meantime, everything connecting Gretchen to Suzanne’s had to be destroyed. She’d already downloaded all the data Suzanne had sent into a hard drive underneath the floor in Gretchen’s office bathroom. Someone would really have to know what to look for to find the damn thing.
“The video feed, at least I have the video feed. I just need to figure out what the ingredients are from the feed. I need to distance myself from the formula. It needs to be discovered outside of Teaberry, and then Teaberry can ‘buy’ the formula from this idiot. The mad scientist list. Yes, I can find my patsy off that,” Gretchen muttered.
Like most companies Teaberry, received a lot of email and snail mail that either conveyed how hated the corporation was, or, alternately, fantastic their products were. Teaberry also received ideas from people who had discovered amazing breakthroughs. “If you grind up spider eggs and mix with caterpillar legs, you can make a facial mask that eliminates wrinkles, and is all natural Yours truly, Gertrude McFigus. P.S. Please send checks to above address once you have made my spidey-pillar cream.”
Mountains of letters such as these came in. Some were passed around and enjoyed before the shredding, but a majority of the “breakthrough ideas” were already in use, and the obligatory form letters went out.
Occasionally some nut would attempt to walk in with a revolutionary formula. The nut would be turned away, but gently; Teaberry didn’t want to lose a customer, no matter his or her mental health status.
Gretchen scrolled through the letters that had been saved in the ‘possible’ folder in the R&D computer and came across someone who had submitted several ideas that had been deemed potential. This person had also come into the company with one of their product formulas. Gretchen remembered this person for several reasons, the main one being that the formula had set off Teaberry’s smoke alarm and sprinkler system.
Gretchen pulled up the video from that incident, which had been saved for a possible lawsuit, and saw her patsy.
“Hello, patsy,” sang Gretchen as she dialed a number from the contact list.
“Hello, Pa...I’m mean, hello, this is Gretchen Meadows from Teaberry. How are you doing tonight Mr. Tranwrach?” asked Gretchen in her most business-like voice.
“Teaberry,” squeaked Tranwrach, “I mean, Ms. Gretchen or, sorry, uh, Mrs. Meadows.” There was a thudding sound as his phone fell into the sink; Tranwrach was peeling carrots when he answered the phone not bothering to remove the peelings from it as he started talking again. “Sorry, please forgive me I was preparing dinner and being somewhat of a gourmet, I make everything from scratch, and umm...well you startled me and I...What can you do for me? Oh God! I mean what can I do for you, Ms. Meadows?”
Tranwrach had dreamed of this moment, Teaberry actually calling him about something, but what? He was already dreaming of dozens of products with his face and name on them when he realized Gretchen was saying his name.
“Mr. Tranwrach? Mr. Tranwrach! Are you there Mr. Tranwrach?”
“Yes, yes I am so sorry, please go on.”
“Mr. Tranwrach, please focus. Again let me introduce myself. I am Gretchen Meadows, and I head up the R & D side of Teaberry. From time to time, I go through our files and look for new ideas. Today I came across an item you had submitted. Granted, it may take a little tweaking.” We’ll have to have all the techs wear inflammable suits, to begin with, if it tests like it did the first time, she thought.
“Oh wonderful, how wonderful. You don’t know how happy this makes me. Which formula was it that interested you, Ms. Meadows?”
“Gretchen, please call me Gretchen. It was titled MT20 Hair removal formula. After 10 uses, your unwanted hair ceases to grow back.”
“I know it had some problems, but I thought....”
“You thought right, Martin, may I call you Martin?”
“Yes, yes of course, please do.” Once again he dropped his phone into the sink with a clang.
Gretchen patiently waited for the retrieval of the phone and waited for him to turn it in the direction of his face all the while doing a silent happy dance in her office. This guy was sent from heaven. I could ask him to stick his hand down the disposal right now, and he would do it without question. “Are you there, Martin?”
“Yes, I’m back, I was just checking on dinner.”
“Well Martin, like I mentioned previously, I’m particularly interested in MT20 as an anti-wrinkle, youth cream formula. What we discovered about your formula is after application it not only removes the hair,” (in a ball of flames) “but leaves the skin in better condition and reduces wrinkles. I want you to work with our team, to work on that aspect of the formula. Does that appeal to you? Hello.” Hell, he dropped the phone again, this is getting ridiculous, Gretchen screamed silently to herself.
Martin who’d been momentarily transfixed by carrot peelings hanging off his phone and over his eye, finally responded.
“ Yes, no, yes, I’m still here, I’m just so, so, thankful that you chose my formula. How, when, where, I mean, I work university time to do this, to make my formula. How?”
“I think you dropped your phone once too many times, or I’m getting a bad signal. Christ, was that just him rambling on? Please say it was him and not the sink phone. Gretchen rubbed her right temple with her fingers.
“No, not phone me, just. I just so nervous. When can I start?” Martin finally whooshed out a complete thought.
Thank you, thank you, Gretchen said to herself. “Now Martin, what I would like you to do is to take a leave of absence from the university. We will double your salary and pay for any and all expenses you incur while assisting us in this project. You will have your own lab and team. We want to move on this right away as this is a sensational formula, and I think it can be an incredible breakthrough for us. This will be a life-changing experience for you. So what do you say? Are you onboard with me?”
As soon as Tranwrach heard the words his “own lab” and his “own team,” he nearly passed out. Double the salary was just an added bonus so to speak, Tranwrach was always more interested in titles and status symbols than money. He never understood the appeal of buying the latest clothing, or for that matter clothing made within the last decade, and only used his salary for the very basics. What he craved were status and fame.
“My own lab and team, you say?”
“Of course, you are going to need all the help you can get. I mean this is a big project, and you will need people to do the mundane aspects of the job.”
“I’m in. I’m in. I will tell the university I will need a leave of absence first thing Monday morning. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure, Martin, I will give you Monday to straighten things out with the university and then you can report to me first thing on Tuesday.”
Clang...muffled swearing. “Yes, of course, I will Tuesday see you on.”
“Goodnight Martin and enjoy your dinner.”
“Goodnight, uh Gretchen.”
As he dropped his phone for the final time, Martin looked at his gourmet dinner, Happy Family’s Frozen Fish Sticks with a salad in a bag alongside freshly cut carrots. “Not for long, Happy Family, I’m moving up in the world. Pretty soon I’ll have someone else heating up my dinners.”
With that larger than life dream tumbling around in his vacuum packed head, he went to gather all his notes for his hair removal formula and placed them lovingly in a binder. He barely felt the two puncture wounds from the binder rings as he put the pages in order and went to bed early with strings of carrots still clinging from his hair. In the middle of the night, he bolted upright in bed and remembered he didn’t have any idea what excuse to give the university about his leave of absence. But realizing he had the weekend to come up with something, fell back onto a slightly carroty pillow.