Novel Excerpt, Chapter 2

From Grand Theft Cambridge, Chapter 2. The new company is staffing up through networking and word-of-mouth. Tamara takes the opposite tack. She seeks out a startup company she can go to work for under false pretenses. On her first attempt, she sells herself for a job that doesn't exist yet.

The plan came together like clockwork. It all came down to framing the story. Tamara knew there were plenty of dot-com companies starting up on a shoestring, hoping for an easy way to find low-level employees who could take care of themselves. All she had to do was invent herself as competent but not competition, good at some job that didn't come with the description of "engineering discipline" or "business specialty." So Tamara Lamppinen became a college dropout with brisk organizing skills.

Her friend Rebecca, hearing her plan, had jumped into the conspiracy immediately. Four years in Boston turned into a clerk's job at Mass Bay Insurance, where Rebecca answered all the employment checking calls. Tam had grown in competence beyond her job, and Mass Bay had a long-term hiring freeze, so they were sorry to see her move on.

Kennealy was slightly harder to bring in line. Tamara held the title of Research Assistant, putting together information folders from portfolio lists. She was good, too. She knew by now where to look for the best research reports for different kinds of stocks, funds and bonds. Roger Miskin, her boss, knew exactly how well her work freed up his time to hand-hold more customers. The problem with her career at Kennealy Asset Management, though, boiled down to what Miskin politely called her "testosterone deficit." Her career path was determined at birth, or at least until old Mr. Kennealy finally gave up control to his son.

Miskin appreciated her perhaps too much, realizing his own ethical opposition to "office hijinks" with subordinates was stronger than his attraction to tall women. He'd said as much directly to Tamara's face. So, he volunteered to take reference calls dumbing down her job and expressing regret over a vague office reorganization. He repeatedly mentioned that helping Tamara bluff her way into a dot-com job would "solve both our problems." Tamara took this to mean removing temptation from his life, since Roger trusted her with these potentially explosive truths, and thought her double life would make for a great adventure. Poor Roger, a romantic soul without the will to be romantic himself!

When one of her Wednesday night group mentioned the "lost boys" inhabiting one of the buildings on the barely gentrified streets behind Lotus, Tamara printed out a fresh, one-page resume and practiced her Gal Friday character in front of the mirror. The next day, a quick trip across the Charles made her grab for the brass ring.

E-Style was a group of twenty people figuring out how to inhabit the third floor of an old brick industrial building. Voices echoed off the high ceiling of the large, open space, desks seemed placed almost at random around the floor, and the back of the place was a jumble of boxes, computers and trash. Tamara spend a few minutes trying to get anyone's attention. A harried computer geek passed her off to a suit named Carter, who was mildly flummoxed by her appearing out of nowhere, asking about jobs. He made her wait 20 minutes until another well-dressed man walked out. Paul Madrowski listened politely to her introduction, then admitted they wouldn't have a personnel manager for another couple of weeks. He wasn't sure he could help at the moment, though he appreciated her initiative.

Tamara said, "But I already know what I can do for you."

Madrowski demurred, "Then you already have a better idea than me."

"Look," Tamara pressed, "just look around you! This whole place is disorganized. I'll bet nobody here knows how to set up office space."

"Well, we'll get to that eventually," admitted Madrowski.

"That probably goes for even the office supplies. Are you buying them on credit cards and paying from petty cash?"

"About half, yes."

"How about coffee and cola? How far do these guys have to walk to get a cup of coffee? Closest place I saw was two blocks away. Meetings. I'll bet you just stand wherever you find empty whiteboards. Schedules. You're an executive here, right?"

"Yes, we have three executives, including me."

"Bet you have a hard time getting together unless you all happen to have free time. Visitors. I wandered around for five minutes before anyone even recognized I was an outsider. What if it's someone important?"

Madrowski was subdued. "I won't say you're right about everything, but I'll admit the things you say happen a lot around here." He sighed. "So this is the point where you tell me you can fix everything."

Tamara leaned forward. "No."

Pausing to let this sink in, she continued, "I can't make everything always go smoothly, but I can organize you. That's my talent, that's what I want to do. Let me be blunt: how many people do you have here who are not on salary?"