[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments on Martia's piece

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

Veronica is really into the prestige thing. 

She likes flaunting her success to others. 

She enjoys snubbing others, 

vbut  sofar the only one she has snubbed deserved snubbing.  

that whole chapter is Veronica showing off whereshe works. 

It’s all about appearance. 

Yet she keeps secret  who her mother is. 

She makes it very clear that Claudia  should try to emulate her, 

saying that someday she could have a job asimportant as her’s.  

Someday, Claudia may grow up to be almost asgood as she is.”.

 

Martia sub for Feb 22

 

 

   Doe Lake Part 2 draft1

1970 words

 

Open House

 

I telephoned Claudia while reading her articlein the paper about the Smythe’s tragic murder-suicide. The well-written reporthad put her back in the good graces of her editor, she admitted, but she wasbummed by the bad news. I insisted she attend Millwood’s open house thatSaturday anyway.

 

“Don’t you have to cover the story for the paper?”I pressured. “After all, Millwood Furniture is Doe Lake’s largest employer. Itisn’t like the company’s 75th anniversarycelebration can be postponed. The factory’s open house has been publicized inThe Messenger for month…”

 

“Okay Ronnie, I’ll be there,” Claudia finallysaid without enthusiasm.

 

“By the way, I have some news that will liftyour spirits,” I added to entice my friend. “I’ll tell you Saturday. Sorry. Nohints. See you in the morning at Millwood.”

 

Replacing the receiver, I thought, what bad luckClaudia had landing her first reporting job in a backwards town like Doe Lake.Although young and single like her, I had deliberately chosen to work in asmall town to hide from paparazzi and stalkers, no thanks to my infamous TVstar mom; but I wasn’t stuck in Doe Lake forever. Soon enough, I’d be leavingto pursue my own dreams. My trust funds would be released that summer on my 26th birthday. I intended to plant myself in a secluded cabin inNew England and finish my novel. My departure would create a job opening atMillwood –the perfect opportunity for Claudia to advance her career, and herlife.

 

Fortunately, I resembled my unknown father morethan my famous mom. No one in Doe Lake knew my true identity, but I planned toshare my secret with Claudia that day. I knew she could be trusted.

 

Saturday morning, I spotted Claudia’s purpleChevy alongside rusty cars and pickup trucks in the muddy lot at Millwood.She’d arrived ahead of me, a good sign. Rare sunshine thawed the icy gravel.Splashing through ruts, my Camaro was covered with mud. It was impossible tokeep a car clean nine months out of 12 in rural Michigan, autumn being theexception.

 

Waving me on at the “Reserved” parking gate,Pete said, “Lookin’ good, Veronica.” Weekdays, the guy waited on tables at hismom’s restaurant, sweaty in a soiled apron. Nights and weekends, he doubled asa security guard at Millwood. Sporting a fresh uniform with an official“Security” patch on its pocket, I had to admit Pete cleaned up nice enough, buthe wasn’t as good looking as Robbie, the town cop. Regardless, I wasn’t intodating the locals. Despite my rebuffs, Pete kept hitting on me like a mothbattering a light bulb. I was forced to tolerate his clumsy advances at workfor now, but not for long.

 

Hunting for Claudia, I followed the aroma ofjuicy hot dogs and buttery popcorn to a tented outdoor pavilion. I expectedClaudia would be photographing the crowd for the newspaper. Children squealedin delight at the noisy blast from a helium tank. There she was, her 35mmcamera focused on a group of youngsters gripping white balloons imprinted witha red “75.”

 

“Delightful,” Claudia said when she saw me.“This reminds me of my childhood school carnivals.”

 

“That’s cool,” I said. “The fun will help keepyour mind off your troubles. No moping or worrying today.” Nodding to a groupof hovering parents, I plucked Claudia from the flock of children. We walked toa set of tables up front reserved for the company’s big wigs.

 

Under my breath, I instructed Claudia, “Smilefor the brass.” First, I introduced her to Mr. Reed, Millwood’s president.Claudia stared up at Mr. Reed’s silver-haired head, oversized even inproportion to his prominent height. Mr. Reed offered his hand, but to myembarrassment, Claudia appeared to ignore his gesture. I bumped her hip and shelooked down. Too late, Mr. Reed had dropped his proffered palm.

 

“Oops,” Claudia mumbled when she realized herslight. I suspected her low vision was to blame for the oversight. She didn’ttalk about her limited sight, but sometimes it was obvious.

 

“Moving along…” I tugged on Claudia’s elbow andcontinued introductions. “This is Keith Donaldson, Vice President of Sales, andWil Roberts, vice president of Production.” This time, Claudia raised her handfirst, avoiding further embarrassment.

 

Ahead, my nemesis approached, lean and mean in atailored pencil skirt. Her hawk-like beak and predator’s glare frightenedothers at work, but not me. Unintimidated, I exaggerated my delight.

 

What is a pencil skirt?

 

 

“Oh, Claudia, please let me introduce you to Ms.Michelle Hamilton, Millwood’s Design Manager. She has worked here longer thananyone.” Game on.

 

Millwood’s bitch-in-residence turned her headand blew cigarette smoke over her shoulder, ignoring Claudia’s offer to shake.Michelle’s deliberate affront was nothing like my friend’s unintended slightearlier. The bitch meant business.

 

“Why, Michelle,” I drooled like a loyalpuppy.  “I was telling Claudia how many different jobs you’ve had over theyears at Millwood. Too bad I have the job you’ve always wanted – seekingpublicity for yourself. Oh, did I mention that my friend here is a reporter?”

 

Hamilton crushed her butt under the toe of herhigh heel and preened her feathered hair. Squinting at Claudia’s “Press” badge,she said, “,Oh, you’re Doe Lake’s new reporter.”

 

No surprise, I knew Claudia’s credentials wouldattract Michelle’s narcissistic need for attention. She puckered wrinkled lipsaround a fresh cig and said, “Well Claudia, I have been with Millwood Furniture longer than Veronica, so allowme to give you a personal tour. I can better answer your questions about thecompany.”

 

“No doing,” I pried Hamilton’s skeletal fingersoff Claudia’s arm. “She’s my personal guest today. You’ll have to share yourold stories with her another time.”

 

No Doing is an expression I’ve never heard. 

 

I whisked Claudia past a long line of visitorsthrough a side door reserved for staff only. Inside the spacious lobby, Claudiastopped short. “Give me a minute to adjust to the dark,” she said. Dark?Elegant wall sconces illuminated the lobby. Claudia removed her sunglasses andfished tissue from a pocket to clean her prescription lenses. . Glasses in place,she gazed about while her pupils enlarged. Claudia looked down and admired theplush carpet under our feet. Impatient, I swept her through a double-door intoa sea of open plan workstations, framed in oak and upholstered in hues ofheather grey, deep maroon, and leafy greens.

 

“Meet Millwood’s modular panel system,” Iannounced. “Each workstation is equipped for computer support.” Idemonstrated.  “Keyboard trays slide out from under work surfaces, andcomputer cables are concealed in conduits along the bottom of each panel. Andlook, adjustable task lights are mounted under the overhead cabinets,eliminating the need for harsh ceiling fixtures. It’s easier on the eyes,” Iadded. Speaking of eyes, the amazement in Claudia’s open-mouthed stare was obvious.“You should see the look on your face,” I teased.

 

 

“This is unreal,” she said. “I've a feelingwe're not in Kansas, I mean Michigan, anymore. When I walked into theMessenger’s old office on Main Street six months ago,” Claudia explained, “Iwas transported back in time. Now, I’ve been propelled light years into thefuture. “

 

“There’s more.” I pointed out a shared areahousing a humming printer, copy machine, and facsimile machine. Next stop wasthe staff lounge furnished with cushy leather couches and occasional tables.“Interior Design, a national trade publication for commercial designers andarchitects, recently photographed our offices for their cover. See?” I pluckeda glossy magazine off a side table. “Common areas encourage casual conversationand collaboration,” I quoted the article. “I worked with our public relationsfirm in New York City for weeks to attract the eye of the magazine’s editors.”

 

Veronica’s outright hostility to her enemy isalarming., and vice adversa. It’s interesting to see what Veronica really does,but are the details necessary?  

 

You travel to New York City for business?”

 

“Claudia, there’s a big world outside of DoeLake, you know. Millwood has showrooms in New York City, Chicago, and LosAngeles. I travel frequently on the company’s expense account. We stay at theWaldorf and the Palmer House. We eat at the Four Seasons in Manhattan or ChezPanise in Berkeley, wherever the customer wants to dine. I invite editors andpublic relation managers out when they’re in town. It’s worth the publicity.We’re not publishing hard news, but a feature on one of our showrooms inArchitectural Digest is well-worth the cost of a two-page spread in themagazine.”

 

In fact, I’ll be in New York City next week,working up publicity for our new product introductions at NEOCON

 

“NEO-who?”

 

“We’re debuting a new line of ergonometricseating in Chicago in June.”

 

“Ergo-what?”

 

I noticed Claudia had opened her reporter’s padand was feverishly taking notes.

 

“I thought Millwood only manufacturedtraditional office furniture,” she said.

 

“Let me show you the private offices along theperimeter that showcase our executive product lines.” I urged Claudia on. Alonga wall of windows, the “big wig” offices were furnished to showcase eachdistinctive collection of Millwood’s high-end furniture. Traditional pedestaldesks made of mahogany, cherry, and walnut  with  matching credenzas,lateral file cabinets, and meeting tables spoke of prestige and power. In acorner office, the company president worked behind a rich red mahogany executivetable, its waterfall edges inlaid with ebony. An impressive conference roomoccupied the opposite corner. Custom note pads, coffee mugs, and pensdisplaying the Millwood logo were arranged at each high back swivel seat thatsurrounded the massive dark walnut table.

 

“We negotiate large contracts with importantclients in here,” I said. “That’s why commercial furniture is called contractfurniture. It’s not like residential furniture that can be bought at Sears,” Iexplained. “Only authorized dealers can sell Millwood Furniture. Our showroomsaren’t open to the public, only to trade professionals. That’s why we promoteour product lines to architects and interior designers. They’re the ones whospecify furniture for end users like bank presidents and CEO’s of Fortune 500companies.”

 

Seeing the impression on Claudia’s face as shescribbled notes, I launched on, playing my corporate communications role.“Millwood furnishings can be found at top universities, medical centers,government offices, and executive headquarters for companies like A T & Tand EXXON...”

 

“Veronica, how do you keep track of it all?”Claudia asked.

 

“That’s what the computers are for, silly. Eachproduct is photographed and catalogue for our dealers and sales managers. Ourcustomer service reps input orders into the computer, and the assembly of eachitem is tracked at each station on the factory floor until it’s loaded onto atruck at the shipping dock out back. There’s over 700,000 square feet ofmanufacturing space that you haven’t seen yet.” Outside a private office, Ipaused and pointed to a round oak work table.

 

Claudia nodded appreciatively.

 

“Surprise! This is my office.” I bounced intothe brown suede chair behind the table. With the flourish of a hand, I invitedClaudia to sit in one of the upholstered guest chairs. “Impressed? Makeyourself comfortable. One day, this office could be yours.” I reached under thetable and produced two box lunches, each containing a fresh garden wrap,gourmet pasta salad, and a chocolate chunk cookie, giant size. “Dig in,” Isaid, twisting the top off a seltzer water for each of us.

 

“Wow, I am impressed,” Claudia said. “The perksof working in corporate communications are way better than downing donuts whilewalking a news beat.”

 

I enjoyed watching Claudia savor the cateredfood and special treatment. “Oh, this is nothing compared to how we dine whentraveling on the company’s expense account,” I bragged. “Millwood Furniturehosts receptions at trade shows with caviar, raw oysters, and champagne. Ourcustomers are big spenders. When they’re purchasing top shelf products tofurnish 50 floors of a high rise, you bet we wine and dine them before, during,and after the sale.” I paused, giving Claudia time to digest her lunch, and thecontrast between her job and mine.

 

One gets the impression that the main motive ofVeronica’s describing her  job is toimpress Claudia. She likes impressing people.

 

“Let me close my office door,” I said, standing.“It’s time to tell you my news.”

 
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <https://bluegrasspals.com/pipermail/group1/attachments/20220226/51bb74bc/attachment-0001.html>