Report 6: Cambralart Financials, Interview 2: Abraham Fogler

            Despite the request from Ms. Tania Beakman, executive of the Chicago branch of Cambralart Financials, both for me to depart the premises and leave her out of my interviews entirely, I was forced based on the integrity of my study to deny both suggestions.

            After returning to a waiting area on the twelfth floor, the security guard who had guided me back down the elevator had to be called away, while a replacement headed over to take me the rest of the way down.  As I had not actually become belligerent in Ms. Beakman’s office, I suppose I was looked on as a non-threat, because the guard just left me in the waiting room.  With briefcase in hand, I was quickly on my way down a hallway toward some of the primary office space.

            Though I’ve worked in Techilogic as an analyst for nine years, I had some experience as an investigative reporter prior to that for about three years.  It was time to take these skills back out of my toolbox.

            Thoroughly aware of the illegality of my current choices, and completely content with it by this point, I made my way through the workspace as inconspicuously as possible.  The company apparently is well-to-do enough that cubicles aren’t used, with desks in straight rows on the sparkling tile reminding me a bit of an army barracks.

            Tania had mentioned how the so-called shrunken seminar notification system worked, in that workers at risk of falling behind are put on a list that’s distributed to everyone, I would assume in the form of a digital memo.  Cambralart seems to keep its general movement space in a pristine state, but I knew no copy room can possibly escape a few stray scraps from a previous week or two.  I decided this was the logical place to begin my search.

            Sure enough, the wall in the copy room contained a three-foot-wide touch screen monitor that flashed by various pieces of information such as worldwide stocks, what the cafeteria was serving, and finally a list of approximately two dozen names labeled “Reduction Seminar & Learning Experience Candidates.”  Next to each name was a department label and a room number.

            Of course, this particular list wasn’t going to do me any good, as these “candidates” hadn’t actually experienced the seminar yet, but it was a start.  I quickly realized, though, that these names came from all across the Chicago branch, a location that houses over four hundred employees daily.  There’s no possible way anyone could be remotely familiar with everyone, and indeed, remotely familiar with everyone on the current list.  I picked out the name of someone named Abraham Fogler from the desk space just outside the copy room.

            Bracing myself for this to backfire at any moment, I decided to try my luck.  I walked right up to the desk of Mr. Fogler near the far corner of the room.  He was somewhat heavyset with a receding hairline, and his face was buried partially in his hands as he leaned over a tablet.

TC: Mr. Fogler?

Abraham: Yes?

TC: I’m Joe.  From the twenty-second floor?  I think we met at the Christmas party a couple years back.

Abraham: What?  Oh.  Okay.

TC: You don’t remember me, do you?

Abraham: What?  No, of course I do.  Definitely.  Joe.  Joe from the twenty-first floor.

TC: Twenty-second.

Abraham: Twenty-second!  God, yes, sorry.  What do you need?

TC: I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute in the copy room about a little issue?

Abraham: A little issue?  What kind of issue?

TC: Nothing major, I just need maybe two minutes of your time.

Abraham: Oh.  Okay, sure.  I’m coming.

            The pair of us trudged back to the copy room.  Most heads over the desks didn’t even budge their eyes or posture from the computers.  Once safely inside, I closed the door behind me.

Abraham: How can I help you?  Problem in your department?

TC: Well, Mr. Fogler, I suppose I wasn’t being very forthcoming.  This isn’t a business matter, per se.

Abraham: Oh?

TC: See, I was looking at the list for the seminar candidates next week and saw we’re both on there.

            As I pointed to the screen behind us so that Abraham could indeed confirm that there was someone named Joe on the list from the twenty-second floor, he twitched visibly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Abraham: Okay.  What about it?

TC: I was just wondering what you knew about it?

Abraham: The seminar?

TC: Yes.

Abraham: Nothing.  Nothing at all.  Why would I know something about it?

TC: No reason.  I just wondered if you might know.  I’ll admit I’m a little anxious about it.

            A few beads of sweat were already trickling down Abraham’s forehead, though I couldn’t tell if it was from the harsh fluorescents or from something else.

Abraham: Oh?

TC: Yes.  You’re sure you haven’t heard anything?

Abraham: Nope.  Never.  I just know we shrink down and have to listen to some extra lectures on business practices and whatnot.

TC: That’s all?

Abraham: Well, like I said.  I don’t know anything at all.

TC: I see.  Could you tell me where I could find someone who might, then?  I’m afraid I already tossed out my copy of the list from a couple weeks back.

            Abraham looked on me suspiciously, but I kept my cool.

Abraham: Sure.  Sure, I can.  Why, though?

TC: Why do I want to find out about it?

Abraham: Yes.

TC: Because it interests me.  I want to know what I’m looking at here so I can prepare.

            At this, Abraham stepped closer to me and placed a hand on my shoulder as he whispered urgently into my ear.

Abraham: Look, man.  If you know what’s good for you, just keep your head down and power through for the rest of the week so you don’t have to go.  Stay here all night if you have to.  With all due respect, that’s what I’ve got to be doing too, so I’ll see you around.

TC: No, wait, give me a break.  You just said you don’t know anything about it.  What do you know?

Abraham: Nothing, like I said.

TC: Who can I talk to, then?

Abraham: I’m serious.  You don’t want to start looking into things.  You’ve got a great job here, and you’ll be able to retire when you’re fifty.  It’s worth it to just keep your trap shut, okay?

TC: Who said anything about retiring just for asking a couple questions?

Abraham: Nobody.  Nobody yet, as long as you don’t make dumbass decisions.

TC: Just give me a couple names.  I won’t mention yours back.

            Grunting quietly as he began turning the door handle to leave the copy room, Abraham turned back to me as he ran a fidgeting hand over his thinning hair.

Abraham: Okay, okay, fine.  Daniel Jackson and Karine Templeton.

TC: Where are they?

Abraham: Both on the fourteenth floor.  They share an office because they get some of the specialized clients as a team.  And I swear-

TC: (cutting in) I won’t mention your name.  This never happened, if that’s what you want.

Abraham: It is.  God damn it, man.  What do you think you’re doing?

            Abraham didn’t give me time to answer his apparently rhetorical question before marching back toward his desk to try and continue working to get out of his possible seminar next week, which more and more is giving me reason to suspect is anything but an opportunity for professional growth.