Terms of Employment

Chapter 5: Per Process

The meeting ran two hours.

Derek hit the table three times.

First: Rachel called in. The Halloran Group had sent a formal letter that morning. Paused. Next quarter's contract intent, suspended.

Second: Finance forwarded a message. The three vendor payment confirmations had gone up to the VP's office.

Third: he asked Ethan why he'd been late. Ethan said traffic.

Derek asked what time he'd left the house.

Ethan said eight-thirty.

The office opened at nine. The bus took forty minutes. He left at eight-thirty, hit traffic, and walked in at ten-twenty.

Derek didn't say anything else. He turned and looked at me.

"Nathan."

"Here."

"Halloran. You used to run that account."

"I did. Then it was transferred to Ethan. Your signature on the sheet."

Derek's mouth twitched.

"Now that there's a problem with the client, don't you think you should—"

"Should what?"

The conference room went quiet.

"Three days ago," I said, "in this room, at this table, you told me: process is process. Whoever owns it owns it. No steps outside your scope."

"I—"

"I signed the disciplinary file. Three months of bonus, frozen. Written warning, in my personnel file."

"And now you're asking me to handle something that isn't in my scope. What is that?"

Derek's face went dark red.

"Nathan. You— this is a threat."

"No. It's compliance."

"Compliance with who?"

"With you."

Someone at the far end of the table drew a slow breath.

Karen kept her head down. There was a very small curve at the corner of her mouth.

Derek threw his pen onto the table.

"Meeting's over."

People stood up. Chairs scraped. Files closed.

"Nathan. Stay a minute."

The door shut.

Just the two of us.

Derek leaned back, fingers pressed against his brow. He didn't say anything for almost a minute.

"Nathan. I know you're angry." His voice had changed. Softer. "The disciplinary thing — I followed company process. It wasn't personal."

I looked at him. I didn't answer.

"Look at where we are. Halloran's gone cold. The vendors aren't settled. Sales is on my back every day. You're a senior employee. You know all of this better than anyone—"

"Derek."

"What?"

"You said the disciplinary action followed process."

"That's right."

"Then me working to process — what's the problem?"

His hand stopped against his brow.

"My job description has three items on it. I do all three. No more, no less."

"Nathan—"

"If you think somebody needs to handle those other things, you can revise the scope. Through the formal process." I stood up. "Or assign them to another colleague. Ethan, for example."

The name landed. His eyelid twitched.

"He handled a lot of things independently, didn't he? That's what your report said."

Derek didn't answer.

"If that's all," I said, "I'll get back to work. The monthly office supply inventory isn't finished."

He sat there. He didn't say a word.

I opened the door.

In the hall, Ethan was leaning against the wall.

When he saw me come out he straightened up fast.

"Hey, Nathan—"

I walked past him. Didn't stop.

"Hey. Are you — are you pissed at me?"

I stopped.

Turned around.

He stood under the hallway light with that expression I'd been watching for a year and a half. Innocent. Wronged. A little eager.

"The report," he said. "I really didn't mean for it to go that way. Derek had me organize the workflow, and I found some—"

"Ethan."

"What?"

"You spent two weeks putting together a list. Times, places, names involved. Not one item missing."

His face froze.

"And that's not on purpose?"

His lips moved. Nothing came.

"You started keeping notes the first day you sat down next to me, didn't you."

The hallway was empty. The fluorescent tube hummed.

Something in his eyes changed.

Not innocent. Not wronged. Blank.

It lasted one second.

Then he smiled.

"You're overthinking it."

He put his hands in his pockets and walked away.

Two steps in, he stopped. He didn't turn around.

"You think if you stop, this department can't run? Don't flatter yourself."

He kept walking.

I stood in the hallway.

My phone buzzed.

In the work channel, someone from Sales had posted.

**Priya Raman — Sales:** Operations. The day after tomorrow — client appreciation event. Venue, materials, run of show. Who owns it? It was supposed to be final two days ago and we have nothing. @Derek Fang @Ethan Song @Nathan Gu

Below it, another one.

**Priya Raman — Sales:** Urgent. Fifty-seven names on the guest list. The day after tomorrow.

I put the phone back in my pocket.

Walked back to my desk.

The screen was still on.

The supply log. One line left.

Trash bags, black, large. On hand: thirty rolls.

I typed the number, saved, shut down.

Six o'clock exactly.

I left on time.