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The next morning, Carson went to Bill's cube and found him staring at the ceiling. Carson looked up and couldn't see anything. "Excuse me, Bill?"
Bill looked down and saw Carson in the doorway. "Oh, Hi!" He jumped to his feet. "Come in, come in. Sorry about that! I could have sworn I saw something in that little hole up there. Never mind."
Carson looked around the cluttered office space and the only extra seat was piled with books and papers. "Oh, let me clear you a spot," Bill said as he picked up the stack of clutter from the chair and looked around for a place to set it down. After several failed attempts at balancing it on top of other piles of junk, he set the stack on the floor and sat back down. "So, you're going to be administrating Configure Fusion!"
"Yes, that's right. I took all the training, but I'm afraid I don't have much experience with configuration management."
"It's really too bad you didn't get a chance to meet Martin." Bill leaned back in his chair and stared whimsically into space.
"Martin? Who was Martin?"
"Who was Martin?" Bill leaned forward and looked Carson in the eye. "I'll tell you who Martin is. Martin Erbauer is only probably one of the greatest software configuration managers who ever lived!"
Carson's eyes widened. "What happened to him? Where did he go?"
Bill leaned back again and put his hands behind his head. "That's the sad part. He got caught up in one of Ominvan's big layoffs."
"He got laid off? How could that be if he was so great?"
"Martin was so exceptional at his job that nothing ever went wrong with his projects. He would just show up and problems simply seemed to evaporate. He automated all the builds and most of the SCM process. The operation ran as smooth as the surface of a fresh jar of peanut butter."
"So what happened?"
"Quite Frankly, I think he worked himself right out of a job. Management no longer saw the need for his services since things ran so well. He also spent all of his time actually working and no time rubbing noses with the managers, so he wasn't very well known. They were looking for places to cut, and since his position had no exposure, they eliminated it. Unfortunately, it's one those peripheral jobs that are the first to go when things get tight."
Carson felt a knot in his stomach. So much for job security, he thought. "Where does he work now?"
"That's where it gets even stranger. He simply disappeared after the layoff. No one really knows for sure where he went. After devoting twenty-five years of his life to Omnivan, rumor has it that he snapped and ended up on the streets."
"Has anyone tried to contact him?"
"I tried calling several times but I could never reach him. Eventually his home phone number went out of service. I even asked HR if they had any information, but they gave me this song and dance about privacy, so I was never able to find him."
"That is too bad. I could really use some coaching in this new job."
"What about Jason? Hasn't he been able to show you the ropes?"
"All I've gotten from Jason is where to eat and who to avoid."
"I would really love to help you out as much as I can, but unfortunately this morning I got sucked into one of Gruber's marathon meetings, which... say, what time is it?"
Jason looked at his Mickey Mouse watch, "It's about eight forty-five."
Bill jumped out of his chair. "Oh crap! I'm already fifteen minutes late!" He grabbed his coffee mug and a notebook. "I've gotta run, kid! I'll catch up with you later!"
***
Carson's shoulders sagged as he slowly made his way back to his cube. He was now convinced he'd have to figure out everything on his own. That was nothing new, really, was it? The world seemed such a cold and lonely place sometimes.
When he got back to his cube there was a pink envelope on the desk with Jason's name written in big, loopy letters. He picked the envelope up and sniffed it. It had been scented with perfume. That figures, thought Carson. Not only did the guy get away with murder at work, but now some cute girl in the office was probably after him for a date.
He logged onto Jason's computer and did a Google search on the name Martin Erbauer. The resulting list was mainly web sites printed in German, but mixed among them there were some sites on configuration management and software engineering. He found some articles written by Martin himself about configuration management and building software.
Carson spent the rest of the morning reading the articles he found on the web. He learned quite a bit, but reading the computer screen all morning made his eyes ache. His brain had started to turn numb when he felt a tickle on the back of his head. Something was crawling on him. He swatted at it and hit someone's hand.
"Ow!" barked Jason.
"What the heck are you doing?" shouted Carson.
"Shh!" Jason put his fingers to his lips. "Has Chandra been around looking for me?"
Carson lowered his voice. "No, I haven't seen her, but somebody left you a little note." Carson pointed to the pink envelope. Jason picked it up and turned it over. He sniffed.
"Mmm. Chanel. Number Nine, I believe. What could it be?"
"Well, open it."
"I shall." Jason torn open the envelope then turned it upside down and a white card fell onto the desk. "You can never be too careful," he said, flipping his eye brows. He picked the note up from the edges as if it were contaminated and opened it slowly.
"Interesting. Al, are you over there?"
"Where else would I be?" replied Al.
"Get over and check this out!"
"What does it say?" asked Carson.
Al arrived in the cube out of breath. "What is it?"
Jason held up the envelope and the note so Al could see it. "Listen to this." He paused for affect, "Dear Jason, I've been trying to get up the nerve to meet you now for some time, but every time I try, I'm overcome by my strong attraction to you. I'm afraid of what might I might do in public. If you are interested in meeting with me alone, show up in Conference room A at 12:00 sharp. Love, your Secret Admirer."
"That is so Junior High," laughed Al.
"Look at this." Jason turned the note around for them to see. The bottom had a huge kiss mark made from fresh, red lipstick. "I think it's the real deal."
"What if it's a guy?" snickered Al.
"I bet I know who this is. I've noticed this new girl who sits in that cube right near the stairs. She always checks me out when I walk by. She's hot!" He fanned his face with the envelope and inhaled deeply.
"Are you going to go?" asked Carson.
"Heck, yeah! I've got to find out who did this. It better not be you, Al!"
Al held his hands up. "Dude, I had nothing to do with this one."
"What time is it, anyway?"
"It's eleven forty-five."
"Just enough time to get freshened up!" smiled Jason.
"You're crazy! I bet it's some three hundred pound gorilla you cut off in the parking lot, and he's waiting to knock your block off," said Al.
"There's only one way to find out! If I'm not back in an hour, call 911." Jason stuck the note in his shirt pocket and headed out the door.
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