Frederick, Never Fred

Frederick J. Tuftman was never late a day in his life. Even his birth was two full calendar days before his due date. Every project he was assigned since grade school was meticulously completed and turned in no less than two days early as well. This efficiency carried through high school, college, and eventually at his current (and first) job. “Frederick J. Tuftman - Junior Project Manager”, as his desk plate gloriously read. He ordered it himself the minute he landed the job one year, three months, and seven days ago. Not that he’s counting. The “J” doesn’t actually stand for anything, he just added it for effect in 4th grade on all his papers. He had learned that the great Harry S. Truman had a middle-most name that did not actually stand for anything, so he, too, felt he should have one. Thus, the “J” was born.

On this particular day, Frederick (never “Fred”) was briskly making his way through the complex maze of cubicles enroute to his own. He clutched his Italian leather briefcase (that’s what the label read, though he suspected synthetic), and deliberately side eyed the cubicle typically encasing one Leonard Steinmacher. Of course, Steinmacher was not there yet. He is never there on time. How is it he is still employed with such a disgraceful work ethic? Frederick pondered this daily. And sometimes, he even shared his misgivings about his coworker with his cubicle neighbor, Jasmine Fields. Yes, that was really her name. And Frederick found it completely suiting and lovely.

“Good morning, Jasmine. Perfectly acceptable weather today, wouldn’t you agree?” Frederick said as he gently rested his briefcase on his desk.

Jasmine looked up from her desk over the carpeted divider, and saw Frederick looking down at her from above.

“Yes, I can’t argue with that!”

Frederick looked perplexed. He was unsure why Jasmine would consider an argument with him about something as trivial as the current atmospheric conditions, but he shrugged it off. There was no time to dwell on such matters when there was work to be done. Rather than reply, he turned and sat down. Jasmine was here before him today. He wondered what that could mean. One of the many things he liked about Jasmine (26, to be exact) was how she always arrived promptly at 8am. Not 7:54, or 8:02, it was always 8am. Yet today, she arrived well before 8am which is highly unusual and out of routine for her. At least he can still count on Steinmacher to continue his tardy streak.

Speaking of Steinmacher, Frederick heard the shuffling of papers and scratching of old office chair wheels on a plastic floor protector. It was Steinmacher’s telltale sign of arrival each day. He glared across the walled matrix to see him muddling about in his tight little work quarters.

Frederick did not like to make assumptions, but there were certain things he could be sure of about his coworkers. He analyzed them as critically as the stock market before making investments. After all, people were an investment too. And he would only invest his valuable time and attention into those scientifically decided upon to be worthy. And Steinmacher was not one of them. He surmised the following about the middle aged, balding, overweight accountant: he rarely did laundry as evident by the stains on his unironed shirts, he enjoyed nacho cheese products for at least two out of three meals of the day and neglected to wash the residue from his grubby-chubby fingertips, he was unmarried as evident by the lack of a wedding ring or pictures of a paramour lazily thumbtacked to his cubicle carpeted walls, and based upon his often overheard discussions about true crime marathon events on the multitude of streaming services he subscribed to, he was undoubtedly a couch potato in all his unworking hours.

Frederick regained his focus and opened several emails, pinning them to the top of his email list in order of importance. Then he heard the scraping of shoes approaching from behind him, and turned to see Steinmacher smiling suspiciously at him with his hands perched on his wide hips.

“Hey, Fred! I see you’re taking the lead on the Warman account. That’s a pretty high profile one, right? You know, I asked Thompson to set me up with that one, but I guess you convinced him to hand it over to you instead.” Steinmacher dropped his smile and waited for an explanation. The Warman account was the biggest, likely the most important account they would get this quarter. It would also lead to even bigger accounts if done right. Everyone knew it. Even Jasmine, who often didn’t know very much about things in the office.

“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about, Steinmacher. Accounts are divided evenly amongst the staff. You know that,” Frederick replied as he looked back at his computer screen, annoyed at being “Fredded.”

“Lay off, Steinmacher. Frederick is a better accountant than you are 8 days a week, and you know it. Go back to your hole,” Jasmine interjected from over the wall. Frederick was unsure whether it was the right time to tell Jasmine a week has 7 days, not 8, but Steinmacher didn’t give him a chance.

“Jasmine, I love your spunk! One of your many attractive qualities,” Steinmacher said and sidled to the left. “How about dinner Friday. You keep saying ‘another time’, so is it another time yet?”

“I don’t think so,” Jasmine said, looking over at Frederick who was still staring intently at his computer screen. If only Frederick would pay as much attention to her as Steinmacher. She sighed and continued, “Though, I do love Indian food and there’s a great place just around the corner.” She said it loud enough for Frederick to hear, hoping he’d jump in and ask her to go. Nothing.

“Anytime you want to go, just tell me. It will be my treat,” Steinmacher said in a forced flirtatious way. Jasmine rolled her eyes and began sharpening a pencil to drown out Steinmacher’s voice. He got the hint and waddled back to his cubicle.

“Hey, Frederick, that’s really great you got the Warman account. I know you’ll do an excellent job with it,” Jasmine said.

“Yes, I have no doubt I will.” Frederick tried to think of something nice to say in return. Jasmine was one of the few people around the office who really recognized and understood what a fantastic worker he was. She complimented him quite frequently, in fact. Frederick tried to think if he ever complimented her, and could not think of many (or any) instances.

“You must replace the batteries in your pencil sharpener often. It’s always working,” he finally thought to say. That was a perfect compliment. He’d overheard others in the office complaining that they’d forgotten to bring batteries again for their sharpener, but never Jasmine. He smiled.

“Oh, yes. I suppose I do change the batteries as needed.” Jasmine wished she had the nerve to boldly ask Frederick to dinner, but she was sure he’d decline. He probably had a regular dinner routine, and she would just be an inconvenience. She found herself staring at his crisp, clean haircut and how his light brown hair fell in soft waves across his perfectly shaped head. His ebony lashes and crystal blue eyes focused intently on his work…until a sound made them both turn towards Mr. Thompson’s office. Steinmacher was strutting through the always-closed door of their often unseen boss.

“What do you suppose Steinmacher is doing in Thompson’s office?” Jasmine wondered aloud.

“Hopefully, Mr. Thompson is finally going to rectify the issue of Steinmacher’s perpetual blatant disregard for the start of the workday. I would also venture to guess his work is as sloppy as his cubicle and clothes. We deal with numbers in a very precise and exact way, Jasmine. It would not surprise me in the least if he is being reprimanded at this very moment for his work ethic, overdue projects, and general nonchalance. This is a hive where every worker bee must be responsible for their part, Jasmine.”

Jasmine nodded in agreement as Steinmacher walked back to his cubicle. Though, it was not a look of having just been admonished on his face. It looked downright smug.

“Tuftman! My office! Now!” Mr. Thompson bellowed with agitation.

Frederick jumped in his chair at the sound of his name. What could all this be about? Perplexed, Frederick quickly went to Mr. Thompson’s office and closed the door behind him. Jasmine continued to look at Steinmacher, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat and tapping a chewed pencil on his greasy chin.

“It has come to my attention that you left unfinished an entire portfolio of projects, leaving Mr. Steinmacher to cover for you and finish them. It has even caused him to be late on occasion, given all the extra work he’s been doing. This is not acceptable, Mr. Tuftman.” Thompson’s tone was stern, his look menacing, and his fingers steepled. There is nothing more serious than steepled fingers.

“But that is simply untrue! My work is always completed before the deadline! You have to believe me, Mr. Thompson!” Frederick pleaded.

“I’m going to take the day to consider the appropriate recourse, Mr. Tuftman. You may go back to your desk.”

“Yes, sir.”

Frederick was stunned. He walked straight to Steinmacher and said, “You lied. You know none of that is true. And I’ll prove it.” But, how? Frederick took determined steps back to his cubicle under the concerned gaze of Jasmine.

“What was all that about?”

“Steinmacher told Thompson he’s been finishing my projects because I’m not getting them done. I don’t know how to prove otherwise. It’s his word against mine.”

“That’s awful! How could he do that to you?” Jasmine exclaimed.

“I suppose without proof, I should just pack my things.” Frederick looked sadly at the Employee of the Month award glistening under the fluorescent lights near his computer screen. He’d bought it for himself in January after a particularly good month. And now, it was all for naught.

Jasmine waited until Frederick was preoccupied, then opened the tab on her computer she had been working on since 7am when she got in. Actually, she had been working on this “project” for months now. She knew it was a matter of time before Steinmacher sunk his jealous claws into unassuming Frederick, and she was going to be ready. And she was. As Project Coordinator, Jasmine had access to every employee’s hard drive, including timestamps of dates when work was submitted. She had been compiling folders on several employees as an “experiment.” She would tell Thompson she was looking to increase performance accountability, and stumbled upon the fact that every timestamp for Frederick was early, and every timestamp for Steinmacher late.

With a quick print, she gathered her files and marched to Thompson’s office.

***

“Steinmacher!” Thompson roared as Jasmine left his office. Red faced and sweating, Steinmacher dragged his feet to his fate.

As Jasmine sat down, she smiled and looked at Frederick.

“Hey, Frederick, you busy this Friday night? I’d love to get dinner with you and talk about the recent merger of Gower and Landry.”

Frederick first looked over at Steinmacher, now back in his cubicle and packing his things into a box. Then he looked at Jasmine.

“Dinner? Well, yes, I eat dinner every evening actually. I suppose I could eat dinner on Friday with you. That may be an enjoyable topic of conversation while we are both eating.”

Steinmacher dropped his box, causing reverberations throughout the cubicle maze. Grumbling, he picked it up and didn’t spare a look to anyone as he left.

“It looks like Mr. Thompson believed me after all. My work speaks for itself, the dates flawless.”

“Yes, that must be it exactly, Frederick,” Jasmine said with a smile. She moved her files aside, and thought about what she would wear on Friday.