Chapter 2 - Beneath the Surface
The mismatch between the paperwork and reality was too glaring for Jonathan to ignore. A "meets minimum expectations" evaluation sat in his hands, yet through the glass, he watched an eighteen-year-old solve procedural bottlenecks, soothe anxious patients, and troubleshoot complex biomechanical issues—all while walking on a failing, decade-old prosthetic.
"Who signed off on this evaluation?" Jonathan asked, his voice low, controlled, and dangerous.
Daniel checked the bottom of the form. "Samuel Wilson. The technical manager you just saw her talking to."
Jonathan closed the file with a quiet snap. "Set up a private review in the conference room. Bring Wilson first, then Annie. Do not announce who I am to her just yet."
Ten minutes later, Samuel Wilson sat across from Jonathan in the quiet, glass-walled conference room. The manager was visibly sweating, his eyes darting between Jonathan’s tailored suit and the red file folder on the table.
"Mr. Bennett, if I had known you were inspecting today, we would have prepared a proper presentation—"
"I don't want a presentation, Mr. Wilson," Jonathan interrupted, leaning forward. "I want to understand your performance metrics. I just read Annie Carter’s review. You gave her a passing grade, barely above unsatisfactory. Why?"
Samuel shifted uncomfortably. "Annie is... enthusiastic, sir. But she doesn't follow standard protocol. She spends far too much time on the phone with individual clients. The call duration metrics for trainees are capped at five minutes. She regularly spends fifteen or twenty."
"She was diagnosing an alignment issue for a frightened patient on the phone," Jonathan noted. "She caught a potential mechanical failure before the user put weight on it."
"Be that as it may, sir, our department is judged on volume," Samuel replied defensively. "Furthermore, she spends her break times using company tools to work on personal projects."
"Personal projects?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "You mean attempting to repair her own prosthetic leg? A prosthetic manufactured by this company?"
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Samuel blanched. "Our employee health insurance coverage for trainees doesn't extend to high-tier mobility devices until after two years of full-time employment. The model she uses—the Generation 3 Alpha—was discontinued five years ago. Parts aren't in production. I've told her to apply for state assistance, but the backlogs are months long."
"So instead of helping her, you docked her performance review because her phone calls were too long and she was fixing her own leg in the supply closet." Jonathan’s voice was icy. "Thank you, Mr. Wilson. Wait outside. Send Miss Carter in."
