Boston, Part I

Susan’s POV

Steven and I were surprised when Ella called to say that she wanted to move us to Miami for two weeks. Once she detailed what was going on, I was curious. It sounded a little fantastical, so I talked to Patrick and Rodney.

That was a stunner.

“So, let me get this straight. Ella wants to move you to Miami for two weeks to determine the level of sexism in there?” Rodney asks, eyebrow raised. I nod and he snorts. “That’s easy to answer. High. Ridiculously high. Astronomically high. I wouldn’t send my ex-wife to the Miami office. Do you have to go?”

I sit back, stunned. Rodney and his ex-wife despise each other, so I was getting a good idea of what I was walking into. “Well, I report to Ella and this is a request and order wrapped in one, so I would think yes, I have to go. Maria, the Miami housekeeper, is coming here for two weeks.”

Patrick sits back and thinks. Finally, he looks at me. “OK. Here’s what I think. Sounds like Ella is running some sort of psyop on the Miami office, probably in advance of the CO’s visit. The only question is whether this is Ranger’s or Lester’s idea,” he muses. He and Rod look at each other and shrug. “Oh well. We may never get the answer and it’s irrelevant now. What were your orders from Ella?”

The boys amuse me. They think of everything in military terms.

“I’m to report to Miami and serve as the housekeeper for two weeks. Do exactly what I would do here. Cook, clean, etc. I dictate my schedule, and my cover is that I’m on ‘vacation’ and staying at RangeMan and helping out while I am there as payment for using an apartment for free.”

Pat nods. “That’s standard practice, so it’s believable.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you ever want to take a vacation in a location where we have an office and you want to stay in a RangeMan apartment, you can as long as there’s one available during your stay and you’re willing to pitch in on a part-time basis as payment for the apartment.”

Never knew that. If this trip turns out OK, Steve and I may vacation in Miami a bit more. I hope it’s not as bad in Miami as everyone is making it seem.

---

We’ve just landed at the airport and Steve is looking for our bags while I try to find the RangeMen. Eventually, I spot Armando and wave. He smiles and waves and walks over to us.

“Steve? Susan?” We nod and he smiles. “Welcome to Miami. Got your bags yet?”

“Not yet,” Steve replies. He looks at me, so I move away to continue to wait for our bags, but I can still hear the conversation.

“Look, I’ve heard about the Miami boys and I have no interest is seeing my wife being hurt or angered by their behavior, so what I need to know is if this psyop that’s being run is having an effect. Otherwise, my wife is going straight from contract.”

“I completely understand, Steve, and all I can say is that between Ella and Rose, they’re getting the idea. Ella went straight from contract on us and none of the men enjoyed that. Rose ruined their favorite dishes and they didn’t enjoy that either. They’re starting to get the idea.” It was quiet for a moment then I hear, “Look, I’m a husband and father to two little girls. I’ve tried running an attitude adjustment on the Miami guys before because their attitudes disgust me, but it failed. Ella has asked us to stay out of the way and allow Susan to respond to their behavior, but the management in Miami supports you. We’re on your side. Count us as support and let us know what you need.”

He smiles at me. “You’ll really have to tell me what you need, Susan, because the attitudes piss me off. They insulted Rose and I issued mat time, but she gave me a look that clearly said ‘Stay in your lane’.” Steve and I laugh. That sounds like Rose. “So, you’ll need to ensure that I’m not coming between you and them because my first instinct now is to issue mat time and thrash the hell out of them.”

I don’t know about Steve, but that comment makes me feel much better. If the management is going to stand with the housekeepers, then this might work out.

Our trip to the building is quiet. Armando tells us about the building, the location and the men, but both Steve and I notice the audio monitoring light is blinking. Armando rolls his eyes and nods. He knows. We arrive at the building and Steve and Armando take our bags to the apartment. Once we’re settled in, Armando comes over and motions for us to come close.

“I expect you’ll be met with a delegation in the kitchen,” he whispers. “They may attempt to dictate to you what you should serve.” He shakes his head. “That seems to be the opening shots in the war so if they do, that’s their attempt to manipulate you. Also, assume that this apartment is bugged until I can come back and check.”

He leaves and Steve and I stare at each other in shock.

“I’m headed to the kitchen.”

“Not without me you’re not.”

We head down to see my kitchen space and waiting is a delegation of RangeMen. They stand when we walk in.

“Susan?”

“Mrs. Johnson,” Steve replies smoothly, staring hard at the young man.

“Right. Sorry. Mrs. Johnson, I’m Pedro. Welcome to RangeMan Miami.”

I’m grateful. I’d heard about the Antonio person. “Hello. I’m Susan Johnson and this is my husband Steven.” Steve and the men nod at each other. So far, so good.

“Well, as I said, welcome to RangeMan Miami. If you need any help or assistance, just let me know.”

“Great. Two things. Where are Maria’s binders and what are the grocery procedures?” I’m moving around to look through the cupboards. I notice I still haven’t received an answer and I turn around. The men are looking at each other in confusion.

“Binders?”

“Yes, binders. Each RangeMan housekeeper is required to keep binders. They detail the SOPs for the location, the normal and customary food levels, the menu and meal plans, requirements of any RangeMan with a specialized eating plan, etc. Ella told me that Maria’s are extremely thorough and well-organized and I’d like to see them, please.”

The men are looking at each other and finally one steps forward. “I’m Juan, and we haven’t seen any binders.”

Ah, the infamous Juan. He has a shifty look in his eyes, the kind I associate with Janice, my daughter, lying to me. I nod and head to the phone. I dial Armando and place it on speaker.

“Armando?”

“Yes, Mrs. Johnson?”

“I’m looking for Maria’s binders. Do you know where they are?” I’m still looking, as is Steve.

Silence on the line. “Last I saw them, they were in the kitchen/prep area. They aren’t there?”

“No they aren’t. Was that today?” I notice one RangeMan shifting. So does Steve. He starts checking all the cupboards and drawers. I’m fairly certain the binders aren’t here anymore.

“No, yesterday.”

“Well, I notice that there are cameras in this location. Can you have someone check the cameras and determine how they managed to walk away? I’ll call Rose and ask her where she left them.”

“Will do.” Click.

I turn around and Steve shakes his head. I thought not. Sigh. Rough start already. I dial Rose. Again, speakerphone while I check the last possible locations.

“Dahling!”

“Dahling! Bit early to hear from you. Everything OK?”

“No. Where did you leave Maria’s binders?”

Silence on the line. “I left them in her prep area. Why? They grown legs?”

“Apparently so.”

“Damn shame. Can you work without them?”

I sigh. They aren’t in here anywhere. “Yes and no. I can make plenty of granola without them, but I can’t do anything else until I find them. Armando is searching for me.”

“He’s good people. He’ll help. Ask the Miami men. If the binders grew legs and walked, they’ll know. If you can’t find them in three days, call Ella. She’ll send you a vegan menu plan of the rest of your stay. If I recall correctly, that won’t interfere with any RangeMan’s diet.”

“Thanks dear.” Click.

I turn around and find only myself and Steven in the room. My husband is biting his lip trying not to laugh.

“What happened?”

Steve finally starts laughing. He walks over and hugs me. “Just so you know, I love your granola, but apparently it’s not loved here. Three of the men walked out the moment you said granola and the other two left at the word ‘vegan’.”

I look at Steve and laugh. “I think those binders will be back before bedtime.”

He smiles. “They should be back within the hour. Let’s go back to our semi-private apartment and allow the men time to replace them.”

---

Steven and I hit the beach for a few hours. On the way back to RangeMan, we pick up the makings of my best granola. I take the ingredients to the kitchen and smiled.

The binders have been returned. I thought so. Now, to see if they lifted any pages from them.

I make the granola and place it in the containers for use during the week. I call Steven to help me get the binders back up to the apartment so I could review them in peace. The more I flip through the binders, the more clearly I can see the extent of the damage. They removed any meal plans I would consider remotely healthy and added in meal plans filled with things that were so far outside the guidelines that I chuckled reading them. It is clear it’s their work; the meal plans were based on 4-8 servings, not the 20-25 servings common in the RangeMan housekeepers’ binders.

I call Steven over and he simply laughs. Same trick, new technique. I call Rose and Ella.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Susan.”

“Hey, girl! How’s Miami?”

“Ladies, you should see this mess,” I laugh. “They’re running the same game, as if I’m too silly to figure it out.”

Ella sighs. “Damn. Alright, what variation are they running on you?”

“Instead of confronting me with ‘suggested meal plans’, they stole the binders, removed anything vegetarian, vegan, or even containing a vegetable and replaced it with meal plans of their own choosing. It’s easy to see because instead of serving 20-25, they serve 4-6 or 6-8.”

It was quiet on the line. OK, that was funny to me, but maybe it really wasn’t.

“Susan, are you telling me that, in an effort to dictate to you what to serve, they have manipulated the housekeeper’s binders?” Ella asks quietly.

“Yes, they have. I’m sure I’ll never see those original pages again. I’m still looking through the binder, but I’ve spotted 23 pages so far.”

There’s silence on the line. Finally, I hear Rose begin to curse a blue streak. I smile. Rose is very much ‘what you see is what you get’.

“Rose?”

“Yes, Ella dahling?”

“Once more for me please.”

---

The next morning I set the granola out and leave for the beach before any RangeMan can say anything about the diet. On the way back I decide to set out dinner using the ‘suggested meal plans’. I make a Boliche as best I can and attempt ham croquettes and something called natilla. Looked like an egg custard to me, but it was finicky.

Of course, the meal plan only called for eight servings, so that’s exactly what I made.

I leave the meal in the break room and go prepare for a relaxing evening. An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. Since I had retired to rest, Steve answers.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Johnson, can we speak with your wife?”

“No, you may not. We’ve retired for the evening. What do you need?”

“We wanted to thank her for her meal tonight, but we were wondering where the extra servings were.”

Steve comes back to our room and smiles at me. He knows there weren’t any. He stays an appropriate amount of time then returns to the door.

“My wife has asked me to inform you that what was set in the break room is all there is. Goodnight men.” He closes the door, returns our bedroom and we laugh and laugh.

The next morning Armando, with a massive smile on his face, asks if I would attend the morning staff meeting. Steve and I go, curious to see how my meal would be addressed. For added amusement, I stuck a phone in my pocket and Ella is listening in.

“Mrs. Johnson, we would like to thank you for the delicious meal you prepared yesterday,” Pedro says, smiling charmingly. “Those of us who had a chance to sample it were impressed.”

A few of the men shift. ‘Those of us who had a chance to sample it’. Some of you went hungry, did you? “Thank you, Pedro.”

“However, we were wondering if you could perhaps make a bit more this time.”

“Oh, dear. I think not.” I watch as every man in the room looks at me in confusion. “You see, if Maria set that meal at eight servings, there must be a very good reason for it, one which I’m not prepared to contradict. I looked through those meal plans and I couldn’t find a single one over 12 servings. Since I know Maria’s standards are high, I assume there’s a reason for it and I’m not going to contradict or second guess her standard.”

I sit back and smile. “I must confess myself surprised. In speaking with Ella before I arrived, I understood her to say that she had set a new standard for this office. I know the hallmarks of an ‘Ella’ meal, so I was surprised not to find any of the meal plans I would associate with her in the binders. Nor did I find any I would associate with Rose. Very odd.”

The men are all quiet. Armando looks as if he is contemplating a smile. Mario, who made a special point to introduce himself to me, is clenching his jaw. Finally, Patrice speaks up. “Forgive me my ignorance, Mrs. Johnson, but if a recipe calls for 8 servings and there are approximately 80 men in this building, can’t you just multiply the ingredients by 10? Or is that too difficult?” The last part is said snidely.

I’m stunned silent for a moment then I smile coldly. “Yes, you could multiply the ingredients by 10. You would also get unexpected results. Tell me this Patrice, do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Stunner.” There are a few snickers. “Have you ever seen a recipe for six or four and tried to scale it down to one or two?”

He bores holes through me before he nods slowly.

“It’s difficult to do because the measure of ingredients changes, cooking time changes, cooking vessels change, so many factors are thrown off. For example, the infamous half an egg problem.” Some of the men nod. “That’s why the RangeMan meal plans are calibrated to 20-25 servings. That way, if you need to double the meal plan, you can without significant interruption to the factors I mentioned earlier. Trying to multiply a meal plan meant for 8 up to 80 requires significant adjustment I’m not willing to make. I’m on vacation. I’m not here to cook the same meal plan ten times over simply to ensure that the first batch is as good as the last. That’s why I really wanted to find Maria’s binders yesterday. So I could cook appropriate meals in the correct amounts at one time.”

The men are silent. They’re now caught between a rock and a hard place. Again. These boys don’t learn.

“By the way, I never did get an answer on grocery procedures for this office. What are they?”

Again, complete confusion from all the men. Finally Ignacio asks, “I’m not sure I follow. What are grocery procedures?”

“The procedures for assisting the housekeeper at the grocery store.”

“Oh, we don’t have those here,” Antonio replies with a small smile. “They’re unnecessary.”

They are necessary, and I’ve seen Maria’s pantry. After six weeks, it’s decimated. It’s time for a grocery run, but since the men here have been on punishment for so long, eating granola, Rose and Ella didn’t need to do a grocery run. I tossed everything expired, stale, and spoiled. The fridge is nearly empty.

“Oh. So Maria did not have established grocery procedures?” The men shake their heads. “And none of you assisted her in creating any?” Again, the men all shake their heads.

“If grocery procedures were necessary, we would have them. Maria is perfectly capable of handling the grocery shopping. She does not need our assistance for that,” Antonio replies smugly. “I’ve never met a woman who needs assistance spending money. Women are good at that.”

Snickers around the table. I’m gobsmacked and Steven is squeezing my fingers in fury, but I’m happy to note that the XO seems as furious as I am. I’m not going to press this point. I’m just going to let them starve for two weeks.

At the end of the meeting, Armando motions for me to follow him to his office.

“OK, clearly those grocery procedures are a big deal. Explain them to me.” I explain the grocery procedures and he looks completely surprised. Then I add, “You’re the only location without any. At no other location would they leave the housekeeper to attempt to do those huge grocery hauls alone. Follow me.”

I lead him back to the pantry and motion for him to look around.

“Because your men have been on punishment for the past six weeks, there hasn’t been a need to do a major grocery run. At this point, I may need to. If I don’t, Lucia will definitely have to. Now consider this.”

I walk back out to the prep area and pull a standard shopping list. “If this is all the stuff Maria requires for this location, how can she purchase all this without help?” Armando scans the list, his eyes widening in surprise. “I promise you, she’s getting assistance with this at every other location and she’s getting spoiled. You can expect her to demand the creation of grocery procedures when she returns. You can expect her to make a lot of demands if and when she returns.”

I look Armando in the eyes. He’s nodding thoughtfully.

“My men treat me like their Mommy in order to get Mommy care from me. Your men treat Maria like a maid. I guarantee you she’s learning a lot on her trip around the company. If she returns and your men don’t make changes, you will lose her to San Antonio. Just expect that.”

“I’m going to contact Mark and learn more about the Boston SOPs for the housekeepers. Once I’ve done that, do you think you could meet with the Core team about the SOPs you’re accustomed to? I want to ensure that the environment Maria, hopefully, will return to is the best one.” He smiles. “Ella told me to stay out of the way, so I won’t share our discussion with the men, but I want to be prepared. I want to know what you ladies are accustomed to.”

I smile. The XO truly is living up to his promise of being support.

---

The next day, I decide to give Mr. Patrice a taste of his own medicine. I decide to bake chicken breasts for fajitas, usually an easy recipe, but I scale the marinade up appropriately. All ingredients in the marinade.

It’s a horrible waste of chicken, but I’m going to make the point. I set the chicken breasts out and wait. I don’t have to wait long.

“Susan?”

Armando is grinning. I warned him in advance not to eat it. He’s getting a reprieve because he presented me with tentative grocery procedures, which I could tell came from Mark. He also got an outline of the housekeeper’s duties from both Mark and Javier, and we sat down, with Thomas and Shane, and went through them, duty by duty. I also asked him to hold onto those. His men need to make the effort. He put the procedures away for safekeeping and Thomas reminded me that anything I needed, just ask. They’re willing, eager, to make changes. Armando said he was support and he proved it, so I’m not punishing them. I’ve been serving the Core Team meals made in the apartment.

Management in Miami stands behind the housekeepers. They’ve gotten the point.

“Yes, Armando?” I reply, smiling.

“The men would like to speak to you. Do you have a moment?”

“Certainly.”

We walk to Armando’s office, where I glare at Pedro until he relinquishes the seat. I sit, crossing my ankles demurely, and wait. The men look at each other and Ignacio decides to present their ‘concerns’ this time.

“Mrs. Johnson, we were surprised by today’s lunch. You have been, by far, the best housekeeper we’ve had these past few weeks, so to find that today’s meal was, well, inedible, was a shock.”

I nod. Yes, I’ll bet it was.

“We were wondering if there was a problem?”

“Did the top fall off the salt shaker and you ignored it?” Antonio mutters. I smile.

“No, the top did not fall off the salt shaker. You seem to think that being a housekeeper is a simple task, that meal prep involves simple factors. I chose to demonstrate that it does not. I decided to take your advice and scale the ingredients for a simple fajita marinade up from 8 to 80. That’s ten times as much salt. The appropriate amount for the chicken, considering all the other ingredients in the marinade, was around five times the original measure. The absolute limit to scale up any recipe is four times and most shouldn’t be scaled up more than twice, the point I made when I first arrived. But . . . you insinuated that it was simple math. Not so simple is it?”

The men are silent and looking at me coldly. Mario and Deuce look furious.

“Then let’s discuss the cooking temperature. Have you ever heard of the Maillard reaction?” I don’t wait for them to respond. “It’s also known as browning. I preheat the pans, to allow the chicken breasts to develop some crust. However, putting ten times as many chicken breasts in the pans means that the relative temperature of the pan takes a huge drop at the beginning and never adequately recovers. And given that the oven temperature only needed to be increased by 25 degrees, going from 350 to 550, the max of the oven . . . ” I shrug delicately.

The men have all put their blank face into place. I stand, still staring at Antonio and Patrice coolly.

“I did not spend years in school and in health departments around Massachusetts to be told how to cook. I’ve been cooking, and educating others on appropriate nutrition, for more years than you’ve been alive. And if you gentlemen think, for one minute, that I’m going to allow you to tell me how to do my job, well, you need to reconsider. Quickly. I don’t tell you how to perform your duties. You will not dictate to me how to perform mine.”

I look at the rest of the men. They’re silent.

“If you intend to have me cook at any point, for the rest of this trip, you had better get some grocery procedures together. Right now, your pantry is equipped for me to make another 10 days of granola and that’s all I will do. Anything more will be because you showed me you were interested in assisting me in my job.”

I walk to the door and turn back. Armando is smiling. The rest of the men are not.

“My job is to promote healthy living and good eating habits. I help you perform your jobs by feeding you only the highest quality meals. An added benefit is that you don’t have to spend your own money on meals. RangeMan feeds you. You are not assisting me in assisting you. You lose here, gentlemen, not me.”

---

Ella’s POV

The phone rings.

“Mrs. Guzman?” It’s Armando and he sounds very happy.

“Yes, Armando. How can I help?”

“I believe the ladies may have won the war.”

Really? About time. My eyes are wide and I motion for Luis to come closer. “Really, Armando? What gives you that impression?”

“I’m sending you an audio file. You review it and tell me how you want to proceed.” He sounds giddy. I’m surprised and looking forward to listening to this recording.

“Thank you. I’ll listen to the file and call you back. Goodbye.” Click.

The file arrives via email moments later. Luis and I sit with Tylenol and bottles of water. I’m hoping we’ve won. I didn’t realize the Miami men could be this stubborn. They truly do believe they have the right to dictate what the housekeeper will and won’t do.

I click the audio file and listen.

“Yo! Antonio!” There’s some shuffling. “We need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know man. This shit’s crazy. Imma talk to Mando again.”

“Yeah it is crazy. You know why it’s crazy? Cuz it’s yo ass that’s causing the problem.”

Silence. Luis and I are looking at each other, eyes wide.

“This little war you got going with the ladies is ridiculous. This shit’s unreal. That woman, Mrs. Johnson, man, she’s absolutely right. She’s a professional at what she does. Know how I know? Cuz Ranger don’t hire amateurs. So I go talk to her and I find out that she’s a nutritionist, retired, but she did that shit for 25 years. She’s good and all she’s asking for is help.”

“Which she doesn’t need, Mario! This is stupid. Maria did her job without needing all this shit these bitches are –”

Luis and I are stunned. Both by Antonio’s words and by what was clearly a punch being thrown. We hear a body hit the ground hard. The entire room goes silent before we hear an angry hiss.

“Let me make something real clear, you asshole. We can meet on the mats about that later, but right now, I threw that on behalf of Mr. Johnson. That woman is not a bitch. All women are not bitches and if you think they are, I want you to call my momma a bitch. I’ll black your other eye.”

Luis and I are nodding. Good job, Mario.

“Let me tell you something. Us, the men, we getting tired of yo shit. We’re tired of your war with the ladies. We’re tired of not getting services around here. We’re tired of not eating. Mrs. Johnson was right. Having a housekeeper means we don’t have to cook. We don’t have to shop for food. I spent $300 at the grocery store and eating out this past month because the RangeMan housekeeper wasn’t cooking for us. That’s money I can use other places, like on my car or saving for retirement someday. But because you and Ignacio and Pedro, and Patrice, seem to have your panties stuffed up your ass, the housekeepers have declared war on all of us.“

I’m smiling. Yes! Confront the ringleaders, Mario! He sounds extremely angry and unhappy.

“This shit’s ridiculous. When I left that staff meeting, I called Victor in Boston. Asked him about the normal housekeeper duties and you know what he told me? He told me the same shit I heard from Zip, Marcus, and Mack. The ladies, they get help. They have grocery procedures and Zip emailed me the Trenton ones. Victor sent the Boston ones and they’re damn near the same. The ladies are taken care of. The men in the other offices treat those women like they’re the house Moms and they get fed like it. You know what else I learned, you asshole?”

Luis and I are grinning.

“The Trenton men, fuck, everyone know that they’re the hardest men in this company. Fuck Miami. Trenton motherfuckers are cold and ruthless with their shit and they eat whatever the fuck Ella cooks. That’s why they don’t live in the gym like we do. Ella makes that diet easy for ’em. And fuck what you heard, that month Ella was here was the best month I’ve ever had, health wise. Yeah, my ass was dropping bricks nightly, but fuck, I lost 10 pounds. 10, motherfucker! I lost an inch on my waist. Braulio’s fat ass lost 15.”

“Man, fuck you. Don’t be telling my shit!”

Laughs in the room. Luis kisses my cheek and I smile at him, proud.

“So the ladies aren’t the problem. You are. You and this stupid vendetta against them. Yo, if Trenton, Atlanta, and Boston have treated Maria anything like they normally treat Ella and Rose, then Susan is right. The Maria we get back won’t be the same women. She ain’t gonna do the same shit. She won’t stand for your ass disrespecting her like you have these other women. So we’re telling you and yo’ boys now: Back off! We’re gonna work with Susan and find out what she wants. We’ll do what she asks for. And if you don’t like it, don’t eat. Do your own fucking laundry. Stay outta her way. But don’t you say shit to her unless it’s ‘yes, ma’am’, ‘no, ma’am’ and ‘how can I help you, ma’am’? You got that? Asshole?”

Luis and I stand and clap. Yes!

“Yo, Mario, calm down, man—”

“Nah, he don’t need to calm down. Speak, Mario. Tell us what you think, man. Since you seem to have let the ladies take your balls. I’ll be damned if I let some cunt tell me what the fuck I’m gonna do—”

THUD. Luis and I cringe. There is silence for a few minutes, then, “Someone help that stupid son of a bitch off the floor. Sorry, stupid jackass.”

“That shit was uncalled for, Deuce.”

“Fuck you, Nacho! We’ve talked about this and Mario is right. Man, I’ll be the first to admit I’m no fan of Ella’s diet, but Ella said that Maria would be required to follow that diet when she returns. I’d rather get used to the diet now than have to get used to it when Maria returns.”

“Deuce, when Maria returns, she won’t cook that. She already said it’s boring. She’ll cook what we tell her to cook.” Ignacio was the one hit this time. It sounds as if he’s trying to speak with a busted lip. Never happened to a nicer person.

Silence, then,“You are the stupidest motherfucker I ever met, Nacho. You really think Maria is gonna put her job on the line for you? Here’s a Q-tip. Clean your ears out and listen. You listening? Ella is the head motherfucking housekeeper. She said, in no uncertain terms, that Maria would be required to follow the diet she left. She didn’t say that she was giving Maria options. She said Maria would follow that diet. So that means that if Maria doesn’t follow that diet, Maria will be fired. Point blank. No questions. The housekeepers, they report to Ella, not the XOs. So you’re wrong there.”

“Since when? The housekeepers don’t report to Ella. They report to the XO.” Juan.

“Wrong! I asked Susan. Her boss is Ella, not Mark. She works with Mark but she works for Ella.”

Silence. I’m grinning now.

“That’s why Susan was looking for those meal plans when she arrived and why she’s asking for help shopping. She’s looking to cook us the standard RangeMan diet. Other thing Mario and I learned? That stuff Ella was cooking is only used for sick RangeMen or RangeMen who are vegetarians or vegans. Ella’s standard meal plans contain meat. They just contain more veggies than meat. But she uses that meal plan when she and the in-house medic are trying to figure out why a RangeMan is sick. I found that out from Zero and Zip. And yo, I don’t know if I was sick or not, but that heartburn I had cleared up while Ella was here. That shit came back with a vengeance when she left. Susan said it’s probably the fast food I’m eating. And why am I eating it? Because of your stupid war with the housekeepers!”

There’s a chorus of RangeMen murmuring about things that cleared up while I was in Miami. Luis is smiling.

“Man, my heartburn.”

“I know, man. Acid reflux is a bitch.”

“That gas you had that no amount of Febreze or Lysol could hide—”

“Fuck you.“

Lots of laughter. Luis is cracking up.

“Anyway, all us had some shit that cleared up while Ella was here. It came back when Rose arrived. So if Susan is looking to cook the standard RangeMan diet, I wanna see it. I wanna taste what it is, especially since it’s got meat.”

Murmurs of agreement in the room. Luis and I are sitting back, smiling now.

“So here’s the deal. You won’t go near the housekeeper anymore. You don’t speak unless your shit is respectful. You leave her alone. And if you can’t manage that, then you and I can meet on the mats.”

“I agree.” Armando. Luis and I look at each other in surprise. “I’ve already spoken to Susan. She was sincere in what she said. The moment the Miami men are ready to assist her in her normal procedures, we’ll taste her cuisine, which Mark says is outstanding. And, by the way, you’ve already eaten the standard RangeMan diet.” Silence. “It was what Rose cooked her last three days here.”

“For real?” Excited murmurs in the room. “Man, that was great food. That chicken, man, that chicken was juicy as hell.” There’s lot of praise for Rose’s menu those last three days throughout the room. Rose is an outstanding cook and well worth what Atlanta pays her.

“Exactly,” Armando replies. “The standard RangeMan diet is a good one. It’s healthy. You won’t find a lot of fried stuff on it, but you will find expertly prepared dishes. So, anyone who’s interested in helping Susan with her procedures, let me know. Let’s get a team together and find out what she wants.”

“Yo, Mando, since Patrice and Antonio have shown themselves to be an assholes, Imma head it up.”

“Job’s yours, Mario. Good to see you take point.”

“One last point I want to make.” There’s silence in the room. “I talked to Ms. Rose when she was here. She told me that respect would be the number one thing necessary to convince Maria to come home. Then she told me something that scared the shit outta me. She told me that the housekeeper was the most powerful person in this branch, and she’s right.”

Sounds of derision at that statement. Luis and I look at each other, grinning.

“You know why? Because she has the power to poison every motherfucker here. Every single man here eats what the housekeeper cooks. Fuck an outside enemy. If we piss off the ladies, that’s the entire branch. Got me eyeing everything I eat now because she was absolutely right. So fuck what you heard; I’m working with the ladies. I’m not interested in emergency trips to the hospital to get my stomach pumped just because yo dumb ass pissed them off.”

There’s absolute silence in the room. I pause the tape and laugh till I cry. Luis is clutching his chest and wheezing. I need to send Rose something special. What a delicious threat! Finally, Luis and I wipe our eyes and take the Tylenol. Luis kisses my cheek and un-pauses the recording. We hear lots of shuffling as RangeMen leave the room.

“I don’t know what your problem with women is, Nacho, Antonio, but you two need to get that under control. Especially you, Tony. You think Tía Chita will appreciate it if I go home and tell her that you think all women are bitches?” Silence at that statement. Mando sounded amused as he said it.

“All women are not bitches, and neither Mario nor Deuce will do any time on the mats for knocking you the fuck out. I stand by their actions. As a married man, I think they were being pretty fucking nice about it. I still want to black your other eye on behalf of my Mariela.”

“Mando, this shit is stupid. The guidelines are clear—”

“No, your shit is stupid. You have no fucking idea what the guidelines are, so quit talking out your ass. I’m putting my foot down. Maria will not return to this. I will back and support her if she’s allowed to return here. I want a housekeeper.” There’s silence for a moment, then, “I happen to know that the Maria we may get back is not the same women. The men across this company are treating her well. She’s learning what happens in the other offices. She will demand to be treated as she’s seen her colleagues being treated. So you can give up your fantasy of a maid who waits on you hand and foot. It’s over.

That Maria is dead and gone.”