WORK DAZE: Move over, Sam Spade. The HR Supersleuth is here

Bob Goldman

“Two-Hour Virtual Seminar on Workplace Investigations: How to Conduct Your Investigation like a Pro.”

“As an employer you have a duty to investigate ... but what if you have a recalcitrant complainant, wrongdoer or witness?” — HRTrainings

It was a dark and stormy day.

I was sitting in my office in the HR department, trying to decide whom I would fire. My colleagues analyze performance reviews. I flip a coin. Heads, they’re fired. Tails, they dodge the bullet. For this day, anyway.

It was 9:30 a.m., and I was already thinking about where to drink my lunch. Suddenly, my telephone exploded like a fire truck in a library reading room. (What’s a fire truck doing in a library reading room? I don’t know. We detectives just love similes.) (Or is it metaphors we love? I can never remember.)

The caller was the head of HR. His title was Chief People Happiness & Employee Satisfaction Officer — CPHESO to his friends. I wasn’t one of them.

“An audit of the marketing department budget is showing a serious deficit — $132.67,” he snarled. “Come back with a name. Or don’t come back at all.”

I had gone into HR to help people, plus I’m really judgy, and I love pointing out what people are doing wrong. I soon learned that investigations were part of the job. The company had signed me up for this seminar on how to do investigations, but there was one lesson I didn’t need a seminar to teach me. When your boss assigns you to a case, you say yes.

I popped on my fedora and started out the door. I don’t carry a weapon to defend myself. I have something better: the company’s HR handbook. It’s 150 pages of rules and regulations. I stuck it in my breast pocket, where it had saved me before. The dent on the cover told the story. The book stopped a rubber band shot at me by an angry nerd from IT. They’re all angry nerds in IT. Could it protect me from the Sharpies in marketing? I hoped I wouldn’t have to find out.

There was a meeting going on when I arrived in marketing. There’s always a meeting going on in marketing. No one noticed when I slipped into Conference Room A. The marketing people were too busy congratulating each other on how smart and special they were.

“The company’s new virtual campaign just launched on Friendster,” the CMO announced. “No results yet, but I’m sure we made the right choice.”

“Friendster is out of business,” I said. “If you want to throw money away, try Yik Yak.”

They didn’t listen. No one in marketing listens, but they do have great snacks. I was reaching for a maple bar when a shapely hand grabbed my arm.

“Hold up, big guy,” a voice whispered in my ear. “You don’t want to spoil that sexy figure.”

She was a knockout. Her perfume smelled like old money, and her long red nails looked like 10 forest fires breaking out in the Denali wilderness.

“I like your style,” she said.

“I like your pants,” I said. “Lululemon, aren’t they? I saw them in the fall fashion issue of HR Today. They’re a stylish, yet work-appropriate athleisure essential, perfect for the transition from home to office. What did they cost? $132.67, I’ll bet.”

“I’m dressing for the job I want, not the job I have,” she said, cool as the cucumber in the Martha Stewart recipe for baba ganoush. “Put a VP behind my name and I project passionate brand interaction in all our key demos, especially middle-management hunks wearing fedoras.”

“Give it up, sister,” I sneered. “You’re going down — hard.”

She turned on the waterworks, but emotions never cut it in HR. I pulled out forms 37-A and 154-Revised. She was outgunned, and she knew it.

“I’m no good,” she said. “Please don’t fire me.”

“Fire you?” I laughed, taking the maple bar and an apple turnover for later. “You’re getting promoted. You’re a thief and a liar and have no respect for our rules. That’s just the kind of person we need in management.“

Her sly smile turned her voluptuous lips into an invitation and a warning.

“How can I thank you?” she asked in a whisper that would curdle oat milk.

“Send me a postcard from executive row,” I said. “And, baby, nix the seminars. If I wanted to learn stuff, I wouldn’t be in HR.”

Bob Goldman was an advertising executive at a Fortune 500 company. He offers a virtual shoulder to cry on at bob@bgplanning.com.

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