“Does leadership know?”
“Leadership receives reports.”
“That's not the same thing.”
Priya looked at her more carefully.
“No,” she said. “It isn't.”
Victoria opened her notebook.
“Are there barriers between departments?”
“Of course.”
“What kind?”
Priya hesitated.
Victoria closed the notebook.
“You don't have to answer anything you're uncomfortable discussing.”
“That's not the problem.”
“What is?”
Priya studied her for several seconds.
“People have learned that honesty can be expensive.”
Victoria remained silent.
Priya continued.
“Three years ago, our team identified a serious weakness in a customer data-transfer process. It wasn't a catastrophic security flaw, but it created a risk that certain records could be duplicated or delayed. We documented the issue and submitted it through the proper channels.”
“What happened?”
“The report went to Operations.”
“Richard Keller?”
Priya nodded.
“He said the team was overcomplicating a routine process. He wanted the problem marked as resolved because the quarterly audit was approaching.”
“Was it resolved?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“Our manager refused to sign the closure report. Two weeks later, he was removed from the project.”
Victoria's pen stopped.
“Removed for refusing to sign?”
“That was the explanation. Leadership said they were reorganizing responsibilities.”
“And the weakness?”
“Still there.”
Victoria felt a cold anger begin to build.
“Did anyone escalate it?”
“We tried. The internal compliance portal returned our submission with a note saying the issue was already being handled. We submitted it again. The second report disappeared from our dashboard.”
“Disappeared?”
“It was no longer accessible through the ordinary interface. We kept copies.”
“Who is we?”
“Several people on the team.”
Victoria wrote down the date Priya provided.
“Did you report it to Human Resources?”
Priya's expression became guarded.
“We did.”
“And?”
“Human Resources interviewed us. Sandra Miller led the review.”
Victoria kept her voice neutral.
“What did she say?”
“She said the company had a zero-tolerance policy for retaliation.”
“That sounds encouraging.”
“It did.”
Priya looked toward the glass meeting room at the far end of the floor.
“Then she asked whether we understood the importance of being team players.”
Victoria said nothing.
“She asked whether our manager had ever criticized us for being difficult. She asked if we had ever missed deadlines. She asked whether we might be interpreting normal management pressure as retaliation.”
“And the outcome?”
“The review found no evidence of misconduct.”
“Were the people who submitted the report informed?”
“Not formally.”
Victoria closed her notebook.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Priya studied her.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you asking these questions?”
Victoria considered the answer.
She could have told Priya the truth.
She could have revealed the acquisition, shown her identification badge, and asked for every document the team had preserved.
But doing so would change the conversation. Priya would no longer be speaking to a stranger trying to understand the company. She would be speaking to its incoming chief executive.
Victoria wanted to hear what people said before they knew who was listening.
“Because organizations often look different from the inside than they do on paper,” she said.
Priya gave a small, knowing smile.
“That's the most diplomatic answer I've heard all week.”
A voice interrupted them.
“Priya.”
A man stood behind Victoria's chair.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His name badge read GREGORY HOLT — OPERATIONS MANAGER.
His expression was stern.
“Do you have time to sit around talking?”
Priya straightened.
“I've completed the morning reports.”
“Then you can review the backlog.”
“I was helping a visitor.”
Gregory looked at Victoria.
“Visitors need to check in with reception.”
“I did,” Victoria replied.
It was technically true. She had entered the building through the lobby, though she had not completed the formal visitor process.
Gregory's eyes narrowed.
“Then why aren't you wearing a visitor badge?”
“An oversight.”
“An oversight that creates a security issue.”
Victoria nodded.
“That's fair.”
Gregory appeared disappointed that she had not argued.
He turned back to Priya.
“Your team has forty-three unresolved tickets. I want the backlog reduced by lunch.”
Priya glanced at the display.
“Twenty-seven of those are waiting for responses from other departments.”
“Then get the responses.”
“We've sent three requests to Operations.”
Gregory's expression hardened.
“Are you telling me you can't do your job?”
“No. I'm telling you we need information from your team.”
“You always have an excuse.”
Victoria watched Priya's shoulders tighten.
She had seen this before, too.
A person could be technically responsible for a task while lacking the authority or resources necessary to complete it. Then, when the deadline passed, the organization blamed the person closest to the failure.
“Would it help to identify which requests are blocked?” Victoria asked.
Gregory turned toward her.
“Excuse me?”
“If twenty-seven tickets are waiting for information, perhaps a list of the missing responses would make it easier to resolve them.”
Gregory stared at her.
“This is an internal operational matter.”
“I understand.”
“Then don't interfere.”
The words were delivered with the certainty of someone accustomed to ending conversations.
Victoria rose.
“Of course.”
Gregory turned away, satisfied.
But as she walked toward the elevators, Victoria heard Priya speak quietly.
“We already have the list.”
Gregory answered, “Then perhaps you should spend less time complaining and more time making people listen.”
Victoria stopped.
She did not turn around.
She simply wrote one more sentence in her notebook.
Responsibility without authority. Blame without investigation.
By eleven o'clock, she had collected enough information to understand that the restroom incident was not the only thing wrong at Pinnacle Solutions.
The company had capable people.