The email subject line was “Synergy and Realignment. ” I walked into Chad’s office, and he said, “Exactly. ”
I built the compliance system from scratch. You have to understand something about industrial manufacturing in the rust belt.
It’s not clean code and bean bag chairs. To make that stuff, you use chemicals with names that have more syllables than Chad has brain cells. Each one had different reporting thresholds. Mondays, check the pH levels in the outflow tanks.
If it’s above 8. 5, the city fines us $10,000. Fridays, the big one, the Title V air emissions report. Didn’t know that sensor 3 on the north stack always reads high because a bird built a nest in it in 2018 and we never calibrated it back.
I was the only one who knew the math. Boring the government into submission while secretly frantically patching leaks with duct tape and prayer. And then there was the cloud log. The AWS account, it was under my name on my credit card.
Usually, I manually review the data at 7:30 a. m. Basically, I told the system, “Whatever the raw, glitchy, messy, non-compliant sensors see, tell the federal government. Tell them everything.
”
Business, my cat, named after the Bob’s Burgers character, because he has anxiety issues. All the while, my laptop sat open on the dining room table, the screen glowing like a radioactive isotope. The permit limit is 1,400. That’s basic enough to strip paint.
Safety regulations are written in blood. Compliance regulations are written in money. Then I remembered. Instead, I made coffee.
Status pre-flight check initiated. A text from Brenda in accounting. “Packet two of four sent. ” Server response 200.
And because I was no longer an employee and my name was stripped from the authorized representative field by Chad’s HR team yesterday, the report was submitted under the default generic account, Apex Industrial System autogenerated. By 9:00 a. m. , the field agents would be dispatched.
But I know exactly what happened. The text messages started rolling in at 8:45 a. m. They didn’t stop for the badge check.
The EPA emergency response team. “Your system just reported that you are dumping caustic sludge into the municipal water table. ”
The mundane nature of my morning was the perfect counterweight to the chaos I had unleashed by simply not doing my job. Then the second call.
Then it rang again immediately, and again, he was panic dialing. “This is Dana,” I said, my voice calm, smooth, professional. “I do. Requires a manual offset adjustment based on the humidity and barometric pressure.
Yes, exactly. ”
I took a long slow drag of my cigarette. I don’t smoke inside usually, but today was a special occasion. “I can’t do that because I don’t work for Apex anymore.
They shut down the line. I didn’t do anything, Chad. ”
Because when they asked Chad for the material safety data sheets, MSDS, for the tank farm, he handed them a binder from 2019 that I had marked obsolete/do not use in bright red Sharpie. “Failure to comply will result in legal action.
”
I didn’t reply immediately. “Linda, I am not withholding anything. However, I am currently fully booked with other projects. ”
“Tell me we are running.
” “Chad, everyone remain calm. ” Then the realization hit them. On the whiteboard, someone had written, “Only Dana knows. ”
If they turn the system back on without me, it would just scream violation again.
Then silence. A long heavy silence. Then a cough. “If the EPA revokes the Title V permit, you lose the license to operate permanently.
What’s the company worth then? ”
“Tell him his stepson drove the bus off a cliff and I’m the only one with a tow truck. ” It was a Florida area code. “He thinks he’s a lawn musk because he knows how to use Twitter.
”
“I’m not holding anything hostage. ” Todd let out a short bark-like laugh. “Fair enough. I should have made you CEO instead of that little…
” “You should have. ”
I watched the little green bar complete. I got into my car. The parking lot was empty except for the security guard, Chad’s Tesla, and the two black SUVs still parked by the door.
At 7:52 a. m. , system auto reported raw data because the calibration algorithm was disabled. I overlaid a blue line.
“All right,” he said. Chad didn’t say anything. The code is in Python. It’s about 40,000 lines.
“If you want to stay on as a consultant,” I laughed. “Stay, Chad. ”
You’d think walking away with the money would be enough. But then I checked LinkedIn.
But what I didn’t tell them, and what they were too stupid to check, was that I had a BCC rule set up on the compliance server. It was all archived. Then I texted Brenda. “Tell Larry to check the job board at Midwest Codings across town.
Before noon. Why before noon? Not the one near the plant. One in Florida.
”
I check my bank app. I still have the AWS bookmark. All historical data will be lost.
Life would never be the same.
