Mid-to-late April, 1997

I hate my life, I thought as I pulled into the parking lot at my new job of a couple weeks, a small firm that did translations and language training for the energy and engineering companies around Houston. I'd never known there was even a real demand for such a thing, but apparently there was because they were keeping me very busy doing graphic layout on industrial manuals in all sorts of languages and managing their small cadre of computers, even if they weren't paying me all that much. Anyway, I needed the work, since I had that... ugly parting of the ways with the ISP I had previously worked for.

I worked under Kirk, who was the "soul" of the company, as it were. Everything went through him, or at least it used to - the owner of the company, Sara, was taking some of the operations from him, particularly those having to do with money. Hmmm.

My coworkers weren't very numerous, but there was this definite "us against Sara" aspect to the whole thing. She treated everybody like crap, couldn't trust anyone, knew nobody liked her, and enjoyed it that way because, by damn, she got where she was as a woman, and didn't need any man. Hmmm.

Apart from Kirk, there was the marketers who sold the services, and one of the other two people in the office was Hector. He did this and that; I never knew exactly what he did, although he was something of a prima donna, if you asked me. He's one of the few people I've ever met who has an attitude that's bigger than mine most of the time, at least when I'm in that mood.

It didn't take too long to realize that all the other men in the office were gay. Hector was prissy and effeminate, and Kirk and the other guy have "gentle" qualities to them. I was okay with it, but they never outright said anything until I just worked it into everyday conversation as though it were assumed (Kirk said he never said anything about it like this: "well, you're a big ol' Texas boy. I never can tell what you're going to think!").

Well, one of the ongoing jokes about Hector was that he was a weekend drag queen. We weren't 100% sure, because nobody had ever really seen him that way, but there had been stories through friends-of-friends, casual comments he made about "shows," etc. It was just something to rag on him about, you know.

Well, as time passed, the other guy in the office took over more duties from Hector, and I was taking over some from Kirk because he was picking up more from Hector, so Hector got the feeling that he was being quietly phased out. Finally, Kirk let him know that he should probably be looking around, because yes, Sara was out to give him the axe; Hector wasted no time, and ended up quitting before being booted.

I thought I'd never see him again.

January 2, 1998

Kirk, Jason and I were sitting in the waiting room of the IRS offices in Houston, Kirk with zip disks full of accounting files, Jason talking about how long Sara had been screwing people and this was her just desserts, and me carrying a two foot stack of photocopies detailing the accounts receivables and payables for the last year, and how they don't jive with what is being reported.

Sara had apparently been socking back quite a sum. But that's not all she had done.

In my short time there, I'd seen how she uses people and throws them away. She looked people in the face and lied to them, even when she gained nothing. She held your livelihood over your head to do the same. When she got rid of one of the staff for getting in an argument with her, because he knew she was telling him to do the wrong thing, on World AIDS Day, when she knew he was in the advanced stages of AIDS... that was the last straw for me.

For months I'd been doing some reports on payables and expenses versus receivables, and looking at the deposits and bank accounts by exporting data from the accounting packages and databases and combining and charting it in Excel. They didn't jive, apparently Sara had been socking it away somewhere. Kirk was unsurprised, but when Sara would press him about money, he started pressing back.

Finally, Kirk left for a job with another translation company, not long before Sara fired our friend on World AIDS Day. But before he left, we planned. We prepared. We gathered evidence. We waited until the year's records were complete, and decided to take them to the IRS. We were going to get her in her own game, screw her for all the people she'd screwed first.

The IRS seemed quite interested. They interviewed us, took down information on her accounting practices, places she may have records hidden, who else would know about her business practices, and asked us to keep in touch.

And we waited. And are still waiting. The wheels of justice grind slowly, but with certainty.

While Moogie shopped for shoes, I talked to Hector. It took him a few seconds to recognize me; he said he remembered me, but wasn't sure from where.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked in the most incredulous voice I could muster. "You seriously think I'd still be working for Sara? Kirk left at the end of the year, and then in January I followed him to the same company."

"Oh, you know you loved it there."

"Yeah, whatever. Hey, did you know that Sara is in trouble with the IRS?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm not surprised, when I used to run the deposits she always less-cashed off of it and kept it, because she figured she built the company so she could do whatever she damned well pleased."

Bingo, I said, with a smile. "Hey, you know what? Kirk has been looking for you." Kirk had looked for his phone number and couldn't find it, and I had it somewhere, too, but had lost it; we wanted to refer the IRS agent in charge of the case to him, since he used to go to the bank for Sara and the company.

"Oh my god, you've talked to him?"

"Yeah, I talked to him yesterday." Geez, keep up with people, you know?

"Well, here, give him my number, okay?" Hector rolled off some tape from the cash register and started writing home and work numbers on the strip of paper. It looks more and more every day like we're going to get Sara.

So many people have come and gone Their faces fade as the years go by Yet I still recall as I wander on As clear as the sun in the summer sky - From "More Than A Feeling" by Boston

This is a perfect example of why I need to get out more. You never know who you're going to run into. I almost sat in the truck, fergadzakes. (I haven't cleaned my car out yet, so it's not fit for passengers, so I didn't get stuck driving. Anyway, my brakes need work.)

Isn't it weird how people flow through your life? I get so used to the idea that people will pass into and out of my life so often that I have resigned myself to that. But here is another example of somebody who shows back up in my life through random chance, and will show up in my life again, probably, when a trial comes up.

I let people go too easily, I think. Sometimes I can't imagine why somebody would want to be in my life for an extended period of time, but I get surprised, over and over. Maybe it's time for me to hang on more tightly.

So, you probably wonder, do I feel bad being a snitch?

No, not really.

From what I understand, Sara was really dumbstruck that the IRS walked in and served her with papers. Her business was hurt, too, because they checked with a great number of the clients, also. What she treasured most and hurt people with, is walking dead already.

I've told others about this, and generally everybody understands why I did it, although a few (people who had done work for Sara) were afraid now they might not get paid. Gurugrrl even though it was a "principled" thing to do. Apparently that's not going to be a problem (the IRS didn't shut her down; apparently she owes enough that they're afraid she won't be able to pay the bill if the close her down), though, so at least that doesn't weigh on my mind now.

Is there going to be karmic Hell to pay for this? Probably; I've been paying a debt in karmic Hell for years, though, so it just has to get in line and wait its turn, I guess.

Am I up for a reward? Yes, and you better believe I'm taking the money if it's offered up. Do I expect it to come through? Well, I'm starting to wonder; after all, it's been more than two years since we turned her in and a trial is still a few months away at the very least.

All in all, I think I did the right thing and would do it again, although I understand that nobody likes a snitch. Sometimes you have to seize the reins of what little power you have in a situation and use it.

Anyway, it felt good. [smirk]

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