A Hell of a Woman. Ron Boone's Hummer
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they can get sued as well. In addition, they can take out an injunction to stop you from working for a competitor.”
“Yes, and if I get fired, then I can’t work in my industry for 2 years.”
“That’s right.”
“Laws haven’t changed?”
“No, it’s up to the government to do something. Like they did in California.”
Gunn shook his head, clasped his hands behind his neck. “The only state where this contract is illegal.
“This contract should be illegal everywhere but it isn’t. It’s a career killer. They make it 2 years because they know that the industry will change and you can’t get back into it.”
“Just about everybody in my agency signed this contract. Production people. Accountants. Account managers. IT People. The media buyers. People in the art department.”
The lawyer chewed on the inside of his cheek. “That’s the way it works. Your agency is just trying to protect themselves.” He took a deep breath. “Trade secrets.”
Gunn shook his head, pressed his lips together. “Yet, we don’t know what really goes on in the boardroom.”
“Well, they’re trade secrets meaning that you have knowledge of the company and they want to protect their interests.”
“As I said, I don’t know what goes on on the boardroom. I have no insider information that I can share with anyone. As far as product knowledge is concerned or information on clients, that’s all public information.”
“I’m not trying to justify any of this. As I said before, this contract should be illegal but it isn’t. It’s up to the government to rectify this. It would cost you $10,000 to litigate and it’s more than likely that you would lose.”
“Since my salary is $55,000, even with commission, it’s not like I have $10,000 to burn.”
“I understand.”
“When I received the memo, it said that I had 3 weeks to sign the non-compete or I would be fired. Isn’t that duress?”
“Doesn’t matter. The courts will enforce it.”
“If I didn’t sign the contract, they could still fire me?”
“Of course.”
“What are the chances of the laws changing?”
“Not very good. In Massachusetts, they are trying to eliminate it but in Georgia, they’re trying to pass Amendment 1. If it passes, Atlanta’s laws will change and non-competes will be better enforced than they once were.”
“Why is that?” Gunn asked.
“It’s all about jobs. People are told that more jobs will be in their states if there are non-compete agreements. Companies want to open offices in those states that are considered employer friendly.” The lawyer took off his classes, cleared the fog by wiping it with his blue shirt, then put them back on. “That means a company wants to be located in a state where there are favorable court rulings for non-compete laws. Just like Florida.”
“Just great. I do have a question.”
“Okay.”
“I may have an interview coming up at a on-line advertising agency. Do you think I can work there?”
“As long as you don’t get involved in product advertising with that agency, or any of the other services, then that should be okay. You’ll probably have to get a letter from them stating this. Now, if your agency expands into on-line advertising within the next 2 years, then it could be a problem.”
“Even if I got the job.”
“I’m afraid so. If your company expands into other services, you can’t work for a company that has those services as well. Like I said, the company wants to make sure you don’t use any of the knowledge that you learned against them. The best thing to do is to look for a job completely out of your industry so you won’t be effected in any way. There are lots of job on-line.”
“Yes, I have sent out resumes. I don’t have any experience for those jobs.”
“It’s unfortunate. Companies like yours have an attitude that they’re doing a favor by giving you a job. Even if they fire you, they don’t have to give you anything, not even a severance package.”
“Nice. That’s the reason that nobody in the company isn’t getting a raise. The job is our reward.”
“The fact is that there is an old saying. He who owns the gold makes the rules.”
The sound of a car horn behind him broke Gunn from his reverie. He looked up at the light, saw it was green, then turned right into the South Mall.
“How much longer do I have to go?” Gunn muttered. He thought about the fact that he only had one raise since signing his non-compete in the last 6 years. He didn’t take it personally since he knew that just about everyone in the company didn’t get a raise either.
He took in the cool breeze from the air conditioner; music from Diana Krall filled the air as he parked between a white Camaro and a black Nissan. He pulled into the spot, turned off his ignition.
He checked his watch, saw it was 12:37, opened the door to his car. His thoughts turned to Rob Barker and his company, North Star Publishing. He balled his fists together, chewed the inside of his cheek. No, he told himself. Just forget about it, Gunn told himself as he slammed the door to his car. Think about something else. Anything else. It’s over with now.
Gunn walked to the mall, looked at the outside of the mall. “10 years,” he said to himself. That’s how long he worked at Blake & Yurman. At that time, they only did product advertising. It seemed like his career would take off after working in recruitment advertising for 4 years at Chandler & Marx. In those days, it was high pressure, getting the classified ads out for the Sunday paper. He felt lucky when he was offered the job at Blake & Yurman, thinking things had changed and all the late hours of being in a dead end job processing ads and taking help wanted ads over the phone was over with.
It was only 4 years later that he received the memo from personnel with all the other employees. The advertising industry had changed and most if not all the agencies had non-compete agreements. Even though his lawyer had mentioned that he can look into other options, there were no other options at this stage of his career. Gunn knew at the time that he had to sign the non-compete agreement.
He still thought of his wife, six months after her death in a car accident on Lake Road. You always hear about drunk drivers but never think that one of them would kill your wife, Gunn mused. He thought of her short blond hair that fell over her ears, her dark eyes, her smile.
One year after working at Blake & Yurman, he saw her sitting on a bench in Lincoln Park with a friend, a woman with red hair who he would learn was her friend Robin. He looked at her several times and she turned away, smiling. She knew that I was looking at her, he thought to himself.
Her friend had walked away from her, headed over to the hot dog stand. Gunn walked over, his heart racing, the woman continuing to stare out into the water. “Nice view,” Gunn said nervously. The woman turned, smiled. “Yes, it is a nice view.”
“The water is nice also,” Gunn replied.
The woman tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. “Are you always this blunt?” the woman asked.
“Only if I really want to meet someone,” Gunn said.
The woman smiled. “I’m Sara.”
“I’m Don. Don Gunn.”
They walked through the park that day, the three of them, Sara telling Don about her work in a law firm as a paralegal for Tolliver & Associates, LLC. She was a Phillies fan to boot.
Gunn shuffled along the line at Pan