about asking me for a reference now.” He leans forward and stabs a finger into his desktop, dropping his voice to a near growl. “You think you can come in here and threaten me, and then get a good reference?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he leans back in his squeaky chair. “I don’t care how many years you worked here, and I don’t care how good your work was. You’re done now. You’re not going to work in this town ever again if I have anything to say about it.”
I smile at him very patiently. Because he’s a man who’s never dealt with a glass ceiling, and because he’s used to railroading people and getting his way, he doesn’t understand what’s happening right now. So I’m going to spell it out for him real easy and real slow so that he can keep up.
“Frank, listen closely. I’m done playing, so you need to pay attention. You have investors on the line who are poised to hand over probably several million dollars to you because you’ve told them that you have this revolutionary program that’s going to change the world. You and I both know that it’s not going to do that, and that you’re very likely going to get the lawdogs of Vedas Incorporated after you, because it could be argued that you’re using pieces of their patented code to make yours work properly. Remember? I was in charge of IP Purity.” I say the words with extreme distaste. “I warned you, in writing, of the problems you were going to have with that code, but you chose to ignore me. However, that’s not my problem anymore. Regardless of whether your investors find that little nugget of information during their due diligence, you still have the issue of outstanding lawsuits.”
His eyes narrow, telling me he might finally be catching on, but I keep going.
“If you refuse to pay me what you owe me—four months’ severance—I will sue you. It’s that simple. What you’ve done is illegal and morally wrong. You are not allowed to use people and then throw them to the curb so you can make your bottom line look prettier and lie to investors about your balance sheet. You can’t do that to investors, you can’t do that to employees, and you can’t do it to all the people who are going to get hurt down the road as a result of your terrible decisions.”
He laughs, but it doesn’t cover up the concern in his tone. “You’re nuts. You’ll never win a case against me. I can fire you whenever I want, however I want. You can’t put handcuffs on me.”
I shrug. “You may be right. I don’t think you are, but regardless, how long will it be before a judge makes that decision? Will your investors wait? When they see that lawsuit on file in the public record, will they ask you questions about it, do you think? Will they worry some of their investment funds will actually be going toward the defense of that suit or to an eventual settlement with me? Because I’m pretty sure investors want their funds going toward the development of the IP portfolio.”
I sit there patiently and wait for him to put it all together, to do the addition and subtraction and realize that the end result is that he needs to do the right thing.
“You’re blackmailing me.” He’s sputtering and probably a little incredulous. I’m sure he never saw this coming from sweet little Jenny, the den mother for the entire software development crew, the girl he trusted with making sure all of his products left the building totally aboveboard. If it weren’t for me, he’d already be out of business, and we both know that. He needs to honor that. I’m proud of myself, sitting up straighter with the stronger backbone I have in me now.
“Sorry,” I say, “but I checked before I came over here to make sure I wouldn’t do anything stupid that could get me in trouble. This isn’t blackmail; this is a business negotiation. I have the legal right and standing to file a suit. This is not frivolous. I’m doing you a favor by letting you know what the law is, how the world of venture capital works, and what my intentions are. Did I mention my former college roommate is a lawyer at Hancock and Finley?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off.
“I talked to her about