The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,20
I could demand more money, based on the sheer quality and quantity of my work, but I don’t really like to raise the stress levels at work. Plus, if they paid me more, they might expect me to put out more work. I’m doing the best I can now, and I really don’t need that extra pressure. I give them good work. I get paid a fair wage. That’s good enough.
Another perk is the hours I work, Monday through Friday with weekends and holidays off. If a project is due, I’ll work late at my desk into the night, and the bosses appreciate that. If I want to go to the doctor, they let me go, no questions asked; if I want to take a day off, they understand that also, with minimal interference. Since I outwork and many times guide their other engineers, I’m seen as a somewhat valuable commodity, which works in my favor. Understand that I don’t cheat them; I just like to have flexible hours.
This isn’t the best atmosphere to make friends; if something goes wrong, everybody steps back so as to not catch the blame. Everybody is watching out for himself, and I guess that’s fair, too, but it doesn’t really help to build trust in this environment.
The best thing about work is, I really don’t have to talk to anybody if I don’t want to. I can take breaks and be in touch with anybody I need to contact concerning outside issues. Since I was at work and it was break time, I figured I needed to call an old friend, Walter Dale. The problem with that, though, is I don’t know how.
I do have a few other friends from high school and college who might know where he is. I immediately called Gary Byers, a friend in common and a florist in town; perhaps he could help.
I dialed, or push-buttoned, the business number, and an employee answered, “Byers’ Florist, how can I help you?”
“Yes sir,” I said, “I need to speak with Gary.”
“Is he expecting your call?”
“No, I’m an old friend from school days.”
“Hold on.”
I liked these kinds of conversations. The fellow on the other end of the line was strictly business and loyal to his employer; that’s something I could respect. About a minute rolled by. The employee returns to the phone. “Gary wants to know who’s calling.”
“Tell him it’s Randall Owen.”
“Just a minute.”
I waited another minute, then heard another line pick up on the other end.
“Randall! How are you doing? What have you been up to?”
“Hello, Gary. Everything’s fine; I need a favor.”
“Sure, anything. What do you need?”
“I need to speak with Walter.”
There was a moment of silence. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Walter.”
“Come on, Gary. We went to high school together!”
“We’re having a sale this week on day lilies. If you’d come in, I could show them to you personally. Some of the pictures on our website aren’t as pretty as they are in real life.”
I was stumped for a second, then understood what he was saying. His phone might have extra listeners, and he was hesitant to say more. He wanted to speak face-to-face.
“You know, I have a real interest in day lilies. I’d like to see some of them real soon. Tell you what, I’ll drop in sometime and you can show me what you’ve got.”
“Okay, Randall! Well, hey, I’ve got to get back to work. I look forward to seeing you!”
After work, I drove to Byers’ Florist and looked around. Gary was in the back work area, cutting and mounting flowers and tying ribbons and bows to them, arranging and making them look desirable for the ladies. I guess some people liked buying flowers. I walked back to the work area.
“Hey, Gary!” I said, “How’s it going?”
“Hello, Randall! Didn’t expect to see you so soon!”
He stood up from where he was sitting, came over to me and shook my hand. “Let’s go to the back,” he said, “I want to show you some of those lilies we talked about.”
We walked to the far back of the shop, out the back door and into a greenhouse. It was a nice temperature in there, so I didn’t mind. I usually liked doing my business indoors, away from the sun, but all the flowers and climate controlled atmosphere made it kind of nice. Gary walked over to a corner and turned on a CD player, and cranked up the volume. Fortunately, it was classical music. Must have been for