Andrew was a jerk! But it seemed Neeley was the only one that thought so. Everyone from the high-ups to the floor workers worshipped their new foreman. She didn't get it! He was demanding, egotistical and disrespectful all rolled into one. In his mid-forties, he wasn't bad on the eyes, yet, he was such a dick, the notion of finding him attractive in the same way as those barely-legal, simple-minded twerps he had hired as copy runners, triggered Neeley's ad nauseam! What had they called him, 'charming'? Not! He was sugar-coated shit! Pitifully, everyone glorified him because he had won the printing industry's most prestigious honor, the Gold Ink Award.
After Andrew's first month, Neeley found herself nostalgically missing her old foreman who had retired. The Lithograph, the printing house where she was a journeyman printer, had hired Andrew from a competitor; lauding the acquisition as some grand coup! As far as Neeley was concerned he could have stayed put; The Lithograph could have done perfectly fine without him on the payroll! Every day for the past six months, he was always needling about something that didn't get done as if she was the only printer available! Today had been no different.
She had several print-jobs stacked near her printing machine, queued to go out that afternoon, when Andrew came over with a requisition for a rush reprint. Neeley scanned the document and looked up at him incredulous.
"Are you kidding me?"
"The overnight printer had already run the job, ten-thousand pages," he said and pulled out a single sheet pointing to the ink that had bled and blotted, ruining the entire job.
"And he didn't re-run it?"
"He was out of print stock...it's just arrived."
"I don't have time! Give it to someone else, I have three jobs to get out before the afternoon..." she indignantly spewed as if she had a say in the matter.
"I'm giving it to 'you'..." he retorted with a frown, his intense green eyes tightened into a squint which made the crowfeet at the outer edges of his eyes more pronounced.
"But what about my deadlines...?" her voice whined.
"This is a priority, Neeley, just do it!" he said gruffly and turned away.
'Asshole!' Even though she was only in her late thirties, she was too good a printer to be taking crap from some fly-by-night, prima donna that had everyone standing in line to lick his ass!
After her final job was stacked and readied for delivery, Neeley pulled off her apron and went to the bathroom. Since her morning exchange with Andrew, she had spent the entire day on a slow burn, exacerbated by not taking a break. Now, her blood had reached a rolling boil.
Exiting the restroom, she saw Andrew in his office through the window. At his desk on the phone he was completely carefree. It pissed her off. How could everyone be so blinded by his outward dazzle?
Her eyes clocked him; an angry scowl froze on her face. Still talking on the phone, he unexpectedly looked up as if sensing her presence. His head tilted. Her rebellious posture refused to stand down; their eyes locked, battle-ready. With a manly two-finger motion, he summoned her into his office. Her approach was defiant.
He was ending his call when she entered. He motioned for her to sit. She didn't. He hung up and scrutinized her insolence. Relaxing into his chair, he crossed his arms and stared, meticulously perusing her body from top to bottom and back. Had she not already been heated by her own anger, she would have flushed under the tint of his wolfish gaze.
"Since you refuse to sit, maybe you should just say what's on your mind?" he finally said.
"Oh, how I wish I could speak my mind without you using your position to fire me!" she angrily shot back.
