I was working late, again, when the guys from Engine House No. 12 stopped by, again. I was the only one in the office - funny how it always worked out that my boss was never around when bad news came, and I was always the one to handle it. Not that I particularly minded the visits from the firefighters - I'd always had a thing for guys in uniform...
My boss was a great guy, but had really been irresponsible about responding to the warnings of code violations we'd received from the fire department. And I was worried that if he got in real trouble with this stuff - like a fine, or having to shut the office down until things were resolved - that my job might be in jeopardy.
"Hi, Bethany. How are you doing today? Any progress to report?"
"I'm afraid not. I swear I've passed on all of your messages to my boss, but he just hasn't taken any action yet. Is there anything I can do for you guys today?"
"If you could just walk us through one more time, that would be great."
I grabbed my ring of keys from my desk, and led the men through our small building, unlocking doors as they requested, watching as they scribbled notes on pads of paper that looked tiny in their big, strong hands. It was the same three guys who had come by twice before - first, after the little fire we'd had, and a second time to see if my boss had cleared up some violations. Johnson, Smith, and Bradley, I think their names were, if my memory of their nametags served. Frankly, though, I spent more time looking elsewhere.
As I was pondering whether it was really the uniforms themselves that were so sexy, or just the fact that these guys were in such phenomenal physical condition, one of them spoke, his words interrupting my daydream.
"Well, Bethany, I'm afraid we're going to have to red card the whole building."
"What... oh, no! Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"
"Well, it's not your fault - your boss really should have taken care of these violations when we originally cited him."
"So, does that mean we'll have to shut the place down until things are resolved?"
"I'm afraid so," Johnson said, continuing to scribble on his notepad.