Tim Larson smiled and spoke to everyone he met as he strolled through the crowd with his daughter, Heather. He was far and away the best maintenance man in the company. As such, he spent a lot of his work time on the factory floor repairing and maintaining the complex and complicated machinery required in the manufacture of buffers and accessories. The Ferguson Family business employed well over four hundred people. Tim knew nearly all of them and he was liked by most.
The Ferguson Summer Picnic was a much anticipated annual event. Ferguson Manufacturing sponsored it in appreciation for the dedicated service of its employees. It was always held on the third Saturday in July, and attendance was usually robust. Free food, drinks and family oriented games were always in abundance.
The affair was held at a small amusement park that was leased by the company for the day. The kids enjoyed rides, ice cream, soda, games, a large swimming pool and even pony rides. The adults played volleyball, horseshoes and badminton, along with partaking in the food, beverages and the large pool.
"I'm apologizing to you in advance, Heather," stated Tim as he glanced toward the small pavilion where Edgar Remington was holding court. "You can go wait in the car if you prefer. A fifteen year old shouldn't hear or see the things that are about to be said and done."
"I want to see it for myself," replied Tim's daughter. "Mom will put her own spin on it and make you the bad guy. I just need to be sure you're seeing things as they really are.
"I admit Mom has been hard to live with lately, but it's not easy to believe she'd treat you like so poorly, especially so openly. I've heard all the words you'll be using. Do what you have to do."
Tim nodded grimly as he started for the pavilion. Heather peeled off from his side and began working her way around to come up behind her mother. Edgar Remington was situated in the middle of the pavilion. He was well into a pompous diatribe about increasing production and reducing costs. Tim made his way through the gathering to approach to his wife. She was seated near Edgar and appeared to be hanging on his every word.
Tim noticed Mrs. Agnes Ferguson sitting off to the side, sipping a soft drink while she watched the proceedings. Her husband's father had founded the company fifty years prior. Her husband, William, had assumed ownership twenty years ago and had nearly doubled the production, as well as profitability, of the company during his time at the helm.
Sadly, William Ferguson had suffered a massive heart attack and died the previous winter at the age of 56. Acting on the suggestion of her lawyers and business advisors, Agnes Ferguson had appointed Edgar Remington COO of the company. He had been a vice president in a Fortune 500 business and came highly recommended.
Tim had begun his own tenure at Ferguson Buffers about the time William Ferguson had taken over the reins of the business from his father. Tim was just two weeks out of high school when he began his career. He had established an excellent rapport with William (Bill) Ferguson over the years and greatly missed Bill's steady hand at the helm.
Tim nodded to Mrs. Ferguson before he approached his wife, Mandy, and spoke softly. "Would you join me at the picnic for a little while? We could get a drink and play some volleyball."
"Larson! We're discussing business here. Why don't you go drink some beer and throw horseshoes with your friends from the floor?" snapped Remington curtly.
"The floor" was the term used to describe the area of the company where the actual production work was done. People either worked in the office, or on the floor. Those working in the office often treated the folks who worked on the floor as lesser employees.
"We aren't at work. This is a picnic and I'll speak to my wife without interference from you," replied Tim calmly as he fought down a much harsher response.
"I said we're conducting business here," repeated Remington.
"Tim, why don't you go play some of the games with your friends," suggested Mandy, concerned her husband was about to clash with their boss. "Edgar is going over some business proposals I'd like to hear."
"Business proposals that don't include the maintenance staff," added Remington with a harsh laugh. "You wouldn't understand the theory behind my ideas."
"You're not coming with me, Mandy? I won't ask again," warned Tim with a sinking feeling.
"I'm staying here, Tim. Why don't you just go have fun with the other guys from the floor?" was Mandy's cool response.
"Yeah, run along! We're having a good business discussion and don't need people from the floor listening in," insisted Remington with an obvious sneer.
"You really are a complete asshole," stated Tim clearly as he stood, turned from his wife and faced Remington. "The next good idea you have will be your first one. You're the rudest bastard I've ever had the misfortune to meet. You've really fucked up this company in record time."
"What did you call me?" demanded a livid Remington.
"Try to pay closer attention," answered Tim with a tight smile. "Asshole, rude, and bastard were my main points. I can come up with some more if you have trouble understanding those terms."
Gasps escaped from several of those listening to the exchange. Tim Larsen had just called the company's COO out in a very public manner!
"You must be drunk," countered Remington, sensing that Tim Larson was not in any mood to accept his blustering authority. "I'll forgive it this time out of respect for Mandy, but you'd better leave before I change my mind."
"I haven't had a single drink yet today," retorted Tim softly. "With that excuse gone, why don't you change that wishy-washy little mind of yours and go for option number two?"
"You want to get fired and thrown out of here?" responded Remington. "I can do that."
"Actually, you can't," challenged Tim. "Not unless you're willing and able to do the throwing. There's no security working this affair, so you're on your own, you chicken-shit prick. I'm sure everyone here would love to see you try to throw me out."
"Tim! I'll go with you," broke in Mandy in a panic. "Please excuse Tim, Edgar. He's been out of sorts lately. I think its stress."
"The stress of finding out he'll be expected to make half the payments on your new house?" goaded Remington. "He'll have to work overtime and give up playing games with his buddies to pay his share. I can see where a situation like that would stress Timmy out."
"The only stress I'm feeling at the moment is keeping my temper in check," replied Tim as he measured Remington with his eyes. "I have this almost uncontrollable urge to bitch-slap the shit out of you, Remington."
As he spoke, Tim balled his hands into fists and took a step toward the company COO. "How about you, Edgar? Are you feeling froggy?"
