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Tom was having a tough time.
Bud was being an asshole and saying that every loaf of bread was 'worthless crap that no idiot's gonna buy'. Tom was about to lose his mind. When Bud went round and threw his fourth loaf of bread at the far wall the guy was seconds away from just slapping Bud in the face. He could practically see Andrew's face telling him to 'man the fuck up and just slap the bastard already!'. But slapping his boss was a one way ticket to getting fired and not being able to pay rent wasn't on the top of Tom's must-have's list at this very moment.
"There's nothing wrong with 'em, Bud," Tom said as he stood in the far corner of the kitchen. "They're the same as they are every other day."
"Then every other day they aren't good enough!" Bud snapped, pulling his suit jacket further around his beer belly. "They've gotta be perfect, Thomas, you know how it is. No ones gonna buy bread if it ain't perfect."
Most people don't know the fucking difference between each loaf, asshole.
"They can't be perfect, boss," Tom ground out. "This is the best we can do."
The two other employees stood off to the side, looking down and pretending as if they were suddenly invisible.
"Well it's gotta be better, hasn't it?" Bud suddenly yelled. "I don't pay you for this shit. It's either perfect or you're out!"
"It's just a loaf of damn bread, calm down!" Tom yelled back.
"Our goods being the best is the only thing keeping this city coming to our doors instead of anyone else's," Bud said. "The whole city's in my hand and I'm not gonna have you and your inability to bake screw that up for me."
Tom knew that the other bakeries Bud was going on about was Maisie's place. He already knew Bud had hated that bakery but the second the four offenders walked in, he had seemed to hate them even more. All day it was just Bud talking shit about Maisie's place in his ear and the guy was about to go insane...or spontaneously murder Bud, either one. He could make it silent, there's tons of knives in the kitchen. It wouldn't exactly be clean but half the other employees hated Bud too so they could clean it all up together and then they just had to dump the body in a dumpster or a nearby lake of which there was none-
"Thomas!" Bud snapped his fingers in front of the guys face as he fazed out for a moment. "Anything to say for yourself?"
Tom shrugged. "Am I supposed to be sorry or something?"
"For damn sake," Bud growled under his breath in frustration and grabbed the loaves of bread off the counter before charging out the back door. Tom frowned and ran after Bud, catching the door just before it slammed shut and saw Bud throwing the loaves of bread out onto the street and into the dirt, surprising some pedestrians.
"What are you doing?" Tom demanded. "You're not Peeta fucking Mellark! Katniss isn't sitting by a tree somewhere, you're just wasting bread!"
"I'm ridding this bakery of incompetent mistakes!" Bud shouted and walked back towards Tom, his overly gelled hair a little ruffled and his shirt mildly creased from exertion. He stopped in front of Tom and straightened is hair back into place with his chubby fingers. "You've got one job, Tommy," and the man in question was about to kill Bud just for calling him that, "make fucking bread and don't fucking fuck it up! Got it?"
