Whatever Happened... to Robot Jones? Continued

Chapter 31: Punch Cards in the Snow

"Perfect..."

Hans Pike muttered under his breath as he threw today's latest issue of the nationally published newspaper onto his work desk.

While the kids at Polyneux were abuzz at the Ghost Writer's hijacking and what he had to say about the popularity structure, the press had not been kind to the JNZ-Lightoller merger. As Robot's mother had explained a bit to him a few weeks ago, critics were not pleased at the idea that two of the most powerful robotics plants in the United States were soon going to be one entity. Anti-trust activists were already arguing for why this deal should not be legally allowed to happen, and it didn't seem apparent to anybody that it was Donna Crowe's idea only.

Hans had worked under Claymore for his entire decade run as CEO, and while he would never say anything out loud that would put his own job in jeopardy, he was very aware that Claymore was thought of as a secretive guy, even if the CEO had done nothing incriminating. Marvin Claymore spoke in a warm tone, and had a gentleman's affect, but never involved himself in any personal outings with his staff, and seemed to have no interest in talking about anything non business related. In that sense, he wasn't someone to be smoozed easily. Hans knew that Claymore had to have a good reason for agreeing to this deal, which was only hurting JNZ-at least for now. But as to what could be so powerful as to make Claymore bend over backwards for his arch rival, Hans had no idea.

All he knew was that JNZ's reputation as the wholesome robotics company was tanking fast, and so were their customers. And as the second in command, it was partially his job to turn it around.

"'America's Most Frequented Robotics Company Under Allegations of Greed in the Wake of New Merger,'" read the adult robot named Nutz, leaning over Hans' desk. Having just come back to the manager's office with a hot mug of oil, he glanced at the business section headliner with a grimace. "Not good."

"No sir," Hans replied, taking off his hard hat and running a hand through his light brown hair. "This bunk keeps up, we're gonna have picketers around the factory."

"Claymore said anything about it?" asked Nuts.

"Nothing. Big shot's too busy with other things." Hans drummed his fingers on his desktop. "We gotta do something."

"Like, what?" the robot asked, sarcastically.

"When's the last time we ran an ad?" Hans said, folding his arms and trying to remember.

"Not since Claymore took over," Nutz recalled from his eidetic memory. He thought for a moment while he sipped his oil, than said: "Huh. You'd think that would be Claymore's thing, too, what with all his frills and extra expenses he tried out back in the day. Like the little toy that went home with every order that chimed-"

"Thank you for choosing Jones'-Nathan's-and-Zamboni's Robotics: Where the machines are forged with love," both Nutz and Hans chanted.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember that junk," Hans muttered. "Didn't go over well with anybody."

"Claymore must've figured that it was better to keep up the reputation of simplicity that Harris left," Nutz went on. "And to his credit, that's when our sales increased again."

"Well, Jones' legacy ain't gonna last much longer," Hans declared. "Not if we don't do something to remind people we're still the same company." The manger picked up the phone from his desk and dialed an extension somewhere in the factory. "Voice Recog-natron?"

"O-oh! Mr. Pike! What can I do for you, sir?" the female robot asked from the speakerphone, in her hyper-sugary computerized voice.

"Do me a favor: Grab the old advert tapes from the '60s from our storage room and bring them here, along with the A/V cart. I got some research to do."