The Gods of Song and Poetry

Chapter 46 - Welcome Back

Chapter 46 - Welcome Back

My dad's office was one of seven on a high mezzanine. It overlooked the area where they kept the lumber that was used to make shipping pallets. Down there, tucked out of the way between stacks of two by fours, power screwdrivers, and table saws, was the small copper station. I drilled holes for screws and bolts where blueprints said they were required, polished surfaces using little circular pneumatic grinders, and packaged pieces together to be delivered to other departments.

If I looked up, I could see my dad whenever he got up from his desk. Every time he passed by the large window, he would look at me working. With my face shield and tinted safety glasses on, he couldn't tell that I saw him watching me. Even at seventy feet or so, I could read concern in his body language.

One day I saw my shift supervisor, Trent, knock on my dad's office door. It was already open, as usual, so the knock was just a formality to announce his presence. My dad was older than Trent by about ten years, had been working at the company much longer than Trent, and had a higher position. Still, when Trent entered his office, he looked like he was scolding my dad.

After fifteen minutes of animated discussion, Trent left my dad's office still looking angry. Instead of looking upset about whatever Trent wanted him to be upset about, my dad looked thoughtful. After taking a long drink of his coffee and rubbing his face, he emerged from his office. He walked across the mezzanine, descended the stairs, and came over to my workstation.

He stood with his hands on his hips and waited on the other side of the large red stripe on the floor that meant safety equipment was necessary beyond that point. I disconnected the copper grinder from the pneumatic hose with a satisfying "pfft" of air, and sat it on the giant work bench. I lifted my face shield and walked over to my dad. He motioned for me to remove my ear muffs.

"Trent just came to see me," he said simply. We both had to speak loudly to hear each other with our soft ear plugs in. We weren't supposed to remove them in this area because of the background noise of saws, forklifts, drills, and a thousand other sounds produced when metal bangs or scrapes on other metal.

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. "Okay."

"He said you've been taking overtime shifts."

"Yeah. He asked if anyone wanted overtime last week. I volunteered."

"But you can't do that. You're a flex worker. If you work more than you're scheduled, it becomes a problem with accounting because of benefits and messing with part-time versus full-time status. Also, you aren't supposed to be using pneumatic tools. You're not eighteen yet."

"I've been using the grinders since the end of last summer. Trent was the one who trained me for the copper station!"

"I know, but he shouldn't have let you work overtime or had you on copper. Do you know what that means?"

"That Trent's not very good at his job?" I wasn't smiling. My dad wasn't either.

"It means that Trent got two reprimands on his record this morning when the floor manager found out. That affects his raises." I wanted to argue that Trent obviously didn't deserve a raise if he missed two important regulations, but I could tell my dad was in no mood for disrespect.

"Fine. I'll go back to filling bins and sweeping." I let the teenage 'I'm too good for this' attitude ooze out of me and started taking off the gloves and leather apron. Copper dust sprinkled the workstation as I plopped the gear down.

"Ani," my dad said, putting a hand gently on my shoulder, "you get to leave here in a couple of months. Trent will probably be working here for years. Don't give him a hard time, okay?"