Under the Cypress Moon (62 page)

It took heavy coercing from T.L. and Darius both to calm Mark down and get him to take a breather from what was going on.  Mark was so mad at Don that he screamed that he would kill him.  Everyone who knew Mark knew that he was not serious at all, but some of the men on the construction crew grew very alarmed at the threat. 
Several wondered if they should either call the police or warn Don.

When Don finally showed up, at half past ten o'clock, he had no idea that he was walking into a hornet's nest.  Mark was just beyond the door leading into the plant, waiting for him.  "What the hell is your problem," Mark screamed at Don from his wheelchair.  "You are supposed to be here well before eight, every damn day, no matter what, rain or shine, sleet or snow, Hell or high water!"

"I know, Mark.  I know.  It's just that Betty Jo..."

"No!  I don't care what the reason is!  You have no excuse!  If you're gonna be late, you call me, and I take care of it somehow!  You know that!  If you're not here before eight, you're not here to unlock the place for the construction guys to come in and do THEIR jobs!  Theirs depend on yours!  Oh wait!  That's right!  You gave them a key, people that don't work here, that don't have shit to do with this place, you gave them a key!  If my dad was here, I don't care if you're a friend or not, he'd fire you right on the spot!  You're damn lucky I'm not him!  Now, you get your ass in gear, and you start bein' here, EVERY SINGLE DAY, before eight!  You get the key back from the construction foreman, and you do it now!  I mean right now!"

"Mark, it's just that you're goin' through so much, and I didn't wanna bother you with it.  I'm sorry.  I should've been here when I was supposed to.  You're right.  I take full responsibility for my actions.  I'll get the key back.   I'm sorry I let you down."  Don hung his head as if he were a puppy that had just been scolded for going on the carpet. 

After that, however, it seemed that Mark might have Don under control and doing his job properly, though he assumed that this may only have been because he was now being watched.  Mark finally began to see exactly what Darius had talked about, about Don being lazy and undependable.  This left Mark to wonder if he had not made a mistake in keeping Don Birchum on to run things in his absence.  In better health, Mark could run the majority of plant managerial affairs, but he knew that he needed help on some things.  He wished that either T.L. or Darius had the experience and the training to take Don's place.  If so, he would fire Don without further warning.
  Don's actions were not only a breach of protocol but a breach of trust.  Mark knew that he could trust Don Birchum no longer.  Something must be done and done fast. 

Mark thought it all over for the few minutes of silence he had away from everyone and decided that he might be better off conducting interviews for a replacement, behind Don's back.  How to get the word out without Don knowing about it, however, was another matter entirely. 
Mark almost felt bad for screaming at Don but thought it best to leave it all alone, at least, until Don screwed up again. 

There was no way possible for Mark to climb the stairs to the office above.  The elevator, small and old as it was, had been nearly destroyed in the explosion weeks earlier.  It was on the other side of the original building and required someone who specialized in fixing such things to repair it.  It was never on the top priority list of repairs and editions.  Now, Mark wished that it had been.  The only way possible to conduct meetings, for a while, would be to have them downstairs, at best, concealed under the stairway, where there was not ample enough lighting.

Mark, as soon as he got near enough for everyone to hear, yelled for T.L., Darius, and Don to meet him under the stairs leading to the offices.  Darius didn't like it that he was being ordered around by his soon-to-be son-in-law.  On the production floor, Darius had always answered to his supervisor(s) but rarely ever to anyone else.  He wanted the extra money involved with being on this committee created by Mark, wanted the opportunity to chime in with his thoughts on matters at hand, and definitely wanted the opportunity to be made supervisor, but the fact of who was doing the ordering perturbed him greatly.

Don, knowing that he was still in trouble, ran as quickly as his overweight body could carry him.  He hoped to do some serious brown-nosing to get back into Mark's good graces.  He feared that he might be too replaceable to prove once again that he could measure up, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he complimented Mark enough, showed enough concern for Mark's well-being, made promises to do better, and showed that he was sorry, Mark would keep him around. 

Within two minutes, all four men were assembled together under the stairway.  Mark looked around the group, but when he got to Don, he glared, looking as if his eyes burned with such intensity that they might burn through Don's body.  "Don, you wanna redeem yourself?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

"Alright.  Go upstairs and get us a beer apiece, and come back for the meeting.  I think since the plant isn't runnin' yet, we could all have somethin' to drink while we discuss things.  Sound good, everybody?"  T.L., Darius, and Don all shook their heads violently, vehemently displaying their support of the notion.

"Sounds great to me, Mark," Don amply replied, smiling so profusely as to say that he would support anything Mark ever said.  "I still got some of those beers my cousin made.  You said you liked 'em.  Everybody ok with that?"

No one objected, but they didn't sound their approval either.  Don took it as such and quickly headed upstairs, leaving Mark alone with T.L. and Darius, exactly what Mark wanted and one of his larger reasons for sending Don away.

"Ok, guys," Mark whispered.  "Don really messed up here.  I don't know for sure, but I'm seriously thinkin' he might have to go.  I may just need a new assistant plant manager.  We never made that title official in all the years this place has been around, but I think it's high time for it.  Either Don steps up and proves that he is every bit what I hoped he was, or he's out on his ass, and somebody new steps in his place.  T., you up for that?"

"I don't have any college under my belt, Mark, and besides, I wouldn't know the first thing," T.L. nearly shouted, causing Mark to put his finger to his lips to hush him.

"It's not as hard as it sounds.  There was a time that I didn't know a damn thing around here, and goin' to college didn't prepare me for much of anything.  I could teach you everything you need to know.  I know you, T.  You're one of the smartest guys I've ever met, and if anybody could catch onto this stuff, it's you!"

"But Mark," Darius quickly chimed in, "Much as I don't care for Don Birchum, the guy's got a lot of years in here and has a family.  You put him out, and you might as well put his wife and kids on the streets!  You can't do it."

"Well, Mr. King," Mark replied, sighing and carefully choosing his next words.  "I'm not sayin' you're wrong, and I'm also not sayin' that Don would be fired altogether.  He just may have to make a choice, either go back on the floor or quit.  I'm givin'  him another shot.  If he screws it up, though, there's not gonna be a second warning.  He goes back to the floor, to his old job, or he goes to the unemployment line.  I'm not havin' his kinda
screw-ups all the time.  So, T., I just want you to be ready.  If the time comes for it, I may be askin' you to fill Don's shoes."

"Alright, Man," T.L. agreed, smiling as much as he could in such a situation, fearing that he could not do the job and also not wanting to replace a fellow employee and bring such harm to the man's family.  "But he's got some pretty fat feet.  I don't know as I could wear the shoes of such a fat man.  No, I shouldn't say that.  I feel bad for him actually."

At that moment, all three men could hear the office door above them slam shut.  They knew that Don was returning.  Mark quickly raised his finger once again to his lips, this time adding, "Shhh.  Later."

"I got the beers, Mark," Don was soon heard to remark as he trounced heavily down the stairs, his weight producing a loud,
thudding, metallic sound as he walked.

Don nearly stumbled down the last few steps but soon came jaunting over to the rest of the men, handing out a beer to each person.  "Hope you guys still like this stuff.  I bought a bunch more, and it's gonna take me a while to drink it all by myself."

"Yep," Mark remarked, popping the cap off of his bottle and taking a swig.  "Still good.  Now, let's get down to business, boys.  I was thinkin' maybe we oughtta revamp the schedule around here, first of all."

"What do you mean by that," T.L. vociferated, quite concerned about such a prospect.

"Well, we're way behind on production, obviously.  No machines, no workers, no product.  We have to catch back up and get this place turnin' a real profit again.  For years, at least since before I started, there's only been the Monday through Friday, eight to four shift, with occasional, optional OT.  I'm thinkin' we change that.  We make shifts ten hours long instead of eight but Monday to Thursday. Everybody gets a longer weekend that way, and we can start a weekend shift, Friday to Sunday, twelves.  Then, we have two full-time shifts goin', with some OT.  We keep machines runnin' to pump out at least a little more product, every day, but not all of 'em.  We let everybody choose to stay and work a few extra hours a day, if they want, same on weekends.  If people wanna work fifteen hours or so, that's their business.  Weekenders will get thirty-six hours counted as forty, and anything they work over the thirty-six counts as OT.  I think it's a win-win for everybody, and it gets us to double the production we did before, if not more.  We may, eventually, go to havin' two shifts a day, two weekday shifts, two weekend shifts, and the way to get OT would be to work on your off days.  What do ya'all think?  I think it's good, and it'll get this place turnin' out so much product that we'll not only catch back up but turn this place around so fast we can open a second plant fairly soon.  Thoughts?"  Mark looked around to everyone, with his brow raised, as if he were actually saying, "I don't need your input.  I'm being nice by even letting you listen to my ideas.  I'm going to implement these things whether you like them or not."

"I'm for it," T.L. seconded.  "I mean, to have Fridays off, hell yeah!  Plus, extra OT when I need it.  I'm all in.  What do you think, Daddy?  It sounds pretty good to me."

"Ok.  Motion carried," Mark said, with no further words added from anyone.  "But, we also give raises to everyone.  Everyone, no matter how long they've been here or what their record is, gets a raise as soon as we open back up.  Raises will be based on number of years worked and on work performance.  Even the newbies will get somethin', at least, a little bit.  You guys that have been here for a long time will see substantial raises, not to mention that you two..." Mark pointed at T.L. and Darius before continuing, "You two will, of course, already get raises for bein' made supervisors.  You're talkin' about two raises in one!"

"Well, hell, Mark," Darius
blurted, "I'm for anything that makes me more money.  You got my vote."

"Mine, too," T.L. added.

"Me, too," Don agreed, though Mark cared very little about anything the man said.

"Ok.  That motion is carried.  I want you guys to be thinkin' over these things and about increasing safety around here.  We will not have another incident happen like what shut this place down!  We will not have our employees getting hurt or killed like that!  This place is gonna run smooth and sound and safe!  Accidents get put to a minimum.  Serious injuries or death, no more!  We cannot allow that!  We are not gonna be that place, the place that's so dangerous that people are afraid to work in it, and it gets shut down by OSHA!  Also, be thinkin' over just how much we can put in the new edition to the plant, how many machines and how many workers it's gonna take to get it goin' just as good as the rest of the place.  We are gonna maximize production, to the best of our ability.  This place is gonna become not only a place that makes boatloads more money than it ever did before but the place where everybody wants to work cuz of the great pay, great benefits, and great people.  Eventually, we open a second plant, and maybe one day, a third, possibly, a fourth, and so on.  This company might just become the biggest steel producer in the nation!" 

Mark took a long pause to take another powerful sip of his beer.  "Ok, you guys.  If you got anything you wanna add, go right ahead.  The floor is yours.  If not, I guess we're done, and if we're done, here's what I want you to do now.  Just go take a peek around the place, especially at the new edition.  Look it over carefully, and see what we need to do this place for production and for safety.  Then, you guys can go up to Don's office and write down your time.  We're not gonna mess with the time clock right now.  Just write down all your hours for this stuff, and if you spend any time at home tryin' to come up with ideas, write those hours down and bring 'em in when you come back on Wednesday.  Since it's just you guys, we'll do it that way, but actually, I do need to get ahold of all of the supervisors and start includin' them in this stuff.  They need to know all this, and they could, hopefully, help us come up with some things.  Go take a trip around the whole place and just see anything you can that might need worked on.  All ideas are good ideas.  They'll at least get us thinkin'."

As Mark wheeled himself a way to take a quick tour of the place, he was followed by T.L. and Darius.  No one could think of anything immediately to improve safety standards or production standards.  It was quickly deemed that everyone needed to go home and think everything over slowly and carefully, that there was little more that could be done that day at the plant.  After father and son rushed upstairs to write down their hours thus far, only a little over one hour, which seemed hardly worth the effort, they headed to their vehicles.  T.L. aided Mark to get into Shylah's car, loaded up the wheelchair into the back, and drove him home.