A small-minded production manager with a big head had a heavy cross to bear – he was better than the others. He carried his burden like a real gentleman, with plenty of grace and dignity. No one had ever heard him moaning about it and no one had ever heard him groaning about it. A lot of people would crumble under such a weight, but no production manager. Confronted by good luck he enjoyed his privilege to the fullest and looked down on people whenever there was an opportunity for him to do so. When he was in a good mood he would look at people with the glee of personal satisfaction, glad to be so much better than anyone else. When he was in a bad mood, it would be a smirk of contempt, for no one could compare with him. His mood depended entirely on a sober assessment of his own achievements which seemed just fine for as long as he did not compare himself against the directors.
Being better than the others was not easy on him and there were times when the production manager had to remind himself that it was not just a gift but also a responsibility. The company was full of people dreaming about turning their fortunes around and it was the production manager's responsibility to ground those dreams to a halt and to remind everyone that they lacked the necessary qualities to make it in the world. His success was not a fluke. The production manager was a man of faith and strongly believed that he owned it to a set of soft skills which let him flourish where others had failed: the ability to listen to himself when on one else would, boldness to claim credit for successes he did not contribute toward and wisdom to blackmail those below him when necessary. A dignified and humane treatment of workers was enshrined in his moral code and the Production manager would restrain himself from intimidation unless absolutely necessary. Intimidation and blackmail were always absolutely necessary and it was a tragedy of his life that he was not allowed to fire people at his whim and instead had to compensate for this unfair limitation with secondary solutions.
He sought comfort in the fact that he was surrounded by people who responded far better to fear than to kindness allowing him to carry on with his managerial duties in a relatively effective way. He considered blackmail to be pure in its intentions and easy to grasp. Blackmail left no illusions as to how things were supposed to go. It was a proven and transparent device for a positive change. For as long as people were afraid of losing something and they were always afraid of losing their job, blackmail could be easily applied, did not require any consultations, had little or no visible side effects, and was much more effective than any other form of professional communication. Its educational value was immeasurable.
Like every good man, the production manager had a hobby - he loved when people enjoyed his music. Heconsidered himself to be a talented singer and multi-instrumentalist. Giftedwith a natural sense of humor he did not mind poking fun at the singing abilities of his fellow managers, none of whom claimed to knowhow to sing. They all claimed the Production manager knew how to sing and werewidely responsible for the development of his irrational self–proclaimed artisticpedigree. In reality, the Production manager did not know how to sing, did not haveenough confidence to practice, and did not know it was possible to develop hispassion because he did not know that passion was something people do notabandon at the first sight of disappointment. He was a common man and like mostcommon people he thought he was special.
The only thing which was special about him was his unusual ability to connect the dots. The distance between the dots was of no particular importance to him. Their size was irrelevant. Once detected, the Production manager would connect them with an engineering precision even though he was not an engineer but liked to think about himself as such.
At the age of 65, he was nearing the end of a mostlyfruitless career, and to extend his shelf life, started following directors'example and invested a small fortune in a set of pink shirts he religiouslywore to work each and every day objectively noticing that pink shirtsaccurately highlighted his social standing, fulfilled him with a senseof belonging to a group of professionals who did not consider him to be theirpeer and made him look better in the eyes of the factory workers, most of whomthought he was completely useless. The production manager dismissed those voices as mere jealousy. A lowly human predisposition for unbalanced judgment would notruin his day.
He specialized in sending rescue expeditions after letters missing from his keyboard. An accomplished investigator committed to the cause of truth and justice, he was not shy of using innovative and groundbreaking techniques to track down missing letters and charged them with abusing the company's regulations. Hovering with the index finger over his keyboard was one of those techniques. Going slowly and methodically from the left to the right was another one. Aware that persistence prevails, the production manager could stare at his keyboard in total silence for hours, carefully examining all available data, analyzing all possible eventualities, and exploring all known avenues till the first clues about the faith of the missing letters would start to appear. A hard worker, he was no stranger to controversy and would investigate his own emails if needed, just to establish when the missing letters were used for the last time, what letters were in contact with the offenders and who was ultimately responsible for their disappearance. Driven by natural curiosity he was not afraid of asking tough questions a person of a lesser intellectual denomination would not dare to ask: How many letters were gone in total? What was their motivation? What could he do to change that? And finally, what was the involvement of the letter "W"?
Letter "W" had a well-documented history of misconduct in place of work and the production manager had been suspecting it to play a role of a proverbial apple in a barrel. He could not prove it because he had no space for a barrel in his office but his guts feeling had told him that "W" was a bad influence on the whole of the alphabet, pulling strings from behind the scenes and encouraging other letters to join in unauthorized walkouts. Something had to be done before the situation would get out of hand and the production manager has had considered issuing a fake official warning letter to sort the matters out. The only reason he did not do so was that at the time of writing letter "W" had still been missing and the letter "N" looked just like "M". As a result the official fake warning letter had to be titled "Arming Letter" and "misconduct in place of work" had come out as "Niscomduct in place of ork", considerably reducing its intended disciplinary impact. The production manager was far too experienced to allow himself for any reduction in intended disciplinary impact. Discipline was essential to order and the production manager welcomed both, and discipline and order for as long as they were not expected of him. He thought it would be unfair.
His small office had a corner location from where he saw very little and wanted to see even less. His outside view was permanently blocked by the four-story building of the psychiatric ward and his inside view by a row of racking his supervisors had raised without consulting him, cutting off most of the factory from his sight, correctly assuming it would be beneficial for all parties involved to see as little of each other as possible. The feeling was mutual and the production manager did not oppose the idea. It gave him a perfect alibi. He could always say he did not see anything. The only reason he would reluctantly leave his office was when he had to bring cutting sheets to the skinny saw manager with whom he could gossip about the woodshop manager or when he had to go to the woodshop manager to confirm orders for materials and gossip about the Managing Director whom he saw once a week and could not gossip with about anyone at all. Both trips to the woodshop manager and the saw manager were necessary but also unfortunate and unwelcome as one was sick in his head and the second crazy like hell.
The saw managerpassionately hated the woodshop manager. The woodshop manager vehementlydetested the saw manager. Both men loathed the production manager. For reasons of their own, theywere deeply disappointed with his management style which did not produce anyparticular advantage for neither of them. Their systematic calls for hisintervention to be a final straw breaking rival's back remained unanswered justas much as the production manager's hopes for their filthy mouth to be shut onceand for all. The problem with both men was that they could not beblackmailed.
Skinny saw manager was depressed and self-medicated with alcohol. Hewielded a considerable amount of influence in the factory. A good friend of Arnieand Hooligan, he could not be blackmailed for was good friends with Arnie andHooligan and was not afraid to slander anyone behind their back. His rise toprominence was something of a mystery of life. The production manager could not get his head around the fact such anidiot became a manager even though it was no one else but the productionmanager himself who has had promoted the saw manager due to lack of better candidates,spoke to him because there was no one else to talk to and wondered how on earthsuch a moron achieved so much in his life. As far as the production managercould tell the whole thing was nothing short of unexpected.
There was nothing unexpected about the woodshop manager.
An over-ambitious idiot hell bend on becoming a managing director, the woodshop manager had been dealt a serious blow when the managing director has had become the managing director. Misfortunes never come singly and soon after woodshop manager's aspirations had been dealt a second blow of equally devastating proportions. He has had found out that the only way to apply for the position of a managing director was through the managing director himself as he was the only man qualified enough to assess any potential candidate's suitability for his own position, which was not even considered ever since the company was doing great and he was no in no rush to change his job. It was a bitter pill to swallow and the woodshop manager came to a startling realization. He was a victim of unfair treatment. His retribution against the business was a labor of love. He exercised his rights to complain in writing and denounced every man in the factory of imaginary breaches of professional conduct. The breaches were imaginary and none of the men in the factory was a professional.
HR department had to deal with every case on an individual basis. The process was sped up thanks to the Microsoft office copy-paste function. It helped to determine that the witnesses the woodshop manager could not produce, were compromised, the evidence he quoted, was inconclusive and testimonies, if any, conflicting. This policy of fairness enraged Woodshop manager who was convinced there was a widespread conspiracy against him involving all members of the management team. The observation was mostly correct. Whoever did not hate him just yet, was about to start and once started, would do so from the bottom of his heart. Surrounded by such hostile reception woodshop manager has had sought the help of a local psychologist who told him that it was up to him to build healthy working relationships. Such an uncompromised stance of a mental health professional has had serious repercussions for the business. Woodshop manager grew suspicious his psychologist was on the company's payroll. It made him very suspicious of everyone, especially his psychologist. He continued to blame the negative atmosphere surrounding him on lack of transparency in the recruitment process and has had started collecting evidence against the company in case the company would start collecting evidence against him. The company indeed has had started collecting evidence against him. Most of this evidence was provided by the Woodshop manager himself, who thought that providing his employer with a detailed history of his mental health issues was an act of a perfectly rational mind. There was logic to his madness. If the company would rid of him he expected to win in every employment tribunal. If the company choose to keep him he was free to carry on with his vendetta forever. It was a win-win situation and no one cared about it more than the Production manager who had the unhealthy feeling that the woodshop manager wanted his job. The dots were there for everyone to see and all the Production manager had to do was simply connect them with engineering precision. For the woodshop manager to land the job of a production manager would mean to reinforce his credentials as a serious candidate for the position of managing director. The next step would be to wait patiently for the managing director's death. But the managing director was not particularly interested in his own death. The only thing he was really interested in was the company's growth. Production manager associated growth with Viagra though he kept denying vigorously in front of his disappointed wife that he suffered from erectile dysfunctionality. His disappointed wife thought he just suffered from dysfunctionality, something he also kept denying vigorously, pointing out his stellar career as a perfect example of his undeniable talent and even more undeniable intelligence. His wife was not convinced but it did not matter because he was. He was convinced that the woodshop manager was after his job and all the signs in heaven and in the earth could not be more reassuring than an email from HR which the production manager received in the morning and kept gawking at with a great deal of puzzlement. The email read: "Important! Company's Policy. Please, be advised that Rosato is a family-owned business and does not engage in political discourse nor provide a platform for others to do so. The company's policy clearly states that we do not discriminate against people of any ethnic background, religion, or nationality. It was brought to our attention that a man's toilet on the ground floor may be a source of discriminatory activity. Please investigate it as a matter of urgency. Kind regards. Lucy Faulkner, head of HR."
The production manager did not like Lucy Faulkner. She was slim, sexy, and unconcerned with his music. He found her shallow and her English – disappointing. He could not figure out what she meant by "The toilet was a source of discriminatory activity". The words "Investigate" and "Urgency" did not leave a doubt. It was a serious matter. He could feel the uncomfortable breeze of danger emanating from the computer screen. It gave him goosebumps. He connected the most obvious dots: If the toilet was a source of discriminatory activity it could only mean one thing – someone had a small dick! He chuckled instinctively glad there were others like him, but could not understand why someone would complain to HR about it. It just did not make sense. He had the feeling it was just the beginning of something much bigger. A share thought that a small dick could get out of proportions gave him even more goosebumps. The company was full of people without balls but how was he supposed to identify a person with a small penis? Was the size of a penis related to the size of a man's thumb? Just because it applied to him did not necessarily mean it was a golden rule. He shrugged his shoulders confused by the increasing complexity of the problem. "At least the black man is ruled out for obvious reasons", he noticed with relief, "but what about the rest of the men?" The whole case seemed far too sensitive and the legal side of things at best – murky. Like most people in his situation would, he decided to wait. He waited like that for a couple of minutes, pointlessly drumming his fat, hairy fingers against the edge of his desk. Dissatisfied with the lack of result he looked at his keyboard, making sure all the letters were in their right place, googled "discrimination" and read half aloud: "Unjust or prejudicial treatment of different categories of people, especially on the grounds of race, age, sex, or disability."
He nodded a few times with approval. Everything was much clearer now. He could tell with a great deal of confidence that the company did not employ different categories of people. To his knowledge, there was just one category of people, employees. Moreover, everyone within the business was white, except for the black guy obviously, but he was not treated differently. Both Arnold and the Hooligan treated him like they would treat every other black guy - with contempt. Sex did not apply at all. The men did not have sex in the toilet. It was far too busy for intimacy. Disability was questionable. There were quite a few weirdoes in the factory but the production manager did not know if they could be classified as "disabled" just because they were not able. Most importantly, there was nothing about "toilets being a source of activity". The production manager clapped his hands. A triumphant smile crossed his face. Lucy had it wrong! Once more he was able to connect the dots! He corrected his haircut glad he finally knew what was going on and immediately slumped into a state of intense distress. An email of such a profound value could only be sent with the approval of the Managing Director. Lucy may have been wrong but the Managing Director was always right. The production manager sighed heavily and rested his chin on his fist. It just did not look good at all. He pondered for a moment in silence and then got up from his chair and padded along to the toilet where he took a leak, measured his penis against his thumb glad a status quo was maintained, and noticed big fat "#America is full of shit" written right on top of the middle mirror. Shivers of panic run down his spine. He just facilitated hate speech! His pulse sped up and droplets of sweat covered his forehead. Once the first shock was over, the production manager carefully analyzed the situation. The handwriting was precise and tight and the message ... well the production manager did not know what to say about the message. He was confused and to make some sense out of it he rubbed his eyebrows with his fat fingers. It did not help much. Someone clearly had a problem with America. The business employed 32 people in the factory and none of them had ever written anything in the toilet. None of them had ever been to America. None of them had ever demonstrated interest in anything. Football, betting, and moaning were all they knew. It just did not make much sense that someone would have a problem with America. It was the greatest country in the world, a superpower, an embodiment of everything that was good in life. The world was full of shit countries to choose from, countries where people had no rights, could not go shopping and if they could there was nothing to buy but potatoes. They marched in their thousands all over the place demanding their God's given rights to have breakfast at Mcdonalds', snap it with an iPhone and upload it on Instagram for everyone to see how well they were doing in life. Why would someone have a problem with that? As an Englishman production manager was proud that Great Britain gave birth to America. "Did Russia give birth to something more than communism?" he asked himself. "And even that failed the test of times". He could not help but chuckle and then it suddenly struck him - Managing Director holidayed in America! Two and two gave him four. The woodshop manager was balls deep in it! The evidence was clear. He was the only man who openly hated the managing director, the only man who demonstrated on numerous occasions that he could write, and the only man who had a problem with everything. And if that was not enough he also had mental health issues. The production manager breathed out. He could feel the storm coming.
- What a cunt – He summed it up through his teeth. To maintain the required level of impartiality Production manager carefully expanded the criteria for possible suspects by including every literate idiot he did not like and much to his astonishment newly updated list contained just one more name, the name of the woodshop manager.
- What a persistent cunt! – production managerconcluded. He rubbed a wet finger against the writings on the mirror but"#America is full of shit" was permanent. Clearly dissatisfied, he took a coupleof pictures as evidence and went back to his office absorbed by the challengehe faced.
In the corridor leading to the factory, he came across an IT manager who tried to squeeze through. IT manager was a strange, old man, married to a strange, old woman and they both had strange, religious views about forgiveness. The production manager wanted to know if they had any new ones.
- I am going to the States, Peter – he lied and stepped across, blocking Peter's way. Peter blushed like a virgin and squeezed through from the other side, mumbling under his nose
- Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of the death, I will fear no evil.
His voice got quieter with each step as Peter nervously tiptoed up the corridor toward the double swinging door.
- I will preach love over there! – Productionmanager shouted after him. He could hear the sound of the doorclosing up. – Fucking weirdo – he added and went to his office where once againhe read Lucy's email and got goosebumps. He wanted to send a strong signalthat he had everything under control. He thought it would be a good idea to saysomething positive and commanding to assert his authority and dominantposition. He felt coming across as knowledgeable and in control would not do himany harm and after much deliberation, wrote "OK". He checked the spellingbefore sending it off, then replaced "OK" with "All right" and after even moredeliberation came back to "OK" once again. He felt "All right" was far tooinformal for a case of such significance, whereas "OK" was short, sharp, andcrisp. "OK" also left no illusions that everything was ok. Satisfied with the finalresult he send the message back to Lucy, opened his drawer, took out a sheet ofpaper, placed it neatly on his desk, and wrote on the top of it:
"Initial Findings of Investigation"
1. #America is full of shit – permanent
2. Done - deliberately
3. Author - still at large
4. Victim – everyone
Tool talk for staff:
a. Welfare facilities (cleanliness is godliness)
b. Discrimination and why it matters
c. Feelings of cleaners.
d. The price of permanent markers.
e. Time lost and cost for the business
f. Environmental impact
The production manager looked at the paper and nodded several times. A glee of personal satisfaction crossed his round face. He was well impressed with himself. Not everyone would be able to connect the dots with such precision and the production manager acknowledged his intellectual aptitude with yet another nod. No one could argue that his investigation was biased or that he did not care about the planet. If he cared about the planet he could always argue that he cared about America which after all was an integral part of the planet. His commitment to this department was clear. He could openly say that he made a real change for the better. Inclusion of cleaners' feelings should be enough to prove his good intentions in case hate speech charges were pressed against him. The danger was there, was real and it was up to him to deflect it. He pondered for a few more minutes on how to turn disaster into a victory and then suddenly a great idea came to his mind. He dived into his keyboard, found "W" and started writing. It was a slow and painful process but eventually, he produced the following: "We strongly condemn the use of derogatory language and spread of anti - American sentiment against our long-standing ally. We disagree such an opinion may be shared by the majority of our staff. We would like to propose a celebration of American Day to be considered by the employees' committee. All staff will be briefed about the importance of the special relationship between our two great countries in relation to the price of permanent markers, time lost, feelings of cleaners and environmental impact. I would also suggest a purchase of American donuts to raise staff's morale. I expect your full support. With regards, Production manager, Duncan Sunders"
He read the email carefully several times beforepressing "enter". He could not contain his excitement. What looked like aninevitable defeat turned out to be a spectacular triumph.
In the evening, heordered Polish cleaners to clean "America is full of shit". The cleaners flatlyrefused. The production manager threatened them with a sack. The cleaners did notunderstand a word he was saying. Annoyed, he called their English manager anddid not threaten him with a sack. He could not. They were independentcontractors. The English manager was very helpful. He explained with a stoic, professionalcalm that they were not cleaners but hygiene operatives. He also explained thatthey were there to clean and not to polish, a finedistinction difficult to spot for an untrained eye. The production manager did not seethe difference. It was written in small print. As independent contractors, thecleaners did not provide heavy-duty services. Their risk assessment which the production manager had dully approved has had specifically prohibited them fromusing heavy-duty cleaning solutions. The production manager could not order them,force them or blackmail them like normal people. Caught in legislative limbo,he pulled his sleeves up and tried to clean the slogan himself. After a fewminutes of polishing "shit" at the end of "America is full of shit" he gave uphampered by a blister on his hand and a lack of visible progress. He regrettedbiting his nails but it was too late. It looked like "America is full of shit"was there to stay. Annoyed, he focused on what he knew best – improving theprocess. He counted the number of cubicles and printed out three sets of"Please leave this toilet clean for the next user" so that every cubicle couldhave them displayed in Urdu, Hindi, Punjabi, and English. His rational facultiessuggested he blow on cold rather than get into hot waters again. Urdu,Hindi, and Punjabi were there to show the company's inclusiveness and to preventaccusations of discrimination against underrepresented ethnic minorities. Rightafter that out of pure curiosity, he launched an internal investigation thatshowed that the minorities in question were underrepresented to the point ofnot being represented at all. He thought it was important to let the companyknow its ethnic composition did not reflect sufficiently enough multiculturalfabric of society. Displaying information relevant to well - being of the company'sworkforce in languages different than English was in his opinion the minimumrequired to tackle discrimination and to help assimilate ethnic minorities. He sent another email to HR with attachedpictures of his notices as proof of his genuine feelings, adding: "It hasbeen a mission of my life to promote inclusiveness by any means possible. "
Now he could claim that everyone was treated equally, regardless of their nationality, even minorities who were not employed by the company just yet. He got so excited with his machinations that he cackled like a maniac, rubbed his hands with joy, and announced with a sinister smile.
- Do you want a war? I will give you one!