A Well-Oiled Machine PART ONE
“Late again, that piece of absolute trash!” Mr. Winters growled under his breath.
He was wearing his tan suit, expertly tailored to fit his flabby body. His slick, brown hair had been combed over his bald patch and his shoes were sparkling. Mr. Winters grunted as he stared down at the gold watch strapped to his chubby wrist. His thick, Tom-Selleck-Esque moustache twitched slightly in irritation and his beady eyes darted between the watch and the door, watching for the door to open.
It was eight in the morning exactly, and the building was open for business. Mr. Winters watched his employees chatter amongst themselves as they went to their cubicles with their cups of coffee, tea and whatever else kept them awake. All of Mr. Winters’ employees were on time … except for Bob, again. Mr Winters snarled and checked his watch.
Eight-o-one.
“Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed.
His employees stopped their morning chattering and looked up from their desks. Mr. Winters stood atop the stairs that lead to his office, glowing at the front door with a face whose redness would have made a tomato blush.
“Problem, sir?” Jenkins, the office brown-noser, inquired.
“Yeah, Jenkins,” Mr. Winter snapped, “there is a fucking problem. Bob’s late for the second time this week! How the flying shit are we going to build up this company if my employees are good-for-nothing wastes of Goddamn air?!”
“Maybe his train was late or-”
“He drives here, you moron,” Mr. Winters sighed, “fuck sakes. All I want is to be as successful as the other distributors out here but we can’t make that happen if you lazy dickheads won’t put in some damn effort!”
“Jesus Christ,” one of the employees murmured.
“Praying won’t make your sales numbers go up!” Mr. Winters roared, throwing a ball of paper at the transgressor, “Get the fuck back to work! You exist to make this business grow! So … start selling! If I have to hear Don from across the street brag about his quarterly results one more fucking time-”
“I’m here!” a middle-aged man wearing drab clothing burst through the door, “Sorry I’m late my-”
“Wife died?” Mr. Winters interrupted, “Car broke down? Dog’s sick? What shit excuse do you have this time, Bob?!”
“Well,” Bob began, “see, the thing is …”
“I don’t want to fucking hear another word. You’re late again and you’re fired, you hear me?!”
“Yes!” Bob rushed to his desk, “Yes sir!”
“Good,” Mr. Winters nodded and popped a cheap cigar in between his teeth, “now all of you … get the FUCK back to work!”
Four-fifty-six.
“Lazy bastards,” Mr. Winters grumbled as he checked his watch. His employees were leaving, filing out of the building one by one.
Four-fifty-eight.
The last employee vacated the building and Mr. Winters slammed his fist down on his desk, hurting his hand. His office was small but lavishly furnished. Not as big as Don’s office though … a thought that stabbed Mr. Winters right in his jealous heart. The idiots who worked for him never finished the work day on time. They wanted to see their families or go to some bar and have fun. Didn’t they realize that just a little more hard work and they’d be the envy of every salesman in the city? Mr. Winters sighed and opened a drawer, pulling out another cigar.
“One of these days,” he whispered to himself while igniting his lighter, “one of these days I’ll be the prime example of success. Should invest in robots. Even a can-opener could sell more efficiently than Bob!”
“Mr. Winters?”
Mr. Winters yelped and jumped out of his chair in fright. Standing outside the door to his office, peering in through the window, was a man in a grey suit. The man was smiling pleasantly, wearing an expression of slight concern. He was large, both in height and width, but was not what Mr. Winters would consider overweight. His suit was clearly better made than Mr. Winters’ but was far more boring. Grey with a black tie? Mr. Winters shook his head and got up from the floor.
“Are you Mr. Winters?” the man in the grey suit asked hesitantly.
“Who the fuck wants to know?”
“Charming,” the man muttered.
“What was that?!”
“I said charming,” the man grinned, showing large teeth, “I am just thrilled to meet you at last, sir. Might I come in?”
“It’s a free country,” Mr. winters chuckled at his own joke.
“Quite,” the man opened the door and stepped inside, his enormous feet slapping lightly against the floor, “my name is Levi. I’m an engineer with-”
“We’re not hiring,” Mr. Winters grunted, “have enough lazy morons around here as it is.”
“... right,” Levi rolled his eyes, “I’m not here for a job, Mr. Winters. I represent a fellow … businessman who is looking to expand.”
“Aren’t we all?” Mr. Winters lit up his cigar.
“Exactly,” Levi wrinkled his nose at the smoke, “My employer has heard that you’re looking for more efficient employees to beat out Don & Company, am I correct?”
“Yep,” Mr. Winters blew smoke directly at Levi’s face. Levi did not blink, “what’s it to you and your employer, Levi?”
“My employer thinks that if you outsell Don & Company it would help his profits considerably … he wants to offer you a gift-”
“Fuck off. I don’t need another employee.”
“I’m not talking about new employees,” Levi smiled, “what if I told you that I could make your current employees work twice as hard without the need for extra compensation?”
“I’d say you’re a liar,” Mr. Winters laughed, “or the Devil.”
“Very amusing,” Levi laughed, “but I’m neither of those things. I’m an engineer, and I have a machine that will double the growth of your business, guaranteed.”
Levi leaned over and reached into a briefcase that Mr. Winters had not noticed him carrying before. Out of the suitcase came a strange contraption, no larger than Mr. Winter’s head. It was an assortment of gears, seven in total, that were stacked on top of one another in a non-sensical order. They were shiny and chrome, glittering despite the lack of natural light in the office. Levi set the machine down on Mr. Winters’ desk and stepped back.
“I call it The Machine,” Levi said proudly in his monotone voice.
“What does it do?” Mr. Winters reached out to poke at the gears but was stopped by Levi’s gentle hands.
“It’ll make your employees work harder,” Levi assured, “the gears turn and promote efficiency in even the laziest of employees. Is there an unused room somewhere in the building?”
“Yeah, the office next to mine,” Mr. Winters replied, still staring at The Machine, “used to belong to my partner but he left this place years ago.”
“Excellent,” Levi scooped up The Machine and left the office without another word. Intrigued, Mr. Winters followed.
Levi waited patiently for Mr. Winters to unlock the door and then strode inside with the utmost confidence. He stooped low to the ground and placed the amalgamation of gears in the center of the floor with care. The gears did not move, but Levi whirled around and pulled Mr. Winters out of the room as quickly as possible.
“Hey … it didn’t do anything!” Mr. Winters grumbled.
“That’s because it takes time to warm up,” Levi replied with a knowing smile, “be patient. In a day or two your business will be the cream of the crop, the envy of all business owners!”
“Sure, sure,” Mr. Winters replied sarcastically, “so does this thing need maintenance, or does it work on magic?”
“Magic?” Levi began laughing, “oh good Lord, no. Still, it will require no maintenance from you, Mr. Winters. The only thing it needs is to be left alone.”
“Why, is it shy?”
“Incredibly,” Levi’s demeanor became serious and haunting, “you must never open that door, Mr. Winters. If you look upon The Machine it could break. It is very sensitive, you see. Now, I have to be going!” Levi turned around and made for the stairs that would lead back down to the main floor. “My employer has other gifts for me to give out before tomorrow! I’ll come by and check up on you in a few days! Enjoy your productivity and don’t open the door!”