Finally, Thomas Evans, writing about technological and automotive news, charmed by the extraordinary beauty of the new chief editor, got the courage to go to Nicolas’ office and discuss his just finished text about the latest model of the jaguar entering the market.
Thomas, upon entering the office, flashed his snow white teeth at the rest of them.
The editorial ‘technologist’ was aware of his high ‘market value’ as they used to say in the male society. A large list of material goods, quite a good position in the social elite and a sensational appearance despite the approaching forties made Thomas feel like a chosen one.
He was one hundred percent sure that he would be the one who would be given a public appearance at some top venue in the company of an attractive new chief editor. Anyway, the bets have already been placed on it.
He entered Nicolas’ office in a great mood. Alice was beaming behind the editor's computer. She was wearing tasteful glasses that made her look more serious. She was nothing like their computer idol. Seeing her behind the computer keyboard, he didn't even think for a moment about her long legs or a perfect figure.
He was just wondering what a woman might know about the automotive industry, especially about the newest wonder from the Jaguar stable. Will she understand anything at all? Probably not much. Well, that wasn’t his business.
“Please come back to my office in ten minutes. I will read your text first.” Thomas heard her say.
The text was sensational, as was the car he had written about. Content, he returned to his colleagues, who completely ignored the order of the chief editor and continued to play cards at the collegiate table.
They replaced the boring bridge with the poker, a stealthy watered beer stored under the table. Every now and then someone reached for a new bottle, ignoring the unmasked clinking of glasses. Typical, boring editorial afternoon.
Thomas, pleased with himself, because he was the only one who had fulfilled the boss's orders, began to compare his virtual and so far only love - Lara Croft and the new chief editor.
He criticized her outfit. From his perspective, it was not very comfortable for an erotic pole dance with those red high heels and her too long nails. He got so far ahead in his thoughts that he started making fun of her knowledge as well.
The gentlemen sitting around the collegiate table had a great time, regardless of the open door to Nicolas’ office.
Suddenly, the new chief editor appeared above Thomas. Without saying anything, she stared at his cards through her glasses. Everyone fell silent. They didn't even think for a moment about ending the game and even pretending that they were working honestly and finishing their texts.
“Mr. Evans, please correct the factual errors and put more heart into what you write!” She smiled and without taking her eyes off his cards, added: "You don't stand a chance with these cards!"
‘What? More heart?’ Thomas thought, devastated. He was so choked that he was unable to loudly comment on the unfair remark. After all, he had put all his heart into his work. What content errors? He really did not understand.
“Dear gentlemen? When will I read your articles?” She asked stoically.
They were silent. They showed no interest in the chief editor's words. They kept their eyes on the pool in the center of the table - a sumptuous pile of banknotes.
Alice was amused by the editorial team, or rather the drunken card company. She wanted to sit down to play with them and let everyone go only in their socks. It would have been the best lesson, but she knew it wasn't right for her. Maybe someday, but not on her first day of work.
In one moment, she would demolish the wall that had arisen between them after such a controversial greeting. She had an excuse to torture them deliberately, and she could not miss out on this chance.
Seeing no reaction from her subordinates, she decided to play a little harder with the reluctant, indisciplined card company, which was nothing like a team publishing a prestigious magazine, but a bunch of gamblers in a small casino.
She mustered her emotions, put on a proper poker face, and loudly began to speak in clear pronounced words.
“Dear gentlemen, I must inform you that you won’t leave the editorial office until I have read your texts!” Still serious, but this time with an ironic smile on her lips, she continued.
“Unless one of you wishes to be dismissed today!” That said, she turned on her heel, or rather on her high heel, and gracefully returned to Nicolas’ office.
“This is going to be a nice party! Huh, guys?” Michael burst out laughing, who so far treated the magazine as his property and felt not only irreplaceable, but also completely inviolable. As of now, off the top of his head, he only had the title that perfectly suited the topic of the next issue of the magazine and a punch line, which was bloody idiotic, because he had no idea for a better one yet.
Officially, there were still about forty minutes left of work hours. Had it not been for the circumstances and the presence of Nicolas, there would be no one in the editorial office. If they were, it would be during partying and after drinking at least a few bottles of strong alcohol.
Who wanted to move their brain grey cells, sit at the keyboard and write? Certainly not him. He just did not understand why no one wanted to argue.
“How are your articles coming along, gentlemen?” He asked ironically.
“And yours?” Carl grunted while getting up from the table, their ‘editorial hustle’, who was going to finish the game. He decided to go back to his room to finish his report.
“Where are your balls, man?” Michal exclaimed rudely. “Are you going to listen to that woman? Don't you have your mind?”
“I literally need a few minutes to make a few corrections and my article will be ready.” Adam spoke to prevent an unnecessary row, which would make the already fatal situation even worse. Unlike most of his colleagues, Adam, despite his young age, was distinguished by responsibility and extreme caution in all actions.
Also, like the rest of the editorial team, he did not tolerate Carl, with whom, unfortunately, he had to work in the same room and in the same department - reportage, but he knew his buddies.
Adam had no text. He intended to use his ‘stocks’, i.e. articles that could be used to fill an empty column, not directly related to the magazine's profile, but to his private passions like diving, sailing and snowboarding, but still suitable to the content.
“And you, Alex?” Michael asked his friend. “Why are you slacking off?”
“Are you talking to me?” Alex asked, preparing the news. “Silly question! What should be ready, is. As usual!”
The answer surprised an already confused Michael. He knew that his friend was of the type ‘Obligatory until it matters’. He thought, however, that while he was sitting for hours in his newsroom, he must have been surfing on cyberspace, playing stupid games on the Internet and constantly chatting with friends, and that he worked at the last moment, just before the issue of the new number of the magazine was closed.More than once, Michael had seen him chatting with friends; playing online or browsing various websites, watching movies, listening to music… It was only now that he realized that he had never seen him working.“I have just finished!” Proudly announced Simon, their photo editor and journalist in one person, also editorial mocker and court jester. "This is... I mean... I finished this morning!" He added after a moment, seeing the fury on Michael's face.The others started muttering under their breaths that if they sat down
‘Stupid, mean witch!’ Michael repeated in his mind, absolutely enraged. ‘Arrogant, saucy witch! How can I know the topics of my next three columns when I don't even have good stuff for the next one. How the hell do I know what's going to happen tomorrow? How can you even know the subject of your column before it is written?’ He wondered.‘Where did they teach her the principles of journalism? Probably nowhere! She ran over the nape of some well set guy, landed in his bed, and accidentally became chief editor, and now pretends to be highly educated in the field. Witch!’ He was sure she just pretended to be very knowledgeable.‘She has no idea about their hard work, about writing good texts, and she dare to put up yet! And she called herself wise! ‘Will we see if Nicolas will let her write the leading article?’Outraged by the chief editor's tone, he left slamming the door, which upset Alice even more.A
They waited with bated breath for the further development of events. The chauffeur walked slowly around the car, before he courteously opened the back door. Then their new boss appeared before him.They couldn't believe their eyes. An uncomfortable silence descended in the crowded room. None of them was able to comment on this. They thought that it was just their hallucination, the result of an overdose of percentages and a hangover from the last day’s party.How can the new boss afford a jaguar and a chauffeur? What was up? So many questions were stuck in their heads.They suspected that it was Nicolas' trick, who was unable to grasp the mess that had prevailed in the editorial office since the chief assistant had left the competition. They knew that he wanted to teach them a lesson but who was Alice? In addition, this luxury Jaguar haunted them.The next day, Alice was the first to come to the editorial office. It would not be surprising, if not f
“Thank you, gentlemen, for honouring me with your presence! We're starting!” She paused for a moment to give them time to think and analyze the meaning of the words she had spoken.There was no sign of reflection on the tired, sleepy faces. Thomas was yawning incessantly, every now and then covering his mouth with his hand.Michael, with almost navy blue horseshoes under his eyes and mournfully tousled hair, stretched all his muscles, disregarding everyone, especially the limits of decency, as if he had just woken up.Jack was sitting in a rumpled shirt, propping his head with his hands as if it weighed a ton. He tried his best to stay awake, but he kept closing his eyes every now and then, then shaking his head, straightening himself up and trying to keep his posture attentive again.Simon’s eyes were so red and swollen almost halfway down his cheeks that he looked like a panda or as if he had a boxing match the previous night with a he
Around one in the afternoon, the atmosphere turned hot again. Thomas returned to the editorial office with a flushed face and cloudy eyes. As if in a hypnotic trance, he took off his jacket, tossed it casually on the back of his chair, sat down at the computer and began typing.He didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. He looked like a mad scientist making a discovery of life that would revolutionize the views of all mankind.His friends tried to ask him about his impressions of the ride, but to no avail. He didn't answer. He didn’t even react to the taunts. The outside world did not exist for him. He was in another dimension, in a creative trance.After an hour, unusually beaming and still flushed, he got up from his desk and went to Nicolas' office. He only managed to close the door behind him, and Michael immediately appeared in front of them. Ignoring anyone, he tried to eavesdrop, but from what he heard, he understood very little.Concepts
Michael didn’t expect such a reaction. He knew perfectly well what Alex wanted to tell him and what he would inevitably hear. To avoid a controversial discussion on the sensitive topic of women, or rather his attitude towards them, he spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.He hoped that this time Alex would let go and skip a lecture about his outrageous, even scandalous, rowdy lifestyle that he didn’t accept.“So what's going on?” He asked sincerely, hoping to finally find out the reason for his friend's strange behavior."If the chief editor reads my curriculum vitae, I'll end up in Alaska or the South Pole, so you'd better shut up." Alex said softly.“It won't be that bad! Don't worry! At most, she will send you to the Paris-Dakar race in a Trabant!Alex was in no mood to laugh. On his face, Michael could see a real sadness. He wondered what else he wrote in his resume? For sure, nothing he didn’t know.
“You talk nonsense, man!” Michael answered him. “We're damn good, why would they let go of us?"For insubordination, for anything!" Any reason could be good, wondered Adam. “Do you know how many unemployed journalists there are on the labor market?”Only silence answered him.“Would you like to look for a new job?” Adam turned to Michael with this question. But he didn't wait for an answer:“I don’t! I am quite well here. I have barely bought the apartment, I am going to dive the coral reefs on vacation, and I am paying off the loan. I have enough for me to pay the installments and for a decent life. I don't need anything more to be happy.” He paused for a moment to look at his friend. He could see the confusion painted on their faces.“Only a few of us can get a better job. Don't cheat yourself, gentlemen. I don't want to rot here until retirement, but I have no reason to comp
“And what's the use of this?” Jack asked, appalled.“You will get the money intended for painters!” She replied.“Okay, there were supposed to be three of them, and there are eight of us and three of our female friends.” Jack continued, irritated with the tone of her voice and the smile on the boss's face. Who cares about that money? What she is talking about?’“I'm not gonna fire you!” The chief editor announced with a stern expression on her face this time. “Enough?”They didn't know how to react to it. Their assumptions that the witch was planning to kick out the entire team turned out to be correct. She was just looking for an excuse. Maybe they should take their feet by the waist and run where the pepper grows? They considered themselves as ‘racial intellectuals’, preferred to work with their brains’ grey cells than to exercise their muscles.In the end,