‘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.
Alice was not malicious or vindictive. However, such behavior of subordinates required a radical reaction. She knew perfectly well that if she let them get on her head at once, she could forget about work. That is why she decided to choose to get under their skin effectively as soon as possible.
Nicolas was also a witness to the conversation with Michael, but even as a chief editor he couldn’t do much.
She saw the sadness in his eyes and confusion on his face.
“Dear Nicolas, I'll be fine.” She smiled.
"Yes, sweetheart ..." He tried to hide his emotions. He didn't want to let her know that she was his last ‘lifeboat’. “You wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in your abilities!”
“I will teach them good manners!” She consoled a worried Nicolas. “You know I like strong emotions, adrenaline and thrills. This rebellious company behind the walls is an interesting challenge and a valuable research material.”
There wasn't much she could do in an hour or two. She needed time to bend their necks, remind them of humility and well-deserved respect for their superiors...
Many years ago, Nicolas was her lecturer, a Master admired and adored by students. They loved him for treating them as partners, for understanding in assessing their first literary and journalistic attempts.
Despite the passage of time, the Master remained the same great man. Also here, in the editorial office, he wanted to live in harmony and friendship with his subordinates; to create a second home for them, where everyone would feel safe and appreciated for their difficult work, full of sacrifices and austerities. However, he didn’t suppose that his good heart would turn against him, and as a result total anarchy would reign in the editorial office.
It was approaching five pm, the official end of work hours. Alice left Nicolas’ office, but once again no one even noticed her presence. She once again found the journalists sitting at the collegiate table and playing cards.
‘Do you want to have fun? Okay! Your will! We'll see who gets better at it!’ She thought. She wanted to laugh at her perfidious plan, which she intended to put into practice as soon as possible, but she had to be serious.
“Gentlemen! Attention, please!” She waited a moment until they fell silent. “Editorial board meeting tomorrow at nine! Mandatory presence!” She informed the journalists.
“Editorial board meeting?” They asked one by one.
“What's it for?” The boys looked at each other while making silly faces.
“What's her point? Will she introduce to us new habits?”
Alice pretended that she neither saw the journalists' reactions, nor heard their comments.
“See you tomorrow!” Maintaining the mysterious air, she bid them goodbye.
This time she wasn't joking. They saw it on her face.
As soon as she left, the boys, as befits the racial gamblers they considered themselves, started betting on what their new boss would leave in. They were standing in the windows as one big group, waiting for her to leave the office building.
They joked that a witch flies on an electric broomstick, a jet mop, and eventually rides an old, disintegrating duckweed. After stormy debates, they came to the controversial conclusion that the editorial witch drives a dozen years old, decaying junk, devoid of soul and character.
“Come on! You are wrong!” Alex, who had been sitting quietly and watching the situation unfold until now, had a different opinion. The only one who had the courage to present them out loud. “This woman has a class! Have you seen her clothes? Perfection in every detail. Do you know how much her red bag costs itself? No?” He asked.
“A bag is only a bag...” Carl snapped back at him.
“Alex, can I know since when did you start to take an interest in girl's gadgets?” Michael was amused.
"More than your monthly salary!" said Alex.
"Sure, an expert on ladies' accessories has been found!" Thomas burst out laughing.”Alex, maybe you should change the magazine's profile, if you know about it so well?”
"Someone with style can't drive just any junk!" Alex tried to argue with the rest.
His efforts were of no avail. Nobody listened to him. Everyone had an opinion on this issue. They were still waiting by the windows.
They watched the new chief editor who was standing outside the building talking on a cell phone. They followed her every move with bated breath.
At one point, a black Jaguar XJ limousine drove into the parking lot, exactly the same model that Thomas wrote about.
“What a car! Bauble! A real miracle of technology!” Thomas screamed with delight like a child. "It probably belongs to the head of the computer company from the third floor!" He speculated enthusiastically.
“Wow! Nice car!” Adam joined in, usually delighting with everything that floats, or drives, but in the snow. “Perfect line, perfect design!”
“Who? What?” Alex picked up on the topic. “The new chief editor or Jaguar?”
“Both!” Adam murmured to him. “The Jaguar is a beautiful machine, and the chief editor also has a nice ass!”
“What would I give to drive it! Just sit behind the wheel for a moment and listen to the wonderful sound of the engine being fired, feel its power…” Thomas dreamed aloud.
A chauffeur dressed in an elegant navy blue suit emerged from the Jaguar shining in the rays of the sunset.
"A drastic collision of eras!" Simon commented. "On the one hand, the latest technological marvel, a car perfect in every way; on the other hand, a chauffeur that looks like an individual from the beginning of the twentieth century." He concluded.
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,
“Damn! We're straight, man!” Jack drawled through clenched teeth.“Do we need to watch your shapely butt, man?” Simon asked, laughing. He was the complete opposite of his younger friend: about thirty centimeters shorter, stocky build, but he didn't care at all.A long time ago, he had accepted the fact that he has no chance of becoming a model. However, that didn’t diminish his sense of great humor. Even in the most dramatic moments of the editorial office's life, he was able to summon a bit of optimism, reach for a piece of paper, a pencil and draw a caricature of one of his colleagues.“Get out, Simon! I'm in no mood for jokes!” Alex said, offended. He didn’t tolerate discussions about his appearance. He considered taking care of his body and soul as a completely natural thing and conversations about it were unnecessary.“Alex, please!” Adam was begging, terrified. “In a moment we will ha
“We'll count next time!” Alex threatened Jack. “I'm going to eat!” He added calmly. "I won't sit here with this hypocrite."“And you? Are you holy?” Jack began to laugh. “Look, here we have a picture of a flawless narcissist!”“I have a clear conscience, unlike you... Show off to your friends, corrupt traitor, what photos you gave to Leo Walker.” Alex said calmly."You don't have the right to give a shit about who I'm meeting and what I'm doing!" He almost shouted, upset.“With who? Leo Walker? Jack, what’s going on?” Thomas asked, concerned about what he heard. “Alex, could you explain what you are talking about?”“What pictures?&