“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 heavyweight fighter who had trodden him in the ring. Being aware of his poor form, he tried to hide behind the huge figure of Adam, dreaming of a moment of sleep in one of the editorial nooks and crannies.
‘Picture like a bad party just before dawn!’ She thought, amused by the pathetic sight of ‘entertaining guys’.
“Mr. Wood, I am glad that you have honored us with your presence.” In a sweet and pleasant tone, she turned to the pitiful-looking journalist. “Please take this. Here are the tickets and all the information you need.” She pointed to the sheaf of papers she held up for everyone to see.
“At 4:50 pm, you have a flight to Geneva, where tomorrow morning there will be a small, unofficial motor show. The red sheet shows the names of the people you should interview and the topics of the materials that you should prepare.” She said with a poker face.
"Ah…" Carl stuttered, completely stunned. "I dooon’t... speak... goood French." He finally moaned, looking at the names, almost all of them indicating French ancestry. "Sooomeone elllse should go." He continued. “I didn't know anything about any trip, I'm not prepared.”
“Really?” She asked ironically. "If you had arrived on time for work, you would have had more time."
"I dooon't really knooow French." He tried to protest.
“I read your curriculum vitae. Impressive!” She thought, as if trying to remember some details. “It's a pity to waste your time! Your precious time!” She smirked.
Second by second, the atmosphere grew hotter. All the journalists woke up immediately. They surreptitiously exchanged knowing glances. They didn't understand what was happening. They knew one thing - they were dealing with a really mean witch. They had no doubt that they had actually named her properly yesterday.
They watched Carl carefully, with a lit cigarette in his mouth as he hurriedly packed his laptop and notes.
An unusual phenomenon, to be able to observe an almost forty-year-old, slightly balding, experienced journalist, to whom, apparently for the first time, someone gave an official order, with which he did not agree, but had to obey it unconditionally.
They saw that panic, this terrible anger on his face as his hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to calm himself down. They felt that a storm, or rather a tornado, was hanging just above their heads.
Who next counts a trip to the Kamchatka Peninsula, for example, because that's where some madman constructed something that resembles a car, or to another corner of the world?
Only Adam kept his composure and watched Carl thrashing with wild satisfaction. He felt proud that it was the woman who wiped the nose of his eternally dissatisfied colleague, who constantly held a grudge not only against him, but against the whole world that no one appreciated his talent, professionalism or dedication.
For three years, Adam worked with him in the reportage department. He shared a fairly large room next to Alex and Jack's newsroom. Many times, he was so fed up with him that in order to keep his dignity and honor and not to give him a blow, he moved to work with colleagues next door.
“Mr. Evans, could I have your attention, please?” Alice said, seeing the real terror in the eyes of her subordinates, of which she was, of course, very proud. “In five minutes…”
The atmosphere grew hotter and the boys waited breathlessly for what she would say. Where will she send him? Where will their friend go? Or maybe it will fly out? Or be dismissed?
"In five minutes ..." At that moment she glanced at her watch, increasing the tension of the crowd. “Please go downstairs. The car you were trying to write about will be waiting in front of the main entrance. I believe that you don’t have enough knowledge about this car.”
As she said this, she saw even greater terror in the eyes of the journalists sitting in front of her.
“You have two hours to get excited about the ride, the chauffeur will be sitting next to you!”
“What is that? Any private matters?” Michael couldn't be silent. At the same time, he felt a sharp pain in both ankles. It was Adam who was painfully disciplining on the one hand and Alex on the other.
“Is that attempted bribery?” He still managed to choke out before getting hit another time.
“Mr. Johnson, any comments, suggestions? Would you like to share anything with us?” Alice said.
Only silence answered her. They expected absolutely everything, but not that the mean witch would let their friend sit behind the wheel of, as they assumed, her own car.
Thomas didn’t believe his ears. What he heard sounded like a fairy tale! Fulfilling innermost dreams. Yes, he had seen the car in the showroom, had a close look at the luxurious interior, even looked under the hood. There were so many people willing to go for a ride that he gave up waiting in a long line.
“Mr. Evans.” The velvety voice of the chief editor broke him out of his thoughts, but he didn’t understand the meaning of the words she was saying. “Go ahead! Have fun!” Alice tried to save the situation. Unsuccessfully. Thomas was completely unresponsive.
In the end, Adam couldn't stand the pathetic sight of his distracted colleague on which everyone else's eyes were fixed. He hit his buddy under the ribs with his elbow, recalling him to reality.
“Down! The chauffeur is waiting!” He hissed in his ear.
Thomas just realized that everything he had heard was real.
“I'm going!” He got up and, ignoring his friends or the chief editor, ran out of the editorial office.
After a while, the only sound heard was the screeching of the tires of the departing Jaguar.
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?&
The next day, just before nine o’clock, the chief editor came to the office. She was surprised to see the editorial team sitting at the collegiate table on a Friday morning.Alex and Adam came right behind her.“Good morning, gentlemen!” She greeted them.“Not good morning, but bad morning…” Michael began to complain about sleeplessness. In addition, regardless of the presence of the editor, he stretched as if he was still in bed in his bedroom, not at work.“Shut up, Michael!” Thomas sitting next to him, also sleepy, tried to bring him to order. "Dude, you barely got up, you're already complaining. You were supposed to change! Shave! Brush up!”"Shh..." Michael put a finger to his lips. “I have a headache! Don't yell behind my ears!”“Gentlemen, I have a surprise!” The chief editor announced. "There's a package on my desk in my office. Can one of you bring it in,
At twenty to ten, in complete silence, they began to leave the editorial office. They were waiting at the main exit of the building. It soon turned out that not only the chief editor and all the females were going to the event, but also Nicolas Williams, who had just parked his car in front of the building.The bosses cunningly waited for the male half of the team to leave, then followed right behind them so that one wouldn’t have the opportunity to get missing and disappear somewhere around the corner unnoticed.Journalists really wanted to get lost, but assumed that the consequences could be severe.When they entered the sports hall belonging to the Academy of Physical Education, they lost the rest of their good humor for the day.“Damn it! What are we doing here? There are journalists of all local mass media, and maybe even national ones.” Simon commented. “And there are even those damn spectators!”The huge sports