Easy and Hard Ways Out by Robert Grossbach

Author:Robert Grossbach
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media

A PERSONAL APPEAL

a. Something Big in Plant Five

“Attention, all personnel,” came the voice over the P.A. system. “In exactly fifteen minutes, Dr. Auerbach will address the entire staff on a matter of great importance in the main auditorium in Plant Five. All personnel are requested to proceed to the auditorium in an orderly fashion. Thank you.”

“Does all personnel include us?” asked Plotsky in Drafting.

“Where the hell is Plant Five?” asked Brank. “I thought this was the only building.”

“It’s a long story,” explained Wizer. “Ah think it was Van Lamm’s idea originally. It was supposed to make other companies think this was a big place. They called the first floor ‘Plant Five’ and the second floor ‘Plant Six.’ Then they could tell people, ‘Send it to Plant Number Six of Auerbach Laboratories.’ Of course, there aren’t any plants one through four.”

“You’ll see,” said Security Chief Brine to his secretary. “Half of them won’t even lock their ‘Secret’ safes when they leave the labs. You’ll see.”

“I won’t see,” said the girl. “I’ll be in the auditorium.”

“I wonder what’s up,” said Odz, in the machine shop, to the fellow on the next lathe, Kliphaus, a mustachioed, older man who seemed to know things.

“Must be something big,” said Kliphaus, who didn’t know.

“Kliphaus says it’s something big,” repeated Odz to the man at the bandsaw, Melman, who was impressed.

They filed slowly into the auditorium, a room calculated to have insufficient seating capacity so that it would always appear packed to visitors. The people from each department clustered together clannishly; they even looked different, as if they were cell groups, differentiated in some mysterious way by the corporate body to perform the functions of corporate organs. Gradually they filled the room; bland accountants with rimless spectacles and chapped lips; salesmen with loud ties and big bellies; wise-aleck draftsmen dangling cigarettes from their mouths; preoccupied engineers who tripped over objects in their paths; smirking technicians; tense, harried men from Production Control; hawk-eyed men from the stock room; miniskirted secretaries from Records who flirted with foremen from Mechanical Inspection; set-jawed lawyers from Legal; gray-aproned machinists with grease on their fingers; men on the verge of cancer from Sprays and Paint; men on the take from Purchasing; men with velvet voices from Customer Service; clerks who were expert at making coffee; men with yellowed fingers from Etching; stocky men with hernias from Shipping and Receiving; men who Expedited; men who Coordinated; men who performed Liaison; men with no clear function, who needed additional secretaries; sallow, blank-faced men and stupefied women who sat in endless rows under icy fluorescents and spent year after year twisting wires, stamping serial numbers, snapping together bits of plastic.

“We’ll sit in back,” said LoParino to Brank.

They walked to the last row. Sussman-Smollen seated himself one row ahead of them; Plotsky sat by Brank’s side.

“I had another dream,” said Sussman-Smollen over his shoulder.

In front, near the small platform, Rocco checked the microphone cable as Rupp, Lingenfelter, Fish, and Marchese took seats in the first row. Redberry,

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