Plasto Inc.

Tom Wilfred awoke from a peaceful night's sleep.  It was 6 AM, and as he did every morning, like clockwork, he climbed out of bed, walked across the room and turned off the alarm clock.  He then went through his morning routine of taking a shower, fixing his hair, brushing his teeth, and putting on his work uniform.  Though he was a young man of only twenty-eight, the stress and responsibilities of being a production supervisor at Plasto Inc. made him appear older in his demeanor.

It was 6:45 AM when Tom passed the hourly-paid employees standing in line at the time clock in the front hallway of Plasto Inc.  One of the men, Robert, was standing in the back of the line with a dazed expression on his face.  He wasn't really staring at anything in particular, he just appeared to be "zoned out".  This was not out of the ordinary for Robert, but Tom took particular notice of it on this particular day.  "I hope he doesn't freak out again today."  Tom thought to himself.  Tom reflected on an incident that had occurred the week before, involving Robert.  Robert was working in his position at the conveying belt of production line 3, rolling pieces of molten plastic into small balls, about the size of marbles.  Quality control had inspected the size of the balls, and approximately nine out of ten had been within specifications; however about one out of the ten were too small; which was a simple fix, all he had to do was add more plastic to the ball, and re-roll it.  The Quality Control inspector, Jan, informed Robert of his error, and he just looked away from her and said absently, "Not good enough..."  He then began to repeat this over and over, quietly at first, but becoming louder with each repetition, "Not good enough...not good enough...Not Good Enough...NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"  Jan tried to calm him down, but was suddenly pelted with the hot plastic balls for her trouble.  Tom ran toward Robert and restrained him, as his lead operator, Russel, and the production manager, John ran over to assist.  Tom made a case to management that Robert should be terminated in the interest of the employees who worked around him, but to no avail.  "He's progressing," John had told him in that maddening, patient, yet condescending management tone, "we have to be patient with him and perform our due diligence."  "Yeah, go to the infirmary and tell Jan that."  Tom thought to himself.

As Tom entered the production area, Russel was already there, turning on the heats to the mixing equipment.  Russel was over twenty years Tom's senior, which was evident due to Russel's long, grey beard.  Russel was brash, and at times, a bit of an a*s-hole.  Although this was in stark contrast to Tom's reserved and often times placid demeanor, they shared a mutual respect due to each other's integrity and candor.  "'Morning Mr. Tom,"  Russel said, "ready to make some plastic?"  "As ready as I can be."  Tom replied.

Tom continued his morning routine by going into his office and reading his e-mails.  He quickly jotted down the tasks that had to be accomplished by the end of the day for Russel, who would assign them to the nine production employees who reported to them.  There were a total of four production lines at Plasto Inc., each with a mixer, conveying belt, and a tub of water at the end of the conveying belt.  Each line was operated by a mixer operator and a product handler.  The mixer operator stood on a platform above the mixer, which was a metal-encased set of rotors, and emptied barrels of small, hard, plastic "patties" into it.  The rotors ground up the plastic and melted it as it all mixed together.  The mixer operator would watch the torque gauge to know when the mixture was melted and ready to be ejected from the mixer.  He would then pull a lever which would open a hatch on the bottom of the mixer, where a blob of molten plastic would exit and land on the conveying belt.  The product handler would be stationed at the conveying belt, and he had a lever that he pulled to bring the molten plastic toward him.  he would then pull small pieces off of the plastic blob, wearing heat resistant gloves, of course, roll them into small balls, and put them into the water tub to cool them.  Once the water tubs were full, they would be replaced with a new one by the packager, who would remove the balls from the old tub of water and put them into small, square boxes for shipment.

It was now 7 AM, and time with the morning meeting with the production employees.  Russel gathered the crew in the production area, and informed them of the tasks that had to be accomplished that day.  Tom stood silently behind Russel and observed the group as they listened.  Tom took notice of Larry, who seemed distracted and anxious on this particular day.  Larry was a shorter man at about 5 feet, 6 inches tall, and always wore a ball cap with a Florida Gators logo on the front.  He was always a bit anxious, but on this day, he kept looking away, then back at Russel, then, he would scratch at his leg, and repeat the process.  After the meeting, Tom pulled Russel aside and asked, "Did you notice Larry during your meeting?"  "What about him?"  Russel asked.  "He seems very distracted and nervous this morning."  Tom said.  "Ah, that's just Larry."  Russel replied.  "Yeah," Tom replied, "but, it seems worse today."  "He seems fine to me..."  Russel said.  "Just keep a good eye on him today...and Robert too, of course."  Tom said.  "Will do, Mr. Tom!"  Russel said.  Russel assigned them both to line 3, so he could watch them at the same time.

Robert was assigned to be the product handler on line 3, and Larry was to be the mixer operator.  Larry turned on the mixer, and began dumping the hard plastic into it.  Within a couple of minutes, a blob of molten plastic was ejected from the mixer, which was conveyed by Robert.  Robert began making the plastic balls from the blob of molten plastic.  This time, the Quality Control manager, Karen, was there to inspect the product, as was Tom.  Robert was once again making about one ball out of ten too small.  "That's good, dear."  Karen said reassuringly.  "Wait,"  Tom said, "no, it's not."  "Shush..."  Karen said quietly.  "Your department would not approve these any other day.  Why today?"  Tom asked.  "These are fine," Karen replied, "they are within specification."  "No, they're not," Tom said, "they looked just like they did last week when Jan rejected them.  You're just afraid because of what happened to her."  "No," Karen argued, "I'm telling you they are fine!"  "Look, Karen," Tom replied, "the customer is not going to care that this guy is nuts.  All they will care about is that we are shipping them product that is not good enough for them to use."  "That's not your concern."  Karen replied.  "The hell it ain't!"  Tom replied, now loosing his tact, "Losing customers will be the concern of all of us.  I'll handle this, since you're too afraid!"  "Tom, no!"  Karen implored as Tom walked toward Robert.  Tom addressed Robert, and Robert responded with only a blank look at Tom.  "Robert.  Look man, you've got to make them all this size."  Tom said as he held up one of the good balls as an example.  "Not good enough?"  Robert blankly asked Tom.  "No, Rob, I'm sorry.  They're not good enough."  Tom replied.  Robert looked down at the floor, and without looking up he said, "I'm sorry...sorry like granny smith..."  "What?"  Tom asked.  Russel had taken notice of the commotion and started walking toward them.  Robert repeated himself, but this time, he began to stutter, "S-s-sorry like granny s-smith a-a-apples.  Y-you bring b-back red de-delicious, or I'll hurt your b-b-boy parts ag-g-gain."  "What the hell are you tal-"  Before Tom could finish his sentence, Robert jumped forward and tackled Tom to the ground and was strangling him.  Tom tried to break free of Robert's grasp, but Robert was surprisingly strong.  Russel and Larry rushed to his aid and were able to pull Robert off of him.  Karen helped Tom up and over to the conveying belt, where Tom supported himself against it, and tried to regain his breath.  Security had been alerted, and they rushed to the production area and forced Robert toward the back hallway.

"What happened?"  John asked as he approached the area.  Tom could not answer yet, so Karen pulled him aside and the two conversed quietly.  Naturally, all of the production employees had gathered around the area.  "Back to work, guys!"  Russel ordered them.  The men reluctantly returned to their work stations.

"Come on," John said to Tom, "let's get you to the infirmary."  "I don't need the damn infirmary."  Tom managed to say.  "I understand how you feel, Tom," John said in his managerial tone, "but we have to get you checked out, ok?"  "We just need to get back to work, and forget about it."  Tom replied, "Where is Robert?"  "Why are you concerned about that?"  John asked.  "Well, he's my employee!"  Tom replied, his voice nearly restored.  "Commendable..." John said.  This struck Tom a bit condescendingly.  John could see from Tom's expression that this was so, so he quickly said, "All right, if you're sure you're ok, we can forget the infirmary."

The remainder of the day went by without incident, and at 3 PM, the work day was over.  "See you tomorrow, Mr. Tom!"  Russel said as Tom walked toward the front hallway.  "Have a good one."  Tom replied.

The next morning came, and the routine started over- alarm clock, shower, hair, teeth, uniform, passing the time clock...no Robert today.  "Maybe they finally canned him."  Tom thought to himself.  The routine continued- "'Morning Mr. Tom," e-mails, and finally, the meeting.  "All this repetition is going to drive me crazy."  Tom thought to himself.  "Crazy..."  That word seemed to repeat in his mind over and over as he sat alone in his office.  "Crazy...crazy..."  It was as if that word had some significance that Tom couldn't quite identify.  "Maybe the incident with Robert shook me up a bit more than I had thought."  Tom thought to himself.

Tom decided to get up and walk the production floor.  He walked by all of the lines and inspected the product.  Everything was running smoothly.  All of the product being made was uniform and within specification.  "I'll have to compliment Russel on this."  Tom thought to himself.

Tom picked up a hand full of the plastic balls from the water tub on line 4 and looked them over.  "What was Karen thinking?"  Tom asked himself, "We can't just pass bad product...the customer will return it."  Tom pondered for a moment, and began to wonder what this product was even used for.  Suddenly, it was as if nothing they were doing made any logical sense.  John walked up to Tom and asked, "How is everything?"  "It appears to be running smooth."  Tom replied.  "Then, what's on your mind?"  John asked with what seemed like forced concern.  "What do our customers do with this product?"  Tom asked.  "Ah, good question..." John replied, "They usually re-process them into things like plastic packaging, toilet seats, and plastic fences.  It has several applications, really."  "I see..." Tom said, thoughtfully, "Why don't our customers just buy the plastic patties that we use, and melt them down instead.  This would cut out the middle man wouldn't it?"  John seemed almost distressed by the question, and after a few seconds' pause, he replied, "That's just not how this market works."  John walked away and left the production area.  Tom just stood in place and uttered, "...the hell?"

Tom was disturbed by John's apparent aversion to his question, but continued his walk-through.  Moments later, Russel approached him, and said, "Don't look now, but we've got a big-wig on the floor," and nodded toward the door leading to the upstairs offices.  There stood John and the plant manager, Gerald, who were quietly talking and staring at Tom.  "Damn son," Russel said, "what did you do?"  Tom was concerned but tried not to show it.  "Ah," he said, "it's probably just about some stupid report I didn't fill out correctly."  "And that got the attention of Gerald?"  Russel asked, almost accusingly.  Tom didn't reply, but went back into his office.

It was 11 AM when the production assistant, Rose, entered Tom's office.  "How are you, Tom?"  Rose asked, cheerfully, as was her nature.  Tom smiled a genuine smile (the first one he could remember in weeks), and said, "Rose, you could light up a wet match."  "Well, thank you!"  Rose said, genuinely flattered.  "What can I do for you?"  Tom asked.  "Your wife is here to join you for lunch."  Rose replied.  "Jennifer?  Really?"  Tom asked, surprised.  "Well, that's the only wife have ain't it?"  Rose replied, jokingly.

Tom sprang up from his chair and went to the lunch room, where his wife, Jennifer awaited him with some Chinese takeout.  "Jennifer!"  Tom exclaimed as they embraced.  They both sat down and started eating.  "So," Jennifer said, "How are things going?"  After hesitating for a few seconds, Tom replied, "Something's not right, here, Jen."  Jennifer stopped eating, and nearly dropped her fork and said, "Wh...what did you call...I mean...what do you mean?"  Tom explained everything that had happened in the last two days and expressed his doubt about the product that they were making.  Jennifer sat in stunned silence and listened.  Afterward, it was almost time for his break to be over, and he said, "Well, I guess I better head back."  They both stood up, and Jennifer embraced Tom very tightly.  As she laid her head against Tom's chest, he could feel her begin to cry.  "Jen?"  He said, "It's going to be all right."  "Know know that, now."  Jennifer replied, "I love you."  "I love you, too, Jen."  Tom replied, but before he could say anything more, she rushed out of the lunch room.  "What the hell is going on?"  Tom asked himself aloud.

Later that day, Tom was caught up with his work, and found the time to go for a much needed walk.  He chose to explore the back hallway, an area where he had never been before.  He entered the hallway and found that it was a long hallway with large, steel, windowless doors on both sides.  Tom looked around, confused by what he saw.  Then a scream erupted from behind one of the doors, "HEEEEELP!"  Tom felt as if his blood had ran cold.  Suddenly, the Chinese take-out didn't sit too well in his stomach.  Tom stood, paralyzed with fear, for about a minute, until he heard the same voice began sobbing.  Tom slowly approached the door, and after a minute of hesitation, he reached for the door handle, but found the door to be locked.  Apparently, the occupant on the other side of the door head Tom's attempt to pull the door open, and said weakly, "Pa?"  "Wait..." Tom said to himself, "I know that voice..."  "Let me out." The voice said between sobs, "I'll g-get the r-r-right apples i-if you'll j-j-just let me out...I SWEAR!"  "Oh God..." Tom uttered as be backed away from the door.

Tom bolted out of the hallway and back into the production area, and found Russel.  "Jesus, Tom!"  Russel said, "What's the matter?"  "Where's John?"  Tom asked.  "He's in Gerald's office."  Russel replied.  "I'll go up there, then..." Tom said.  "Wait," Russel said, "you can't just-"  "Watch me!"  Tom interrupted.

Tom ascended the staircase to the second floor of the building and barged into Gerald's office.  John and Gerald looked at Tom, startled.  "What are you doing to Robert?"  Tom demanded.  John arose from his seat and extended his hand toward Tom's shoulder and said, "Take it easy now, Tom."  "Save it!"  Tom said angrily, as he jerked his shoulder away, "You can also save your sissy, condescending little attitude, while you're at it.  What you can do is grow a pair and tell me what you're doing to Robert!"  Gerald looked at Tom in astonishment, and said, "Mr. Wilfred...I believe that you're showing compassion...and toward your attacker at that!"  "Of course I'm showing compassion!"  Tom replied, "He may have attacked me, but he's not right in the head!  He needs to be taken to a mental institution, not whatever you're doing to him!"  Gerald and John looked at each other in silent amazement.  "Tom,"  Gerald said, "Have I ever lied to you?"  "You've never even spoke to me, that I can recall."  Tom replied.  "Then, we're on a clean slate.  You can trust me when I tell you that Robert is being taken care of in the best manner possible.  He's not being harmed anymore than he was when he attacked you, yesterday."  That statement was somewhat believable to Tom, because he recalled that his attack was unprovoked.  "Now," Gerald said, "why don't you come back into my office tomorrow at 9 AM, and we will discuss Robert's...treatment.  I'll promise you full disclosure."  "You'll let me see him?"  Tom asked.  "Certainly!"  Gerald replied promptly.  "9 AM it is..."  Tom said as he walked out of the office.

Tom didn't sleep well that night.  He sat up, thinking about poor little screwed-up Robert, probably going through God-knows-what in that room, begging for just one more chance to get his apples right for his pa.

He finally dozed off at about 4 AM.  Nevertheless, at 6 AM, the routine started again- alarm clock, shower, hair, teeth, uniform, hallway, time clock, "'Morning Mr. Tom," e-mails, and meeting.

Tom sat in his office for an hour, deciding whether or not he should believe Gerald.  He finally decided that he didn't, and that not letting someone know about this kind of atrocity in a place of employment was nothing less than absurd.  So, Tom sneaked into John's office while he was out and used the phone to call the police.

"Well, I guess that's it for this job..."  Tom said to himself.  He walked across the production floor without speaking to anyone, and walked down the front hallway to his bedroom.  "At least I can go home now."  He said to himself as he started gathering his belongings.  "It never really made much sense to me why they make all of their employees live here anyway."

"Tom?"  John said as he entered Tom's room.  Tom only looked at him in response.  "Come with me."  John directed.  "I guess I might as well.  I've got nothing to lose, now."  Tom replied.  John led Tom up to Gerald's office, and once inside, was bid to sit in the chair across from Gerald's desk.  "This is a good day for you, Mr. Wilfred!"  Gerald said.  "You can cut the sarcasm," Tom replied, "I know what I've done."  "I assure you, I am not being sarcastic.  We've decided to release you as of today."  "Well, I was counting on that..." Tom replied.  "No, no, you misunderstand."  Gerald replied, "We have deemed you rehabilitated.  We have contacted your wife, and she is on her way to pick you up and take you home."  "Rehabilitated..."  Tom said blankly.  "Your memory will continue to return over time, and we have every reason to believe that you can be integrated back into society, and begin to resume your normal life.  Congratulations, Mr. Wilfred, and well done!"  Gerald said and handed Tom his release papers, which at the bottom, were signed "Dr. Gerald Knight AAAP."

Reviews

[Shawna]

Very cool story! :) It definitely starts off feeling like an average job. By the time Karen was saying its ok that the product wasn't right, I was agreeing with Tom that something with the company wasn't right. You delivered little pieces along the way very well. And there are definitely days where all of our jobs feel like we're part of some social experiment or institution and we just don't know it, lol!