Mike had managed to surf the web, download a heap of music on the company internet connection, make a few calls to mates about possible jobs and have an extended lunch break by mid afternoon when he spotted Tracey making her way towards the workshop. ‘Probably delivering the redundancy papers,’ Mike thought as she entered the workshop and headed straight for his office.
“The redundancy starts in four weeks not today, therefore you should be fixing that truck instead of sitting on your arse on company time?” Tracey grumbled as she flicked her hand towards the red Kenworth parked over the open mechanics pit.
Mike remained silent as Tracey threw the paperwork down on his desk nearly spilling his coffee. “If you can spell your name sign those and return them to the office by tomorrow and maybe you’ll get to see out your four weeks you lazy shit!”
As she turned and walked away Mike called out. “If you keep that over paid fat arse out of my workshop then maybe I’ll do some work, lord knows someone around here has to. Since you and your cronies took over Bullshit Castle the only work you’ve done is work out new ways to piss off the staff and cut corners.”
“How dare you speak…”
“How dare I speak the bloody truth?” Mike interrupted.
The shock at being spoken to in such a way could not be hidden. Because working at Oven’s Transport was her first management role, a role she’d brought with her inheritance rather than earned, she didn’t really have any experience in dealing with staff but she was sure employees shouldn’t speak to management in such harsh tones. That combined with the fact that she had never been quick with comebacks meant that she had no idea how to react to Mike’s outburst. But Mike did.
He rose from his chair, exited his office and made a beeline towards his workshop bench. He then reached for the shelf above the bench grabbed the old jam jar of diesel he’d been using to soak grime off some nuts and bolts and turned towards Tracey, who was still standing like a fox caught in a search light in the middle of the workshop.
Faking a trip as he approached her was all part of Mike’s act and he did his best to stay upright while holding onto the jar ensuring its direction was correct. The well aimed contents splashed over Tracey’s cream jacket and her white blouse leaving a wonderful dark brown stain. The liquid then dropped down onto her tight black leather skirt before dripping onto her white nylon stockings and white designer high heels.
As the dirty liquid that didn’t soak into Tracey’s clothes dripped onto the floor at her feet Mike stumbled to an upright position, held back a smile and said, “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”
“You did that on purpose you moron. You’ve just ruined a $1500 outfit.” growled Tracey as she tried in vain to wipe away the mess staining her clothes.
“It was an accident.” Mike replied as innocently as he could manage.
“You’ll pay for this mess you dickhead.” Tracey screamed as she stormed towards her office.
“Working for the Megalomania Mole I’ve already paid for it!” But she was well out of ear shot and Mike was laughing heartedly.