band around them and slide them into a plastic
bag. We have enough plastic bags to supply
every takeout restaurant in America! Her voice kept rising, as if working its way out of the
range of the human ear. All this must be delivered by seven o'clock Sunday morning. Well, you had better get those guys
banding and sliding as fast as they can, and I'll
talk to you later. Got a lunch date. When I returned, there was another urgent
call from my wife.
Did you have a nice lunch? she asked
sweetly. I had had a marvelous steak, but knew
better by now than to say so. Awful, I reported. Some sort of sour
fish. Eel, I think.
Good. Your college sons have hired their
younger brothers and sisters and a couple of neighborhood children to help for five dollars each. Assembly lines have been set up. In the
language of diplomacy, there is 'movement.'
That's encouraging.
No, it's not, she corrected. It's very
discouraging. They're been as it for hours.
Plastic bags have been filled and piled to the
ceiling, but all this hasn't made a dent, not a
dent, in the situation! It's almost as if the inserts
keep reproducing themselves!
Another thing, she continued. Your
college sons must learn that one does not get the
best out of employees by threatening them with bodily harm.
Obtaining an audience with son NO. 1, I snarled, I'll kill you if threaten one of those
kids again! Idiot! You should be offering a bonus
of a dollar every hour to the worker who fills the most bags.
But that would cut into our profit, he suggested.
There won't be any profit unless those
kids enable you to make all the