Page 2 of Factory Reset

David continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “This corporate efficiency guy needs someone who can explain why we do things a certain way, and who has the smarts to analyze if the recommendations can work in real life. And they’ll need someone who has the respect of the team and can convince them to make any recommended changes.”

“No.” I made my voice firmer this time.

“Come on George, you’re the best guy for the job. You’re number five on the seniority list and you’ve done damn near every job on the floor over the years. We can’t put Leo in their sights or they’ll force him to retire. Baker is on paternity leave taking care of his wife and baby. Hernandez doesn’t speak enough English to help them. And Johnson and Gabreza are assholes.”

“I think you mean buttholes.”

David rolled his eyes. “Josie doesn’t like that one either.”

“My sister swore like a darn sailor growing up, then you knock her up and she’s prim and proper all of the sudden.”

His eyes darkened in a way I didn’t like, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Oh, believe me, she’s anything but proper.”

I held up my hand. “I like you man, but if you continue that thought I’m gonna have to punch you in the mouth.”

He smirked. “The efficiency expert is coming tomorrow. They think he’ll be here for about a month. We’ll call for you when we’re ready for you to show him around and get started on the project.”

“Oh, shitake.”

Cassandra

I stepped out of my rental car and looked around at the crowded parking lot. It was cars and square concrete buildings as far as the eye could see. Not exactly welcoming, but then again, most large factories weren’t. Grabbing my bag from the back seat, I headed across the lot to the building with windows. That would be the administrative offices. Only office workers got windows in this world.

Even after working as an efficiency expert for more than ten years, I still got a little nervous before each job. Thomas Industries was a huge multi-national conglomerate, but I was one of the few females who worked in any department outside of Human Resources.

Every job felt like a combination of me having to prove myself because I was a woman, and me fighting with people to show them that I knew what I was talking about when I suggested improvements that would increase efficiency. I was unique in that I had trained as an engineer before getting into quality improvement and project management. I was good at my job, and I knew my stuff, but people took one look at me and assumed I didn’t.

Honestly, it was exhausting. I’d started to put some feelers out for new jobs. I wouldn’t mind settling in this general area. I’d been born and raised in Colorado, but I didn’t have any particular attachment to that part of the country. Maybe I’d apply for some jobs in Houston while I was here. It was about an hour away from this tiny little company town and would be a nice change of pace from Colorado. Not that I was there very often anyway.

I sighed. If I couldn’t help these people show more productivity, Thomas Industries was going to close up shop and ship everyone’s jobs to Mexico, leaving behind devastation in a town where the factory was the major employer. I only hoped I could help. I hated to see people lose their jobs.

After making my way to the admin building, I did a meet and greet with a few of the managers. As I would have expected, all the managers were white guys wearing suits, most of them over fifty. They’d already seen my plan for evaluating their operations, so meeting them to review it was really just pro forma.

“We’ve assigned you a liaison on the floor,” a man named David Weston told me. He was a conservative looking white guy with neatly trimmed blonde hair and a slim build beneath his navy blue suit. At least he was closer to my age than the rest of them. And bonus, he hadn’t once looked at my boobs. I liked him already.

“His name is George Jeffers,” Weston continued. “He’s a machinist here, which means—.”

I held up my hand as I interrupted him.

“I know what a machinist is, Mr. Weston. I’ve been doing this work for a long time.”

He had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“I apologize. Anyway, Jeffers has been here for over twenty years, and he’s done just about every job here over the years. He’s very knowledgeable about all of our production processes and how the machines work.”

I’d worked with a lot of “lifers” in factories around the country. In my mind’s eye I pictured Jeffers as a beefy older guy with a beer belly, a bushy beard, and a bunch of tattoos. He probably smelled of tobacco too. A knock on the door of the conference room interrupted my thoughts.

“There he is now,” Weston said.

The door opened and a huge bear of a man strode in. Everything about him was big. He was built like a linebacker, with thick legs and muscled arms that strained the faded grey tee shirt he wore. There was no beer belly or bushy beard on this guy. He didn’t look like had an ounce of fat on him.

I looked up – way up – to see a square jaw with a hint of scruff, a long nose that was the tiniest bit crooked, closely cropped dark hair, and the most beautiful brown eyes I’d ever seen on a man. This guy was hot. He reminded me of one of those calendars where sexy blue collar men posed with kittens and puppies, oil glistening on their washboard abs while they smiled at the camera. I wondered what Jeffers looked like without a shirt.

Subtly I inhaled, smelling a combination of soap, motor oil, and man. I swear I felt a twinge in my pussy. I wondered if he was single.

The machinist’s expression was neutral, but those brown eyes widened slightly. In surprise maybe. Or maybe because, like me, he’d felt like he was hit by a truck the minute our gazes met. I had the weirdest feeling like I knew him even though I was quite sure we’d never met. There’s no way I would have forgotten meeting George Jeffers.

Mentally rolling my eyes at my ridiculousness, I stood up and extended my hand like the professional I was supposed to be.