It was around 8:30 AM, the break room adjacent to the main assembly line was usually a place for quick coffee breaks and whispered complaints. But today was different. Bob, the store manager from our distribution center, was there, standing by the coffee machine.
His presence was unsettling. He rarely showed up without warning, and never for long. Today, his being here felt like a quiet reminder of the control he held over us—over me.
I nodded at him.
“Morning,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Morning,” he replied, his tone clipped.
I could feel the tension in the room, a tension that had been building over weeks. Bob’s visits had gone from monthly to nearly weekly, each time growing more formal, less friendly.
Just yesterday, he brought his assistant to take photos of our inventory storage. His influence wasn’t just remote; it was right here, in our faces.
Supervising the line felt like walking a tightrope every day. Production deadlines loomed large, while team morale waned under the unspoken pressure to cut corners.
And now, with the afternoon meeting on the horizon, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was at stake.
There was talk among the team that this was more than a supply discussion. I dreaded what was to come, knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
Bob sipped his coffee, glancing at his phone.
I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the confrontation that was surely coming.
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