That afternoon, the air in the plant felt heavier. Conversations were hushed, as if everyone was aware of the impending meeting.
I found myself pacing before the meeting, trying to quell the anxiety that had settled in my stomach.
Bob’s presence had cast a long shadow, one that seemed to stretch into every corner of the plant.
My team looked to me for reassurance, but even I couldn’t predict the outcome of what was about to unfold.
“Do you think he’ll cut our supplies?” one of the line workers asked, concern etched on her face.
I shrugged, unwilling to confirm their fears.
“We’ll see,” I replied, trying to mask my own uncertainty.
The meeting room was small and cramped, a stark contrast to the vastness of the plant floor.
Bob was already there when I walked in, his assistant by his side, both of them reviewing notes with focused intensity.
I took a seat across from them, feeling the weight of their scrutiny.
“Let’s get started,” Bob said, breaking the silence.
As the discussion began, a sense of unease settled over me. The stakes were high, and the pressure palpable.
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