2 comments/  9239 views/  1 favorites

Southbound Ch. 09-10

By: coaster2



 Primary editing by ErikThread and DaveT with my thanks. I've massaged the story since then, so any errors or omissions are mine.

*****

Chapter 9 Making Progress

"Andy," Fiona said as she wandered into my office. "Is this right?"

She passed me her record of deposit on her January commissions.

I shrugged. "I assume it is. We don't very often make mistakes. Why?"

"It's way more than I expected. It's double my usual," she said, mystified.

"I assume it would reflect the addition of your new accounts. Looks fine to me."

She flopped down in the chair across the desk from me. "But I've only just met them. I hardly know them."

"They went on your territory January first. The numbers went from there."

"This is going to change my life," she mumbled.

"No, I'm going to change your life," I smiled. "This is just going to make you financially secure." 

"My car is on its last legs," she said, looking up. "I can finally afford to replace it."

I nodded. "I've been told I should not bring my car down here. It's set up for metric and that might make it hard to sell. So ... looks like both of us will be car shopping."

"Good!" she said, "I don't know anything about cars. You can be my advisor."

"Happy to oblige. I already know what I'll be buying."

"Are you going to get a Cadillac, as befits your station?" she teased.

"Nope. My choice of cars is in keeping with our company. Quality and competitive cost. I'll probably get a Toyota Camry."

"Not buying American, huh?"

"Wrong! Made in Kentucky by American workers."

"Oh. So, what should I get?"

"What would you like?"

"I prefer a station wagon, but I need good mileage."

I nodded. "When we're at the Toyota dealer, have a look at the Venza. It's essentially a Camry station wagon and it's made in the same plant."

"Is it expensive?"

"Not to my thinking. Less than thirty thousand for a really nice car."

"How do you know all this?"

"This will be my fourth Toyota. The other three were all made in Canada. My wife drove a Corolla, while I started with a Matrix and now have a RAV4. I'm a very loyal Toyota guy. I always feel like I got value for my money."

"That's your religion, huh," she smiled.

I shrugged. "I guess it is."

Sleeping over at Fiona's on Friday and Saturday night become a regular event. Tina had talked with her mother and, while she wasn't very visible, we didn't want her to think she had to get out of the house when we were around. As a result, she slept in her own bed, knowing her mother and I were in the master bedroom. Once we got over the awkwardness, it became normal and didn't provoke much in the way of cheeky commentary from Tina. 

We went car shopping the first weekend in February and, as expected, I purchased a Camry in what the factory called Sandy Beach. It was Toyota-speak for gold metallic. I chose the V6 model since I wouldn't be putting huge miles on it and gas consumption would be less a factor. It was on the lot and I got a good deal on it for cash. I could borrow money better than they offered. 

Fiona fell in love with the Venza. They had a four cylinder model on the lot in Sunset Bronze and it was over before she got it off the lot for the test drive. It had plenty of power, plenty of room, looked rich as hell, and had all of the bells and whistles she would want. The list was just over twenty-eight thousand, but with some aggressive haggling (by Fiona of course) she got a ridiculously large amount for her Taurus and the deal was done. Between the trade in and a hefty down payment made possible by her January commission check, her monthly payments would be well within her budget. 

The cars wouldn't be prepped and available until Monday, but it didn't matter. Fiona was on a high and I was the recipient of an enthusiastic bedroom session that night. We kept the noise down so as not to alert Tina. I had no idea if she could hear anything. If things went the way I was beginning to think they might, she would have to get used to us being together every night.

It did throw a monkey wrench into my house hunting efforts. I wasn't quite ready to commit to Fiona and I thought we had better talk about it. Whatever we decided was going to affect a number of decisions.

I kept my hotel room because I felt it was presumptuous to suggest I move in with Fiona and Tina. I was stuck in neutral, but I didn't know for sure where Fiona was. I decided it was time I found out.

"Sweetheart, I'd like to talk to you about us," I said, hoping it didn't sound threatening. 

I failed. I saw a look of alarm and I quickly my hand over hers to try and calm her.

"Everything between us is wonderful. Don't ever think anything else. But I'm caught in no man's land right now. I'm not quite ready to commit to you and I'm not sure if you're ready to commit to me. I think we should talk it out and see where we are in our relationship."

For the first time I saw a look of uncertainty in her eyes. I needed to defuse this quickly.

"I'm pretty certain I'm falling in love with you," I began, waiting for her reaction. I thought I saw her relax slightly, but I wasn't sure.

"I think you feel good about being with me, but I don't know if it's love. I think we could be really good together and it has nothing to do with business. We have so much in common and we fit together so well. That's what I want to talk about."

She sat silently, looking at me strangely before she spoke.

"I think I've fallen in love with you, Andy. I know we haven't known each other very long, but I can feel it in my heart for the very first time. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you whenever I can. I want to make you proud of me ... to show you that your faith in me is justified. No one has ever had the effect on me that you have. I'm hoping ... I'm praying that you feel that way about me."

I gave her a loving smile. "I think we're going to make it happen, Fiona. I want us to carry on the way we have for a little while longer. At the end of April, if you're still sure, I will propose to you. I promise."

"Why then? Why not now?" she asked.

"My circumstances are different than yours. I have parents and children who will wonder why I would find someone new so quickly. I was married for a long time and to replace my ex-wife so soon might be hurtful to some. I'm not stalling, Fiona. There won't be anyone else in the future. All I can see is you and Tina."

I saw a single tear trickle down her cheek before she moved into my waiting arms and let me hold her. 

"I was afraid," she confessed.

"Of what? I wasn't going anywhere unless you sent me away."

"This has been too good to be true, Andy. It's been my own personal fairy tale, written just for me. I've waited so long for this and now ... it's just out of my grasp."

"No ... no it's not," I said. "It's there and I'll prove it to you. Give me the chance to prove it to you."

She was blinking away some tears as she looked into my eyes. I held her gaze steadily. I wanted her to believe me and believe in me.

"I love you, Andy," she said, still looking uncertain.

"And I love you, Fiona. You're what I've been missing in my life and I won't let you get away. I promise." 

"Will you move in with me?" she asked.

"Are you certain about that?" I wanted to be with her every day, but I also wanted her to be sure.

"Positive."

"Then I'll check out of the hotel and be here tomorrow." 

The provoked a sigh of relief from her. It was an uncomfortable conversation, but a very necessary one. 

I contacted Sylvia Castro and let her know my plans had been stalled and I wouldn't be in a position to make an offer on any house until the beginning of April. However, I did want to continue to look at prospective homes when they appeared. She knew my preferences and promised to call me when anything likely came on the market.

I drove by the house I had originally liked and noticed that the "for sale" sign was still on the front lawn. Maybe I'd get lucky and it would be available when I was ready to buy. That would happen when I knew what my future with Fiona was going to be. 

In the meantime, work on the Tracy plant continued on schedule. The floor was now finished in a very durable, chemically-resistant epoxy finish. The old presses were long gone to a re-seller, along with the laminator. The first of the new presses had arrived as had the solventless laminator. The installation crews were scheduled to arrive in the next week. We discovered one of our supervisors could speak Italian and we designated him our translator. No one else in our plant could speak any other language than English or Spanish, but it turned out that didn't matter. Our Swiss laminator installation crew spoke quite passable English. 

Ralph had interviewed several production manager candidates but had yet to find someone with whom he was confident. The clock was ticking and we needed to get the new man on board soon. It was at that point that we got lucky.

"Andy Andrews speaking," I said, answering the incoming call.

"Mistuh Andrews, mah name is Bobby Lee Turpin. I heard y'all bin lookin' foe a plant manajah. Ah'd lack to talk to y'all about it."

It was the thickest southern accent I had ever heard. I wondered if this was some kind of joke.

"You really need to talk to Ralph Rubens, Mister Turpin. He's doing the interviewing for the position. Can I put you through to him?"

"That'd be fahn, suh. Thank yuh."

I put the call on hold and pressed the number for Ralph.

"Ralph, I've got a Mister Bobby Lee Turpin on the line, wanting to talk to someone about the plant manager's job. Can you take the call?"

"Sure, put him through," he said. 

I transferred the call and wondered when I would hear from Ralph. He didn't appreciate practical jokes.

I forgot about the call and went back to my paperwork. It must have been an hour later when Ralph appeared at my door.

"Come on in," I said. "I hope that wasn't some kind of gag with that Turpin call."

"Nope. Far from it. I'll be meeting with him in two days. He's coming up from Monroe, Louisiana. If he's half as good as he says he is, we may have our plant manager."

"Really. I could barely understand him. He's the real deal?"

"Sounds like it. Worked for Printpak. Spent a few years with Pechiney before they closed his plant. I didn't have to ask him too many questions to find out he knew what he was talking about."

"Well, there's a bit of good luck," I said.

"I'm sure you'll want to meet him too, Andy. He's got to satisfy you most of all."

"Sure. So if he's the right guy, that leaves us with a maintenance manager yet to find."

"Yes. I've got the word out, but so far no luck," Ralph said.

Bobby Lee Turpin landed on schedule at the Oakland airport and was met by Ralph. They arrived at the plant just before noon on Wednesday morning. A knock on my door announced their presence. I looked up from my papers and saw a very big man dwarfing Ralph Rubens. Bobby Lee must have been six-six or six-seven and at least two-fifty. He was one big hombre. And he was black. 

"Bobby Lee, nice to meet you," I said looking up at him and extending my hand. 

He took it and with a firm but not painful grip, shook it, showing a pleasant smile.

"Nas to meet y'all," he said.

What followed was the most interesting interview I was likely to have in many years. Bobby Lee was indeed a Louisiana boy, with an engineering degree from Louisiana Tech. His home town was Monroe, a mere thirty miles from the respected college. He had worked for Printpak in Georgia before moving to a Pechiney plant in Wisconsin. Pechiney were in the process of being acquired by Alcan, and the new owners closed his plant to consolidate assets. For Bobby Lee, it was back to Monroe to look for another job.

After we got the preliminary introductions over with, Ralph took Bobby Lee (he said that's what everyone called him) and showed him the plant, the plans, and then sat with him to find out if he might be right for the job.

It was about twelve-thirty when Ralph reappeared.

"I'm going to take Bobby Lee out for lunch. Do you want to join us?"

"I can't, Ralph. I'm waiting for a call from New York. I'll catch a sandwich from the lunch truck."

"Okay, we shouldn't be an hour. I think we've got ourselves a winner here, Andy. This guy is smart and experienced and from what I'm hearing, he'd like to work here."

"Good. Let's get together with him when you're ready. I'll make time for you."

It was close to two o'clock when they returned. I had taken the call from the New York agency that claimed to have a qualified computer graphics designer located out here. They had no local office, but somehow networked to represent most of the country. I wasn't confident but I did need someone and soon.

"Mistuh Ayndrews, Mistuh Rubens tells me y'all lookin' fo a maintenance supavisuh. I maht know 'bout a feller y'all could tahk to."

It would appear that Bobby Lee was going to refer to almost every male as "Mistuh," no matter what we told him.

"Bobby Lee went to school with a man named Trawick Landers," Ralph continued. "He's currently working for a converter in Appleton, Wisconsin. Apparently he's looking to move somewhere warmer before his wife leaves him."

I saw a grin appear on Bobby Lee's face. "It do git cold up thay this tahm of th' yar."

I was getting the feeling that Bobby Lee was putting a little extra into the accent that might not be there normally.

"You married, Bobby Lee?"

"Yep. Got three boys too. Rita an' me bin tugethuh since college. The boys are almost full grown now."

All of a sudden, the accent wasn't as pronounced.

"You've got a BSc in mechanical engineering," I confirmed.

He nodded. 

"It says your minor was psychology."

"Yah suh."

"So what's with the accent?"

He shrugged. "It gets some thickuh when ahm nervous ... or drunk. I don' do that any mo."

"Did you once have a drinking problem?" I asked, not sure if I was allowed to ask the question.

Bobby Lee didn't hesitate. "I tore up mah knee in mah second yeah. Played tackle on dee-fense. Was plannin' on playin' pro, maybe up in Canada. Rita put a stop tuh it. She isn't so big, but she's tough."

"Do you think you'd be happy living in California?"

"Ah think ah'd be happy if ah had a good job, a place tuh live, and had mah wife an' boys with me. Rita said I should try hard to git this job. We looked Flex-Tek up on tha Intanet and we lacked what we saw. Mistuh Ruebens here showed me some samples. Ah was impressed. Y'all do fine work."

If he was nervous, it was hard to detect. It was only that thick-as-molasses accent that betrayed it, if he had been telling the truth. I wanted some time to talk to Ralph and asked Bobby Lee to wait in the reception area for a few minutes.

"He's not just some hillbilly, is he?" I asked warily.

"Nope," Ralph said, shaking his head. "He ran a production crew of over eighty guys at Printpak. It was a union shop too. I've checked him out with a guy I know and he said he was good at his job and they were sorry to see him go. Apparently he's very even-tempered and insists on his men following the rules and working safely. He's also a neat-freak, I'm told. My gut tells me he's worth the risk."

I sat thinking for a few moments while Ralph waited patiently.

"Do you think he's going to fit in here with all our Hispanic employees?"

"That's not a new experience for him. He had a good number of Latino employees on his crew at both Printpak and Pechiney."

"We'll have to hire someone to teach him English," I joked.

Ralph laughed. "Don't waste your time. He may look like a good old boy, but I think there's a toughness underneath that comes through when it's needed. He handled a couple of touchy situations related to drugs in the Georgia plant and did it well. I'm satisfied he can do the job."

"Okay, Ralph. Let's get him back in here and see what we have to do to get him and his family here."

It turned out Bobby Lee would be coming out on his own until his boys were out of school in June. His wife insisted that if he took the job, she would take care of getting ready for the move. She sounded like a pretty strong-willed woman because Bobby Lee didn't suggest he argued with her about it. It meant that we could have him here within ten days and that was fine with me.

In the meantime, Ralph contacted "Wick" Landers in Appleton and arranged to have him come in for an interview.

If Bobby Lee was the essential big ole southern country boy, his friend and classmate was the complete opposite. I guessed he was five-seven or five-eight in height, slim, grey-haired and well groomed. He was also almost ten years older than Bobby Lee's forty. 

"I was late getting started," he said after I asked about his being in Bobby Lee's class. "I did an eight year hitch in the army before I used the G.I. bill. I'd been in both the motor pool and an engineering battalion. I was lucky enough to avoid playing in the big sandbox."

"You sure don't sound like you come from the south," I mentioned.

"Nope. Davenport, Iowa. I mustered out at Fort Hood and decided to see some of the country. I got as far as Monroe and hung around when I got a job in a car dealership. The pay for part time was decent, so I looked around for a place to go to school. Louisiana Tech was nearby and I checked them out and got good reviews, so I enrolled there. At least I wouldn't have to go through another northern winter.

"Bobby Lee and I met each other when he was rehabilitating his knee. I got to know him and decided he was anything but a dumb country boy. I'm not sure what your interview with him was like, but I bet it was confusing," he laughed.

"You got that right," I agreed. 

"Well, since you hired him, I guess you figured that out. He's a good man and was a big help getting me back into the routine of being in school. The army always told you what to do and when to do it. College life was nothing like that. I had to learn to do everything for myself. Bobby Lee showed me the ropes and got me through that first year."

"You both have a degree in Mechanical Engineering then?" I asked.

"Yes. He went into production, using his skills in psychology to go with his technical know-how. I'm not so much of a people person, so I was better off in maintenance. It's worked out well for both of us."

"That's an unusual first name ... Trawick."

"Old family name. I've been 'Wick' since I was about four years old. Wouldn't you?" he grinned.

"Why do you want to leave Appleton?"

"When the call from Ralph came, I was looking at three feet of snow outside my window. It wasn't that hard a decision after we talked."

"Any family?"

"Just my wife. Our girls are all grown, married, and made us grandparents. One of them lives in the Bay area. That's a pretty strong pull for my wife, Eileen."

"I guess it would be," I agreed.

There didn't seem to be any negatives to hiring Wick, so I left it to Ralph to give him the orientation tour and explain the short and longer term plans for Tracy. They must have got well into the details because it was a couple of hours later that they returned and we formally hired Trawick Landers. He would give his employer two weeks notice and be here in Tracy the first week of March.

Chapter 10 Showtime

Things were happening quickly, almost in a blur. I interviewed Lucas Randall in late February for the controller position on the recommendation of Dave Charles. If he was okay in Dave's view, then it was guaranteed he had the qualifications and experience to manage the money at Tracy. It was really only a matter of whether he and I could get along.

"You met with Dave, so you know my limitations," I began as we sat in my office. "I'm dependent on you to keep me up to speed and aware of problems or opportunities."


Southbound Ch. 09-10



"I won't pretend I'm as good as Dave," he said, "but I know what you need and I'm here to make sure you get it. Financial guidance, I guess we could call it."

"Yeah, that's about it. How do you feel about working here?"

"The more I talked to Dave, the more enthused I was about the job. This size of operation is ideal for me. I'm not lost in an accounting department, doing some obscure analysis of sales versus inventory. I won't pretend I'm an expert in everything, but I've had a really good grounding in a number of facets of running a business and this is my chance to put that to good use."

"Tell me about yourself," I asked.

"Well, born nearby in Stockton, educated at Sacramento State, worked at a construction firm for three years, moved on to work for a family business in Fresno. Big mistake."

"Why?"

"I don't know if it's common to all family businesses, but it was like a chess game where the rules only counted some of the time. I was constantly being given contradictory instructions that made the job much more difficult. I stuck it out for almost two years before I quit and went to work for D & H Trucking. They are big and I was a little guy in the accounting pool, despite my experience. So, until I heard about this opportunity, I was just marking time."

"Are you married?"

"Nope. Haven't found the right woman yet. I'm trying to be patient, but time marches on. I'm thirty-six, so the idea of having a family is slipping away."

"Well, take it from the voice of experience. Be patient. I'm forty-three and I'm just getting to know what I've been missing. It's never too late," I grinned.

"Thanks for the advice. So ... do I get the job?"

"Yes. Dave's recommendation is good enough for me. I think we can work well together. I'm going to rely on you to be my right hand man and keep me from making dumb mistakes. My background is sales and that's what I'm comfortable with. You, Bobby Lee, and Wick Landers are going to be important to me and this operation."

I stood and stuck out my hand. "Welcome to Flex-Tek. Can you start Monday?"

"Yes I can. Thanks. You won't regret this, I promise you."

Lucas left and I called Dave to thank him for finding my financial guy. I was pleased that he was local and could start right away. I could put him with my loaner accountant from Langley, Calvin Dodge. Another piece of the puzzle in place.

Bobby Lee Turpin showed up early on the following Monday, driving a big black Ford F350 crew-cab diesel. It was spotless and looked like it was brand new. He'd left Friday morning from Monroe, driving more than six hundred miles a day. 

"I thought you'd have killed a few bugs along the way," I said as Fiona and I greeted him in the parking lot. 

"Took it through the truck wash last naht. I hate a dirty truck jes' lak I hate a dirty operatin' flowah."

"We're going to get along just fine, Bobby Lee," I grinned. "I feel exactly the same way. Have you met Fiona Alexander yet?"

"Yes suh, I have. Nace to see y'all agin, ma'am."

"Nice to see you too, Bobby Lee."

"I've got you booked in at the Microtel," I said. "It's a decent place and the company will look after the cost for the first month."

"Thank y', suh. That's generous of y'all."

"You're welcome. Come on in and we'll get you set up in your office."

"Is he always this polite?" Fiona whispered as we returned to my office.

"So far. He can't bring himself to call me Andy and you will always be Miss Alexander or Ma'am I suspect."

"Only for a while," she said, poking me in the ribs with her elbow. "How about that. A real southern gentleman." 

"And here's you, hookin' up with a nawthener," I drawled.

"I refuse to call it 'hooking up,'" she said indignantly. 

Time was rushing by at break-neck speed as we hurried to get the equipment installed and begin the training. It was just as well the pouch machine hadn't arrived yet as we had organized chaos on the plant floor as two crews were working feverishly to get the new press and laminator installed. Bobby Lee and Wick were constantly there, watching every step of the procedure. 

When there was a lull, Bobby Lee was phoning all our existing employees and inviting them to come in a see what was going on. There was a method to his invitations. He wanted to observe just what he had on his hands for crew, and he wanted his crew to see what they had to look forward to.

As part of the modernization, Leo had provided funds to keep our key people on the payroll in order not lose them to another job. Despite the fact that it was an expensive process, it preserved our core skilled people, and Bobby Lee's keeping them involved in the modernization process made them feel part of the new company. I don't think any of us could calculate just how many people he kept from wandering off, but I'm confident it was several. Replacing them would have been an expensive proposition. 

What I hadn't counted on was the flow of new business that had already begun to show up. Interestingly, it was almost completely from Fiona's customer base. What a surprise ... not! In addition, we had requests for quotations and proposals from several new accounts that Fiona had approached, warning them that our production was unlikely to be running before April. It didn't seem to matter. These new accounts wanted to know what we were capable of, how much would we sell for, and when we could deliver.

"This is a dangerous deal, Fiona," I warned her. "The deliveries you're proposing are based on the assumption that we will be operational on time and making good product. What happens if we have a problem and can't meet those dates?"

"Simple," she grinned. "We call Langley and they'll bail us out."

I shook my head. I was now seeing Fiona, the sales person. Obstacles were there to be surmounted ... kicked out of the way to success. It put that much more pressure on me to do everything possible to get us up and running.

The laminator was the first piece to be ready for trials. We had two experienced crews available from the old laminator, but solventless was a whole new technology for them. In addition, cure time was a minimum twenty-four hours before further processing, including slitting to width. It was a relief to see the men catch on fairly quickly to the automated controls. But what really stuck out was Bobby Lee Turpin.

He was head and shoulders above his men in more ways than one. If any of them had trouble working for an African-American, it sure didn't show. I never heard him raise his voice or say anything that wasn't encouraging to his crew. I already had a nickname for him, one I stole from golf: Big Easy. 

"He's that all right," Ralph nodded when I mentioned it to him. "He's a natural born leader. Mind you, being as big as he is, who's going to argue with him?"

"I've got you to thank for him, Ralph. And Wick looks just as effective, except he's totally different."

"Yeah ... kind of like a ping pong ball, bouncing all over the place. By the time we get this machinery in place, I have a feeling he's going to know every nut and bolt, top to bottom. We've got Bobby Lee to thank for him. I think those two are going to let me get home a little earlier than I'd hoped."

The press installation was a much more complex project, but the crew from Verona, Italy, were professional and worked steadily to get it ready. Wick told me that the best thing about it was all our services were in the right place and matched up with the equipment just as they should. That wasn't always the case in some of these jobs. There always seemed to be some problem with the electrical or duct work being incompatible or in the right location.

Fiona spent her time out in the market, drumming up more new business. Some of it, like pouches, went to Langley, but a lot of it was destined for our new equipment. I was beginning to think she took a wicked glee in piling on the pressure. I kept my thoughts to myself. Bobby Lee didn't need any more heat.

We were a couple of bodies short of two press crews and Bobby Lee and Ralph had been interviewing prospects who had responded to our advertisements for jobs. The response was better than Ralph had expected and we were able to find four good candidates with press experience, although none of them had worked on these new, automated presses.

It turned out that Wick was a computer guy. We were sitting in our little lunch room off the shipping area, taking a coffee break. I found I was spending at least half my day on the shop floor, watching the progress.

"I got turned on when I first worked with Allen-Bradley controllers years ago," he said as we talked about modern equipment. "I could see that was the way to go and things have just progressed from there. The big thing that had to change was shielding the CPU from outside fumes, electrical interference, heat and moisture. It's not like a desktop unit that just needs to be cooled with a fan and kept dust-free. Most operating floors are a hostile environment and these units need to be protected. The newer designs take that into account."

I was learning a lot from Wick, and some from Bobby Lee. Wick was teaching me what made these machines tick. Bobby Lee was teaching me what production management was all about. We had a number of women in the workforce and Bobby Lee was the same with them as he was with the men. However, one look told you that the women held him in awe. He towered above them and yet had a quiet, soft-spoken way about him. I was smiling to myself, imaging what those ladies must have been thinking.

"What are you grinning about," Fiona said, catching me in one of those thoughts.

"Just watching Bobby Lee with the women. He's got them wrapped around his little finger."

"Yeah ... big surprise," she snorted. 

"So ... what do you suppose they are thinking?" I needled.

She turned to me and gave me an elbow. "You don't need to know."

"You just told me," I chuckled.

"Can you blame them? He is something else."

"So ... you're having thoughts about him too, huh?"

"Now and then," she smirked, giving me another elbow.

I thought it was best to drop the subject, but I was pretty sure that every woman in the plant must be wondering about him. Old clichés die hard.

We missed the March 31st deadline for starting up the press by only two days. There was a crowd around it as the installation and training crew watched the first test print come off onto the winder. It wasn't running very fast, but when Bobby Lee brought the first cut sample to the light table, I was one nervous guy.

The factory installation boss, our supervisor, and Bobby Lee crowded around the sample for several minutes. At length, Bobby Lee waved me over to the table.

"Have a look," he said, passing me the press magnifying glass. 

I looked carefully at the screen and transition areas for any distortion or fill. They had only run about three thousand feet at four hundred feet per minute, so it wasn't a full out test, but I liked what I saw. The solids were full and sharp, and it looked like we were laying down the right amount of ink in the process areas. I grinned at Bobby Lee, slapped him on the shoulder, nodded to the other two and turned to our audience, giving them a fist pump.

I heard the woo-hoo's and other celebratory yelps as the crew began to approach to see the sample for themselves. In the meantime, the press was running again, this time at a higher speed. I was watching the web TV monitor for print registration while the factory guy was freezing the frame regularly to inspect both register and print quality. So far so good. He was upping the speed by a hundred feet per minute until it was getting near the peak operating rate.

I didn't realize how tense I was until Bobby Lee came over to me.

"I see y'all is breathin' agin," he chuckled. 

I nodded. "Looks good so far."

"Got to git our people tuned in now," he offered.

Again, I nodded. It was one thing to run a test with the factory rep in charge, it was another for the day-to-day operators to duplicate that.

The press computer came with start-up and running programs that pretty much gave the operators step-by-step instructions on what to do and when to do it. However, there was no substitute for experience and throughout the next week, that's what Bobby Lee gave each team of operators.

By the following week, we were ready to run our first full production order. It was a reverse printed substrate in polyester, mostly line print with some process. Naturally, it was for one of Fiona's customers. I might have known she'd be first in line. She drove over a hundred miles to be there when it ran.

There was quite an audience when they prepared to run the order. It would take about seventy minutes, according to our calculations. Not a long run, but enough that we should get a good evaluation. She stood beside me, watching intently as the crew went through the start-up. When the lead pressman signalled he was ready to run, I felt Fiona reach for my hand and hold it tightly.

Seventy-eight minutes later she was blinking tears from her eyes as the crew pulled the last roll off the press and moved it to the laminator. Fiona had a batch of pull tear sheets in her hand as souvenirs. We would be laminating the order later that afternoon and I was certain she would be around for that event too. 

I called Leo and as luck would have it, both Dave and Ralph were in his office at the time. He put the call on speakerphone. 

"The press run is done and it looks great, guys. We have two more orders for the press this afternoon and we'll laminate the first order then as well."

"That's great, Andy," Leo said enthusiastically. "Congratulations. It'll be good to see some finished products go out the door."

"And some invoices," I heard Dave say.

"We didn't miss our mark by much," I said. We should be into full production mode by the middle of April as planned. I've got to thank Ralph for all his help, especially for finding Bobby Lee and Wick. They are already making a hell of a difference."

"A good team gets good results, Andy," I heard Ralph comment.

"By the way, I tried to get a bet up here on whose order would be first. No one would bet with me," Leo laughed.

"Smart men," I chuckled. "Fiona's customer is going to be impressed. I know she is. She's already plotting the pecking order for new business. I can feel the pressure already." 

"I'm happy for you, Andy," I heard Leo say. "You're getting things going just as I hoped you would. You're going to make Tracy a big success, I just know it."

"Not without help," I reminded him. 

"Andy, give me a call at the end of the week. I want to hear how things are going and I have something to discuss with you."

"Sure. I'll call Friday afternoon if that's okay."

"Before four o'clock, please," he laughed. "I've been told I'm going out to dinner that night."

"Hah! Bernice has you by the collar, eh?"

"Always has, always will. Talk to you Friday ... and congratulations again."

"Thanks guys," I said and hung up. 

Fiona was standing at the door to my office and had probably heard my half of the call.

"I'm so charged up that I can hardly sit still," she said, demonstrating her excitement with her voice and her actions.

"I noticed. I'm glad you're happy with what you see," I said, hoping she would calm down, although I didn't see any sign that she would.

"The first four orders on the production schedule are mine," she giggled.

"What a surprise. Who did you have to bribe to get that?"

"No one. Of the first eighteen orders in the schedule for this week, eleven of them are mine. Sandra and I are very good friends," she said, trying to pass it off as a routine comment.

Sandra Cummings was in charge of scheduling the plant, just as she had been at Statewide. She knew her job and did it well by all accounts. She told me that she would have to adjust to having just one press instead of two, and no pouch machine for a while, but with the expected output of the new press, she was satisfied she could cope. 

Sandra was no wide-eyed optimist. She tended to be conservative in her scheduling in case the unexpected cropped up. That seemed to be a normal trait in people who did that job. Both Clary and Paula in Langley were of the same mindset. I was pretty sure that there was a likely conspiracy between Sandra and Fiona. I wouldn't interfere unless it became a problem, but I would watch it.

To Be Continued