* * * * *
Grimswitch followed Colihan down the hall as he came out of the boss's
office for the third time that week.
"Well!" he said fatuously. "Quite the teacher's pet, these days. Eh,
Colihan?"
"Go away, Grimswitch."
"On the carpet, eh? Temper a little short? Don't worry." Grimswitch's
beefy hand made unpleasant contact with the Personnel man's shoulder.
"Your old friends won't let you down."
"Grimswitch, will you please let me alone?"
"Better watch that think-machine of yours," Grimswitch chuckled. "Might
fire _you_ next, old boy."
Colihan was glad when Morgan, the production operator, hailed Grimswitch
away. But as he entered his own office, Grimswitch's words still
troubled him. _Grimswitch_, he thought. _That fat piece of garbage. That
big blow-hard. That know-it-all._
Almost savagely, he picked up the day's personnel cards and flipped
through them carelessly.
_Grimswitch, that louse_, he thought.
Then he had the Idea.
If Grimswitch was still chewing the fat with Morgan, then his secretary
would be alone--
If he called her and asked for Grimswitch's record--no, better yet, got
Miss Blanche to call--
_Why not?_ he thought. _After all, I am the Personnel Manager. Sure,
it's a little irregular. He IS a department head. But it's my job, isn't
it?_
Colihan flipped the inter-com and proceeded to call Miss Blanche.
* * * * *
His hand shook as he placed Grimswitch's card into the Personnelovac.
The machine, though still heated by the day's activity, seemed to take
longer than usual for its chittering, chuckling examination of the
pin-holed facts on the record.
Finally, it gave a satisfied burp and proffered the result to Colihan's
eager hand.
"Aha!" cried the personnel man gleefully.
He walked over to his desk, wrote a quick note on his memo pad, and
placed both note and card into an envelope. He addressed it to: OFFICE
OF THE PRESIDENT. Then he dropped it into the Action Chute. When it was
out of sight, he rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation.
* * * * *
When Miss Blanche announced that President Moss himself was in Colihan's
outer lobby, the Personnel Manager spent a hasty minute in straightening
up the paper debris on his desk.
The old man came striding into the room, exhibiting plenty of p-e-p, and
he seated himself briskly on Colihan's sofa.
"Sharp eyes, Ralph," he said. "Sharp eyes and a quick wit. This business
demands it. That was a sharp notion you had, doing a run-through on
Grimswitch. Never trusted that back-slapping fellow."