* * * * *
Ernie turned the dial on his television. The station he had selected
brightened and the face of the set turned from dark to blue. Ernie
sipped his can of beer. He was alone in the room, and it was night.
The picture steadied and Jory looked out of the set at him. Jory's
face was tired. He looked bad.
"Hello, Ernie," Jory said.
Ernie turned the dial to the next station.
"Hello, Ernie," the face of Jory said.
At the next spot on the dial: "Hello, Ernie." The next: "Hello,
Ernie."
There were five stations that Ernie's set was able to receive. When
the fifth station said "Hello, Ernie," and Jory's tired face looked
out at him, Ernie shrugged, took another sip from his can of beer and
sat down to watch the set.
That happened Wednesday night. Wednesday morning began like this:
Ernie woke feeling bored. It seemed he was always bored these days. An
empty can of beer and a crumpled pack of cigarettes rested on top of
the dead television. All he did nights was watch TV.
Ernie sighed and thanked God that today was Wednesday. Tonight, when
he came home from work, he would be over the hump ... only two days
left and then the week end. Ernie didn't know for sure what he would
_do_ on his week end--go bowling, maybe--but whatever he did it was
sure to be better than staying home every night.
Oh, he supposed he _could_ go out, just once in a while, during the
work week. Some of the guys at the plant did. But then, the guys that
did go out week nights weren't as sharp at their jobs as Ernie was.
Sometimes they showed up late and pulled other stuff like that. You
couldn't do things like that too often, Ernie thought virtuously. Not
if it was a good job, a job that you wanted to keep. You had to be
sharp.
Ernie smiled. _He_ was sharp. A growing feeling of virtue began to
replace his boredom.
Ernie glanced at his watch and went sprawling out of his bed. He was
late. He didn't even have time for breakfast.
His last thought, as he slammed out of his apartment, was an angry
regret that he had not had time to pack a lunch. He would have to eat
in the plant cafeteria again. Cafeteria lunches cost money. Money
concerned Ernie. It always did. But right now he was going to need
money for the week end; payday was another week away.
* * * * *
Ernie punched in twelve minutes late.
His foreman was waiting beside the time clock. He was a big man, and
what was left of his red hair matched in color the skin of his neck.
And the color of his face, when he grew angry.
His name was Rogers. He smiled now as Ernie nervously pushed his time
card into the clock. His voice was warm and jovial as he spoke.
"Well ... _good morning_, Mr. Stump. And did we have a nice, late,
cozy little sleep-in this morning?"
Ernie smiled uncertainly. "I'm sorry, Rogers. I know I'm late, but the
time just sort of got away from me--"
Rogers laughed lightly. "Think nothing _of_ it, Mr. Stump. These
things happen, after all."
"Uh, yeah. Well, like I said, I'm sorry and--"
Rogers went on, unheeding. "Of course, complications can develop when
your number three wrist-pin man decides that he just isn't feeling
sharp this morning and he needs a little extra sleep to put him right.
If you're the foreman for Sub-Assembly Line 3-A, for example, Mr.
Stump, one wonders if the rush order that must be filled by this
morning is going to be finished any time before next Christmas. One
wonders where the wrist-pin man is, Mr. Stump. Does he intend to come
in at all, or will he just snooze his little head off all day? One
wonders what to say to the plant manager, Mr. Stump. How do you tell
him that twenty men are standing idle on Sub-Assembly Line 3-A
because, through a laughable oversight, there is no one to put in a
wrist-pin? How do you explain it so he will _understand_, Mr. Stump?"
Rogers stopped and caught his breath. His face began growing red. He
said slowly, "You _don't_, Mr. Stump. You don't explain it so he will
understand. I just tried!"
Ernie swallowed. Hurriedly, he said, "Look I'm sorry. I'll get right
in there--"
Rogers smiled. "That would be nice, Mr. Stump. I imagine there are
quite a few Sub-Assembly 3-A's stacked up in there by now. You just
trot in there and get them cleaned up."