Bro Code(35)
When I arrive at the factory, I’m one of only five or six cars in the parking lot. The only employees who come in this early are the maintenance guys who make sure everything is in order for the start of the workday. A few cleansing breaths later, I shift into business mode. This week has been the start of the operation completely under my management, with no help from Dad. I don’t have any spare bandwidth to dedicate to Barrett. I’m the boss now, and it’s time to act like it.
Other than a few machinery upgrades and a nicer coffee maker in the break room, the factory looks nearly the same as the day Dad first brought me here as a little girl. At the time, the enormous industrial building seemed like an endless steel playground to explore. Now that it’s my responsibility, the size of the place makes it a little more daunting and a lot less magical.
There's comfort in the familiar faces, though. Some of the workers have been here so long that they still know me as the six-year-old visiting her dad’s office after kindergarten. Being at the factory feels like being around family, only this family doesn’t nag me about my romantic life. This family does, however, depend on me to keep this place open and it’s time to get my mind back on track.
I’m barely five steps into the building when Mark, a maintenance engineer who has worked here for as long as I can remember, steps out from behind a piece of machinery and gives me a defeated wave. It seems a little early to already be facing a problem, but then again, I seem to be having that kind of day.
“Sorry to hit you with bad news first thing, Ava, but the engine on the belt-line is completely burnt out,” Mark mutters, shaking his head and wiping thick black grease onto his jeans. “I’ve been working on it for a solid hour now, but the thing just isn’t moving. We’re gonna have to get an order in for a new one today.”
“Thanks for working on it, Mark. Just let me know exactly which part to order and I’ll get it taken care of.” My calm, cool response surprises me a bit. I must have let all my frustration out on Mom. The mechanical side of the factory isn’t really in my wheelhouse, but at least this is a problem with a clear-cut solution. Mark leads me over to the conveyor belt and I jot down the name and model of the engine that needs replacing, assuring him I’ll have it taken care of before the day is out.
There's something peaceful about being here—this noisy building, the faint scent of oil in the air. I've worked here off and on since I was thirteen and started sweeping floors after school. It's more of a blessing than I ever realized it would be. Rather than resenting their new twenty-five-year old boss, the employees respect me because of all the hours I've put into this place. There was no job too big, or too small for me growing up, I did everything from mopping the floors, to cleaning the toilets, to learning how to turn a wrench.
When I head toward the second floor where the offices are located, it's still a pleasant surprise to see my name on the door of Dad’s old office. Sitting in his chair and booting up his computer, I have to keep reminding myself that these aren’t his things anymore, but mine. Yes, Dad will be there to answer questions when I run into problems, but the paperwork is signed, the business cards are printed, and this is my factory, my motor that needs replacing, my employees who are relying on me to keep this business running. It's the most gratifying thing in my life right now, and I'm going to make damn sure it succeeds.
I pull up the spreadsheet for the year-end budget and start pricing out replacement engines. With each click on a different retailer’s website, the lump in the base of my throat gets bigger and bigger. Who knew engines were this expensive? No matter how I fudge these numbers, the money for a replacement motor just isn’t in the budget. How much had Dad been cutting his own salary, or worse yet, paying out of pocket to keep this company going? I open file after file of budgets from every quarter, crunching numbers and looking for where Dad was able to cut back. The numbers are tight. For the first time, an errant thought that maybe Nick was right flits through my brain.
“How are things looking, Ava?”
Mark peeks his head into the office. The smile on his face is hopeful, cautiously confident. I remember how Mark used to let me hold the wrenches when I was little while he did simple repairs on the machinery. He’s a bit younger than Dad and, from what I remember, still putting his kids through college. I can’t let him down.
“Things are looking great.” I fake a smile and press the button to place the order for the engine. I’m going to make this work no matter what I have to do. “We should be in good shape to get this thing installed as soon it arrives. Let’s go assess how everything else is running in the meantime.” I close out of the spreadsheets and put the computer into sleep mode. One thing at a time.
It’s a quarter after seven by the time I finish taking stock of the factory equipment with Mark and the other maintenance workers. I apologize profusely for keeping them so late, but they’re grateful when I give them clearance to leave a bit earlier tomorrow after the new engine is up and running. As for me, I’ll be awake all night trying to cut costs somewhere in the budget to keep us in the black. The work may be stressful, but at least it’s enough to keep me completely distracted. I forgo the radio in the car and instead spend the drive home doing mental math. I already gave up my apartment to save on rent by staying with Mom and Dad. What's next?
The engine runs as I sit parked in the driveway, running options through my head until my buzzing phone interrupts my thought process. It's a text message and when I look down and read it, I have to blink twice, to be sure I'm reading it right.