"We have a new one here," the wizened old man spoke into the 
communicator.  "Yes that's right. Okay."  He looked over his desk at me.
"Yes, I'll have him wait."
     He hung up and leaned back in his chair.  His oily skin shone in 
the glare of the overhead light.  "Why don't you take a seat and make 
yourself comfortable.  It won't be long now," he said softly as a grin 
slowly appeared on his sallow face.
     "Thank you," I said, and nervously looked around to see two filthy 
chairs against the wall.  Not wanting to appear rude, I gingerly sat on 
what appeared to be the least dirty of the two.  A pile of well-thumbed 
magazines sat on the table beside me.  I picked one  and began to page 
through it, though not really seeing what I was looking at. I took a deep
breath and slowly exhaled.  I needed this job badly.
     As I tried to relax, I noticed the old man was still looking at me. 
His grin widened and I could see his teeth were in bad shape. 
"I'm sure you're going to like working here," he said unctuously,
enjoying my nervousness.
     Suddenly the grin disappeared and he leaned forward in his chair.  
His nicotine-stained fingers began fumbling with the papers on his desk, 
and he bent his head until his nose almost touched the desk as he 
blinked nearsightedly at the papers.
     I noticed movement in the corner of my eye and turned to see a man 
standing in the doorway.  He glared at the man behind the desk.  As he 
turned to look at me his expression softened.  He smiled and cocked his 
head quizzically.
     "You the new man?" he asked in a soft melodious voice.
     "Yes sir," I answered, standing up quickly.
     He made no movement for a moment and appeared to be sizing me up.  
As he did, I studied him as well.  He was a powerfully built man, at 
least two inched taller than I was.  His large sloping shoulders 
suggested great strength, and the muscles in his forearms  looked like 
thick wire cords.  His head was large and completely bald, his ears small 
and  close to his head.  This was a man who would stand out in a crowd, 
but the most unusual thing about his appearance was his eyes.  They were 
an icy light blue and they were looking at me in a very piercing way.
     Finally it seemed he had seen enough.  "Follow me then," he said 
and he turned and walked back through the door.
     I hurried after him and we moved down a long hallway.  He walked 
quickly, his shoulders taking up most of the hallway.
     "I'm very greatful for the opportunity," I started.  "I really need 
to get some credit, what with the rent, food, and the other bills.  My 
family..."  I stammered to a stop as I saw the man was not listening to 
me at all.  
     He reached the end of the hall, pulled open a door and walked 
through, not looking back.  I grabbed the door and followed.  The noise 
in the room was deafening.  Along the walls of the room were large noisy 
machines, spaced at about six foot intervals.  There was a man in front 
of each machine.
     I followed the boss down the line of machines, which I could now 
see were some sort of grinding machines.  The men were working with 
pieces of metal, holding them to the grinders.  Sparks were flying from 
the grinding wheels and the men were wearing safety helmets, gloves, and 
long aprons.
     No one acknowledged  our presence, but I sensed that each man was 
aware that we were there. The boss walked over to one man and pulled him 
back from his machine.
     "You're fired," he boomed over the din.  "You haven't been 
pulling your weight.  Get your things and leave."
     The man pulled off his helmet and I was shocked to see that he had 
almost no nose.  It looked like cancer had eaten away at it until there 
was not much left.  That part of his face was covered by two large 
bandaids.  
     "My god," I thought to myself.  "What kind of a place is this that 
would fire a man in his condition?  He is going to have a hard time 
finding another job."
     I steeled myself against my momentary indecision however.  It 
wouldn't matter if this place was uncaring or not.  I needed the job and 
would do whatever it took.
     The man made no protest at all, but simply handed his mask to the 
boss, turned and left the room.  None of the other people in the room 
looked up from their machines.  The boss stared after the man, shaking 
his head. With a look of disgust on his face he turned and said to me,
"He didn't want to work,  and I don't have time for slackers here.  It's
my job to see that these parts move out of here as quickly as possible. 
I know you'll help me with that."
     He then put on the safety mask.  "Watch me," he shouted through the 
mask.  He grabbed one of  the strangely shaped metal parts from a box on 
the left side of the machine.  When he stepped on a pedal on the floor 
the grinder began to spin.
     "See these burrs on the metal?" he shouted, pointing to the edges 
of the piece.  "These parts have got to be smooth before they go out."
     The grinder having built itself up to full speed, the boss held the 
piece against the grinding wheel.  Sparks flew as he deftly turned the 
part, shaving off the rough edges. 
     "This part will pass," he shouted, tossing it to me.  I felt the 
edges which were now hot from the friction.  The roughness had been 
ground off.
     He took his foot from the floor pedal and the machine began to slow 
down.  With one hand he pulled the mask off, as he reached for the metal 
part with the other.  I handed it to him and he threw it in a box to the 
right of the grinder.
     "Now there are two things you need to have to do a good job here," 
he said. "Speed and precision.  Speed because we need to keep the parts 
moving through here, and precision because if you let a part go through 
that still has rough edges, then it won't pass inspection and it will 
have to be brought back.  That wastes time.  We can't afford to waste 
time here.  I won't have slackers and I won't have shoddy work.  I only 
keep people who want to work."
     He thrust the safety mask at me and looked at his watch.  "Now you 
try it. See how many you can do in a minute."
     I put on the mask and stepped on the floor pedal.  As the grinder 
worked its way up to speed I reached down to the box for a part.  I felt 
the rough edges and then turned it in my hands, thinking of the best way
to hold it.
     "Let's go," the boss said impatiently.
     I held the part to the grinding wheel.  As it first touched it 
almost flew out of my hands.  I held on desparately.  I could almost 
feel the bosses' eyes bore into the back of my head.  I didn't want to 
see the look on his face.  I took a deep breath and held the part 
against the grinder again.  This time I managed to grind off the burrs 
without too much clumsiness and without taking too much time.
     The boss held out his hand for the part.  I gave it to him and took 
another from the box on the left and started on that one.  From the 
corner of my eye I saw the boss throw the part into the box of finished 
parts.  As I worked I waited for a comment but he said nothing.
     "Okay," I thought, "That one passed.  I'd better start trying to 
crank these out."
     The second one was easier and the one after that easier still.  By 
the time the minute was up I could see that this grinding was going to 
be an easy job.  It was the kind of repetitious work that would allow 
one's mind to concentrate on other things, once the basic pattern of the 
work was ingrained in the mind.  That would be fine with me.  It was not 
interesting work but it would pay the bills.
     "What you're doing is satisfactory," the boss said.  "And you'll 
get faster.  If you keep working like this you'll keep the job."
     I started to turn to look at him.
     "Don't stop working," he said.  "Just keep going.  It's important 
that you work steadily.  When the horn goes off you get a ten minute
break.  After ten minutes the horn will sound again.  You're expected to
be back here at your position at that time.  Now keep it up."
With that he walked away.
     I took a long look after him and noticed that the other workers 
seemed to work a little faster as he walked by, though he did not speak 
to anyone, and no one looked up as he passed.  At one point he stopped 
and when I thought he might turn around, I turned back to my 
machine.
     The minutes went quickly by and the level of the box on the left 
went slowly down as the box on the right filled up.  The work was 
hypnotic and at times it seemed as though my mind was a million miles 
away.  
     I was pulled back to reality when another man brought me a new box 
of parts and took away the box of finished ones.  I straightened and 
stretched my back, and then started on the new box.
     It seemed however that I could not get back to my earlier revery, 
and the reason quickly became clear to me.  I was beginning to feel a 
dull ache in the small of my back.  I noticed then what I had not 
noticed earlier; that to use the grinder I had to stoop slightly.  The 
machine was a little too low to the ground to use comfortably for a long 
length of time.  
     I looked around to see if any other workers had the same trouble.  
Except for a few short workers, everyone was working with a bent back.
     "This would be so much easier with a stool," I thought to myself.  
"We would do the same amount of work, or more, without the discomfort."
     There were no stools or chairs in the room that I could see, and I 
determined to find one during the ten minute break.  I took a new part 
and bent over again to my labor, hoping the break would come soon.
     The minutes now seemed to crawl by however, and I could not keep my 
mind off of the pain in my back.  I tried to ignore it but it became all 
I could think about.  I found myself standing up straight to stretch 
after every part.  The momentary relief was not much help however, and I 
could tell my productivity was falling.
     During one of my stretches I looked up to see the boss coming down 
the aisle.  "What the hell," I thought. "I'll ask him if it's possible to 
get a chair."
     He walked up and after glancing at my boxes of parts said, "Is 
there a problem?"
     "It's my back," I replied.  "Stooping over this machine is starting 
to kill me.  I was wondering if it would be possible to get a stool or 
chair to sit on while I work."
     The boss slowly turned and looked down the row of workers.  A few 
who had been watching our conversation quickly turned back to their 
grinders.  The bosses' pale blue eyes turned back to me.  A muscle jumped 
in his cheek as he stepped next to me.
     "I thought you wanted to work," he said intently, his eyes 
flickering at me.
     "I, uh, sure I want to work," I said nervously.  "I didn't mean..."
     I stammered to a stop as he stepped closer to me.  He put his hand 
on my shoulder and hissed into my ear, "You don't have the right 
attitude."
     His hand slipped to the back of my neck and began to squeeze.  He 
grabbed my wrist with his other hand and spun me around to face the 
grinder.  He stepped on the pedal and the grinder began to spin.
     "I see you have some rough edges too," he said in my ear.
     He slowly pushed my face toward the grinding wheel.  I couldn't 
believe that it was happening.  I tried to get away but it was 
impossible.
     "Stop it, stop it," I screamed, but his hand on the back of my neck 
squeezed even tighter, and as my face approached the grinding wheel I 
began to see spots in front of my eyes.
     "Please...no," I gurgled.  My face came closer and closer to the 
grinder until all I saw was the blur of the wheel.  Closer, closer until 
finally I screamed in agony as my nose touched the wheel.
     The boss jerked me upright.  Blood splattered off the wheel onto my 
shirt.  I thought I would faint but I heard his voice in my ear, "The 
rough edges on the parts are important, but not nearly as important as 
the ones on you.  Now don't let this happen again or you won't have a 
job.  Or a nose either."  With that he pushed me aside and walked away.
     I staggered back against the wall, panting, with blood dripping 
down into my mouth.  My nose throbbed with pain, and when I put my hand 
to it, it came away covered with blood.  I looked around at the other 
workers, but they continued working as though nothing had happened.  I 
had a sense of unreality.  This couldn't possibly be happening.
     There was a roaring in my ears and I thought I must be losing my 
mind.  Slowly then the noise level in the room began to go down and 
workers began to walk away from their machines.  The roaring must have 
been the horn proclaiming a ten minute break, I realized.
     I continued to lean against the wall in a daze, my hand held to my 
nose, blood seeping between my fingers.  The man who had been working 
next to me walked by.
     "Did you see...did you see what he did to me?" I asked desparately.  
He turned to look at me and pulled off his safety mask.  I saw in shock 
that his nose was an open wound.  He laughed at me and walked on.  As 
the other workers filed by, pulling off their masks, I saw that we had 
all had our noses held to the grindstone.