The Industrialist

Afternoon.

The marble floors contributed to the reputable image that of Kranian Industries - rich, and topnotch. Even though their external surroundings held no touch of symmetrical fake garden parks that Skycorp had, one would be awed inside the establishment. Everything was squeaky clean; the marbles had a smooth coating that provided a faint mirror.

The bright lights above them bounced against the marble floor, hence, intensifying the illumination within the confines of the room.

Brigz laid demarcation lines on the floor, the traffic-yellow one that sticks almost permanently. Scrubbing it for removal could be very frustrating.

"What's that for?" Lance asked the operator who was bent over, sticking the yellow lines.

"This is to maintain the order of things, boss. The lines would remind anyone here the placements should be within the assigned demarcations."

Lance nodded. Evidently, Brigz had seen clutter of unkempt placements of raw material pallets. Working tables were moved out of place as operators conducted their inspections. Apparently, Brigz knew the general overview of things transpiring inside the production area, while operators had fixated their focus on their task at hand, neglecting what was beyond their responsibility.

Brigz portrayed leadership traits among his colleagues.

"That's smart, Brigz," Lance said. It's the third day of the second week. The air was filled with motivated employees, laser-focused on accomplishing targets.

"How are we with the delays?" Lance asked Brigz, finishing up as he rolled the stickers in its place. Brigz placed the cutting tool and the roll of yellow stickers inside the toolbox. Brigz, even though a Commoner, had a proper arrangement on the production floor, also manifesting inside his toolbox. The tools were neatly arranged, as if he would know immediately if something was lacking.

"Strangely, boss, we are catching up. Last week, we had three pallets delayed. Now, we only have one."

"Have you encountered problems that caused line stoppage?" Lance asked.

"Yes, boss. All predicaments were solved immediately. The manual was a great help, boss." Brigz held an authentic smile and it meant his appreciation. "This is a great lesson for this team, moving forward."

Commoners barely smiled, due to their dire need for survival every waking day. And of course, the uncertainty of food and water shortages due to the lack of money.

They can't afford hospitalization, hence, they need to be healthy all the time. How can one be healthy if they are always eating processed food? As the Commoners would say, strengthen the mind to fend off sickness, otherwise face hunger and thirst for a month.

"Are you surprised?" Lance asked.

"Yes. Even my boys are surprised, too. This is a good approach, boss. What about you? What say Flanegan?"

"I'm fine, no worries. He told me that he already informed Doctor Zee of our delays. So, expectedly, he will come."

"Are you scared?" Brigz asked.

"Nope. I have a lot of things to be scared of, but not Doctor Zee and especially not Flanegan or the Kranian management." Lance responded.

"You are somethin', boss. Really, something," Brigz said. "The boys are talking about what you said the other week. Are you gonna pay their overtime?"

That explained the occasional squinting of the operators toward Brigz and Lance as they stood on the clearing facing the stretch of the lined-up equipment.

"Yes, I am a man of my word. You go ahead with overtime only if necessary. But to my calculations, there will be no more overtime in the succeeding days because you managed to solve problems without even my intervention."

"They also initiated process improvements on their own to increase efficiency, boss, without compromising the quality of work," Brigz reported.

They could work without Flanegan's supervision. The crew was trained to initiate process improvements. Only two things made this possible, either Flanegan trained them to be assertive with process improvements, or just because if they were behind the target, the management would deduct their salaries due to damages, eventually, driving the crew to assert shortcuts. Lance believed the latter.

"Speak of the devil, boss!"

The elevator slid open and their attention shifted to the movement of the emerging people.

As expected, Mister Flanegan, the ass-licker, ushered Doctor Zee to the production floor. He had been very active-looking the moment he entered the area. He even showed Doctor Zee the phases of production, however, the latter showed indifference to the smooth-talking Supervisor. Although, the Doctor had curt nods as Flanegan conversed with him.

'His mouth never stopped talking,' Lance thought, just observing the ass-licker licked the ass of Industrialist tier 4.

Lance felt the coldness of the stares of Doctor Zee, not a hint of a smile had appeared on his face since he entered the floor. He had a gloomy mood, seemingly, a thunderous cloud hovering overhead, ready to wreak havoc on the one responsible for the delay.

Occasionally, Doctor Zee and Flanegan talk to the third-phase equipment operators. He saw Flanegan conversing like a politician, almost portraying that he had been on the floor ever since and did the groundwork. Somewhat, the ass-licker had manipulated the story to grab credit or manipulate the operator that Lance had schemed behind the supervisor's back that caused the delays.

Whatever would transpire, fear had not visited the new TOR.

Surprisingly, he felt fearless. He knew the stakes; the impact of serviceability to the market, and the necessity of profitability, even the colossal responsibility, nevertheless, he stood unfazed by any of it. He was surprised. Could it be because he was bound to destroy everything the Corporation stood for? Could it be because a hero should not fear his enemies, like Doctor Zee?

His speculations were close to the truth. Or it was the truth.

The storm that Flanegan brought came to him like a subtle raging bull. It was only his imagination, but he knew Doctor Zee was unhappy. The creases of his forehead, the deathly stares, and the sad curve of his mouth said it all.

"Care to explain?" Flanegan said to Lance while Doctor Zee was on his side. Zee's stare never left the kid.

"I know you came here because of the delays. Our half-day delay." In Lance's calculation, their delays would be minimal at the end of the day granting the increasing momentum.

"Don't lie to us! It's a three-day delay!" Flanegan interjected, then turned to his mentor, "Doctor Zee, I have told you that assigning a newbie as your coTOR is a mistake." Flanegan raised his voice, trying hard to hide his incompetence.

"And you are saying you are a better TOR than he is?" Zee countered. It was the first time that Zee uttered a word since he entered the floor.

"Ahm… Of course, Doctor Zee." Flanegan stammered, "I am well experienced and handled a lot of production lines here in Kranian. I think I proved my worth and my ability."

"Really, now?" Zee scoffed. "For three projects as my TOR, we experienced a lot of customer complaints, delays, raw material wastages, and a dwindling profit margin arising from these problems. Then you are saying you are a better TOR?"

It collided with Flanegan like an unstoppable tsunami, wrecking everything in its path. Flanegan was surely affected by the words of his mentor.

"Doctor, if you let me explain. I resolved everything from the past and I am sure I can make up to you this…" He stopped as Doctor Zee held a palm up near his face.

"You haven't explained, Mister Berkley. You are standing in a fine line here. And it might be detrimental to your career, not only as a TOR but also as a Mech Tier Scientist." Zee said, even though his voice seemed calm, it had brought destruction.

"Doctor Zee," Lance responded, matching Zee's calm demeanor, "Flanegan was right about the three-day delay. But this is last week's report that I gave to him. As you require me to submit a report every Saturday. The reason for our delays because of my Crew training approach."

"Yeah! I have seen them talking late in the afternoon every day without any output!" Flanegan interjected as he tried to step in between Zee and Lance.

A cold stare streaked through Flanegan's from Doctor Zee and was instantly silenced. Lance just watched how the ass-licker would be schooled by his stupidity.

Lance noticed Brigz and the crew had their occasional gawking among them as the conversation progressed.

"Training, Mister Berkley? That is odd. We don't train crews nowadays. We have state-of-the-art, user-friendly equipment that needs no training. Why did you come up with this method? You are going back to the prehistoric," Zee said.

"Well, Doctor Zee. You are right. What I am doing is old school. But we cannot dismiss the fact that the old school's still applicable depending on the situation." Lance answered.

"Situation, Mister Berkley? Please elaborate," Zee asked.

"Yes. I have been studying from other industries or even got complaints from my clients of scrap materials, these are supervisors too, mostly in SteamHaven, and based on statistical records, there is a twenty percent production delay due to the lack of technical know-how of machine operators."

Zee nodded. His gloomy mood seemed to brighten a little, but so vaguely that one can't determine from afar. He held no smile yet but his eyes softened, the wrinkles on his forehead were lessened, and his stiff jaw seemed to loosen.

Probably, in Lance's perspective, Doctor Zee also heard this kind of statistical data from other Manufacturing industries.

"Expound, Mister Berkley. I suppose what you are going to tell me right now is not only information usable to me but to Mister Flanegan as well."

Flanegan flushed his cheeks and ran towards his ears to spicy red. Apparently, the supervisor was infuriated.