The answer surprised an already confused Michael. He knew that his friend was of the type ‘Obligatory until it matters’. He thought, however, that while he was sitting for hours in his newsroom, he must have been surfing on cyberspace, playing stupid games on the Internet and constantly chatting with friends, and that he worked at the last moment, just before the issue of the new number of the magazine was closed.
More than once, Michael had seen him chatting with friends; playing online or browsing various websites, watching movies, listening to music… It was only now that he realized that he had never seen him working.
“I have just finished!” Proudly announced Simon, their photo editor and journalist in one person, also editorial mocker and court jester. "This is... I mean... I finished this morning!" He added after a moment, seeing the fury on Michael's face.
The others started muttering under their breaths that if they sat down at their computers immediately, they could finish their articles soon too.
Before Michael could wake up from his meditation and reflect on the sense of further work in the editorial office, the boys left their cards, and the whole file notes and empty beer bottles under the table. They sat down at their workstations and silently bowed their heads like bunnies and began to finish their articles.
“Who am I working with?” He complained under his breath. “A bunch of characterless eunuchs! Afraid of a stupid woman!” He grumbled.
“Don't whine, Michael! Get to work!” He heard his friend's voice who was coming back from the kitchen with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hand. “I bet... my favorite dinner, which you will cook yourself, of course, and a dessert, for example a chocolate cake, ultimately may be almond pastry with vanilla cream, that you have nothing!”
“What an aroma! Alex! Friend! Will you take pity on a thirsty buddy whose throat is dry? Will you bring him a cup of fragrant coffee as well?”
Alex smiled at the pitiful expression on his most lazy friend’s face today.
“I did brew it for you. It is waiting in the kitchen where it always is, but you have to bring it yourself!” He said as he walked away.
‘I can only count on him!’ Michael thought.
He got up and went to get the coffee. After returning after a solid while in the kitchen, he sat down at the table, examining the mess left on it. He started watching his mates’ cards. Thomas didn't have the slightest chance. Fact! He made a really good face for a bad game. He should make an example of him!
Time passed relentlessly. He did not feel like doing anything that would involve his brain’s grey cells as they were still heavily strained by the previous night’s almost all-night party. He wasn’t able to think creatively, much less write.
He wondered about the words said by the new chief editor. Maybe they didn't apply to him, the editorial secretary? Or maybe he should ask if he is bound by the same rules as the entire editorial team?
Michael had a brilliant idea, it was the only one he had anyway. He will outsmart the mean woman. Yes! He made a decision quickly.
With pain in his heart, he put down his, this time quite good, cards. He got up from the collegiate table, took his coffee and went to his room, which he had not visited yet that day. It was impossible to breathe in the unventilated room since the last time he had been there was the previous week.
The air conditioning didn’t work since he had started to cool some bottles with various contents near it. Until one day, when it had been flooded with a high percentage of alcohol, then it had stopped working completely. He had to open the window however he didn't like doing this.
Noises coming from the busy street next door distracted him and kept him from concentrating. In order to think creatively, he had to have absolute silence.
He turned on the computer. There were a lot of distracting fingerprints on the screen, but he didn't have time to wipe it off.
There was total chaos on the desktop. Even though it was only his computer, his personal working tool, he couldn't figure out what each unnamed folder contained. He was utterly lost. Eventually, he created another folder where he moved folders whose contents he knew.
Finally, he found a pretty good column, published over four months ago. He copied it, of course without a date, and sent it to Nicolas.
He waited, watching what was happening outside the editor's office through the open door. One by one, his friends were leaving the chief editor’s office disconsolately. Unaffected with the discussion, they showed their dissatisfaction by purring under their breaths, which meant one thing. Their articles had to be corrected.
Time passed relentlessly. At one point, Michael found that now was the right time. He got up and pulled his shirt down under his pants, tucking it neatly before he adjusted his tie. And then he began walking towards Nicolas’ office. He entered with his spine erect like a military soldier with his head tilted exaggeratedly backwards, showing his pride as usual.
"When you finish reading my column, please call me." He muttered and left.
After a short while, Nicolas came out of the office with a gloomy face.
“Michael! Could you come inside for a second, please?” He said, looking around the room, which was finally silent. Journalists hid in the corners like terrified rats.
Michael entered as proudly as he was two minutes ago.
“What is this, Mr. Johnson?” Alice asked, pointing at the computer screen.
“How's what? My column! You don't like it?” Michael laughed and didn’t lose his spirit even for a moment.
“Yes, I know... Your column! I read it, four months ago!” Alice said with a poker face.
“Really?” Michael was still in great shape. “Do you read our magazine?” He asked sneeringly.
“Unfortunately yes, Mr. Johnson!” Alice smirked as well. “Unfortunately for you, I read carefully.”
‘What a cheeky guy!’ She thought.
“Tomorrow morning…” She continued stoically. “I would like to read your column for the next issue of the magazine and the topics for the next three. I would advise you to leave some frivolous jokes for your colleagues, Mr. Michael Johnson!”
She looked at him sternly. She wanted to see some regret or even a trace of shame on his face, but there was no sign of anything on his face from the shelf labeled ‘humility’.
‘Cold, calculating bastard!’ She thought. ‘Time to teach you some humility!’
“You can leave now! What are you still waiting for, Mr. Johnson?”
‘Stupid, mean witch!’ Michael repeated in his mind, absolutely enraged. ‘Arrogant, saucy witch! How can I know the topics of my next three columns when I don't even have good stuff for the next one. How the hell do I know what's going to happen tomorrow? How can you even know the subject of your column before it is written?’ He wondered.‘Where did they teach her the principles of journalism? Probably nowhere! She ran over the nape of some well set guy, landed in his bed, and accidentally became chief editor, and now pretends to be highly educated in the field. Witch!’ He was sure she just pretended to be very knowledgeable.‘She has no idea about their hard work, about writing good texts, and she dare to put up yet! And she called herself wise! ‘Will we see if Nicolas will let her write the leading article?’Outraged by the chief editor's tone, he left slamming the door, which upset Alice even more.A
They waited with bated breath for the further development of events. The chauffeur walked slowly around the car, before he courteously opened the back door. Then their new boss appeared before him.They couldn't believe their eyes. An uncomfortable silence descended in the crowded room. None of them was able to comment on this. They thought that it was just their hallucination, the result of an overdose of percentages and a hangover from the last day’s party.How can the new boss afford a jaguar and a chauffeur? What was up? So many questions were stuck in their heads.They suspected that it was Nicolas' trick, who was unable to grasp the mess that had prevailed in the editorial office since the chief assistant had left the competition. They knew that he wanted to teach them a lesson but who was Alice? In addition, this luxury Jaguar haunted them.The next day, Alice was the first to come to the editorial office. It would not be surprising, if not f
“Thank you, gentlemen, for honouring me with your presence! We're starting!” She paused for a moment to give them time to think and analyze the meaning of the words she had spoken.There was no sign of reflection on the tired, sleepy faces. Thomas was yawning incessantly, every now and then covering his mouth with his hand.Michael, with almost navy blue horseshoes under his eyes and mournfully tousled hair, stretched all his muscles, disregarding everyone, especially the limits of decency, as if he had just woken up.Jack was sitting in a rumpled shirt, propping his head with his hands as if it weighed a ton. He tried his best to stay awake, but he kept closing his eyes every now and then, then shaking his head, straightening himself up and trying to keep his posture attentive again.Simon’s eyes were so red and swollen almost halfway down his cheeks that he looked like a panda or as if he had a boxing match the previous night with a he
Around one in the afternoon, the atmosphere turned hot again. Thomas returned to the editorial office with a flushed face and cloudy eyes. As if in a hypnotic trance, he took off his jacket, tossed it casually on the back of his chair, sat down at the computer and began typing.He didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. He looked like a mad scientist making a discovery of life that would revolutionize the views of all mankind.His friends tried to ask him about his impressions of the ride, but to no avail. He didn't answer. He didn’t even react to the taunts. The outside world did not exist for him. He was in another dimension, in a creative trance.After an hour, unusually beaming and still flushed, he got up from his desk and went to Nicolas' office. He only managed to close the door behind him, and Michael immediately appeared in front of them. Ignoring anyone, he tried to eavesdrop, but from what he heard, he understood very little.Concepts
Michael didn’t expect such a reaction. He knew perfectly well what Alex wanted to tell him and what he would inevitably hear. To avoid a controversial discussion on the sensitive topic of women, or rather his attitude towards them, he spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.He hoped that this time Alex would let go and skip a lecture about his outrageous, even scandalous, rowdy lifestyle that he didn’t accept.“So what's going on?” He asked sincerely, hoping to finally find out the reason for his friend's strange behavior."If the chief editor reads my curriculum vitae, I'll end up in Alaska or the South Pole, so you'd better shut up." Alex said softly.“It won't be that bad! Don't worry! At most, she will send you to the Paris-Dakar race in a Trabant!Alex was in no mood to laugh. On his face, Michael could see a real sadness. He wondered what else he wrote in his resume? For sure, nothing he didn’t know.
“You talk nonsense, man!” Michael answered him. “We're damn good, why would they let go of us?"For insubordination, for anything!" Any reason could be good, wondered Adam. “Do you know how many unemployed journalists there are on the labor market?”Only silence answered him.“Would you like to look for a new job?” Adam turned to Michael with this question. But he didn't wait for an answer:“I don’t! I am quite well here. I have barely bought the apartment, I am going to dive the coral reefs on vacation, and I am paying off the loan. I have enough for me to pay the installments and for a decent life. I don't need anything more to be happy.” He paused for a moment to look at his friend. He could see the confusion painted on their faces.“Only a few of us can get a better job. Don't cheat yourself, gentlemen. I don't want to rot here until retirement, but I have no reason to comp
“And what's the use of this?” Jack asked, appalled.“You will get the money intended for painters!” She replied.“Okay, there were supposed to be three of them, and there are eight of us and three of our female friends.” Jack continued, irritated with the tone of her voice and the smile on the boss's face. Who cares about that money? What she is talking about?’“I'm not gonna fire you!” The chief editor announced with a stern expression on her face this time. “Enough?”They didn't know how to react to it. Their assumptions that the witch was planning to kick out the entire team turned out to be correct. She was just looking for an excuse. Maybe they should take their feet by the waist and run where the pepper grows? They considered themselves as ‘racial intellectuals’, preferred to work with their brains’ grey cells than to exercise their muscles.In the end,
“Damn! We're straight, man!” Jack drawled through clenched teeth.“Do we need to watch your shapely butt, man?” Simon asked, laughing. He was the complete opposite of his younger friend: about thirty centimeters shorter, stocky build, but he didn't care at all.A long time ago, he had accepted the fact that he has no chance of becoming a model. However, that didn’t diminish his sense of great humor. Even in the most dramatic moments of the editorial office's life, he was able to summon a bit of optimism, reach for a piece of paper, a pencil and draw a caricature of one of his colleagues.“Get out, Simon! I'm in no mood for jokes!” Alex said, offended. He didn’t tolerate discussions about his appearance. He considered taking care of his body and soul as a completely natural thing and conversations about it were unnecessary.“Alex, please!” Adam was begging, terrified. “In a moment we will ha