Chapter 7

‘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.

Alice was not malicious or vindictive. However, such behavior of subordinates required a radical reaction. She knew perfectly well that if she let them get on her head at once, she could forget about work. That is why she decided to choose to get under their skin effectively as soon as possible.

Nicolas was also a witness to the conversation with Michael, but even as a chief editor he couldn’t do much.

She saw the sadness in his eyes and confusion on his face.

“Dear Nicolas, I'll be fine.” She smiled.

"Yes, sweetheart ..." He tried to hide his emotions. He didn't want to let her know that she was his last ‘lifeboat’. “You wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in your abilities!”

“I will teach them good manners!” She consoled a worried Nicolas. “You know I like strong emotions, adrenaline and thrills. This rebellious company behind the walls is an interesting challenge and a valuable research material.”

There wasn't much she could do in an hour or two. She needed time to bend their necks, remind them of humility and well-deserved respect for their superiors...

Many years ago, Nicolas was her lecturer, a Master admired and adored by students. They loved him for treating them as partners, for understanding in assessing their first literary and journalistic attempts.

Despite the passage of time, the Master remained the same great man. Also here, in the editorial office, he wanted to live in harmony and friendship with his subordinates; to create a second home for them, where everyone would feel safe and appreciated for their difficult work, full of sacrifices and austerities. However, he didn’t suppose that his good heart would turn against him, and as a result total anarchy would reign in the editorial office.

It was approaching five pm, the official end of work hours. Alice left Nicolas’ office, but once again no one even noticed her presence. She once again found the journalists sitting at the collegiate table and playing cards.

‘Do you want to have fun? Okay! Your will! We'll see who gets better at it!’ She thought. She wanted to laugh at her perfidious plan, which she intended to put into practice as soon as possible, but she had to be serious.

“Gentlemen! Attention, please!” She waited a moment until they fell silent. “Editorial board meeting tomorrow at nine! Mandatory presence!” She informed the journalists.

“Editorial board meeting?” They asked one by one.

“What's it for?” The boys looked at each other while making silly faces.

“What's her point? Will she introduce to us new habits?”

Alice pretended that she neither saw the journalists' reactions, nor heard their comments.

“See you tomorrow!” Maintaining the mysterious air, she bid them goodbye.

This time she wasn't joking. They saw it on her face.

As soon as she left, the boys, as befits the racial gamblers they considered themselves, started betting on what their new boss would leave in. They were standing in the windows as one big group, waiting for her to leave the office building.

They joked that a witch flies on an electric broomstick, a jet mop, and eventually rides an old, disintegrating duckweed. After stormy debates, they came to the controversial conclusion that the editorial witch drives a dozen years old, decaying junk, devoid of soul and character.

“Come on! You are wrong!” Alex, who had been sitting quietly and watching the situation unfold until now, had a different opinion. The only one who had the courage to present them out loud. “This woman has a class! Have you seen her clothes? Perfection in every detail. Do you know how much her red bag costs itself? No?” He asked.

 “A bag is only a bag...” Carl snapped back at him.

“Alex, can I know since when did you start to take an interest in girl's gadgets?” Michael was amused.

"More than your monthly salary!" said Alex.

"Sure, an expert on ladies' accessories has been found!" Thomas burst out laughing.”Alex, maybe you should change the magazine's profile, if you know about it so well?”

"Someone with style can't drive just any junk!" Alex tried to argue with the rest.

His efforts were of no avail. Nobody listened to him. Everyone had an opinion on this issue. They were still waiting by the windows.

They watched the new chief editor who was standing outside the building talking on a cell phone. They followed her every move with bated breath.

At one point, a black Jaguar XJ limousine drove into the parking lot, exactly the same model that Thomas wrote about.

“What a car! Bauble! A real miracle of technology!” Thomas screamed with delight like a child. "It probably belongs to the head of the computer company from the third floor!" He speculated enthusiastically.

“Wow! Nice car!” Adam joined in, usually delighting with everything that floats, or drives, but in the snow. “Perfect line, perfect design!”

“Who? What?” Alex picked up on the topic. “The new chief editor or Jaguar?”

“Both!” Adam murmured to him. “The Jaguar is a beautiful machine, and the chief editor also  has a nice ass!”

“What would I give to drive it!  Just sit behind the wheel for a moment and listen to the wonderful sound of the engine being fired, feel its power…” Thomas dreamed aloud.

A chauffeur dressed in an elegant navy blue suit emerged from the Jaguar shining in the rays of the sunset.

"A drastic collision of eras!" Simon commented. "On the one hand, the latest technological marvel, a car perfect in every way; on the other hand, a chauffeur that looks like an individual from the beginning of the twentieth century." He concluded.