Page 22 of Twin Babies For The Grump

“Comeon,”Isay,unable to keep the frustration off my voice. “What did I tell you yesterday about taking so many breaks?”

It’s not even been a full week here at Delia Winery, and I’m already struggling. The new kids, they’re easy to work with. Marco just needs a firm hand to help shape him. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s reminding cocky upstarts who the real boss is. Once he has a bit of discipline, I can tell that he’ll be a great addition to the staff.

He’s eager. He wants this job. But he’s almost too eager. And when that happens, well, a knockback into place is necessary.

But the people that have been here for a long time, they’re more of a handful to deal with.

They’re pushing me, testing to see what I’ll let them get away with. The answer to that is not much.

Jed looks up at me from under heavy eyelids. His black hair has been pulled tight to his skull and twisted into a messy bun at the back, and the Delia Winery shirt that he’s wearing has a hairband knotted into the side, keeping it bunched up about an inch above his waist.

“I always get to take breaks,” says Jed. “I can’t even do anything until they finish sorting this shipment. It has to be sorted, it has to be washed, then I do my job.”

“So find something to do while you wait,” I insist, frustrated. “There’s plenty to be done. When was the last time it was swept in the backroom?”

“That’s not my job,” says Jed.

“Holding down the concrete isn’t your job either,” I counter.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the way people here are trying to work. At an office business, there is no time to waste. There are papers to read, things to print, notations to sign. Water cooler talk is short, with a few stolen minutes while you wait for the scanner to finish working.

People want to work hard because they want a promotion. They want to be raised up a floor.

There aren’t any promotions here, though. Everyone has one job. So it’s no wonder, I think, that their motivation to actually work hard and put forth that extra step is at an all-time low.

Jed frowns at me and stands up. He’s broad, but he’s also a little on the shorter side. The fact that he’s standing on the second step from the top of the bank doesn’t help much.

“That’s not my job,” repeats Jed.

“It is now,” I say, meaning to put an end to this conversation. And it does.

Just not the way that I had been hoping.

He looks at me and he says, “No, it’s not. I quit.”

It feels like everything grinds to a complete and total halt behind me. No one says anything. No one moves. Jed looks me in the eyes, and I realize that he’s waiting for me to ask him to stay.

That’s not going to happen.

I’ve played that game with everyone, from interns who had never been told no by their daddy to executives who thought that they were so important, they couldn’t be kicked out without the company grinding to a halt. I had never changed my mind about them, and I’m not going to do it now with Jed.

“You know where the door is then,” I say, gesturing at the path behind him.

Jed looks at me for a moment, grits his teeth, and storms his way down the path.

I turn around. Everyone is staring at me.

Frustrated myself, I give a sharp clap of the hands. The sound echoes. “Come on, people. You all have jobs that you need to be doing, too. Get back to them.”

There’s a hitch in action, but slowly the winery comes back into motion again. Once I’m certain that everything is running again, I decide that this is the perfect time for me to try and clear my head. It’s late in the evening and I stop by to let Adela know that I’m heading out to handle a few issues.

It’s not a lie. I just don’t specify what they are.

Then I walk to the side of the main building, where my motorcycle is sitting. I’ve got the vinyl covering half off when I hear someone walking up behind me. I pause, looking over my shoulder.

It’s Tess.

I’m in such a foul mood—nothing is going right with this damned winery—but I can’t help but think that it felt so right when I had spent the night with her.

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