Thin Yellow Lines
“I can’t remember. Is he dead?”
“The guys on the line pulled you off before you did too much damage.”
“Am I fired?” Charlie sunk into his chair.
“Your job is fine, Charlie, but Jeff’s out. And if you and I can settle this here, we keep the cops out of it.” Randy reached across his desk, pulling a yellow form from the inbox on the desk between the two men.
Charlie closed his eyes, “Oh, no. I didn’t wa–”
“It’s okay, I just need to know what happened. I mean, Charlie, before today I would’ve thought you’d never hurt a fly, let alone a guy Jeff’s size.”
“I really don’t remember.”
Randy scribbled on the form. “Tell me what you do remember.”
Charlie sat forward. He looked at Randy, the floor, then out onto the factory floor.
“I got in at six and chatted with Tim while we geared up.”
“What did you talk about?”
Charlie swayed in his chair, scratching his soft beard. He smiled, “He was ribbing me about last week’s BBQ, asked if I was taking his grandma out Friday night.”
Randy scribbled some more, then pointed his pen toward the assembly line. “The other guys call you ‘Death Wish’. What’s that about?”
“Huh?”
“Most guys don’t get a nickname three months on the line. Usually takes longer for them to warm up to a rookie.”
“It’s a joke. Like how people call big guys ‘Tiny.’ Death Wish? Like Charles Bronson?”
Randy jarred the desk with his laughter. Charlie laughed too, but both men soon stopped.
Randy cleared his throat. “Did, uh, did you see Jeff at all before you got to your station?”
Charlie cocked his head, gently scratching his beard again. “I don’t remember seeing him, but I might’ve. He would’ve been driving then.”
“Shop talk is you two don’t get on too well.”
Charlie sighed. “He’s been sour since you moved me from the lifts to the line.”
“He wanted the spot?”
“His wife’s pregnant again and he wanted the pay bump, best I can tell. But this—“ Charlie sat forward, clutching his hands together. “I just got married and we want to buy a house. I know he‘s been here long—“
Randy looked up, dismissing Charlie’s thought with his writing hand. “Charlie, really, you’re fine. You were defending yourself. That’s how it happened, that’s how I’m writing it up. If anything, the higher ups’ll probably appreciate that you beat the hell out of a guy who broke their stuff.”
“He really tried to hit me with a forklift?”
“Yeah, and he paid the price. More than once.” Randy smiled. “I swear, Chuck, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I just feel bad about the whole thing.”
“You hadn’t taken a drag of your smoke when you did, you’d be dead. You’re not. Get back on the line.” Randy filled the last line and put the form in his outbox.
Charlie flipped up his palms. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Charlie slowly descended the stairs from the boss’ office back onto the assembly line floor. He felt uneasy with all of the eyes on him.
Tim chuckled and patted Charlie on the back as he passed. “Death Wish is back, boys! Fire her up!”
The assembly line whirred and roared back to life. Charlie looked around. He began to sweat in the cold of the factory floor. He lit another cigarette and returned to doing his part assembling green tractors.