The Creaking Wheel Part 2

Her feet pounded up the stairs, ringing with each step on the metal. She wore a wheelmen’s uniform that had been altered to fit her small frame and topped it off with an expression of determination. Her teeth sat tightly clenched in her cheeks, squaring her jawline. Her hands were balled into white knuckled fists and moved rigidly at her sides as she walked. She pushed the door open, and it banged loudly against the wall. A chorus of men chuckled and shouted, “New Guy!” and the chorus carried throughout the workroom. As the second round of jeers began, they turned to see the boss’s daughter standing there slowly pinking in the face. They stopped heckling, some mid-syllable, and the room fell silent except for the moaning of the machinery. She surveyed the work room and was met with darting glances and some sneers below the goggles on the men’s faces. She heard everyone clear their throat at least once and wondered if this was some kind of secret code the workers had to communicate dissatisfaction amongst each other. She lowered her eyes and made her way to the office to meet her father and husband. The heavy door swung open, creaking a warning to the workers. Her father stepped out the door of the office and looked at each worker, face by face. Most of them turned back to their work when he made eye contact, some did so after a very audible gulp. If she didn’t know better she would think that they were trying to be funny. Her father was well revered among the workers but also feared. She had seen him fly off the handle when a worker made a nearly fatal mistake; she had never seen the color that was upon his face that day anywhere else in nature before or since. She stepped in the office, and the door creaked shut behind her. “Are you sure you want to do this honey?” her father asked. He took a breath to say more, but she held up her hand and simply said, “I’m sure.” They spent the rest of the work day going over the schematics of the wheel, vital safety measures, and how the wheel was operated. After they were done, they made their way out of the office. Most of the workers had already left for the day, and the rest were in the lockers packing up. Her father led her to the wheel. He asked her to name off the safety rules with the exact wording and in the exact order in which he had taught them to her. She made it three-quarters of the way down the list and started to flounder. “You’re not ready,” he said sternly. She nodded dejectedly. Her husband tried to plead with her father for another chance. “Don’t worry darling, tomorrow morning I will be correcting him on the rules,” she said winking. “I don’t doubt it for a second honey,” her father said nodding. “If that’s the case,” he continued, “then tomorrow, you work the wheel.”