Tables Turned
“Right, boy. You are on double shift.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“I’ll decide what’s dangerous, boy. You lazy slobs need to learn about hard work.”
The thirty-year-old ‘boy’ had insolence in his eyes, and the company would not have that.
The boss sneered, “Gonna call the union, boy? Gonna strike?”
That usually called their bluff.
“I already did. You can stuff your McJob!”
He shrugged off the uniform and threw it at the boss.
Soon the boss was in a heap of uniforms. The staff left to join the growing picket line.
“You will respect my authority!” he shouted to the empty kitchen.
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