Tom's Tiny Terror Tales Page 2
THE ENGRAVER
Frank Bolinski was a real jerk. Just ask anyone. His receding, forty-two year
old hairline combined with almost albino eyebrows and chubby baby fat high cheekbones
made him look like Casper the unfriendly ghost. It wasn’t just his unappealing physical appearance that caused near instant dislike from anyone he encountered. His general attitude just plain sucked. Some people, gifted with that natural ability to brighten a room when they walked in and bring a smile on the faces of people that made their acquaintance, was about as opposite as you could get from Frank. When he walked into a room, anyone who had the misfortune to be there immediately went into bad mood mode. If you had an ulcer, it flared up. Arthritis, same thing. This was one unpleasant dude.
Fortunately for Frank, he was good at his job. His lack of friends, combined with his natural ability to piss people off over the years, had focused all his energy into his work. His job, though not very exciting, filled a void other people satisfied with family or friends. He had been with the same company slightly over twenty-two years and his paychecks were reflectively, considering his occupation, not too shabby. Frank, being the real jerk that he was, wanted more. His employer, Greenville Granite Works, was long established, and had a reputation for promoting from within. Jim Grambly, the foreman, was due to retire after forty-five years of dedicated service and there were five people being considered for his soon to be vacant position. Frank wanted his job so bad he could taste it and would go to any length to obtain the financially rewarding promotion.
Frank’s job, state certified master engraver, sounded like a prestigious position with a financially solid company but some people would probably have a few misgivings about doing what he did for a living. It took a lot of well acquired skill and quite a bit of artistic talent to function properly in his employment but Frank after all the years of finely honing his skills was quite good. The bad part is what he engraved, tombstones. The finale legacy for our dear departed loved ones. The words, carved out of solid granite, were the finale tribute to the lives and loves of the people who no longer existed in the living world. The dead, the no longer breathing, laughing, loving friends whom we have spent our own happy fulfilling lives with, now will no longer share our thoughts, our dreams, and our ambitions. We now only have the final words, cast forever in solid stone, signifying how we felt, sometimes hypocritically, the finish, the end of the era, the last goodbye.
Frank had a plan. A real good one he thought. If I can prove to the company that I am the best then naturally I’ll be the one that’s promoted. Simple enough, and I know exactly how I can do it, he thought. He had been planning this for quite awhile and he knew it would work flawlessly. The company had rewarded Frank with his own set of keys to the plant five years before. His dedication to his work and his long diligent hours had provided this perk few others had been able to obtain. He knew that promotions were based on other factors as well and knowing he had no friends, especially with the upper management, he had to have an edge.
The normal working day was from 7:00 am till 4:00 pm. The office was usually cleared out by 5:30 pm, 6:30 pm at the very latest. The normal operation was for the supervisor to pass out the work assignments at the start of the working day having obtained them from the office the previous afternoon. They were kept in an unlocked file cabinet by the water fountain at the very front of the shop. The front office, wanting to be impartial, randomly assigned on a rotating basis each job to each employee and therefore no one could complain to the supervisor that he or she was getting stuck with just the difficult jobs.
Each engraving job usually took a full eight hours but sometimes the more elaborate ones would stretch into nine or ten. It was the supervisors job to make sure that his employees did not get backlogged and he would inform the front office by 3:00 pm if someone needed extra time the next day to finish up and the front office would compensate by pulling the employee off the rotation for the next day and assign a smaller task, such as a mausoleum plaque, to fill the remaining time till the day was complete.
Frank, polishing his plan to perfection, started returning to the plant around 7:30 pm each night. Using the company supplied keys; he would let himself in and head immediately to the filing cabinet. Sorting through the work orders, he would find the one with his name on it and jot down the information he would need to begin his engraving job. He would then head for his work cubical and begin his next day’s project. Leaving no later than midnight he would be approximately half done when he returned the next morning. The supervisor, never bothering anyone unless summoned would not have any idea that everyone had not started on his or her projects at the same time. Frank reasoned that after the supervisor started receiving the finished work around noon every day that Frank had simply got to be the best engraver by far and would surely recommend him for his soon to be vacated position.
Frank, knowing the announcement was to be made the next afternoon, decided on one more job, maybe even doing three quarters of it. That should really impress the big wheels he thought. He hastily wolfed down a couple of baloney and cheese sandwiches at his house and jumped into his two year old car to return to his place of employment. Well, he thought, I have really busted my buns for the last six months, working twelve hour days but it will now pay off. I’m just hours away from a nice promotion with plenty of prestige and an ample salary to go along with it.
Frank literally bounced out of his car and almost jogged up the walkway to the plant. He unlocked the massive steel door and quickly slipped inside. He hurried to the file cabinet and flung open the drawer grabbing the stack of orders in happy anticipation. He sorted through the cumbersome stack in till his name was at the top. Flinging the others back into the drawer his sweaty hands peeled back the cover sheet and he started to jot down in his notebook his next assignment. His eyes wide with shock registered a few milliseconds before his brain fully comprehended what was printed on the yellow work order.
DEARLY DEPARTED
FRANK BOLINSKI
MAY HE REST IN PEACE
BORN JAN 3, 1972
DIED MAR 9, 2014