“And how many of you are going to fuss about that when you know that remedying it will mean extra work for the staff, who are already working overtime?”
I wave my arms. “Ignore her. We’re not putting anyone on the spot. If you have an issue with the fairness, you can speak to—”
“Eric,” Yolanda says. “Or me.”
“I was going to say Phil.”
She shrugs. “Sure, that works. He won’t call you out for whining. He’ll just sigh… and tell you no.”
“We will compensate everyone for general inconvenience with extras,” I say.
“Sure,” Yolanda says. “The extra perk of staying safe.”
“Go home,” I say. “Lock down. You have thirty minutes. After that, we’ll start doing rounds and correcting errors in procedure.”
We issue a few warnings. All but one seem to be genuine mistakes. Someone decided to bunk down with their lover and lefttheir own blinds open. Someone forgot their novel at work and thought they had time to retrieve it.
Then there’s Arturo, who had his light blazing and shutters open after the thirty-minute mark. I gave him ten minutes so I couldn’t be accused of pouncing. Then I went over myself and politely asked him to remedy the issue. He claimed that because his blinds were closed and it wasn’t fully dark, he shouldn’t need to also close his shutters. He wanted the fresh air. I said he could close the shuttersorturn off his light—the choice was his.
An hour later, Dalton and I are doing the rounds when we spot light coming from the rear of a residence.
I groan. “It’s Arturo.”
Dalton passes Rory to me. “I’ll handle it.”
I take the baby but shake my head. “Then he can just accuse me of sending you to play bad cop.” I look down at Rory, awake but calm, listening to our voices. “And I’d better not show up holding her, or he’ll accuse me of using my child as a prop.”
Dalton puts his arms out for the baby. “Fair enough, but I’ll go with you. Bad cop holding a baby. He won’t know what to do with that.”
I laugh softly. As we walk, I say, “I don’t know what’s up with Arturo. He’s always been fine.”
“Mmm. Kenny had a run-in with him last month. And Isabel did a few months back.”
“True.”
Both incidents had been the same sort I just had at the meeting, where Arturo had felt he’d been cheated. In Kenny’s case, Arturo complained because a new resident got a custom chair before he did—except the new resident needed it for a back problem. In Isabel’s case, Arturo had been arguing that because he was a teetotaler, he was losing out when we had special days that included free drink tickets.
I continue, “He’s pissy about others getting time off. Do we hold the line—everyone will get extras of some sort for the lockdown. Or do we give him something to shut him up.”
“Option one. If we start giving in to him, he’ll never stop complaining.”
“I suppose so. Or there’s option three—see if Muriel will switch shifts. She might. It’ll give her a chance to sleep in.”
Muriel is the other greenhouse worker. Her shift is usually six in the morning until eleven.
I continue, “I could also just adjust both their shifts to three and a half hours. She’ll go for it. She’s chill.”
“She’s the new older woman? Gray hair? Came with her husband?”
I shake my head. “Muriel arrived in the spring. Early forties. Brunette.”
His expression says he’s trying to place her. That’s no insult to Muriel. It’d be worse if he knew who she was right away, because that would imply she’d been trouble.
“She’s quiet. A hard worker. Friendly. At the meeting, she looked ready to raise her hand at the end. I suspect she realized the problem and was ready to offer a solution. I’ll have Phil rearrange their shifts, which should also resolve this problem.” I wave at the lit window. “Now let’s go inside and get it fixed.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Arturo has his arms crossed when he opens his door, which is really tricky to do, so I give him credit for that. Or I would, if it hadn’t looked ridiculously awkward—he basically tugged the door open, caught it with his foot and then used his foot to pull it open wide while he crossed his arms.
