Jamie's New Hire

The clock on the wall ticked softly, slowly inching toward nine o'clock. Everybody knew the work day started at nine. A full two hours later than Jamie normally would unlock the door to his office on the second floor. Apparently, in San Francisco, "be here at nine" translated to "leave your house somewhere around nine." The only people who ever showed up on time were the interns, and they weren't even getting paid.

Jamie watched the clock tick from behind his desk, slowly twisting his wedding band around his finger. Everything involving his morning rituals had been completed for over forty minutes; the rest of his time was occupied by waiting around for his workers to show up so the day could get started proper.

A few minutes before nine, the door to the parking lot buzzed for the first time. Jamie leaned over to peer through the mini-blinds that covered his office window to see that his receptionist had finally showed up. Jen hurried up the stairs and poked her head in Jamie's open office door.

"I'm so sorry, Jamie," she said. "Duncan ate the dish soap some time last night and got sick all over the kitchen."

"Yikes." Jamie leaned forward in his seat. "You should have called. I'd have given you the day off for something like that."

Jen smiled and shook her head slightly, having forgotten about Jamie's soft spot for animals. "I took him to the vet this morning, but I'm not sure how well he's doing. I might have to take off if they say that it's gonna be bad."

Jamie nodded. "Yeah," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Whatever you think is best."
She smiled again. As she started to walk down the hall to her office, Jamie marveled at she still managed to be on time even after dealing with an upchucking Saint Bernard. According to the clock on the wall, everyone else was officially late. Sighing lightly, he began straightening up his already immaculate desk arrangement. As he took apart his computer mouse to clean out its guts, he could hear the buzz of Jen's intercom in her

"M5 Industries," she said lightly to the person waiting outside.

There was a short pause. Probably more kids fucking around outside the shop, hoping to get a tour.

"Uhh, yeah," a young-sounding voice said over the crackling speaker. "I'm supposed to start working for James Hyneman today, but nobody gave me a key."

As Jen buzzed the newcomer into the building, Jamie got up to get his new employee oriented with the shop and all the rules. As he descended the metal staircase, he got his first look at the new hire, and immediately began to wonder just how wise it had been to hire the man simply on recommendation alone. He looked much younger than his application said he was, and was dressed head to toe in black. Even his glasses were black. The guy looked more like a theatre techie than a model builder. He acted like one, too. He hadn't even been in the shop thirty seconds, and already he was messing with one of the in-progress projects on the shop floor.

"Um, excuse me?" Jamie said from the stairs.

As the new hire turned around, Jamie noticed that the young man was also apparently into piercings. Just his ear, but it was still enough to make Jamie reconsider his decision.

"You Savage?" Jamie asked.

"Yeah," he said as he extended his hand to greet Jamie. He had the toothy grin of a close-up magician; the type that hung around in bars and diners at three in the morning. "I would have been earlier, but I had trouble finding the place," he said. It sounded sincere enough to Jamie.

"Well," Jamie said, shaking Adam's hand. "You're actually earlier than most of my employees today." He rolled his eyes and took a small step back. "We might as well get you started."

Jamie led the new hire around the perimeter of the shop, briefly explaining where tools and supplies were found.

"The biggest rule is that you clean up after yourself," Jamie said sternly.

Adam nodded his head. "Got it."

"I'm serious. I don't like going behind everybody to clean up their messes. You leave a big mess in your work area, or you break something big, you're done. I don't give second chances."

Adam grimaced slightly, fearing this might wind up being one of his one-hour jobs. "Got it," he said.

As Jamie showed him how the lathe could be persnickety, and how to fix it, the door at the front of the shop buzzed once more. Jamie heard it, but didn't stop trying to explain how different lubricants should be used for different materials. Adam was learning nothing new from Jamie's lecture, but he didn't want to interrupt his new boss.

"Hey," Jamie said loudly. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah," Adam lied. "Graphite and acrylics can go dry, use the light stuff on aluminum, and the medium or heavy stuff of the alloys. Clean up afterwards, because the moisture will attract dust, and it'll kill the machine, and don't put anything on the lathe unless you're using it for a project."

Jamie started to nod, but quickly looked over at Adam. "I never said that last part," he said, wondering where the comment had come from. "I shouldn't have to, either."

Adam shrugged. He figured he'd start testing his limits early, in case he decided he wanted a soda some time during the day.

“Well," Jamie said, leading him back out to the main shop, "that should be everything you'll need today. Might as well get you going on your project."

He opened a file cabinet against the wall, and handed a thin manila folder over to Adam. "We were contracted for a Sam Raimi sequel. The prop for the first film was accidentally destroyed, and the company that they went to last time went bankrupt last winter, so unfortunately, we don't have any of the schematics. It doesn't have to function; I don't think the original one actually did anything."

Adam nodded as he looked at the two photographic stills Jamie had given him. "This is all they gave you to go off of?" he asked, sure that there would be more than two photographs and a page of approximations. "I could have gotten better images from the net."

Jamie nodded slowly. "Yeah, I kind of expected more, especially considering the director, but that's all they gave us." Adam tilted the still slightly. "They want it by Monday," Jamie continued. "That's three days if you come in over the weekend."
Adam closed the folder and dropped it on the work bench beside him. "Yeah," he said. "No problem."

I have to go on location to shoot an ad today," Jamie informed. "If you need anything or have any questions, there'll be plenty of people down here to help you."
Adam nodded again. "Got it."


Ω Ω Ω


Jamie returned to the shop after a mind wracking seven-hour shoot to an unusually amount of squealing in the back of the shop. He rushed back to the epicenter of the commotion to find Adam barrel walking a large cable spool while juggling four tennis balls. Damn near every person in the shop was circled around him, enjoying their own private circus. One of the interns had an armful of tennis balls that had more than likely been dug out of one of the bins on the wall.

"HA!" the intern called out as he tossed Adam a fifth tennis ball.

Adam caught it almost effortlessly, weaving it in the air with the ones he already had going.

"HA!" He threw Adam a sixth ball, which was also caught with ease.

"What the hell is this?"
At once, everyone in the circle stopped laughing. Adam jumped slightly, losing his rhythm. The tennis balls all fell back to earth, bouncing wildly on the hard cement floor. He stepped down off of the cable spool, letting it gently roll across the floor a few feet.

"Hey, Hyneman," Adam said casually.

"Adam, what the hell are you doing?" Jamie demanded. The small group that had been watching Adam took the opportunity and slunk away while Jamie's attention was focused elsewhere. "This is a business. You can't just fuck around whenever you want. You have things to do."

“It's done," Adam said simply.

"It's done?" Jamie asked.

"Done. Just waiting for things to dry."

Jamie sighed and walked away, presumably to go make sure that he wasn't being lied to. Quickly, Adam gathered up the tennis balls he had dropped and placed them on the table before running to catch up with Jamie. Sure enough, the massive cannon of a gun was lying completed on the work bench, surrounded by printed out photos Adam had found on the Internet. Every odd detail, right down to the scratches carved in the barrel was accounted for.

"You did this in seven hours?" Jamie asked.

Adam nodded. "Yeah," he said, grinning slightly. "I told you it was no problem."