Blue Homestead Publishing started as a vanity press project by Aaron Hemphill, and his wife Anita, back when he was just a state attorney in Winchester. He was interested in history, and he also had unlimited access to much of the county's public records. He began to collect and collate certain records of soldiers from various wars together into cohesive wholes and self-published them. Soon, he was able to get collections set up from nearby counties as well. It soon became successful enough to spread out into other authors, and large enough to set up a headquarters on the east side of Fayette county when he became a judge. He was too busy to run it day-to-day, so Anita took over most of the duties. She used her experience as an English teacher to great effect. He still writes a book every few years, but Blue Homestead makes most of its money now on local authors, including the occasional crackpot like Ms. Mayfield. They used to have their four kids work here too, but they moved on, with the youngest moving out just after I got here. He was the only one I got to know. The others I have really only met in passing, and barely that. The former family vibe has been replaced with Anita's corporate know-how from her years in the computer business, where she worked after her brief time in education. Things haven't been as friendly since.
At least she wasn’t wearing her usual perfume today. That stuff is so strong, the fumes would fill up the hallways even if she never left her office suite most of the day. A mix of roses, citrus, and maybe coconut. The violet and plum mix she was wearing today is nowhere near as bad. It is barely noticeable after a few feet. Almost forgettable too. Still, an improvement on that other scent.
It looks like everyone else has left for the day, which makes sense since it is just past five. Wait, not everyone, as someone is standing by my desk. Only Tim Davidson, the managing editor, gets an office. The regular people, like me, just have desks, not even dividers or cubicles for privacy. It interferes with ‘the flow’ they say. Now, I have Bernard ‘Bennie’ Rogers down from Resources (both financial and human, why waste money when you can combine the two) waiting for me, and just after my run-in with Hemphill. This can't be good.
“Chris, glad I caught you before you left. We need to talk, son.” he says.
Son!? He's barely ten years older than me. Sure, he is further along a career path, married with two children, the oldest already in high school, graying temples, but ‘son?’ Okay, we would never have been in school together, but we are still in the same generation. Kind of.
“Can I just check on some projects while we talk? I really need to make sure I’ve closed everything before I leave.” I sit down and start my computer. I already had closed everything, but I needed an excuse to hurry him along. He steps back a bit to give me some privacy.
“You have had another run-in with Hemphill. What does this make, three times in the last year?” he asks.
‘More like fifteen months, but yeah.” I click on my latest project, a memoir of an actor from well before my, or Bennie's, generation.
“She really does have grounds to discipline you. She checked with HR before your meeting. It was touch-and-go for a moment on whether she could actually fire you,” he grumbles.
“Then it is a good thing that I am so good at my job.” I respond, rather nonchalantly. I fake going over the life of a so-so actor, originally from Covington. Well-liked and connected, but no one ever gave him a descent chance to show his stuff. He went into semi-retirement, but he wasn't forgotten. Typical Hollywood trajectory.
“You aren't irreplaceable. But you are very good, and you do have seniority.” For Bennie, I guess that’s a strong complement, even though the sentence structure is a little off.
“I've been here five years, six if you count my time as an intern. That's longer than you, at least.” I read on, or at least pretend to. The actor got a small, but brilliant, role in an art-house movie that swept the smaller awards, even though few saw it and he himself didn’t win anything, although he was nominated. That role got him more work, and now he will be featured in an action super-hero flick this fall. Can’t remember if he’s a villain or second-fiddle hero support. Eh, not important. Having a hot granddaughter tearing it up on Broadway doesn't hurt either. It was Andrew Hemphill, the youngest of the bunch and now a Hollywood agent, who got us this book. Still not sure how he got it, or even why he decided the entertainment industry was the best match for him. Anyway, it looks like it could be a big hit for Blue Homestead.
“You really might want to think about taking some of your unused vacation time, preferably in the next two weeks. It should take some heat off of you,” Bennie chimes back.
“What do you mean? It's almost time for the start of the fall push.” I close up my project, and quickly check into the traffic and weather site, one of the few approved for outside access, even in off-hours. “We will need everyone here for that.”
“First, we are expecting a few new interns this summer. They will be more than enough to help out at the start. Second, you would be the only one in editing taking off, if you go in early June. Most everyone else will go in July and August with their families. You're single. You could go at any time,” he reasons.
“I have never needed vacation time. Why can't I just work like I always do? We will need all hands on deck this coming month.” Normally, we print two or three books a month. However, for May and October, the months before the big trade shows and buying seasons, we can go up to five or so. This year, Hemphill is going for eight. We have never tried to publish that many in so short a time. We will never meet the October deadlines with so many titles. Can’t be sure what Hemphill is thinking. Her husband can’t be fully aware of what she’s planning. He would never have tried to do so much out of the blue. Sure, the finances are probably good enough to handle the overhead, but we don’t have the manpower and skill to do so much. Not in such a limited amount of time.
“Son,” Not again with that! "you are in serious trouble. Anita will fire you for your next offense, even a minor one. Just take some time off, get you off her mind for awhile. Then, when you get back, you can show her how much you've changed. Come see me no later than Friday to schedule your time off. Understand.” He talks down to me, as if he’s some kind of father figure and I’m a misbehaving child.
“Yes. I will be up there no later than Friday." I close everything off and shut my computer down again. “Are we done here? I really need to get going.”
“Sure. Remember. Friday. And keep out of trouble." he says to me as he walks to the rear entrance and the executive private parking lot.
I turn and walk the other way, to the main entrance and the front parking lot where all of us ‘regular workers’ must park. I check the time again. Instead of getting to leave early, I am now leaving almost twenty minutes late. I walk over to my car. I was fortunate enough to get a spot that gets late afternoon shade, so my car wouldn’t get as hot. I won’t have to wait a few minutes to get it cooled off. Don’t want to have to wait even one minute longer before I leave here.
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