Sam pulls the white plastic lid off his cup of coffee, and the aromatic vapors hit him with full force. As is customary, he will gripe about the quality of FBO breakroom coffee but drink it anyway. It continues to baffle him how some of the younger staff stops at that Java ‘n Juice boutique joint, plunk down seven bucks for a mocha-jingo-whatever, and then leave it half consumed all around the hangar. Not him, only strong black coffee in Styrofoam cups will do. As maintenance manager, he needs the caffeine to face the daily tasks before him.
He hears the owner, Ms. Chambers, coming down the hall; her unmistakable heels clack on the ceramic tile floor. She finds him leaning against the breakroom doorframe and says, “I need to see you in my office, please.”
