Free Just Business by Ber Carroll

Bruce. Welcome back. Have a nice holiday?’
    Bruce grunted something in reply. He didn’t believe in the niceties of telephone etiquette. But everyone cut him slack. Especially Niamh. He reminded her of her dad – a man broken by divorce. Only difference was that Bruce was using cigarettes to kill himself.
    â€˜Just a few updates. We have a lawsuit in your unit – Denis Greene.’
    She heard him mutter a swearword under his breath and she smiled. Bruce was of the old school: he would never swear in front of a lady.
    â€˜It’s quite an unusual situation,’ she continued. ‘He’s not looking for money. He wants to be offered an alternative role in the company.’
    â€˜That’s not going to happen,’ Bruce barked. ‘I was glad to see the back of him. He was abrupt and rude to our customers, provocative with his colleagues, and insolent to management. In summary, he was and is a troublemaker.’
    Rude. Provocative. Insolent. Niamh wouldn’t want him back either. But she was duty-bound to make Bruce think about it longer and deeper.
    â€˜Lucinda says this is an untested legal area. If we end up in court we could lose and it would cost us a lot of money. It might be easier all round if we took him back. Are you sure there’s noother job that he can do in your business? Maybe a role that isn’t client-facing?’
    â€˜There’s nothing,’ he replied, his voice clipped. ‘His skills are quite specific and they aren’t transferable without intensive retraining. Regardless, I would rather take my chances in court than have him back.’
    â€˜Right. That’s officially on the record. Now, Bruce, there’s just one more thing.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Willem Boelhoers.’
    â€˜What about him?’
    â€˜How’s he going in the job?’ Niamh thought it best to ask that question first. It was important to get an unbiased opinion.
    â€˜Good. The customers seem to like him. That’s everything when you’re an engineer. The customers are already cranky that their equipment is faulty – you need to be able to calm them, keep them buying from us – and keep them paying for maintenance.’
    â€˜It’s great he’s doing so well.’ Niamh paused. ‘Did you know he has schizophrenia?’
    Silence.
    â€˜No.’
    More silence. Bruce digested the news.
    â€˜That puts a different light on things,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m not sure I want a schizo facing our customers. I don’t know what he’s capable of doing – or saying.’
    â€˜For a start, don’t call him a schizo,’ Niamh said quietly. ‘That’s an offensive term – he’s ill and he’s on medication for that illness. The drugs work and it should be fine for him to have a client-facing role.’
    â€˜How can you be so sure he won’t go crazy in front of a customer some day?’
    â€˜I’m not totally certain but he deserves a chance. If he’s doing his job well then we have nothing to worry about. And if he doesn’t do his job well, then we’ll talk to him about it.’
    â€˜Okay, let’s see how it goes with him.’ Bruce was guarded but willing. Despite his notorious ill temper, he was fundamentally a kind man. And, hell, did he know what it felt like to have personal problems.
    Helen’s apartment was a box but it was in the heart of the city. After a childhood and teenage years in the depths of the countryside, she loved being part of the urban action. The traffic on the freeway never stopped. The bars never closed. The tourists never went away.
    Helen was a farm girl who had grown up two hundred kilometres outside Bourke. It was an isolated life on the sheep station and every Saturday morning the Barnes family would drive into town to stock up on groceries and social contact. Weather had dominated her family’s life. The drought cycle