GIBSON: You're not, Frankel!
SHOMBERG: Well, why can't you listen to him? Don't we even get no hearing? I guess if I was running this factory once, the first thing I'd do I'd anyhow try to listen what the troubles is and make my men contented.
GIBSON: What would you do if you were running the factory, Carter? You haven't said.
CARTER: I ain't had the chance to say. Now what I'd do, first I'd settle all the grievances so there wouldn't be no more complaints.
GIBSON: Well, here's one coming I might leave to you on that basis.
[Enter SIMPSON, an elderly worker in overalls and jumper; and SALVATORE, a New Yorkized Italian type, a formerly lighted cigarette dangling from his lips.]
SALVATORE: Our department's goin' to walk out at twelve, noon, Mr.
Gibson. We ain't satisfied.
GIBSON: Why not?
SALVATORE: Well, we ain't satisfied, Mr. Gibson; we ain't satisfied at all.
GIBSON: You got every demand answered yesterday, Salvatore.