Winthrop identified himself and said, "I have a boy of four, a fine boy, and a fine wife too. I want to work the way a man should to give them something besides Standard Fare. Here is what I have worked at in the last five years." And Winthrop listed the things he had done.
The minister listened. He had white hair and a lined face whose skin seemed to be pulled too tight. When Winthrop had finished, the minister looked steadily into his face for a moment; Winthrop could almost feel the probing of the level blue eyes. Then the minister turned to a device that loomed over him to one side and punched a complex series of buttons. There was a whirring noise behind the wall of the tiny room, and then a small packet of cards appeared at the slot in the bottom of the device. The minister picked them out and glanced at them, and an odd expression of sadness swept across his face. It was gone in an instant, and then he looked up and said, "Yes, Mr. Winthrop. We have a job for you, and the full six hours a day, too. You will be on the maintenance crew of your building. Your job is explained here—" he passed over a card—"and it consists of tightening the nuts on the expansion joints in the framework of the building. It is very important to do it right, so read the card carefully." Winthrop nodded eagerly.
The minister handed over another card and said, "Here is a description of the daily reports you must turn in." Another card. "Here is how you and your chief decide your working schedule, and you must adhere to it; it is very important. The chief of your tightening crew will go over it with you. Here is your requisition for the special wrench you will need. Here is your pay schedule; you can decide if you want to be paid in money or produce. And one very important thing." The minister leaned forward to emphasize his remarks. "You are not allowed to talk about your job with anyone, not even with your best friends. Is that clear?"
Winthrop nodded. "Yes, sir."
"The reason is that we do not want people fighting over jobs. Not many who come in here really want to work, but there are a few. We have to pick good men for this work; those buildings must be kept in good condition. Others less fortunate than you might not understand that you are just the man we need. So no talking about your work—no talk of any kind—on pain of dismissal." The minister sat back. "Well, I guess that is about all. Report for work in the morning. Good luck." And he held out his hand.
Winthrop shook it and said, "Thank you, sir. I'll work hard for you. I didn't know you needed men for this work or I would have been here sooner. I had always heard that.... Well, thank you." And Winthrop turned to go. Out of the corner of his eye as he turned, he thought he saw again that ephemeral expression of sadness, but when he looked the minister full in the face it was gone. Winthrop went out the side door. The entire interview had taken one and three quarter minutes.
Winthrop left early the next morning so as not to be late for work. As it turned out, he was unable to get off a belt at the proper landing—too many people in the way—and it took him fifteen minutes to retrace his steps. He arrived exactly on time.
The chief of the tightening crew was a big, bluff man with a red face. He took Winthrop in tow and showed him how they worked. The crew chief had a vast knowledge of the crawl spaces in the interior of the building. He showed Winthrop the blueprints from which the tightening crew worked, and explained that by coördinating their work with all the other tightening crews they made one complete round of the building every eight years. By then it was time to do it again; the nuts worked loose from the constant expansion and contraction. It was quite a job keeping track of the area that the tightening crew covered; it was a large crew. But each member turned in daily reports, and there was a large clerical staff to keep the records straight. In fact, there were more men keeping records than there were doing the actual tightening work. The chief pointed out that Winthrop was to be one of the elite, one of those whose work justified the existence of the huge staff. The tone of the chief's voice made it clear that there was a kind of quiet pride among the men who did the actual work. The chief issued Winthrop his wrench and showed him where to start.
The day passed swiftly. The tightening of the nuts was not so bad, although Winthrop's arm grew sore after a while. The difficult part was gaining access to the nuts in the first place. Winthrop had to use all his agility to wriggle through confined places. Yet it was good to be working again, good to feel the sweat start from his brow from hard work instead of from the press of people.