Edgar Hernandez grabbed the two-foot by two-foot cardboard box that came from the huge container ship that was docked in Long Beach, California. Edgar had been working at the shipyard for two years. He was not a documented immigrant, but the shipyard paid Edgar’s brother-in-law who had a working social security number. The cardboard box said “Fireworks” in large block letters and “Made in China” in small thin letters. The cardboard box itself came from wood in Brazil, but was milled and assembled in Tibet, though China did not advertize that fact. Edgar placed the cardboard box along with all the other fireworks boxes on the back of a Toyota pickup truck. (more…)
Ron Gettelfinger sat in one of the two wood chairs in front of the simple oak desk of William Clay Ford, Jr. The desk was the same one used by Henry Ford eighty years ago. William had it restored. William was adjusting himself in his large smooth red leather office chair. The difference in chair sizes did not escape Ron Gettelfinger. Since becoming President of the United Automobile Workers, he had met with all the big three car companies. But this meeting was unusual. Ford called him personally and said he had something important to discuss in private. (more…)
William Clay Ford, Jr. sat at the head of the forty foot polished mahogany conference table at Ford headquarters in Dearborn, Michigan. Sitting around the table were many of Ford Motor Company’s Board of Directors, including Sir John Bond, Stephen Butler, Richard Manoogian, John Thornton, Kimberly Casiano, Ellen Marram, Homer Neal, Irvine Hockaday, Jorma Ollila, Marie-Josee Kravis and Edsel B. Ford II. This was not an official board meeting, so it was unusual that so many members of the board were present. This collection of people was not necessarily automobile heavy-weights. In fact, as is true with many corporations, the Ford Board was filled with people from varied backgrounds, from greeting cards and finance to cell phones and home improvement products. This was the Board that was going to take the car company into the 21st Century. One thing was lucky for certain, William Clay Ford, Jr. thought, was that he was an automobile guy. His whole family was built on automobiles, and he was there to protect the family name as well as a major international corporation. (more…)
Continued From Yesterday
Kate Moss rose from the carpeted floor and sat on the leather couch. She grabbed the bottle of Dom Perignon and took another swig, actually a big swig, the alcohol going down her thin throat in gulps. She felt the liquid warm her aging and abused stomach, and she got a rush of dizziness. Not the kind of dizziness associated with nausea, but more that of a gentle high. This surprised her given the amount she had consumed in the last two hours. It must be the site and anticipation of the plastic bag of powder. Cocaine. It must be cocaine. What a gift. Though she had spent a good deal of time in the Arizona desert drying out from drugs, the Arizona thing was more for show than anything. She still smoked her sixty to eighty cigarettes a day. She still was able to drink. Alcohol, that is. She even had a few Demerol here and there to keep her smiling through the burning Arizona sun. As she saw it, it was a vacation. (more…)
Kate Moss stood in the elevator of the Hilton on Park Lane in London as it rose to the penthouse suite floor. She was alone, wearing a black skirt cut about six inches above her knees and white tank top with string shoulder straps. The top was tight, hugging Kate’s round orange-size breasts. Her left hand held the top of a half empty bottle of Moet and Chandon Dom Perignon champagne, her left arm hung low burdened with the bottle, her back leaned against the rear of the elevator cab. Her right hand gripped the brass rail that ran around the cab. Kate’s drinking this evening had gotten a bit out of hand. The champagne bottle in Kate’s hand was the second one being worked on. A Gauloise cigarette was burning in Kate’s puffy lips, the non-filtered tip in Kate’s mouth, the smoke rising into her face. She glanced up at the “No Smoking” sign and smiled. Signs did not mean anything to her. They had become silly. There did not seem to be any consequences to her behavior, bad or otherwise, and so she had decided to do whatever she liked. (more…)
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