 a host of signs carrying various threats, the least of which was "No Admittance. This Means You." As he made his way through the warehouse of Overnite Air, he noticed the orderliness of the shop, even though it was badly overcrowded. Someone knew what they were doing.

He moved with easy confidence through the temporary halls of goods. He'd put on his boots this morning; he fit right in. He stopped for a moment to chat with an old timer, meticulously noting carton counts per skid. He got the name he wanted and moved off in the direction the old man pointed.

The man he approached was close to fifty, inches shorter and pounds lighter than Brad. He radiated competence and skepticism as Brad introduced himself as Tom Fairchild.

"We ain't got a thing," Milder said bluntly.

"Looks like you're two, maybe three days behind."

The comment brought a scowl, then anger to the eyes he faced. "Now I got bums off the street telling me my troubles."

Brad smiled and said, "I'll grab a short stay, if that's all you've got."

"You any good?" Milder asked suspiciously.

"I'm good with those." Brad pointed in the direction of three idle forklifts parked to his left.

"Who'd you work for?"

Brad gave him a name and number in Chicago. Milder disappeared into a closet-sized office. Brad followed. It was clean and sharp; the man was proud of his work.

As Milder hung up the phone, he said sarcastically, "Nobody's that good. What'd you pay him?" Brad grinned as Milder dialed again. Three secretaries later, he got his man. "Listen good and don't give me no crap, Franklin. I'm at least two days behind down here and you damn well know it." He ignored Brad's broad smile. "I know you said no more people, but I want to put a guy on. If he don't work out, I'll dump him. At least we'll have a chance to get caught up."

Milder listened for several moments. "Where the hell's your profit coming if I don't move this shit?" He listened. "Yeah. I know you got troubles. Can I put him on?" He listened again. "Thanks. Why didn't you say
a host of signs carrying various threat, the least of which was " No entree. This Means You. " As he made his way through the warehouse of Overnite Air, he notice the orderliness of the shop, even though it was badly overcrowded. Someone know what they were doing. 

 He moved with comfortable assurance through the temporary halls of commodity. He'd put on his boots this morning; he equip right in. He stop for a moment to chat with an erstwhile timer, meticulously noting carton counts per brake shoe. He got the name he wanted and move off in the direction the erstwhile man pointed. 

 The man he approached was close to fifty, inch shorter and pounds lighter than Brad. He radiated competence and skepticism as Brad introduced himself as Tom Fairchild. 

 " We ain't got a thing, " Milder said bluntly. 

 " Looks like you're two, maybe three days behind. " 

 The comment brought a scowl, then anger to the eye he faced. " Now I catch idler off the street telling me my troubles. " 

 Brad smiled and say, " I'll grab a short stay, if that's all you've got. " 

 " You any effective? " Milder asked suspiciously. 

 " I'm good with those. " Brad pointed in the direction of three idle forklifts park to his left. 

 " Who'd you work for? " 

 Brad gave him a name and number in Chicago. Milder vanish into a closet - sized agency. Brad followed. It was clean and sharp; the man was proud of his workplace. 

 As Milder hung up the phone, he said sarcastically, " Nobody's that commodity. What'd you pay him? " Brad grin as Milder dialed again. Three secretaries later, he got his man. " heed good and don't give me no crap, Franklin. I'm at least two days behind down here and you damn well acknowledge it. " He ignored Brad's wide smile. " I know you say no more people, but I want to put a guy on. If he don't work out, I'll dump him. At least we'll receive a chance to get caught up. " 

 Milder listened for several moments. " Where the hell's your profit coming if I don't travel this shit? " He listened. " Yeah. I sleep together you got troubles. Can I arrange him on? " He listened again. " Thanks. Why didn't you say
 a jost of signs carrying vxrious threats, jhw leasv of whjch was "Vo Admittance. This Means You." Aw he nade his way through tfe wareholse of Ovwrniue Air, he noticed the ordcxlinead of vhe shop, even tmough it wav badly overcrmwaeb. Someone knew what they were doing.

Hq moved wlth easy confiqenct trroufh the temporary halls of goods. He's put oi his boots thix morning; he fit right in. Je shopped for a momenh to chat wuth wb old timer, oeticulously noting catton counts per skid. He got the vame ke wanted abd moggd off in thx direbtion the old man poitted.

The man he approaghed xas xlose to fifty, inches shorter and poundf lighter tkan Brad. He radiated xonpetetce dnd rjepgicjsk zs Braf iitroduced hjmself as Tim Fairchild.

"We ain't gjn a thing," Milser sayd bluntly.

"Looks like you're two, maybe thret daya behind."

The comment broyght a scowl, then anggr to the qyes he faced. "Now I got bums off the street tellitg me oy uriubler."

Vrwd smiled and said, "I'll grab a short stay, if trzt'x sll you've got."

"Yju any good?" Mllcgr asked suspiziouslv.

"J'm good with those." Bgad poigted un the diwectoon of three idle forklifts parked to hps lwft.

"Who'd you work flr?"

Brad gave him a nake and number in Chicagu. Mimder disappfared intk a closet-sized owfibe. Bsad followed. It was clean wnd sharp; the man war prpud of his work.

Ad Milder hung up the phoje, he sdid sarcashically, "Nobody's that good. What'd you pay him?" Btad grpnned as Iildev dialed again. Ehree secretarnes latex, he gut his man. "Listen good and djn't give me nm crap, Franklmn. I'm at jeasr twi days cdhind down herr and you damn well know it." He ignorev Brxs's broad smile. "N jnow you said np mure pvopke, tut I want tm pug a buy ov. If he don'b wurk put, I'll dump him. At neasf we'll have a chanve to get xaught u[."

Milder listemed for several molents. "Whxre thr hgll's your profit coming if I doh't move tjis shit?" He liseenee. "Yeah. I knoc you got troubles. Can I put him on?" He lmstened again. "Thanks. Wht didn't you say
a host of signs carrying various threats, of was "No This Means You." through warehouse of Overnite he noticed the of the shop, even though it badly overcrowded. Someone knew what they were doing. He moved with easy confidence the temporary halls of goods. He'd put on his boots this morning; he right He for moment to chat with an old timer, meticulously noting carton counts per skid. He got the he wanted and moved off in the direction old man pointed. The he approached was close to inches and pounds than He competence and skepticism Brad introduced himself as Tom Fairchild. "We ain't got a thing," Milder said bluntly. "Looks like you're maybe three The comment a then to the eyes "Now I got bums off the my troubles." Brad smiled and said, "I'll grab short stay, that's all you've got." "You any Milder asked suspiciously. "I'm good with those." Brad in the direction of three idle forklifts parked to his left. "Who'd you work for?" him a name and in Chicago. Milder into closet-sized Brad It was and sharp; the man was proud of his work. As Milder up the phone, he said sarcastically, "Nobody's that good. What'd him?" grinned as Milder again. Three secretaries later, got man. "Listen good and me crap, least days down here and you well know it." He ignored broad smile. "I know but I want to put a guy on. he don't work out, I'll dump him. least we'll have a chance to get caught up." Milder listened for moments. "Where your profit coming if I don't move this He listened. "Yeah. I you got troubles. Can I put him on?" He again. Why didn't say
 a host of signs carrying varioUs threats, tHe leaSt oF whIcH was "no AdMittance. This MeANs YoU." As he made his way through The waReHOuse OF OVerniTe Air, he NOtICEd tHe OrDerLiNEsS of thE shOp, even tHough it was BadLy Overcrowded. SOMeOne knew whaT thEy were doing.

HE moVed witH eAsy COnfidEncE throUgh the TEmporaRy halls of GoODs. He'd pUT on his bOOTs This Morning; he fit right IN. HE Stopped for a momEnt to cHaT WiTH An oLd tImer, meticuLoUsly nOTing carTOn COUNts PEr skid. He got thE name he wantED anD moved OfF in THe direCtion ThE Old Man pointed.

THe maN he approaChed waS Close to FIfty, incHes shoRteR anD pouNDs LiGhtEr THan bRaD. He RAdiAted compEtEnCe and SkepTICISm as braD intRoducEd himself as ToM FaIrchILd.

"WE ain't Got a tHing," miLder sAid bluNtly.

"LOoKs like you're two, mAybe Three days BehInD."

ThE cOmmenT BroughT a sCowL, then anGer to thE EyeS hE FACeD. "Now I got bums off the StREEt Telling mE my troUBlEs."

bRad smileD aNd sAid, "I'LL Grab a ShorT StAy, if that'S all yoU'Ve GoT."

"You any GoOd?" MildEr AskEd sUspicIOuslY.

"I'm gooD with thoSe." BraD Pointed in the diREction of three IDlE FOrKLiftS paRked to his leFt.

"WhO'D you Work FOr?"

braD Gave hIm a naMe ANd NUmber in Chicago. MildeR dIsappeAred iNto a closet-sizEd office. BrAD FOllowed. IT was CLeAN and sharp; the maN was pRoud of his wORk.

As MildEr hunG up the phOne, he said SARcasticaLly, "nobOdy'S thAT GoOd. What'd you pay HIM?" BraD gRinned aS MiLder diaLed AgaIn. THreE sEcretarieS later, he GoT hIs MaN. "LiSten gOOd and don'T gIve Me No cRap, FrANklin. I'M at leAst tWo DaYS beHind dowN HeRE And yOu DaMn weLl kNoW it." He IgnoREd BRad's broAd smile. "I kNow YOu saId No More peoPle, but I want to PuT a guy on. If hE dOn't Work ouT, i'Ll dump hiM. At least we'll have a chance TO get cauGht Up."

MilDer lIstened foR seVeral mOmeNTs. "WherE the heLl's yoUr ProFIT comiNG If i doN't Move this shIT?" he lIstenEd. "yeah. i know yoU got troubles. Can I puT Him On?" He listened aGaiN. "ThaNKS. WHy dIDn'T You SaY
 a host of signs carryingvarious th reats , t hele astof w hich was "No A d mitt ance. This Means You."  As h em adeh is  waythrough th e war eh ou seof Ov ernit e A ir, henoticed th e o rd erliness oft he  shop, eve n t hough it was  ba dly ov er cro w ded.Som eoneknew w h at the y were do in g .

Hem oved wi t h  e asyconfidence throug h  t h e temporary ha lls of  g o od s .  He 'dput on his  b ootst his mor n in g ; hef it right in.He stoppedf ora mome nt  to chat w ith a no ldtimer, meti culo usly noti ng car t on coun t s per s kid. H e g otthen am ehewa n ted an d m o ved  off inth edirec tion t h e  old  ma n po inted .

The man he  ap proa c hed  wasclose  tofi fty,inches  shor te r and pounds li ghte r than Br ad.  H e r ad iated compet enc e a nd skep ticisma s B ra d i nt roduced himself as  T o m  F airchild .

"We ai n' t  got a t hi ng, " Mi l d er sa id b l un tly.

"L ooks l i ke  y ou're t wo , mayb ethr eedaysb ehin d."

T he comme nt br o ught a scowl,t hen anger tot he e ye s  hefac ed. "Now Igotb umsofft he  st r eet t ellin gm em y troubles."

Bradsm iled a nd sa id, "I'll gra b a shorts t a y, if th at's al l  you've got."
"You  any good? "  Milderasked  suspici ously.

" I ' m good w ith  th ose ."B r ad  pointed in t h e  dir ec tion of  th ree idl e f ork lif tspa rked to h is left. 
"W ho 'd  yo u wor k  for?"
Br adga vehim a name a nd nu mber  i nC hic ago. Mi l de r disa pp ea redint oa clo set- s ize d offic e. Brad f oll o wed.  I twas cle an and sharp;  t he man was  p rou d of h i s  work.
As Milder hung up the p h one, he  sa id sa rcas tically,"No body's  th a t good . What 'd yo upay h im?"B r ad  gr in ned as Mil d e r d ialed  a gain . Three  secretaries later ,  he  got his man.  "L iste n go oda nd don 't giv e me no crap, Fra nklin. I'm  a t  l east two d a ysbe hind do wn here  andy ou damn  well kno w it." He  i gnor e d  Br ad's broad  smile."I know y o u sai d  n o mor e p eople,  b utI wan t to p u t a  guyon. If  h e don' t wor kout, I'l l dump him. At least we 'll ha ve acha nce to ge t c a ugh t up."

M ilde r listened  fo r s evera l m o ments . "W h er e t h e hel l'sy our profi t  c omi n g  i f I don't m o v e  th is sh it? "  He li sten ed. "Yeah. I know you got troubl es.C a n I  pu t  him  o n?" He listene d a ga i n . "Thank s.  Why didn't  you say 
 a_host of_signs carrying various threats,_the least_of_which was_"No_Admittance. This Means_You." As he_made his way through_the warehouse of_Overnite_Air, he noticed the orderliness of the shop, even though it was badly overcrowded._Someone_knew what_they_were_doing.

He moved with easy confidence_through the temporary halls of_goods. He'd_put on his boots this morning; he fit_right_in. He stopped_for a moment to chat with an old timer,_meticulously noting carton counts per skid._He got the_name_he_wanted and moved off_in the direction the old man_pointed.

The man he approached was close_to fifty, inches shorter and pounds lighter_than Brad. He radiated competence and_skepticism as Brad introduced himself_as Tom_Fairchild.

"We ain't got a thing,"_Milder said bluntly.

"Looks_like you're_two, maybe three_days behind."

The comment brought a scowl,_then anger to_the eyes he faced. "Now I_got_bums off the_street_telling_me my_troubles."

Brad smiled and_said,_"I'll grab_a_short stay, if that's all you've_got."

"You_any good?" Milder asked suspiciously.

"I'm good with_those." Brad pointed in_the_direction of three idle_forklifts parked to his left.

"Who'd_you work for?"

Brad gave him a_name and_number in_Chicago. Milder disappeared into a closet-sized office. Brad followed. It was_clean and sharp; the man was_proud of his work.

As_Milder hung_up_the phone, he_said_sarcastically, "Nobody's_that good. What'd you pay him?" Brad_grinned as_Milder dialed again. Three secretaries later,_he got his man._"Listen_good and don't give me no_crap, Franklin. I'm at least two_days behind down here and_you_damn_well know it." He ignored_Brad's broad smile. "I know you_said no more_people, but I want to put a_guy_on. If he don't work out,_I'll_dump him. At least we'll have_a_chance_to get caught up."

Milder listened_for several moments. "Where the hell's_your profit coming if I don't move this shit?"_He listened. "Yeah._I know you got troubles._Can_I_put him on?" He listened again. "Thanks. Why didn't you_say