Goff was pushed out through the workshop doors.
He pulled the black cloth bag off his head, his mind still in a fog.
It felt as though he had gotten drunk and had an absurd dream.
Had he, the factory director, been stripped of his authority?
Were all several hundred employees under him criminals lying low?
If he told anyone about this, no one would believe him!
At the very least, they would question his management skills and consider him an incompetent fool unfit for responsibility.
They might even think he had lost his mind and drag him straight to a mental hospital!
At that thought, Goff sobered up considerably and abandoned the idea of reporting it to the police.
Would the police believe anything a drunk said?
Goff looked back at the tightly shut workshop doors. They seemed like a gaping, bloody maw waiting to devour someone!
The cold night wind howled past. He shuddered and fled.
From then on, the 516 Military Uniform Factory officially became the Mutual Aid Association's base of operations.
After Factory Director Goff was sidelined, the employees not only received better pay and benefits, but also had their unreasonable shifts adjusted, giving them more time to rest.
It turned out that working hours were not always directly proportional to output. Eight hours a day was enough to meet production targets.
The excellent performance earned Goff repeated commendations from his superiors. This also snuffed out his little urge to inform on them, leaving him content to form an alliance of shared interests with the Southern Women's Mutual Aid Association.
The factory's finances were entirely under the association's control. The books they produced were impeccable, able to withstand audits from the higher-level finance department while quietly skimming off money.
This surprised Goff. Bookkeeping was a