The workers seemed to appreciate his talent for remembering their names, his ability to tell a dirty joke like one of the boys, and his sense of knowing when to interfere in private disputes and when not to. He asked nothing of them that he didn’t require of himself. He took risks, stayed overtime, ate a packed lunch alongside them, and earned their respect for mixing with them instead of setting himself apart.
Dillon preferred to know his building intimately—every rivet, every cable, every brick—rather than seal himself off in his trailer. He inspected every phase of the construction. His high standards caused his next altercation with Haskell Scanlan.
“What the hell is this?” Dillon was holding a strip of electrical conduit in his gloved hands. The unfortunate electrician whom Dillon had randomly selected to question glanced warily around the circle of onlookers and, seeing no one willing to leap to his rescue, began explaining in rapid French.
Dillon didn’t understand a word of it. He shook the strip of wiring at the man’s face. “This isn’t what I ordered. Where’d you get it?”
One of the electricians spoke a smattering of English. He tapped Dillon’s arm. Dillon angrily spun around. “What?” The man pointed toward the stacked spools of wiring. After a brief inspection, Dillon addressed the men now standing idle. “Don’t install any more of this shit. Got that?” The man who had been serving as interpreter conveyed the message to the others.
Lifting one of the heavy spools onto his shoulder, Dillon used the service elevator to get to the ground floor, then barged through the door of the trailer. Haskell, seated at his computer terminal, jumped reflexively at the sudden interruption. When he saw Dillon, he frowned in disapproval of his barbaric behavior.
“I want to know what the hell this is.” The reel of conduit landed on top of Haskell’s desk with a solid thud. He sent his desk chair flying backward on its casters.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he squealed. “Get that thing off my desk.”
Dillon braced his hands on either side of the metal spool and leaned over it. “Listen to me, you little shit, I’m going to make you eat every foot of this worthless stuff if you don’t come across with a full explanation of why you didn’t buy what I wrote on the purchase order months ago. You’ve got ten seconds.”
“The wiring you ordered was three times as expensive as this,” Haskell said, having recovered some equanimity.
“The wiring I ordered is three times as good and three times as safe.”
“This meets local building codes.”
“It doesn’t meet mine,” Dillon said through clenched teeth.
“If I didn’t know it was sufficient—”
“You don’t know jackshit. This building is going to be filled with all types of sophisticated electronics. To avoid catastrophe, it’s got to have the best possible wiring.”
Dillon grabbed the telephone and dropped it into the unsuspecting accountant’s lap. “Now, get your skinny ass on the phone and place the order I originally sent in. I want the materials delivered no later than noon tomorrow, or I’m going to send every one of those electricians with nothing to do in here to jerk off on your desk.”
The telephone clattered to the floor as Haskell shot to his feet. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
“I just have.” Dillon nodded down at the telephone. “You’re wasting time. Do it.”
“I won’t. It’s my responsibility to see that we keep expenses down.”
“I agree, as long as it doesn’t compromise the integrity of the building. In this instance, it does.”
“The wiring I ordered is sufficient and, according to the local government, safe.”
“Well, according to Dillon Burke, it’s crap. I won’t install it in my building.”
“Your building?” Haskell said with a supercilious smile.
“Just order the wiring I requested, Scanlan.”
> “No.”
Dillon liked harmony as well as the next man, and he avoided confrontation whenever he could. But he wasn’t about to lower his standards on his first project. Nor was he willing to go to Pilot again. Pilot had already told him to take charge.
“Either get on the telephone now,” he said calmly, “or you’re fired.”
Haskell’s pointed jaw fell open. “You can’t fire me.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“Oh yeah? We’ll see what Mr. Pilot has to say about it.”