For as long as he did not speak up, Richard was an impressive man.
His chiselled body was reminiscent of ancient sculptures representing Greek gods. With a chest like an aircraft carrier and legs like tree trunks, he was factory's most recognizable landmark. Eating was his main occupation and forcing food into his mouth, main responsibility. Digesting was his favourite hobby.
Richard suffered from relapses of verbal diarrhoea. Loose chunks of shit frequently passed through his mouth. He was naturally unable to say a good thing about anyone, not even the dead. Saying good things about people made him sick. His symptoms included dizziness, blurred vision, loss of balance and shortness of breath. A prolonged exposure to a positive atmosphere had a devastating effect on his health and Richard prepared for family celebrations like some prepare for malaria before traveling to Africa. Sitting at the same table with the close ones for more than two hours was a torture he was only able to endure because of strength of his character. Even then he struggled to hold a conversation as the family would naturally gravitate toward optimistic commonalities which Richard could not share or enjoy due to fear of getting fever. Every time he was forced by social expectations to say something good about people, he would end up puking. Pretending politeness and interest in subjects different than bodybuilding and football gave him cold shivers. His body was rejecting articulate conversations like a foreign transplant. Christmas and Easter were particularly painful. After a day of polite discussions he would get struck by severe dehydration. "Kevin Home alone" caused him annual attacks of childhood trauma. In a space of few days he would become a shadow of his former self and had to rush back to the gym to regain all his losses.
His wife loved his body but could not listen to him. After she had left, Richard was free to dedicate all his time to gaining, maintaining and measuring the size of his enormous limbs.
He trained before the work, rested during the work and prepared for training after the work. The first two hours of his shift were allocated for recovery, because there was no one big enough to tell him otherwise. From six to seven he sat motionlessly on a small stool, he was not allowed to have, from where, together with the Hooligan, exchanged callous remarks about the management team, directors, owner, wood shop manager, health and safety officer and football in general. It was an exhausting schedule, but Richard knew how to pace himself. He would take a well - deserved break during already taken brake and continue his regeneration with clear conscious up until Ashley's arrival around seven in the morning, when the factory slowly filled up with people and hum of drills, saws and punchers.
Richard would reluctantly get into a second gear, warm up his stiff limbs with some clumsy movement around his bench, while carrying on unstoppable crusade of finding unacceptable imperfections in everyone around for he did not mind pointing out other people's shortcomings and would do so purely out of good intentions. He believed constructive criticism was a basis for an improvement, which he, himself, was a proud personification of. Eating was the only moment when he did not criticise, for he knew talking with full mouth was bad manners. A self - proclaimed champion of good manners, he demanded a proper conduct from everyone around and was more than happy to provide himself as a perfect example of what a proper conduct should look like in case people fell short of his expectations. His unusual capability for a positive self - assessment only enforced his conviction that he was a well – rounded, polite individual.
He honestly thought that the Managing Director was an idiot and openly called him a fat cunt the whole year round till the run up to the pay rise. If he got the pay rise he would start calling the Managing Director a fat cunt after the Christmas. If he did not get it, he would start calling the Managing Director a fat cunt straight away. The fact the company was doing so well under the Managing Director's stewardship meant absolutely nothing to him because only an idiot would not be able to look after a goose lying golden eggs and Richard knew about eggs more than most people for he had ten raw egg whites' every day in the morning for a second breakfast, which he gulped at the first attempt from a large plastic vase to kick off what supposed to be a beautiful day in place full of ugly people. He followed with a set of pills he kept in a small container with in printed days of a week on it. Such a life style was not without repercussions.
