Hal asked, leaning away to cast a look of annoyance. Anna was momentarily perplexed, until realizing she had been crunching potato chips in his ear as she peered over his shoulder at the figures on his computer screen. That passed for lunch these days, as she never seemed to have time to get out of the office. Everyone was pulling a heavier load now that their staff was leaner, and she was back to handling all the advertising for the BMW lot. “Sorry…type faster and I’ll get out of your hair.” She was anxiously awaiting his December report, their first full month since the downsizing. If they couldn’t turn a profit with a skeleton crew and year-end sales that slashed prices to just over invoice, Premier Motors was going to hell in a handbasket. “I think you’re going to be happy with the numbers.” “Happiness is too much to hope for. I just want to exhale for a change.” He made some final adjustments to his spreadsheet and zeroed in on the profit/loss column. As he predicted, they finished in the black for the first time in eight months.
