Kalle Gustavsson was sixteen years old, but looked older. A lot older. It was not the worn cap that was placed at a dangerous angle on his blonde, uncombed hair, it was not the wrinkled and broken cigarette that half-smoked hanged out from the left part of his thin lips, it was not even the nonchalant stare out of his ice-blue eyes that made him look old. there were something about his person... A lack of respect, a lack of fear...
The man in the black costume behind the polished mahogny desk took another look at the boy from under his glasses. He was responsible for hiring people to the mines in Kiruna, in fact, he was responsible for all hirings within the entire LKAB corporation. And he knew people. And something about this boy, who claimed to be eighteen was unnerving him.
"A thorough experience with dynamite? How did you aquire that?" he said, avoiding the ice-blue stare, trying to regain some of his position, trying to force some respect into the boy.
"My father and I blew stumps out of the ground." Kalle said and moved the cigarette from one part of the mouth to the other, still obviousely not very impressed by the man in front of him.
A common trade for forest-farmers - although few used dynamite to get the stumps out of the ground. The black-suited man knew that they made tar from the stubbs, but he was still annoyed that he had to draw every word out of this boy, slowly and painstakingly. And he hated his arrogance and lack of respect. It was not obvious, of course, not insubordination, but he had nto removed his cap or spitted his cigarette out, and he stared him straight in the eyes. Very unnerving.
"Well, what about your father then?" the black-suited man asked.
"Blew himself apart a week ago." Kalle shrugged and yet again moved the by now rather wet cigarette from one part of his mout to the other.
"Hmm." said the black-suited man, uncomfortable at this news. He would love to send this arrogant boy along, to try to get some work somewhere else. He would absolutely LOVE to close the door in his face, punish him for his lack of respect. But, alas, it had only been three monhts since the accursed socialist government has launched its Keynian economical politics, and workers were already in shrot supply - especially dynameteers - since all the new contruction of industry and infrastructure demanded a lot of skilled handler's of explosives. And the government was paying full wages to lazy people who could not get a job! The black-suited man muttered something to himself, then signed a paper and handed it to the boy.
"You are hired as a dynameteer apprentice from tomorrow, 1st of March 1936. Report to your foreman, Sven Granberg at mine entrance 22 at 07.00 sharp."
The boy did not even smile, bow or thank him. He just took the paper, nodded, turned and walked out. The arrogance!
The man in the black costume behind the polished mahogny desk took another look at the boy from under his glasses. He was responsible for hiring people to the mines in Kiruna, in fact, he was responsible for all hirings within the entire LKAB corporation. And he knew people. And something about this boy, who claimed to be eighteen was unnerving him.
"A thorough experience with dynamite? How did you aquire that?" he said, avoiding the ice-blue stare, trying to regain some of his position, trying to force some respect into the boy.
"My father and I blew stumps out of the ground." Kalle said and moved the cigarette from one part of the mouth to the other, still obviousely not very impressed by the man in front of him.
A common trade for forest-farmers - although few used dynamite to get the stumps out of the ground. The black-suited man knew that they made tar from the stubbs, but he was still annoyed that he had to draw every word out of this boy, slowly and painstakingly. And he hated his arrogance and lack of respect. It was not obvious, of course, not insubordination, but he had nto removed his cap or spitted his cigarette out, and he stared him straight in the eyes. Very unnerving.
"Well, what about your father then?" the black-suited man asked.
"Blew himself apart a week ago." Kalle shrugged and yet again moved the by now rather wet cigarette from one part of his mout to the other.
"Hmm." said the black-suited man, uncomfortable at this news. He would love to send this arrogant boy along, to try to get some work somewhere else. He would absolutely LOVE to close the door in his face, punish him for his lack of respect. But, alas, it had only been three monhts since the accursed socialist government has launched its Keynian economical politics, and workers were already in shrot supply - especially dynameteers - since all the new contruction of industry and infrastructure demanded a lot of skilled handler's of explosives. And the government was paying full wages to lazy people who could not get a job! The black-suited man muttered something to himself, then signed a paper and handed it to the boy.
"You are hired as a dynameteer apprentice from tomorrow, 1st of March 1936. Report to your foreman, Sven Granberg at mine entrance 22 at 07.00 sharp."
The boy did not even smile, bow or thank him. He just took the paper, nodded, turned and walked out. The arrogance!
