“you are trying to fix all the blame for the company’s failure on to us. The proposal of the company is equivalent to a declaration of war against us. For instance, the reintroduction of the piecework system would soon bring in its trail the question of a surplus of workers. … Mr. President, I, as a representative of 2000 of your employees, ask you this: are you thinking of trying a lock-out?”
Nagai’s voice, with a slight quiver in it towards the end, echoed through the whole room. Two or three of the department heads left their seats flurriedly and clustered round the president as if to shield him. But words did not flow in a hurry from his lips. The director, half out of his seat, tried to speak. Just as he did so the aforementioned gentlemen deliberately got up and addressed the two of them in an intimidating voice.
“I regret to say that as the original plan of the company seems likely to be scrapped, there is nothing for me to do but to announce to my association that this company intends to stand out from the twelve companies’ agreement, for the present.”
The president seemed much shaken as he stood up. Then, with a face livid and contorted, he snarled at the workers’ representatives, “This company belongs to me. D’you get that? And nothing in the proposals is going to be withdrawn. D’you understand?”
Toyama and Kondo, losing all self-control, pushed forward in front of the president and shook their fists at him. “All right, it’s a strike!”
