‘If you’re unhappy,’ said Peterson, appearing at the door and possibly with his own agenda regarding this office, ‘can I suggest you complain to the union and . . .’ ‘The union,’ uttered Rosie Lee, eyes blazing with contempt. Peterson took a wise step backwards. ‘That bunch of useless, ineffectual, feeble, toothless fu—’ It seemed likely that at some point in her life, the union had failed to live up to expectation.
