“Unbelievable!” exclaimed Barry, theatrically, and thenturned his attention back towards the main door as a young woman entered,dressed rather glamorously. As I went through the internal door I heard Barrygiving her some stick.
“What on earth have you got on today?” I heard him ask.“This isn’t a fashion show, you know. And where’s your coat? Summer’s finished,in case you hadn’t noticed.”
The door closed behind me. Chuckling, I made my way alongthe corridor, hoping I’d be able to find my way to my office. All I’d managedto find out from some subtle questioning on Saturday night was that it was onthe second floor, so I took the lift at the end of the corridor and trusted toluck.
The lift doors opened out at level 2 into a small communalarea by the entrance to a modern-looking café. I noticed one or two vaguelyfamiliar faces around from the party and was very relieved to see Nick queuingup to get a drink.
He spotted me and called over, “Hey, Tom, fancy a coffee?”
From there it was plain sailing. I asked him if he’d walkback to my office with me, making sure he led the way.
“Catch you later,” said Nick, when we got there. “I’ve got ameeting to get to.” I was on my own now, but reasonably confident I could bluffmy way through.
The marketing department was a large, open-plan area withindividual work areas laid out in small cubicles, nicknamed “pig-pens” by theemployees. I recognised most of the staff here from the party, but couldn’t putnames to faces, despite my best attempts to remember.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to. The company had beenthoughtful enough to install nameplates above each pig-pen, which gave not onlythe names of people but also their job titles, which was extremely helpful.
Everyone seemed very pleased to see me. Whether that wasbecause I was popular or because they were pleased it was my last day, Icouldn’t tell. At least the nameplates meant that I could call people by name,with only the odd slip. If people stuck to their own desks, I wouldn’t have hadto have gone through the following exchange:
“Morning, Tom,” said one.
“Morning, Roger!” I replied, enthusiastically.
“I’m not Roger, I’m Philip,” said the man. “Roger’s not intoday!”
“I know,” I replied. “It was a joke. I thought when I camein, Roger looks different today!”
“That old chestnut,” replied Philip, laughing. “I’m going tomiss you, mate,” he said.
Cheered that he seemed to genuinely like me, and pleasedthat my quick thinking had got me out of trouble, I headed towards the doorimpressively marked Thomas Scott – Marketing Director and went inside.
Having my own office whilst everyone else was out in thepig-pens was good: it meant I could hide away from any difficult situations. Ithink I was going to enjoy being a big cheese.
So, all was well. I had got through the most difficult bit.A quick call to the IT helpline to plead ignorance of my password soon had itreset and I was up and running. My glittering career in the retail industry wasunderway.
April 2020
Six months had passed and I had sailed along in my new rolewith ease. My computer had emails going back years, and documents galore thattaught me everything I needed to know to do my job.
In fact, I didn’t even need to do that much. “Never put offuntil tomorrow what you can do today” worked nicely in reverse for me. Thephrase “I’ll get back to you tomorrow on that” became my standard response toanything that wasn’t life-threateningly urgent, i.e. pretty much everything.
I soon banished my earlier thoughts about phoning in sick ona regular basis, because I actually quite enjoyed going to work. The dailybanter with Barry on security was always good value, and now that I had insideinformation that Carol fancied me, I took every opportunity to flirt with her.Supposedly that was breaking one of the cardinal rules. Not only were wecolleagues, but I was her boss as well. She sat just across from my office in apig-pen by the window where she performed her role as marketing manager for healthand beauty products.
I spent many an hour when I was supposed to be workinggazing across at her slim, sexy figure, imagining what her gorgeous red curlswould look like cascading down over her breasts as she eagerly rode me toorgasm. It was hardly surprising I never got any work done.
I decided that I would definitely shag her if I got theopportunity, and thankfully one presented itself just after Easter. One of thegreat things about my job was the foreign travel it brought with it.
Our company had expanded all over Europe and we had storesin most countries, as well as a regional office. My role meant that I wasfrequently required to attend meetings in several of Europe’s capitals.
It was not unusual at all for me to find myself waking up ina swanky hotel in some famous city on the continent, giving me the idealopportunity to do some sightseeing.
If I was lucky enough to have already concluded my businessthe previous day, I’d just contrive a reason to miss my return flight and stayin the city for the day.
Over the course of the year, I got to visit the Colosseum,check out the red-light district in Amsterdam, and drink coffee on the banks ofthe Seine. Life was good.
It was on the latter visit that I got the chance to get upclose and personal with Carol. We were in Paris for two nights for a meeting witha new perfume supplier who wanted us to stock their fragrance in our UK stores.
Although I woke up alone in my hotel, a very upmarketestablishment close to the Eiffel Tower, on the day we were due to fly back Ihad plans to change all of that.
So the previous day, I decided that I was going to wooCarol. I could hardly be better placed to do it. Paris in the springtime was abeautiful place.
Once our business was successfully concluded for the day, Isuggested that we go out for the evening and find the best restaurant we couldto celebrate closing the deal.
We found a lovely
