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At eight-twenty five Tony Peterson threw open the door of his office, slapped his briefcase on his desk, flung his jacket at the coat stand, turned back his shirt cuffs, and flipped over the leaf of his freebie desk calendar advertising a spreadsheet he was never going to buy.
Bloody hell! What an idiotic dream! And he hadn't been able to get back to sleep! Just imagine what a wreck he would be if he woke up at that time every day!
It's perfectly normal to be overwrought, Dr Zondervan had said. Divorce is more stressful than people think. It can take a long time for -
Bugger Dr Zondervan! What did Dr Zondervan know about divorce? He had only gone to the surgery for sleeping pills, not a lecture on mental processes! And since when was Dr Zondervan so infallible? So why didn't Dr Zondervan supply sleeping pills that worked?
The telephone burst into life. To Tony it sounded like a bomb alarm in a shopping mall.
'Simon? Yes, of course I've got the time.'
Like hell he had! Who needed unscheduled meetings at this time of the morning?
'So what's the subject? Anything I should bring?'
The voice at the other end was squawking at him.
'Oh, so you'll come to me.'
Why did the asshole want to do that? Just an informal chat? At this time? Simon must have been waiting for him to arrive. He supposed he could have expected it. Simon was running dead scared of the decision he had to make. Although who wouldn't when it involved redundancies?
But Simon always backed away from decsions. Where the hell did the Corporation get these guys? Didn't they check? Simon was strictly a comittee man. He would never take a decision by himself.
Tony stared glumly at his desk calendar. He could do without Fridays, escpecially a Friday like this one promised to be. Promised, hell! This was a dead cert! This Fiday had opened its maw to swallow him whole! Christ! - Fridays! Who the fuck invented Fridays?
And he was dying for another fag...
'Tony!' Simon's face appeared in the doorway of Tony's office and Tony adjusted his own face into a smile. How on earth had the man got there so quickly? Maybe the bastard had secret wings.
'Good to see you, Simon.'
'Great!'
Great... What the hell was that supposed to mean?
'Coffee, Simon? I'm just about to get some.'
The coffee machine was in the outer office and Tony began rummaging in his secretary's desk for the coffee sachets.
Simon was hovering around the coffee machine while Tony tried to get it to work. He struggled with a sachet. Why did these stupid sachets always get jammed? He always ended up thumping the thing. Why couldn't they make these things simple?
Tony regarded the coffee machine balefully as it burst into life, coffee spurting into the cup and splashing onto the handle.
And just look at the state of it! The whole office would come down with something one day. No one ever thought of cleaning the machine or flushing out the water container. All Samantha did was just top it up. There had to be some bug that lived in conditions like that.
Simon took the coffee cup Tony handed to him. 'I'm glad you could spare me the time, Tony.'
'No problem, Simon.'
'It's a question of the decision, Tony. A lot depends on it.'
'I thought that was the purpose of this afternoon's meeting. We were going to thrash it out then.'
'Sure...'
Tony regarded Simon coldly. Simon was giving him his confidential look, trying to get him on his side before the meeting in the afternoon.
And since when had Simon started sayin sure? Mr Adapability, that was Simon. He'd learnt that quick! Two trips to Corporate HQ in the States and anyone would think Uncle Sam was his personal godfather.
'Let's just think of this as a preliminary chat, Tony. It's a big decision, whichever way it goes.'
Yes, but it was Simon's decision. He was the Division Manager, and he was the one who would have to say yes or no, put himself on the line. No one was going to help Simon with this decision.
'I'm still working on it, Simon. Difficult to say at the moment.'
'Sure, Tony. But you must have some idea of the effect the proposed cutbacks will have?'
Tony struggled to find an appropriate response.
'It's a complicated isssue, Simon. I would really like to give you a fully considered opinion. I think we should be absolutely clear before we take any decisions.
His reply had been smooth, but Tony's mind was racing. He had said we. Why had he said that? It was Simon's bloody decision. That was what he was paid for!
'Of course, Tony. Just trying to get a feel for things before we have the meeting.'
Tony watched Simon stirring his coffee. A nervous, almost obsessive motion.
'Did you want sugar, Simon? Samantha's got some somewhere.'
Simon stopped stirring.
'No. No thanks, Tony. I don't take sugar.'
Nobody took sugar these days, and Simon would never be out of step.
'Clearly this has to be handled very carefully, Tony. We don't want any premature, well... you know what I mean. Nothing getting out to the staff.'
'You mean leaks.'
'Yes, I suppose that's what I mean, Tony... Leaks.'
'Don't worry about that, Simon. I'm keeping this strictly to myself. Mind you, there are always rumours. Everyone can see that our current projects are coming to a close.'
'Well, there are always rumours.'
'It would be helpful if Marketing could come up with something more positive.'
'Difficult times, Tony. Difficult times. But to get back to what I was saying. So what do you think about the proposed cutbacks? Off the record?'
Tony decided he had to say something. After all, Simon was supposed to be the boss.
'We should be able to meet our current commitments, Simon. But the future doesn't look too good. It will weaken our position for future business.'
Simon's face as clearing and cynical thoughts filled Tony's mind. Naturally Simon didn't care damn about future business. He wouldn't be around when the chickens came home to roost.
Simon was on the fast path, had his eyes set on Brussels. There were always people like him at this level. They flashed through the operating divisions every couple of years. And never making waves. That was the secret, never making waves...
So what did all these hotshots do at Brussels, for God's sake? You never heard of them again. And thank God for that.
'That was encouraging, Tony. I'm glad to see you've got your finger on the situation. Look forward to hearing the details at the meeting.'
Simon was going, leaving his coffee unfinished, although Tony decided he could hardly blame him for that. He wondered who Simon would tackle next. Who else would Simon need to speak to in order the meeting reached the consensus his career required?
So there went the Division's latest hotshot kid. Way out of his depth. Simon was working for a cowboy outfit and he didn't know it. It was going to be the O.K. Corral all over again at four pm when the yanks came on the phone. You had to come out with guns blazing! That's what they respected!
But Simon would be all right, slithering up the ladder to his cushy staff job at Brussels. You had to hand it to the little shit. He knew there wasn't any future in the Operating Divisions. Far too fucking tough!
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