City of Second Chances

by Jane Lacey-Crane

  Five

  ‘Evie! Are you listening to me?’ The high pitched screech of my boss’s voice brought me back to the here and now. I’d gone in early, hoping to get a minute to ask Trish about the possibility of a few days off but she hadn’t given me the chance.

  ‘Hey! Wakey, wakey!’ Trish clicked her fingers in my face, giving me a very unkind urge to reach out and grab them and squeeze until they snapped. I didn’t, obviously; instead I sat up straight in my chair, at least pretending that she now had my undivided attention.

  ‘Yes, Trish. Sorry. I was listening, something about your coffee yesterday morning, was it?’

  ‘You’re damn right. The macchiato you brought me was more like a cappuccino, way too much milk. I hate cappuccinos – you should know that by now. God!’ Trish exclaimed, shaking her head.

  ‘Of course. I’ll make sure they get it right next time. Is there anything else you need?’ I forced a smile through gritted teeth.

  ‘Yes, one more thing. Could you do something with all this?’ Trish heaved a folder onto my desk, paper sticking out at odd angles. Some pieces fluttered to the floor, escaping from the overstuffed mess inside. My heart sank.

  ‘What do you need me to do?’

  ‘Just a bit of sorting and filing, that’s all.’

  I flipped open the folder, grabbing at a handful of loose pages before they fell to the floor. ‘Just sorting and filing?’

  ‘It’s just some HR stuff. Staff appraisals, that sort of thing. I’ve not really kept on top of them. I’ve been too busy with other things—’ Trish waved a dismissive hand, ‘but I know how you love to organise, so I thought I’d let you sort it out.’

  The bloody woman made it sound like she was doing me a favour!

  ‘There must be at least six months’ worth of appraisals here. It’s going to take forever.’

  ‘More like twelve actually but who’s counting?’ Trish picked a piece of fluff from her power pantsuit and flicked it away before fixing me with a glacial stare.

  ‘Okay, well, I guess if I do a bit each day I can have it finished by the end of the week,’ I said.

  ‘No good, I’m afraid. Needs to be done by tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ll be here all night!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘I’m sorry. Did you have plans?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Okay, then, I’ll leave you to it. The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be done.’ Trish turned on her expensive heels and went into her office, closing the door behind her before I even had a chance to formulate a reply. This must be her idea of a joke, I thought. There was no way I’d be able to sort this lot out by tomorrow. I looked at the paper mountain in front of me and then across to Trish’s closed door. Be brave, Evie, tell her this isn’t your job, it’s hers. She gets paid to be the Head of HR, not you. Although I knew I could do Trish’s job in my sleep, that wasn’t the point. Shoving all the loose pages back into the folder, I stood up on slightly shaky legs and marched over to Trish’s door. I knocked gently. No reply. I knocked a bit harder.

  ‘Come in!’

  I pushed open the office door, trying not to drop the file. Trish raised an eyebrow but carried on talking into her phone.

  ‘Of course I’ll be there, darling. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. No, it’s fine. I can be there by six, no problem, just make sure you have a large glass of something expensive waiting for me. All right, then, ciao!’ She ended the call and threw her phone onto the desk. ‘Problem?’

  ‘Yes, I mean, no, well, sort of…’

  ‘Spit it out, Evie. I don’t have all day.’

  Tell her, tell her she can’t expect you to do her job for her. Tell her if she thinks you’re going to stay here all night sorting out her mess then she can fuck right off.

  ‘Well?’ Trish arched a perfectly threaded eyebrow.

  Deep breath, Evie. ‘Look, I don’t mind helping you out, Trish. I mean, I am your assistant, after all. But I’m not here to do your job for you.’ I placed the bulging folder down on the desk between us, feeling proud I’d stood my ground. When I’d started this job, more years ago than I liked to think about, I’d had a great boss. Mr Rouse had been a dream to work for. When I went part time after the children were born he was kind and accommodating and I loved coming to work, even though office administrator was never my dream job. But Mr Rouse was old and when he retired they replaced him with Trish; I’d worked for her for nearly eight years and, in that time, she’d turned me from an executive assistant into a general dogsbody. I did all the crappy jobs she didn’t want to do and had to watch while she took all the credit. I often wondered about how different things would have been if I hadn’t taken time off to look after the kids. Even before Tom died, I’d only been doing part time work. My heart was never really in it, but it paid the bills. If I’d found a career I loved, like my sister Kate, I could have been the boss by now. Who knows? Trish might have been my assistant. As it was, I’d spent the last eight years being pushed around by the world’s worst boss and saying nothing. Well, no more, I thought. Today is the day that I finally put my foot down.

  ‘Is that right?’ Trish leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers under her chin. ‘Go on.’ She reminded me of a Bond villain; she was just missing the sinister looking cat and the pistol fitted with a silencer.

  I forged ahead regardless. ‘I can help you. If we sort all this out together it’ll take half the time.’ I found myself gabbling under Trish’s glacial gaze. She looked at the folder of paperwork in front of her, then back at me. The silence stretched between us, only interrupted by the sounds of people moving around outside in the main office.

  ‘Do you like your job, Evie?’

  ‘Um… yes… sure. Why?’

  Trish shrugged. ‘You haven’t seemed happy for a while. Problems at home?’

  ‘No. Look, I’m not sure what this has got to do with…’

  Trish held up her hand and I stopped talking.

  ‘I need team players here, Evie. Do you understand what I’m saying? There’s no room for egos or agendas.’

  I nodded; I couldn’t speak since I was chewing the inside of my cheek in an effort to stave off the frustrated tears that were threatening. Stay strong, Evie.

  ‘You’re always asking me for more responsibility around here, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘One of the appraisals that needs to be filed is yours. I know Head Office are looking for any excuse to make staff cuts and the outcome of these appraisals are likely to have a major impact on who stays and who is let go.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I’ve asked you to do something, and I expect it to be done. If it doesn’t get done, it will reflect badly on the whole department. Do you want to be responsible for that?’

  I shook my head and fixed my eyes on the floor. I didn’t dare look up; the sight of her smug face would likely have provoked a rather violent and unladylike response in me at that moment.

  ‘Good. I’m glad we understand each other.’ Trish pushed the folder back across the desk. ‘Off you go, then.’

  Wordlessly, I picked it up and left the office. I sat down at my desk, staring at the black binder in my lap and feeling like a total idiot. I’d tried to stand up for myself, hadn’t I? Just this once I’d made my feelings about something quite clear and yet I’d still ended up with this bloody folder in my lap and no chance of getting home much before midnight.

  ‘It looks like someone’s got a late night ahead of them?’ The voice of Ian, the office IT guy, made me look up. He stood over my desk, smelling vaguely of coffee and Lynx Africa. He was wearing a T-shirt with “Did I ask for your ?” printed on the front. Tech nerd joke, I assumed.

  ‘Yes, looks like it.’ My brain was whirring away, replaying the scene in Trish’s office and only now coming up with half a dozen witty rejoinders I could have used but didn’t.

  ‘Don’t forget that the company’s servers are going to be offline for about tw
o hours tonight as well. I did send everyone an email about it last week.’

  I remembered seeing the message but I’d dismissed it as not important – after all, what kind of idiot would be still be in the office at midnight on a Tuesday?

  ‘Why are they going offline?’

  ‘Updating the system. They figured a Tuesday night would be the best time to do it. Nice and quiet, you see.’

  ‘But I’ve got all these appraisals to do. It’s going to take forever if I can’t access the system for two hours!’

  Ian just shrugged. ‘Sorry. Can’t do anything about it, I’m afraid.’

  He walked away, muttering something under his breath about people not reading his emails. I threw the bulging HR folder onto my desk in a childish act of frustration, watching in dismay as it slid across the desktop and landed on the floor with a slap! ‘Oh, for Christ’s sake.’ I was in the middle of bending down to retrieve it when Trish flung open her office door.

  ‘What on earth are you doing down there?’ she asked.

  ‘Having a bloody picnic,’ I muttered, before standing back up. ‘Nothing. Did you need something?’

  ‘Yes, I need last month’s payroll figures. Can you print them out for me and take them to Jeremy in Accounting?’

  ‘Can’t I just email them over? I really don’t have time to print them off and then hand deliver them to the thirty-sixth floor.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t have time? What else are you doing? Not a lot as far as I can see.’ Trish looked me up and down. ‘He needs hard copies and their printer is playing up, so I said you’d do it.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Sure. No problem.’

  ‘I’m just heading out for a bit. There’s a meeting I need to get to across town, so I should probably leave now. Avoid the traffic and all that,’ she said, looking at her watch. The meeting wasn’t until two o’clock. There was no need for her to leave yet; it was barely eleven. She obviously had other plans. If I was going to ask for that time off I needed to do it before she left so I followed her back into her office. Trish shrugged on her coat and then turned, surprised to see me behind her.

  ‘Before you go, I wanted to ask you about getting some time off.’

  ‘You need to fill in a holiday request form like everyone else. That’s how it works.’ Trish went across to her desk to shut down her computer, hurriedly clicking her mouse.

  ‘I understand that and usually I would, but this is a bit of a last minute thing. I’m hoping to go next week. I—’

  ‘Next week?’ Trish shrieked. ‘No, no, no, I’m afraid that’s just not possible. No way. It’s just too short notice.’

  ‘I realise that, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  ‘Why do you need the time off?’

  I thought about this for a minute; how was I going to explain it to Trish? I really didn’t want to go into all the details about Olivia, so I made up a little white lie.

  ‘I’ve got to go and visit my sister. She’s having a bit of a crisis and she’s all alone in New York.’ That description of Kate’s life was probably the most inaccurate statement I’d ever made but needs must, I reasoned.

  ‘Well, like I said. You need to fill in a form and submit it for review. I don’t know how long that will take.’ Trish grabbed her bag and headed for the door.

  ‘But you’re the head of HR – you could easily approve my request if you wanted to.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Trish smirked. ‘I could. Let’s just see how you get on with all those appraisals I’ve asked you to complete. Then we’ll see.’ Trish turned, threw her oversized scarf over her shoulder with a flourish and then left the office.

  That bloody woman! I sat back down at my desk and surveyed my surroundings. It was a mess; my collection of empty coffee mugs was becoming quite impressive and there was a smell that I never seemed to be able to get rid of coming from my bottom drawer. The buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights seemed to blend in with the relentless hum from the rest of the room: murmured conversations, ringing telephones, the tick, tick, tapping sounds of fingers on keyboards. It was quite hypnotic if you sat and listened to it. Almost like a melody that thrummed through the room. It had become the soundtrack to my life. Each day, every day, this office, these people, the same tasks to complete; all of it keeping me busy and filling my days with unrelenting monotony. I flipped the file open to the first page and started the tricky job of deciphering Trish’s appalling spider scrawl.

  *

  I spent most of the day slowly working my way through the appraisals folder. By now, it was almost five and I could see some of my co-workers readying themselves to leave for the day. Trish hadn’t returned from her two o’clock appointment – what a surprise. She’d texted me at four to say that since the meeting had overrun she wasn’t going to make it back to the office. Utter bollocks, but what could I do? Coffee, I thought to myself, that was what I needed.

  Collecting the three empty mugs I already had on my desk, I took them to the small office kitchen down the hallway. Never one to just dump my dirty cups and run, I sloshed hot water into them and squirted in some washing up liquid. I hesitated a bit when I saw the dish cloth on the side, covered in brown stains and smelling of mould; using it would probably have made the cups dirtier if anything. I shuddered; a quick rinse under the hot tap would have to do. I was on my last mug, swilling and rinsing away quite happily, when I turned on the tap for the final clean and the stream of hot water hit a rogue teaspoon in the bottom of the sink. I stepped back but wasn’t quite quick enough; hot water shot up and out, at an angle that afforded it maximum coverage! I looked down; my once pale blue silk shirt was now a much deeper shade. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘Could this day get any bloody worse?’

  Grabbing a tea towel off the radiator – also covered in brown stains, I noted – I tried to dry myself off a bit. Pointless, but I gave it a good go anyway. At that moment my mobile phone pinged in my back pocket. Pulling it out, I saw I had a text message from Trish. Apparently yes, this day could get worse.

  Got to give a presentation on staffing levels tomorrow too. Will need you to knock up a quick PowerPoint to illustrate the findings of those reports. Meeting is at midday. You can do it first thing.

  What the fuck? I shoved the phone back into my pocket and made myself a strong coffee. As I walked back to my desk, I noticed that the office was now virtually empty. Every other sane person had buggered off home. It was quiet and as I sat there in my soaking wet shirt, sipping my hot but crappy coffee, I came to a sudden decision. It was time to stop being such a bloody doormat. I didn’t need to be working for that woman, not any more. I could work anywhere. I didn’t need to work around school pick-ups, or take my holidays during the school holidays. My kids were grown up; why was I wasting my time? Suddenly I felt elated, as if a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. I didn’t need to take this shit any more!

  Without thinking twice, I picked up the folder of staff appraisals and walked into Trish’s office. I took in the ergonomic chair that Trish had insisted on, the glass topped desk, the gleaming silver computer. Placing the folder down on Trish’s pristine desk, I flipped it open to the section that contained my own file, and then proceeded to tip the contents of my coffee mug all over it. Coffee splashed across the desk and onto Trish’s computer keyboard, which made a little hissing sound that didn’t sound very promising. When the pile of paper was good and soaked, as was the carpet underneath the desk, I simply closed the file and walked out of the office.

  I grabbed what few personal belongings I had, nothing much, just a few photos of the kids, and popped them into my bag. Just as I was putting on my coat Ian, Mr IT man, appeared at my desk.

  ‘I thought you were pulling a late one tonight?’ he asked, watching me as I wound my scarf around my neck, before jamming on my woolly hat.

  ‘So did I but there’s been a change of plan.’

  ‘All righty then, I’ll see you tomorrow.’
>
  ‘You’ll probably need to come and take a look at Trish’s computer at some stage tomorrow,’ I said. ‘Trouble with the keyboard, I think.’

  ‘Oh, right. I can take a quick look now if you want? Might be a simple fix.’ He made a move towards Trish’s office door, but I stopped him.

  ‘Nah. No need. Tomorrow will be fine.’ I gave him my sweetest ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ smile and he nodded.

  ‘No probs. See you tomorrow, then.’

  ‘Bye, Ian,’ I replied, giving him a little wave as he walked away. I grabbed my bag and made a break for the exit. Oh, shit, I thought as the lift doors closed, what have I done?

  Six

  ‘You did what?’ said Rachel. ‘Isn’t that a bit… I dunno… extreme? Wouldn’t a strongly worded email have been just as effective?’

  I took a big gulp of my wine and tried to calm the fluttering feeling in my chest. I’d come home, poured myself a large drink and then called Rachel to tell her what I’d done. I couldn’t remember the walk to the Underground station when I left the office and I couldn’t recall the Tube journey home either. All I kept seeing was that stream of coffee splashing all over Trish’s desk and running down onto the cream carpet. I mentioned my lack of recall to Rachel.

  ‘You’re in shock. Totally understandable. Evie, this isn’t like you. What the hell is going on?’

  ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’d just had enough. I was sitting there, all by myself, in a soggy shirt and drinking shitty coffee and I’d had enough. Of all of it.’

  ‘You mean your boss?’

  ‘Yes. Well, no, not just her. I’d spent most of the day doing her job for her, which was crap but not unusual. It was more than that. All day I’d felt like something was going to happen. Like the pressure you sometimes feel building in your head when a thunderstorm is coming. Do you get that? Maybe it’s just me.’ I took another mouthful of wine. ‘It’s like a band tightening around my skull. And then it pisses down with rain and I feel better.’ I didn’t know how to explain it; I couldn’t find the right words. ‘It sounds nuts, I know it does. And you’re right, it’s not me. But maybe I’m sick of being me. Maybe I’ve had enough.’