by Tim Collins
‘Did someone speak?’ asked Trevor. ‘I thought I heard someone speak.’
I had a vague memory of saying this to Trevor on the school coach once.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘This is getting boring.’
Trevor turned away from his computer at last. ‘You should have thought of that before you bullied me, shouldn’t you?’
‘I didn’t bully you,’ I said. ‘I just sided with the bullies so they wouldn’t pick on me. And gave them the odd suggestion every now and then. It’s not the same thing. Can’t you let it go?’
‘I don’t need to let it go,’ said Trevor, digging his fingernails into his palms. ‘It was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
Trevor took a plate out of his desk drawer. ‘Biscuit?’
Rather than the usual array of bourbons and digestives, the plate contained nothing but an unwrapped Kit Kat in a pool of yellow liquid.
‘No thanks,’ I said.
Trevor shoved the plate closer to me and an acidic smell drifted up into my nostrils.
‘Eat the biscuit,’ said Trevor.
‘I’m not hungry,’ I said.
‘Neither was I,’ said Trevor.
I tried to remember the day we dipped Trevor’s Kit Kat in the urinal. I’m pretty sure we didn’t make him eat it.
‘Eat it,’ said Trevor. ‘Or I’ll call Josh and tell him you’ve screwed up. That I’m resigning the account and telling all your other clients to do the same unless your company puts you out to pasture.’
I looked at the Kit Kat. OK, so it had been pissed on. But would it kill me? Would it even make me ill? Didn’t people in lifeboats sometimes drink urine to survive?
I lifted the Kit Kat slowly towards my mouth.
Trevor let out a squeal of laughter and clapped his palms together. ‘Oh my God. You were actually going to do that, weren’t you?’
THURSDAY 14TH MARCH
I think Trevor has stopped now. As soon as he’d done his Kit Kat prank yesterday, he switched back into serious mode and went through the brochure like a normal, sane adult. I made a few changes to it this morning, sent it over, and he approved them right away.
Josh came over to my desk to congratulate me, and I sank back in my chair so I wouldn’t have to high-five him again.
‘Well done for getting that off the desk so quickly,’ he said. ‘I thought Trevor was going to be a much trickier customer.’
It’s very simple, Josh. Clients are pushovers as long as you’re prepared to eat chocolate wafers they’ve marinated in their urine. That’s the first lesson of business.
I was still thinking about Trevor on my way home when a GE Business Catering van drove past. It had ‘We bring a lot to the table’ written on the side of it. That was my slogan. That was the campaign I won my bronze award for.
I should have been proud that a line I wrote ten years ago was still in use. It should have restored my confidence after the Kit Kat incident. But realizing that my biggest professional achievement amounted to nothing more than a few words on the side of a van delivering soggy sandwiches to bored businessmen only made things worse. When I think back to the early promise I showed when I invented the nickname ‘Chalky Balls’, it’s nothing short of tragic.
FRIDAY 15TH MARCH
A new action movie opened today starring Vin Diesel, The Rock and Nicolas Cage. Jo said it sounded like the worst film of all time, and before I realized what I was doing, I suggested we should go and see it. She agreed, and I’m meeting her outside the multiplex in the retail park at seven tomorrow.
I’m not entirely sure, but I think that counts as a date. I was tempted to refer to it as such to see if it made her throw up in her mouth, but I didn’t want to risk it.
We didn’t really do ‘dates’ last time I was single. As far as I remember, we used to go down to the local bar and drink ourselves senseless in the hope that we’d wake up with Miss World. It wasn’t a very reliable system, but it was better than all those speed dates and compatibility questionnaires you have to bother with now. Trying to get a shag these days is like applying for a fixed-rate business loan.
SATURDAY 16TH MARCH
I’ve spent all day getting ready for my date tonight. I’ve showered, brushed my teeth, sifted around in the bathroom cabinet, found some Old Spice, dabbed it on, realized I smelled like 1979, showered again, put on my only pair of genuine Calvin Klein pants, worried that if Jo somehow ended up seeing these she’d realize I had high expectations, replaced them with my Primark pants, ironed my jeans, thought they looked too neat, found a different pair, put my vest on, took it off again, put my shirt on, buttoned it all the way to the top, thought this looked too formal, undid the top three buttons, thought this looked too sleazy, did one of them up and brushed my teeth again.
Now I’m worrying that Jo is going to turn up with loads of friends and say, ‘You didn’t think it was a date, did you? You’re such a hilarious old codger.’
I’d forgotten about all this crap. It’s almost as bad as sitting on the sofa with Sarah watching home makeover shows and dying inside. Almost.
SUNDAY 17TH MARCH
Jo met me in queue and gave me a quick hug. She wasn’t wearing her fake glasses, and I wondered if this was because of our date, but it was actually because we all had to wear huge 3D glasses.
It was the first time in about ten years that I’d been to one of those kinds of cinemas. Sometimes I’d go and watch something miserable and subtitled with Sarah, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen the kind of film where beefy male models rob banks. It featured lots of shots of them walking away from explosions without flinching. As someone who soils their trousers whenever a car backfires, I found this rather difficult to believe.
It was quite hard to hear the dialogue above the noise of idiots grazing on popcorn and answering their phones, but I don’t think anyone minded. Two hours of loud noises and bright colours would have kept that lot happy. Any shape they could recognize as a person or a car was a bonus.
I kept my glasses on when I went to the toilet halfway through, to see if they’d make real life look more 3D, but they just made me slip on some popcorn.
After the film we went to a theme restaurant in the retail park. I’m not sure what the theme was, but I think it was the futility of existence. Every few minutes the waiters would run up to a table carrying sparklers and start singing ‘Happy Birthday’. It was quite apt because I felt like just being there aged me by several years. I think it was one of those ‘fun’ places.
Jo said the film was the worst thing she’d ever seen and I agreed with her. Then she said it was also the best thing she’d ever seen and I agreed with her again. For some reason, the bill came to more than it would have done in a good restaurant, but I paid it anyway.
Then we left and got into the cab rank. I knew this was the bit where I was supposed to make a move, but it had been so long I’d forgotten what to do. Was I supposed to ask her if we could kiss or just angle my head to the side and open my mouth? I was just about to try the latter when I remembered about the onion rings on my burger. If I blasted her with onion breath, she’d be going home in an ambulance rather than a cab. I decided I’d hold off until next time.
Yeah. Like there’s going to be a next time.
MONDAY 18TH MARCH
Josh invited us all to something he called a ‘kickstart’ meeting this morning. Every time he said ‘kickstart’, he did an inverted quotes mime with his fingers, as if the meeting wasn’t really called this at all. It was basically a pep talk about how we should all work harder and make him more money. Jen whooped at the end of every sentence and I wanted to start kicking her. Maybe that’s where the name comes from.
Josh announced that we were pitching for the business of a forklift truck manufacturer in Manchester on Friday morning. I immediately started to think of excuses why I couldn’t work on it, but then he thanked Jo for agreeing to do the presentation.
I thought about this for a second. That m
eant Jo would be staying over on Thursday night, and so would I if I worked on the pitch. I suddenly remembered that I’m incredibly interested in forklift trucks and I’ve always wanted to find out more about them.
Josh was overjoyed when I volunteered to work on the pitch and said he was glad that his ‘kickstart’ meetings were already having an effect. And yes, he did the finger quotes again.
TUESDAY 19TH MARCH
I’d better get something out of all this, because working on the forklift account is unbearably dull, and I had to stay until ten tonight. I asked Josh if he wanted me to get on with the Web copy, but he said there was no point until we’d cracked the ‘big idea’. I asked why we didn’t just show pictures of warehouse workers standing next to the machines and explaining how they rely on them. Josh said I wasn’t ‘pushing the envelope’ enough and went back into his office. Then at quarter to eight he emerged holding a picture of a worker standing next to a forklift. ‘This is it,’ he said. ‘This is the idea.’
So that’s what ‘pushing the envelope’ means. Making someone wait around all day and then passing off their ideas as your own. Finally, at eight o’clock, I made a start on the Web copy at a time when I should have been making a start on my lasagne ready-meal.
WEDNESDAY 20TH MARCH
This is just great. Josh was worried that Jo had too much work on, so he’s taken her off the pitch and put Jen on instead. So now my reward for all this unpaid overtime is an overdose of Jen’s blathering. Maybe I should tell Josh that I’ve just remembered that I’m not remotely interested in forklifts.
It’s ten o’clock and I’m still at work. I was just packing my things away at five to six when Josh came over with something he referred to as a ‘shopping list’. This was basically a load of things I had to do before the pitch tomorrow. Except that he didn’t say I had to do them, he said I had to ‘action’ them. It seems that the verb ‘do’ wasn’t good enough for people like Josh, so they had to invent a premium business-class version with extra legroom and a complimentary glass of champagne.
Josh put his coat on after he’d handed me the list and it became clear that he intended to action absolutely fuck all himself. I was annoyed at first, but then I realized he’d given the same list to Jen. And I can tell from her muttering that she’s almost got through it. As long as I keep perfectly still I reckon she’ll finish the list before she realizes I’m supposed to be working on it too.
THURSDAY 21ST MARCH
I shared a cab down to the station with Jen this afternoon. We might have been on time if she hadn’t stopped off at Josh’s office to tell him how ‘stoked’ she was.
We didn’t have time to queue for the only open ticket window so we had to use one of the machines. I typed in the destination, and it displayed about twenty different ticket options. We selected the most expensive one and made a run for the train.
We dashed on board with just a few seconds to spare, only for the conductor to tell us that the train would be departing twenty minutes late. Thanks for telling us before we did the 200-metre suitcase hurdle.
Most of the seats were taken, but there were a couple of singles left. I tried to hide my delight that I’d be sitting on my own for the journey rather than listening to Jen go on about the pitch.
I sat down, popped my headphones on and settled back for a relaxing couple of hours of music. The first song had hardly started when Jen came over and asked the man next to me if he’d mind moving so we could sit together. He said he wouldn’t mind at all. Of course he wouldn’t.
I found that Jen didn’t leave any gaps in her conversation for me to reply, so I didn’t have to concentrate on what she was saying.
While she was wittering on, I heard the teenager opposite complaining to the conductor that the wi-fi was too slow. I felt like shaking the ungrateful little bastard by the shoulders.
I remember being amazed the first time I saw a digital watch. No more working out the time from the big hand and the little hand. Now we could read numbers from a display.
I remember being astounded the first time I saw a Sony Walkman. No longer would we have to choose between listening to The Dark Side of the Moon and walking down to Woolworths. Now we could do both at once.
And I was overjoyed when I got my first cash card. No more fretting over how much money we’d need for the week ahead, now we could take it out as we pleased. We could even withdraw money on a Sunday. Imagine that.
And now this little shit was hurtling through the countryside at over a hundred miles an hour with all the information and culture he could ever consume at his fingertips, and he had the nerve to complain it wasn’t fast enough.
Maybe things will be better when society collapses and we return to a medieval bartering system. As we gather on desolate hillsides to tell tales of magic glowing rectangles and huge metal birds in the sky, we’ll finally appreciate what we had, and understand what spoilt little children we were.
FRIDAY 22ND MARCH
I know times are hard, but you’d think we could have afforded a better hotel than the one we were booked into. As soon as the receptionist handed me an actual metal key rather than a plastic card, I knew I was in trouble.
Smoking was apparently prohibited in the hotel, but that didn’t stop my whole room, from the threadbare carpets to the yellow curtains, smelling like it had been coughed up in a bronchitis ward. The window rattled in its frame whenever there was a slight breeze, and managed to keep me awake in the short gap between when the couple in the room above stopped shagging and when the kids in the room next door started shouting.
There was a sign above the towels asking me to reuse them to avoid the unnecessary use of detergents. Judging by the brown stains on the back of them, the necessary use of detergents has also been avoided. How utterly committed to saving the planet this establishment must be. I can’t say I noticed their solar panels or recycling bins, though. It’s funny how they’re most committed to the environmental initiatives that save them effort.
Breakfast was included in the price, but not in my definition of ‘edible’. To make things worse, it was presented as if it were normal food. The instant coffee was served in a small metal pot, the cheap own-brand cereal was stored in a plastic tube with a ‘Kellogg’s Corn Flakes’ logo stuck on, and some thin, tasteless red liquid had been syphoned into a tomato sauce bottle.
The pitch seemed to go pretty well, though. I know Jen’s relentless positivity can be annoying, but it was very handy in the meeting. She did a terrific job of coming across like she was actually excited by their range of forklifts. Maybe she actually was excited by them. Maybe she’s excited by everything all the time. I have no idea.
We sat together on the train home, and once again I didn’t need to add anything to the conversation to keep it going. She asked me what I thought about new government plans for a high-speed rail link and then argued alternatively for and against them all the way home. It sounds crazy, and it was. But I found it strangely comforting. In fact, her chattering lulled me off to sleep after about twenty minutes. She might have stopped talking at that point, but I seriously doubt it.
SATURDAY 23RD MARCH
On my way down to the shops this morning I pressed the button on the pedestrian crossing and the ‘WAIT’ sign lit up. While I was standing there, an old lady came along and pressed the button again. I couldn’t believe it. It was like she had so little faith in my ability to press a button she felt she had to do it again to make sure. I tried to explain this to her and she said I was being rude.
I pointed out that she was clearly the rude one. If you see someone waiting at the lights, the very least you can do is credit them with the intelligence to press a button correctly. Unfortunately, it took me so long to explain this to her that we both missed the lights, and the button needed to be pressed again. I offered to let her do it this time, but she refused in case I shouted again. Which proved she hadn’t been listening to a word I’d been saying.
As I approached my ho
use I noticed that a woman had very thoughtfully stopped right outside to let her pit bull terrier shit in my driveway. I glared at her, but she just smiled and said it was a nice day. There was no attempt to apologize or scoop up the faeces. Both lady and dog just stood there grinning at me.
I was about to tell her that I made no distinction whatsoever between someone who lets their pet defecate on my driveway and someone who hitches up their skirt, drags their knickers down to their knees and curls one out herself. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance because the horrible dog jumped up at me.
I flinched back.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman. ‘It just means he likes you.’
So shitting on someone’s driveway and trying to bite them is a way of showing approval now, is it? My grasp of etiquette is clearly out of date.
SUNDAY 24TH MARCH
I bought a Sunday paper from the supermarket while I was out this morning, and when the woman behind the counter asked if I wanted a bag, I declined. I know how angry they get about plastic bags and I couldn’t face buying another bag for life, so I decided to tuck my paper under my arm. Unfortunately, I then stopped off on impulse at the corner shop to buy a chocolate bar, and the owner accused me of stealing the paper. I tried to explain that I’d already bought it from the supermarket, but he asked why it wasn’t in a bag. I couldn’t really be bothered arguing with him, so I paid for it again.