by Liam Hurley
“Again!” he said.
Once more I pushed the glove at the bag.
“Okay Jimmy, let’s see the right cross with it.”
I pushed the bag with my left hand and then swung with all my might with my right. I felt my glove bend backwards and my wrist with it. A shooting pain shot up my arm. It was almost exactly the same as the pain I’d had after the punching the guy in Ronnie’s.
“No, no!” he shouted. “Watch me, watch my hand, watch my feet Jimmy, watch!”
I tried to focus on what he was doing but the pain was flicking around my fingers and my wrist. Antonio bounced around again and threw the two punches in succession. When he’d finished throwing the straight right he kept his body in the position it had finished in.
“Look Jimmy!” he said from his stationary position.
He pointed down to his feet. His back foot which was facing three o’clock, was now pointing towards one o’clock and his heel had come off the floor.
“See! And look my right shoulder is covering up my face.” He nodded at the shoulder covering up his chin, mouth and nose. “Now Jimmy, again, forget about power this time, just keep it straight.”
I nodded and bounced back onto my toes. I was trying not to lose balance.
“Jab, right-hand!” he shouted.
My jab went a bit better this time and I followed it up with a slow cross. I left myself in position when I’d landed on the bag just as Antonio had.
“Brilliant!” he clapped. “Now let’s speed it up a bit.”
He kept me on the bag until I’d reached a fairly good level in terms of getting my punches off at full speed. Power still wasn’t coming with my punches but he assured me it would do eventually.
“Remember Jimmy, power is a great weapon, but speed kills.”
“Antonio, that makes you sound evil you know, that right?” I held out the gloves for him to remove.
“We have one more round, Jimmy.” He pushed my hands away.
“Oh what?” I said.
“One more round, one-minute, full aggression.”
“What?” I said.
“Like I said Jimmy, we have one minute on the timer and all I want you to do is take all your anger and frustration out on the bag. Swing and punch, whatever you like.” He finished with a shrug.
I stepped back into my fighting stance. I tried to think of something which could bring anger out in me.
“When I say now Jimmy, bring the fire.”
I took a deep breath in and clenched my fists. I could swear that a few of the other clients were watching me. Maybe this was a rite of passage every newbie went through. I stood on my toes, bounced around a little and tried not to feel foolish.
“Ready Jimmy?”
I nodded at Antonio. I tried to bring Erin’s face, Daniel’s face, their stupid kiss to the forefront of my mind.
“Now!”
I almost ran at the bag and started to flail wildly at it. Each arm was moving independent of the other without any regard for technique. There was zero defence going on, I was just swinging and swinging.
“Fifty seconds Jimmy!”
Fucking hell I’d only done ten seconds? I was knackered. My punches, as weak as they were, were now losing power. I stopped swinging wildly and began to dig my punch upwards like an uppercut.
“Forty seconds!”
I rested my head against the bag and continued to pummel it where my opponents body would be. I thought about Daniel’s tight physique being plastered by my fists.
“Halfway Jimmy, come on fire, fire, fire!”
I stepped back and threw jab, right, jab, right. The sweat was starting to run into my eyes and I could feel my legs shaking beneath me.
“Twenty seconds left!”
I stepped a bit closer and began to swing my punch like I was stirring a big soup bowl, one of my left-handed punches jarred my elbow. I threw a straight left instead the next time I leant that way.
“Final ten!”
I roared back at the bag and threw everything I had left at it. The sweat was mixing with saliva to cause a veritable fountain to flow from my lips. I punched and punched and punched. My arms were going to drop off.
“Time!”
I sank to the floor. Antonio was shouting some words of encouragement to me. But I couldn’t hear what he was saying. My ears were buzzing, my arms were shaking and my heart was trying to escape my chest. And for the first time ever, it felt like I expelled a small part of the demon.
Chapter Eighteen- The Interview
The next week flew by in a haze of green food and sweat. The strangest thing about this new lifestyle was how easy it seemed to be. Sticking to the diet was simple enough; I knew what I could eat so that’s all I did. I knew I had to burn more calories than I took in to lose weight so I exercised to burn the required amount. It became very regimented and simple to me, which in turn made it much easier to keep up.
Receiving compliments also provided great motivation to continue in this new venture. Mum and Dad continued to ask me about my new lifestyle and seemed to be genuinely pleased for me. Antonio kept pushing me in the Centre and made sure we were keeping a record of all my achievements so we could set goals for our next session. Even my boxing was slowly improving. I still hadn’t quite achieved the magical ‘whack’ noise which Antonio could bring from the bag, but my punches were at least starting to cause the bag to move a bit.
I felt amazing as the first thirty days came to an end. In terms of weight I was down twenty-one lbs. which is a massive amount for just over four weeks. I was also starting to feel a bit better about everything. All my problems were pushed out of my head when I exercised. I shut the door to them all. I’d jog along on the treadmill, music blaring in my ears, and Erin would be the furthest thing from my mind. If she did creep into my mind, I’d just shut her out and run harder. It was a great technique. Distraction by destruction. I would distract my brain by destroying my body.
I signed up for a standard monthly membership at the Centre when my 30 days ended. Antonio let me know that now I was just another member I could no longer have every session 1-on-1 with him, and instead I’d have to try and book time with him when he was available. I made sure to book him in for every Friday after I’d weighed in to ensure I was getting a good session in case I put weight on.
As much as the new regime worked for me in some ways, it did also give me a reality check. I needed money. I needed a job. My bank balance was dwindling to the point where the ATM displayed ‘LOL’ on my available funds. Dad was starting to get at me about contributing as well, so I knew my days of free-loading were numbered.
I scanned the internet in search of a job. It’s difficult to look for a job when you don’t know what you want to do. I put a few key words in my search bar; Manchester, part-time, fun, flexible. I hit enter and awaited my results. Slowly they started to fill the page.
Exotic Dancer needed- apply now to work in our all-night gentleman’s club right in the centre of Manchester! Earn an average of £200-£500 a night!
Hmmmm. I hovered over it for a second. Probably not for me, I was losing my boobs and they were my biggest asset. Just when being overweight could’ve been a positive, it’s taken away from me! I scrolled to my next option;
Medical Trials! Are you aged 21-40? Are you alive? Can you swallow pills? Earn up to £2000 a month with our certified medical trials! T&Cs apply.
Interesting. I was within the age range, and certainly I was alive. Terms and conditions though… sounded iffy. I decided to add that to the ‘maybe’ pile. I went on to the next result.
City Centre Walking Tours- Guides Needed! Do you know Manchester? Are you a passionate Mancunian? Can you keep a crowd entertained AND informed! E-mail us today!
Now that seemed more like it. I opened the link on the advert to their website and looked into the role in a bit more detail. It seemed to fit everything I was looking for. Flexible hours, decent enough pay, and even better with all the extra walking
I could burn off a whole bunch of calories. It was perfect.
I drafted up a quick email to the company outlining why I’d be brilliant for them and detailing my vast and varied work history of two jobs. (One of which was milk monitor.) I waited with baited breath for a reply.
A few days passed before I received a response, but eventually it came in the form of an email. It read;
Dear Jimmy, thank you for your enquiry into our Tour Guide position. We would love to find out more about you, could you please call me to arrange an interview? Gemma, CCW Tours.
At the bottom of Gemma’s message was her mobile number. I clicked on it and my phone automatically began a call to her. It rang three times before she answered.
“Hello Gemma Lanier, CCW Tours how can I help you?”
“Hi Gemma, It’s Jimmy Rowland here, I’ve just had an email from you about the tour guide job?”
“Oh Jimmy, yes hi, so I’ve looked over your application and we’d like to schedule an interview, when are you free?”
“Erm, anytime really.”
“Today?”
“Today? Erm, yeah go on why not.”
“Brilliant! So, if you could get down here for about four o’clock? Ask for me at reception. I’ll send you on the details in an e-mail.”
“Perfect yeah. See you then.”
I hung up on Gemma and instantly felt nervous. I hadn’t had a job interview for three years since I first applied at Ronnie’s. And that wasn’t the most arduous of conversations. I sat down with Joe, he asked me what music I liked, what my favourite drink was (the answer to the first two questions was ‘pop’) and when I could start. Simple! I was hoping for more of the same from Gemma but I could already tell from our brief interaction that she was much more ‘professional’ than Joe. I was going to have to make an effort.
I ransacked my wardrobe for anything interview suitable. My jeans were slightly too big for me now but thankfully I came across one of my dad’s belts so I could at least fasten them to my skin. I searched my room for top-half clothing like a maniac. As much as I was becoming more comfortable with my body, I wasn’t ready to be topless in public just yet. If I was I’d have applied for that first job. I was on the verge of giving up when I spotted something crammed deep at the back of my wardrobe. I pulled out the ball of material and unravelled it. It was the shirt Mum had bought me for Christmas which had been too tight for me. I lifted it up with some trepidation. It didn’t look so small now. I dragged it around my body and shoved each arm in individually. So far so good. I breathed in and sucked my stomach towards my spine and began to push each button through it’s hole. I reached the top two buttons. I was still breathing in but it fit so far. I closed my eyes and slowly breathed out, forcing my stomach to expand. The buttons held on for dear life but they didn’t break. It fit! I stared down at my stomach in disbelief. As much as the scales had shown me I’d lost weight this was actual tangible, physical proof that I was smaller. I looked in the mirror. I genuinely didn’t look too bad. I smiled widely and headed outside. Even if the interview was a disaster, at least I’d won this one.
The offices of CCW Tours were located on the sixth floor of a large glass building, surrounded by dozens of other large glass buildings in the Spinningfields area of Manchester. Each building is as lifeless as the one next to it with hundreds of drones flooding in and out of them as the days wear on. As I’d made my way through the crowds to get to the building I kept thinking that someone was going to spot me as an imposter any moment and tell me I wasn’t welcome in this fine establishment. After signing in at reception I found myself in the lift with the most stunning girl. She had long wavy red hair, and she was wearing tights with rips in. But classy rips. We both stood in awkward silence as the lift ascended. I looked at her and she looked back at me. I smiled. She smiled. It was going well! But I was on a time limit, the lift was due to stop any moment now. I tried to think of a way to break the silence. The lift was slowing down.
“Sixth Floor, OCL Finance, Con, Tin & Ental PLC, and CCW Tours. Thank you.” Said the voice from the speakers above us.
I looked to the girl.
“I bet she gets sick of saying that every day.” I smiled.
“Sorry?” she said.
“The woman.” I pointed upwards. “I’m saying she probably gets sick of saying that all the time.”
The lift had come to a stop now. I took a step towards the exit.
“I think it’s a recording.” She said.
I walked out of the lift. I turned around to speak one last time.
“Oh, I know, I was just making a- “the lift doors closed. “joke.”
Brilliant. I turned left and saw a sign pointing me towards the tour offices. I pushed open a set of double doors and found the entrance to the office a few doors down on my left. I pushed the door open to what looked like a very deserted office. On second glance I was right, it was a very deserted office. There were three desks and three computers all of which were empty. I looked around the room but no one seemed to be around. I saw a row of chairs to my left but didn’t want to take a seat in case someone came back and thought I was mental. I hesitated. I turned around, ready to leave as I heard a door open behind me. I span around to see a man around my age exiting a door at the back of the office, I also heard the faint sound of a toilet flushing which explained where he’d been.
“Hello?” he said as he walked towards me.
“Hi, I’m here to see Gemma?”
The man took a seat behind one of the three empty desks.
“Oh, are you Jimmy?”
“I hope so or else my parents have kept a joke up for a long time.”
He laughed. Phew. At least someone in this building got my jokes.
“Gemma’s just popped out, take a seat, she’ll be back in a minute.”
I nodded and took a seat on one of the empty chairs. I was feeling relatively anxious. Not like gig nervous, but certainly feeling some essence of butterflies in my stomach. I tried to think over my answers to the questions I expected, why do you want this job? I need money. Why would you be good at this job? Well I need money so I can’t lose it. Why should we hire you? You pay people, I’m people, I need money. I was lost in my own thoughts, looking down at the carpet when the main door opened again.
“Gemma, this is Jimmy, he’s here for the interview?”
I looked up. Oh, tits. Gemma appeared to be the very attractive red head I’d bemused in the lift. I panicked and for some reason stood up far too quickly.
“Thanks, Peter.” She smiled at Peter.
She turned to me. For half a second I saw the recognition sweep across her face, but thankfully she plastered a fake smile over the top of it.
“Jimmy?”
“Yes. Hi. Hello.”
I stuck my hand out at an awkward angle and she responded with a firm handshake.
“Right this way.” She pointed towards the desk furthest from Tom.
I walked towards the desk. I arrived at the desk first and for some inane reason I sat on the side with the computer. The ‘boss-side’. Gemma stopped for a moment and smiled.
“Ah, that’s my spot.”
“Oh, shit. Shit, sorry for swearing. I’ll move.”
I jumped up and almost ran around the desk to my allocated seat. I sat in it, and Gemma mirrored me. She had the same look on her face she’d had when I left the lift. I’d blown it.
“So, Jimmy.” She stopped.
“Yes.”
“Do you want a drink?”
“Yes please.”
“Water, tea, coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry water is fine.”
“One tick, whilst I’m away can you just fill out this form please?”
She slid a form towards me. I looked down at it, for a moment I thought it was the same form Antonio had given me at the Centre. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to weigh myself again. But as I read through it I noticed
it was slightly different.
I began writing in my personal information and then reached the stage about work history. Reason for leaving previous job? Ah bollocks. I couldn’t write, I ‘was stealing stock and cuddled a customer to the ground’. I decided to go with ‘hours didn’t fit in with what I needed’ and hoped to God they wouldn’t call Joe for a reference. I got on with filling out the rest of the form making sure to include lots of ‘team-player’, ‘working towards KPIs’ and ‘customers are my passion’ bollocks.
“Oh, you’re done, that was quick.” Gemma said as she placed two bottles of water down on the desk.