Money For Nothing

by Dom Price

  But what he was about to do wasn’t outsource as such. There was no transaction, which made Dave nervous. There was no contract, however formal or informal. There were no terms and conditions. He was about to step into what was unchartered territory for him.

  Feeling sick to his stomach, he decided that he needed to do this quickly before the emotions and confusion of the affair overcame him. He reached for his phone and sent the message, immediately feeling the weight of debt hit his heavy shoulders.

  ***

  Chapter Other People Bit

  ***

  “You’ve had a few e-mails and voicemails from the guys at Barker Constructions. They are a key client, so I thought you’d want to know.”

  Dave’s head wasn’t nearly as sharp as its usual self, and the clouds in his brain weren’t helping his morning thought processes. Luckily, Laura had scared him into some early morning action over their usual coffee and toast session.

  Groggy from the events of the night before and laden with some unanswered questions, top of Dave’s mind now was real life and real work. The message from Laura was loud and clear and resonated with Dave easily as they were in his native tongue; business language. With the distractions of the last week, things had slipped slightly. One client, Barker Constructions, had experienced a few issues with some of Dave’s team, which was a fire he would have to put out. It wasn’t too much of a concern, and Dave knew how to placate the Executives involved with some ego massages. The first action for Laura was to book a “surprise” meeting for him with the client in question. Dave believed that his clients always valued an impromptu visit as it demonstrated that he was always thinking of them and was available at any time.

  Of more concern was point 2 on Laura’s agenda, not only because there wasn’t a point 3 to follow, and Dave hated two’s. Point 2 clearly showed why he hated two’s and why three’s were much better. Point 2 involved an issue around one of Dave’s long standing clients that had recently had a significant change in their leadership team. Rumours from advocates that Dave and some of his colleagues had with the client, Food United Group, suggested that a new management team would be in place soon and that they’d be starting with a massive cost cutting exercise. Dave didn’t want to be one of the costs to be cut.

  Mulling over his macchiato, Dave was very concerned. He couldn’t help but feel that none of this wouldn’t be happening if Big Nick hadn’t thrown him off the scent with this ridiculous notion of ‘balance’. And there was no certainty that his subtle hints around women actually indicated that finding one would even show balance. Surely it would show a level of desperacy rather than the clear thought and goal orientated view required of a partner in CEC Enterprises.

  Dave’s spiralling internal anger was broken by the magical words that often flew from Laura’s mouth and usually basic brain.

  “But I have a plan Mr M. Through a friend of a friend of a friend, they have heard that the new big boss at Food Group United is coming from their parent company in the US, and he’s called Ronnie Patel.”

  “What? How on earth do you know this? Is it true? What do we know about him? Who is your friend?”

  “Well I don’t like to reveal my sources yeah, but one of my mates who does my nails, her hubby deals in Executive Cars and he has been asked by some relocation company to sort out a fancy car for this Patel chap. This company are preparing some massive pad on the Thames, and a car and stuff, and it’s all in Food United Groups name.”

  “OK, good work. So what else have we got other than a possible dwelling and a maybe set of wheels???”

  “Well sir, that’s where the good news stops for now. It seems that this Patel chap keeps a pretty low profile, and I’ve not managed to dig up much so far. I’ve got our new Business development girl doing some research, and we’ve added his name to our internal systems to see if anyone in CEC anywhere else in the world has had any dealings with him. I even tried to find him on Facebook, but nothing. Bizarre I know, who isn’t on Facebook these days?”

  Dave looked at Laura like she was speaking a completely foreign language, and had no real comprehension of this Facebook crap she kept on going on about. Dave knew the people he needed to know, and avoided the ones he didn’t want to know.

  “OKAY, let’s keep this simple Laura. I need you to run the numbers for worst case and best case scenario, and have them to me by lunch time, clear?”

  “No need Mr M, I ran them this morning. Ermmm, it’s not great. Basically, with the sales and stuff you’ve got to date, you are on track. But one of the targets that you were performing best on was how busy you and the team would be next year, and Food Group made up 45% of next year’s figures. If we lose them, there is no way you can make your targets for partnership sir.”

  Laura was used to instantaneous answers and barking instructions from Mr Marsdon, to the point where his careful and considerate silence really unnerved her.

  “You OK sir?”

  The words were genuine and heartfelt, but the whirlwind on information, thoughts, frustration, confusion and anger, were numbing Dave’s reactions. When this happened he knew that his heart was taking over from his head, and those kind of distractions were dangerous. The head had to take charge in this situation. Deep breath.

  “Right, plough those internal systems and find this Ronnie Patel. Get the new grad, send him to the library and get him to search the archives. We’ve got a good ethnic mix in our group yeah? One of them must have connections back to India where we can get some inside information. I’ve got a business card in that spirally thing for the old Head of Finance from Food United, who used to play squash with my Dad. Track him down and get me a coffee meeting with him. Ronnie has come from somewhere before he goes here, and I want all the information you can get. We have to get this right!”

  Laura was excited, relieved and annoyed. The excitement of the challenge, which is what motivated her every day. Dave was a bit of an arse to work for, but she felt close to the action and enjoyed the responsibility without the stress. Relieved that Dave was back. The barking, the energy and the sheer determination in his eyes, were all infectious qualities that gave her the drive to work for him. It certainly wasn’t for the money. The annoyance though, was that when there was a challenge afoot, Dave always said ‘we’. Laura just wished that when things went so well, he’d use a word other than ‘I’.

  With the passion and fighting spirit running back through his system, Dave left Laura and commenced his busy day of meetings, coffee’s and lunch. The impromptu arrival at Barker Construction to ‘bump into’ the Head of Operations had worked a treat, and Dave had managed to convince him to a quick lunch. If he was going to get out of this sticky situation he had to keep the conversation flowing and utilise one of the oldest consulting tricks in the book...never let the truth get in the way of a good story.

  Pretending to be oblivious to the complaint that was about to come his way, Dave laid the safety net, explaining that it had been a tough week for Dave’s team out there with one of the senior members, Eric, having to take some personal leave due to family problems.

  “You know Peter, I’m as hard a worker and as hard a task master as anyone, but the lad had some issues at home, and I just said to him ‘some things are more important’ and he took some time out. I really hope it hasn’t caused any inconveniences or problems on the project. I had another lad, Tom, drafted in to fill the gaps, and you’ll be pleased to know that Eric will be back next week to take the reins and wrap things up...assuming everything is still OK that is?”

  “Oh, don’t be daft Dave. Everything is 100% on track. And it is great to hear that CEC take such a firm and empathetic stance with its people. That is refreshing to hear in this day and age, especially in your industry.” Peter was more than startled and a tad amazed by this coincidence. He’d always viewed Dave as a little too cut-throat, which was appealing in how he approached his work but often concerned Peter as to how Dave approached his people. Still, miraculousl
y, Peter was left feeling a little confused about a situation that he’d clearly mis-read. He was normally so good at these. “Must be losing my touch” he joked to himself.

  “Peter, as I often say to my clients, we’re nothing without our people” delivered Dave, with a comfortable pat on Peter’s arm. Peter was very reassured and even felt a little guilty for intending to complain.

  “Thanks Dave. We’ll be very glad to have Eric on board to close out the project.”

  By the time lunch was finished, Dave’s urgent phone call from the bathroom to Laura had already been acted on, and Tom was on his way back to the office to face the eventual wrath of Dave, whilst Eric was in a taxi on the way to Barker Constructions, with very detailed notes. As Laura had insistently informed Eric before he left, “If anyone asks, you’ve been off work for family reasons. No more, no less. OK?”

  “But I’ve been on holiday Laura. What you’ve said makes it sound like someone was ill or there was a funeral or something!”

  “Yes, yes, yes. But you know what Dave says Eric. What you mean and how they interpret it are two completely different things.”

  Eric was still looking perplexed, standing with his compendium and freshly purchased suit.

  “Look, think of it this way. Did you go away with your family?”

  “Yes.”

  “OKAY, did Dave sign off your leave form?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, and did any of the family argue, disagree or bicker throughout the holiday?”

  “Ha, yes, me and my old man had a bit of a fall out when we went diving on a day trip...”

  “ERIC. I don’t need the whole story, and Barkers need none of the story. If you look at the information, Dave didn’t lie. The client has just misunderstood the message. Now go wow them, and you know Dave will look after you, especially with promotions coming up.” Laura’s wink was assertive and gave Eric no room for manoeuvre.

  That was the dangling carrot that had Eric running for a taxi, and which extricated Dave from a potentially sticky situation.

  Dave was feeling the momentum building and knew that he was in control. When he was on this kind of form, nothing could stop him. The biggest relief for him, as he jetted from meeting to workshop to presentation, was that when he was this busy and operating in businessman autopilot, he could safely ignore the monkey that was on his back.

  The beep of Dave’s blackberry was a frequent occurrence on any working day and most weekends, and so it came with a neutral emotion. Whether it brought good news or bad news, it normally signified a call to action.

  The text message was good news, but it brought a blurry veil down on Dave’s mind.

  “Yeah mate, course I will HELP. Not sure what HELP you need, but I’ll come around tonight and bring a few beers as I owe you some. 7pm@yours OK?Tony.”

  Dave’s teeth ground together, whilst the back of his eyes sought peace and tranquillity from the fire in his mind. The two worst things in life had just happened in the same message.

  He prided himself on not needing help, by outsourcing the things he couldn’t do, and being bloody brilliant at the rest. Help was that horrible middle ground. Because he couldn’t go down to the shops and pay someone to help him with this problem, he had had to ask for help, which horrified him.

  Unfortunately, the flip side of asking for help was Dave’s other pet peeve and something which he avoided like nothing else. Tony had inadvertently used the word and Dave clenched his blackberry to the point that it was close to implosion. Dave ran his life like one massive long set of continuous transactions. The beauty of the shirt ironing out-sourcing and all other transactions in life is that they represent a win win situation and a pleasant equilibrium. In conversations with friends, family and colleagues, Dave called it the economics of life.

  The Vietnamese woman in the dry cleaners who ironed his shirts was glad of the business. She charged a fair price for her work, and Dave paid a fair price for the convenience. He didn’t owe her any thanks, and she didn’t owe him any gratitude. There were no Christmas cards required. It was a clean and crisp transaction which benefited both parties. Simple you see.

  But help wasn’t so clear and wasn’t so simple. Help was in the category of events which leave you owing the other party. Permanently trying to repay a debt that has no value and that you never knew when you’d cleared. And help has no boundaries. Help doesn’t stop when you pay the money and leave the store. The annoying part of help, which is why Dave avoided it, was that once you’d asked, you’d opened the floodgates permanently.

  To receive help, you had to let someone closer to your deepest, darkest self, and then it was no longer deep or dark. It was real and open to daylight for all to see, and that made Dave feel decidedly uneasy.

  Dave pulled in and found himself a coffee shop. He needed a shot quickly if he was going to get the day back on track. This opening up and stuff wasn’t easy and didn’t seem particularly productive, and the more he tried it, the more Dave was convinced that his previous course of action was the best. These distractions were causing all kinds of havoc in many facets of his life, and there were no signs of any real rewards. The payback was non-existent, the investment exponential and the chance of failure high. Supping a double shot, Dave concluded that if this was a business case, you’d never start the venture.

  ***

  Chapter Bedroom Boardroom Beers

  ***

  “Hmmm, maybe I’ll set the scene and then run through some ideas and get his buy in first?” Dave muttered to himself, thinking out loud like you could do when you lived alone.

  The continual pacing around the room was beginning to carve out tracks in Dave’s carpet and he just couldn’t settle. It was a matter of minutes before Tony arrived and Dave didn’t have a clue how he was going to approach it.

  “No, too cloak and dagger. Sod it, I’ll just show him that and see what he thinks.”

  Dave was still pointing at the wardrobe doors when the buzzer went. His heart raced and he let Tony in. He knew he wasn’t just letting him in through the door of that apartment. He was opening a door that had been closed for a long time, and it frightened him immensely.

  “Are you OK buddy? You look like you’ve just lost a pound. Ha.” Tony wasn’t renowned for his humour.

  “Mate, I feel like I’ve lost a tenner! Now crack those beers, come in here and let’s get this show started before I change my mind.” Dave strolled towards the bedroom and Tony was left dumfounded in the hallway. The request for help from Dave was pretty out of the blue, and Tony was aware of the gossip and rumours that some of their old class mates had conjured up about Dave’s lack of girlfriends, but this invitation into the bedroom was unexpected and unwanted.

  Tony followed his orders, cracking two beers and placing the remainder in the SMEG designer fridge. Looking around the kitchen, it did seem very metro sexual and really clean. On the back foot, he recalled an article he’d read in one of Anne’s magazines about how clean gays were. Placing the beers on the sideboard, Tony took a quick look in the mirror and scruffed himself up. No gay would like that.

  “Bloody hell mate, are you brewing that beer yourself or are you going to join me in here. This isn’t easy for me you know, so the quicker we start the quicker we finish.” The yelling from the bedroom froze Tony’s body instantly. His legs ceased working and he stared at his petrified face in the mirror.

  Regaining the use of his limbs, Tony stepped slowly into the bedroom like a guilty defendant entering the court room awaiting sentencing. His jaw wobbled as he dared himself to open his eyes, hoping that it didn’t reveal a truth that he was imagining in his head.

  Tony just about kept his grip on the two cold beers as the relief spasmed through his entire body on seeing Dave at the foot of the bed, fully clothed and tossing a marker pen in the air.

  “You OK mate? Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost!”

  Taking a very deep breath and leaning over to pass Dave a beer, Tony man
aged a “Cheers....here’s to friendship and family.”

  Sharp Dave would normally have ploughed through a comment like that and dissected it for hours, but tonight he was focused and wanted to take full advantage of his current mood.

  “The rules of tonight are simple Tony. Very simple. So simple, that there are only three of them. OK?”

  Before Tony could respond, Dave continued.

  “Rule 1. I’m going to be completely honest with you and so you must be completely open and honest with me.”

  In a space on the wardrobe, Dave wrote “Rule 1: Honesty”

  “Rule 2. None of what we discuss tonight ever leaves these four walls. Not even Anne can know the inner details of this conversation. Don’t lie, just be vague. OK?”

  Again, there was no chance for Tony to respond in this one way conversation and Rule 2 made the wardrobe door.

  “Rule 3. Last but not least Rule 3. This is one of the most important rules for me Tony. Rule 3 is this; by asking for help, I am at no point indebted to you and nor do I owe you. For clarity sake, nor do you owe me. To confirm this point, I have here £10 which will cover the cost of the beers. Quits! OK?”

  The accuracy, power and presence of Dave’s voice demonstrated enough to Tony, and he knew what to do in this scenario. Nod and agree, and let the show proceed.

  Dave took a large swig of his beer, and would have taken more had the bottle not gasped for air. A quick non-religious glance up to the sky was enough to commence the presentation. He knew the only way to get through this, was to approach it like Tony was the client and Dave was the facilitator, presenting some information and seeking input. It was the reason he still had his suit on, and the reason he kept his relay race baton in his hand, which in this case was his marker pen. It meant he was in control, and control meant that he wasn’t talking about emotions, secrets or feelings. He was in control, so he was merely presenting facts. Easy.