by Dom Price
Before Dave could finish telling them the story, Jane leaned forward and gave him the berating all sons dread as she immediately went to task on him.
“Now young David, do please remember. You are still young and you have your whole life ahead of you, so please don’t wish it away and please don’t work too hard. You can’t buy happiness you know!”
Just as Dave was about to start his protest, Jane softened and leaned forward again, this time opting to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
“But we all know you don’t listen to your old mother, coz what does she know eh?” Her eyebrows were raised, but there was a smile hiding on her face. “So here are some sandwiches for the way home, a bit of cake and some crisps in case there is traffic. And I’ve put you some of that coffee you like in a flask for you. I know you’ve got hot seats to warm your arse, but this will warm your insides son. The good old fashioned way. Now go. You’ve got a lot of work to do.”
It was Jane’s birthday, yet it was Dave who felt that he’d just got the present. Not only the priceless advice from Arthur, but the blessing of his parents to fight for his promotion and to pursue his dream.
The gracious packed meal lasted as far as the first motorway service station, where Dave committed his first charitable act in untold years, giving the sandwich, cake and flask of coffee to a homeless man. There was no way he could risk any more of his mum’s food in his digestive system. Pulling out of the service station with a Mocha, Brie & Jamon Sandwich and Florentine, Dave was a tad bemused as to how a homeless person had made it to a motorway service station.
But his focus resumed the whole way home. He had a way into Food United Group, and he was going to make this work.
***
Chapter Working on Working
***
After the appraisal conversation, Dave had managed to get Kipto into Barker Constructions working for Eric who seemed to be going great guns.
Dave had weekly coffee catch ups with Peter from Barker Constructions, and Kipto had been going well, thus making Monday morning’s call a little frustrating for Dave.
“Hey Dave, its Pete. Look the board want to delay the next phase of the project for a few weeks, so whilst we’re keen to keep Eric, we’ve got no need for Kipto right now. “
“Oh, really? That is a shame. Is there anything I can do to sweeten the deal?”
“No Dave. In all seriousness, it’s just a delay whilst we sort out another few internal priorities. I reckon in about 4 weeks, we’d be in a position to take him back and maybe for longer.”
“No worries Peter. Thanks for the call. I’ll make the arrangements. Talk soon.”
This was a minor thorn in Dave’s side. Kipto wouldn’t be writing news headlines whether he did great work or awful work, but Dave did prefer having strong performers to talk about in the appraisal meetings, as it reflected much better on him. No-one wants to own the problem child.
Thinking about strong performers, Dave sat back in his office and noticed a few of the managers standing around Jason, one of the more boisterous members of the CEC team. There had always been a small part of Dave that admired Jason, assuming the folk law about him was half true. For a man who wasn’t particularly endowed in height, good lucks or anything striking at all, he seemed to do remarkably well with the ladies. In fact, his conquests were frequently joked about by the other managers, and whilst not ever being told directly, Dave had listened into enough conversations to know that the tip of Jason’s iceberg was the culmination of a whole life’s experiences for anyone else.
Dave hurriedly approached the group. “Hey guys, how’s it going today?” Silence descended on the group as they all looked at each other for support.
“Sorry, we’ll get straight back to work.” One muttered from the back as they began to disperse as quickly as they’d fallen silent.
“No, don’t stop on my behalf. I’m as up for a laugh as anyone.” The confusion on the face of the young men was that of discomfort at such words coming from someone so work orientated as Dave. “So what is all the laughter about?”
Awkwardly, one of the guys responded. “Oh, just looking at some pictures of the birds that Jason pulled over the weekend.”
“Plural? Big weekend then?” drilled Dave.
“Actually, these are just from Friday!” the laughter returned and with it came some volume. Dave just couldn’t compute. Looking down at Jason in his office chair, he was the same age as him, but had nothing over him. Well, seemingly nothing, but the pictures and reports suggested different.
“My office now please Jason. The rest of you, back to work.”
Jason sheepishly trudged to Dave’s office. Surely he couldn’t get into trouble for this at work? Could he? Jason opted to go on the defensive. “Look Dave, I didn’t know they were sisters, and I don’t have the pictures on my computer or work email. My mate sent them to me on my personal email address and I was only on there for a few minutes.”
“Sisters?”
“Yeah, they were...”
“STOP! Look, I need you to answer a question. OK?”
“Errr, yeah, whatever. As long as it’s not too graphic. I don’t mind kissing and telling, but not detail. That is kinda gross.”
“Not about Friday night’s sisters! It’s a work related question and then maybe a personal request. So tell me Jason, how are you lined up for your appraisal?”
“Yeah, not too well actually. Apparently the jobs I’ve been doing are OK and my clients are happy and stuff, but I haven’t been involved in any proposals or helped win any work, so it looks like I won’t get a bonus, which is a bummer.”
“Interesting. Well if I could offer you a piece of work that could help you achieve those things, would you be willing to help me in return? “
“Absolutely. I could really do with that bonus. What do I have to do though?”
Dave grabbed a piece of paper and handed it to Jason. “This is my address. Come around tonight at 8pm and I’ll explain more. And keep this to yourself. 100% discretion, otherwise your career will be going backwards, not forwards. Understood?”
Leaving the office with the bit of paper tucked in his pocket, Jason didn’t know what Dave had in store, but was intrigued to learn more about the man his peers knew little about and to see what on earth the guy who had everything could want from Jason.
Jason’s arrival had been a short lived thing. Dave was frustrated when he met Jason at the door. He didn’t look trendy, or fashionable or appealing in any way. Dave had half expected him to arrive looking all ‘Hugh Grant’ or even a bit ‘Colin Farrell’ but he was just Jason. What appeared to be some very well worn jeans, and t-shirt that had been hand picked off his bedroom floor, and some socks that were truly cultured? Luckily for Dave, he’d put on enough after shave for both of them.
“Errr, where are we going?” enquired a confused Jason.
“Dressed like you are, there are limited options!” Dave was clearly terse.
“Oh shit, I didn’t realise it was a work function. Sorry.”
Dave didn’t bother with a reply, as they jumped in his car and cruised the back streets. Dave broke the silence with some furious pointing. “How about that place. Ever had any success in there?”
“The Crown. Yeah, picked up once or twice in there. There was this older bird once...oh my god, she...”
“STOP!” Dave’s bark was confusing Jason even more.
“I only do birds you know...I mean, I don’t...you know.” Jason was staring into the foot well of the luxury car, and quietly praying for the first time since Sunday school.
“And you really think that even if I was that way inclined, that someone as prestigious and successful as me would stoop so low as someone like you? Jason, let’s go get a drink and I’ll fill you in.”
Dave was brief and edited large portions of his story, as one thing was essential. As much as he was in need of Jason’s advice, he couldn’t let his secret into the four walls of the office. Li
ke all of Dave’s stories, whilst containing truths, they sounded like constructions of elegant lies so he could keep the disguise of his mask.
By the second pint, Jason had learnt that Dave was ‘between women’, ‘had gone through his fair share in the last few weeks’ and ‘looking for someone a bit different’. All technically true, whilst leading Jason down a path of complete fiction.
“So I’ve got a deal for you. I’m heading out to Food United Group tomorrow and there is a chance of a big pitch there that if I get you in, could do you wonders in your promotion. What I want in exchange from you is for you to share some thoughts and explain your tactics, maybe even with a demonstration sometime. What do you reckon?”
“Yeah, easily done. The old back scratching eh. Like it. So how do you want to do it?”
“Well how about you start by sharing some of your tactics? And I don’t need any of the bedroom detail either!” Another lie unfolded from Dave’s mouth.
Jason went and got a couple of more beers in. By this stage, Dave was a few jars behind, but he was also eagerly listening to what appeared to be complete drivel. For all the stories he’d heard about Jason, a man who was as successful with women as Dave was with business, he expected an equally well planned strategy that had been superbly executed.
“So in summary, you get pissed, you smile, chat to women, usually a bit cheeky, and then take one home? But HOW?”
“Usually a cab if it’s not too far.”
“NO! How do you get them to go home with you?”
“Oh yeah, right. Well my mate Terry has a theory that you go big early to beat the rush, but I don’t like big girls. That is his niche. Kev likes the 5-to-2 girls. You know, when the smoke comes on the dance floor at 1.55am, he likes to sneak on, stretch his arms out and find himself a lucky lady in the dark.”
“Are they nice?”
“Kev says that he always takes home a good looking lady, but he’s woken up next to a few munters!”
“Oh dear lord...this isn’t helping.”
“Dave, what I’m saying is that you need your own niche. My niche is bar girls. Either girls behind the bar or girls at the bar. I like to lean on the bar, have a bit of casual banter and chat, and then take them home. It’s why I do to so many pubs, and it’s why I’m barred from several.”
“Oh. So there is some method to your madness. You have a target market...nice. Dare I ask, have you ever entertained any of the ladies at the bar here before?”
Jason span and did a quick 360 of the bar. “Nope, all fresh talent tonight.
The other thing you gotta do once you’ve got your niche, is look the part for your niche. This is seriously the best clobber I’ve got outside of work gear, so there is no point me going for pretty pink girls and stuff. I need girls who like a pint of lager and a kebab, as they are less likely to be bothered by the stains on my pants. Get it?”
“Yeah, it’s so incredibly simple. Right, I’ll think on about my target market, and then personalise my collateral to match. I mean, I’ll sort out my outfit to match, and then how about we give it a go on Friday?”
Finishing his beer, Dave sped off to the toilet, pleased with what he’d learnt. But he wasn’t really expecting what he’d see on his return.
Jason was missing from their table in the corner, and was giggling away with a good sized auburn girl at the bar. In full view of the whole pub, he gave her a cheeky slap on the ass as she wrote some details down on a beer mat.
Jason strolled nonchalantly back over to the returning Dave. “Charlie. Lovely girl. I’ll text her when I get home and I reckon she’ll be over just after closing. Dead good at that you see.”
Dave was quiet for the rest of the journey back. He thought he’d understood it, and what Jason had said, however simple, appeared to make sense. But surely it couldn’t be that easy?! Then again, if someone who lacks ambition, a razor, clean clothes or hygiene products can do it, then Dave should be fine.
More importantly, Dave had an 8am conference call with Tim Parkin, and he guessed Tim didn’t care whether he could hold down a relationship with a girl or not, or who his niche lady was.
***
Chapter Chance
***
“Can I speak to Tim Parkin please? It’s Dave Marsdon. I believe he’s expecting the call.”
Like most of the senior executives that Dave dealt with on a regular basis, Tim Parkin was time poor and verging on the impatient. He knew exactly what he needed, but detested admitting to any consultant in town that they might know better than him. In other walks of life, people like Tim are called control freaks, but in this environment he was a man who ran a tight ship. And it was a ship that Dave needed to be a part of if he was going to maintain the excellent trajectory of his blossoming career.
Before the meeting, Dave had diligently planned a series of ice breakers, some general chat and some industry related gossip that he’d Googled that morning. All were wasted. In fact, on reflection, Dave wasn’t sure if he’d really got to say all that much in the conversation. Having picked up the phone hoping to impress, he’d hung up the phone with no doubt whatsoever about what was required.
“I’d love to do all the nice to meet you shit, but I’ve got way too much on. Now Arthur tells me you’re a good sort, which is something given the species of consultants that you descend from. To save any confusion, I’ll make this as clear as I can. 1pm this afternoon, my office. My PA will send you details through. I want you and 2 of your best people. My PA will also send a brief spec around so you know who to bring. I don’t want rising stars or maybe men. I want the real deal. No wannabes. If you try and sell me anything, or at any point suggest that you have solutions for my operations that you know nothing about, then we won’t be doing business. See you then Dave.”
Replaying the conversation in his head, Dave was glad that at least there was no doubt what Tim wanted. Confusion and ambiguity could be a killer in proposals, and this one seemed clear and unopposed, which definitely had its advantages.
Before he had a chance to bark orders at Laura and instil the kind of nervous tension that he liked to accompany bidding for work with, Laura was in the door armed with the vital information. “These just came through from Tim’s PA. You’ve got a clash at 1pm as you are supposed to be meeting Nick for an appraisal update, but I’ve already moved that and made sure he ‘accidentally’ found out that it was because of Food United Group. Hope you don’t mind?” Laura winked, as she knew Dave better than almost anyone else.
“You are the best. Tactically at least, you are very clever!”
Laura was sure there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere. Maybe not.
“So I need my dream team Laura. The money is tight with what he has to spend, so I reckon we go with our normal trick. Let’s put the big guns in front of him this afternoon and then we’ll backfill with cheaper people once he’s signed off on the work. So who’ve we got free?”
“Well Mr Marsdon, resourcing is very tight now. Kipto is just back from Barker and you’ve got a note on his file to get him out at clients. Maybe you could...”
“Laura, no offence, but I need Dream Team, not Dreamers! Kitty-boy has a place, but I’m just not convinced it is here in this cut throat world of business. I’ll take Jason from whatever he is doing, and can we free Eric up for a few hours. He’d be perfect for this, and I think his old man went to school with old Tim Parkin. Never did any harm.”
1pm came and went, and Dave did as he needed to do. One of his peers had a motivational poster on the wall that depicted “Survival of the fittest” which Dave despised. Going into big meetings, he liked to jeer up his team with “Survival is for losers. Success of the smartest is for winners!” Jason wasn’t buoyed by Dave’s words or anyone else’s. Luckily for Dave, Jason’s CV read very well and he presented well too. All this was aided by how relaxed he was meeting someone as important and powerful as Tim, but that was probably aided by the personal success that he’d had the night before w
ith the barmaid from The Crown.
Eric was one of Dave’s protégés and he needed minimal guidance or tuition. As a naturally gifted bullshitter, Eric had an uncanny ability to time his comments to make both himself and the client sound particularly intelligent. A skill that Dave credited himself with, without ever actually being praised for it.
Tim’s attempt to rattle the threesome came and went. Dave wanted it too much and had spent months and months researching Food United Group, so was ready for all the client specific questions. Eric had never done a project of this nature before, but cleverly came back to Tim with questions and vague answers, that were beautifully accompanied by his reassuring smile. Jason was...well Jason was too busy day dreaming about the angles and positions that he’d enjoyed with Mrs Crown, so nothing was going to rattle him. Fortunately, he did know a fair bit about the technical side of the project, so Tim was suitably impressed by the composition of the team.
“Right, well that’s that then. I didn’t think you could pull together people of this calibre and experience in the time I gave you or for the money I’ve told you I am willing to pay, so you’ve passed the first test. I’ll sign the contract this afternoon and get it over to you. Your team starts on Monday.”
Dave reached for the handshake to seal the deal, but on collecting his papers and his mobile, Tim had escaped the room and was already in his next meeting chastising one of his team before Dave and the others had mustered a smile.
Dave’s preferred technique of relationship building had been scuppered by a man who didn’t care for that, but in Tim, Dave had other possibilities. How things went at Food United and how Dave presented it back at the office needn’t be the same thing. All they need to know about is the facts and stats, and those alone would give Dave the kudos he needed.
Gathering back at the office, Dave decided it was debrief time. He needed one of Eric or Jason to stay on the project for continuity, but his plan of actually making some money off this deal, meant that he needed to swap one of them out and replace them with a cheaper resource.
“Right, my gut is telling me that Eric, given the importance of keeping Tim happy and massaging that ego of his, you should front it, and we can drop someone in to actually do the bulk of the work. Jason, I assume you have templates and methodologies for this kind of project that we can pass on to the lucky person to do the work?”