by Dom Price
Dave snapped back. “People who wait get the bus. Good things come to those who deserve it.”
“Ha. I something wish I had your dedication and ambition young man.”
“Jesus, what is it with this ‘young man’ crap”. Dave was muttering to himself as the waiter finally poured the wine.
“Iz everfin OK wiv sur?” The faux Italian waiter had picked up on Dave’s perplexed, impatient and slightly contorted face. The smile immediately returned and beaming Dave was back in the room. The story could continue.
“Thank you Guiseppe, it is all wonderful. Now Peter, where were we?” charging glasses and beckoning the remainder of this cliff hanger.
“Well, a little birdy told me a while back that a certain Mr David Marsdon was pushing for Partnership this year, and that this would make him the youngest partner in CEC Services history.”
“I’d be lying if I denied that.” Dave was playing coy, which wasn’t a usual habit of his. Not nearly enough dick swinging in being coy, and it never really made sense to him to play things down, when you could shout from the terraces about them. Still, it seemed appropriate with a client and especially one as gentile as Peter.
“And from what I know from my time in your business and from other contacts I have in the trade, your sales and business development are crucial metrics in deciding whether you get the nod or not? Am I right?”
“Are you ever wrong Peter?” Dave had now moved onto smarm. He sensed that somewhere in Peter’s head, was the Holy Grail that Dave had been searching for. Maybe word had got out about Food United Group. Dave wanted to wait for the moment, but instant gratification was a well documented feature of his generation.
“Do you know anything about Food United Group Peter?”
“I know lots about Food United Group. What do you want to know?”
The conversation was broken by the return of the waiter. But it wasn’t the expensive, elegantly presented and beautifully smelling food that was making Dave salivate. He could feel his senses becoming aroused and aware at the advances that he was making. It was his destiny. He was good, and Peter’s excitement at telling his story suggested that they were both on the same page.
Dave also knew that careful questioning had to be engaged here, to not sound too inquisitive or out of the know, whilst getting as much information as possible. His forte.
“Well Peter, how about you start by telling me something I don’t know?”
***
Chapter Main Course
***
“Never heard of him, sorry.”
“Really. But I thought you said you knew a lot of the senior guys there?”
“Yeah, I do. I do a lot of mentoring for the local business school, and the Head Finance guy from Food United Group does a lot of the sessions with me. I knew they’d been on a big acquisition spree and that they were buying lots of smaller companies up that they’d need to amalgamate into their business. Is that why you are interested?
“Yes and no. It’s complicated.”
“Well maybe I can still help with my news then. It’s not official yet, but the legal guys are in the final stages of a deal that will see us nearly double in size. I’ve got the OK from the Executive to head up the transformation team that will run the project to bring the other company on board. It is early days but once the contracts are signed, I’ll be coming to you for an official quote.”
Dave was motionless. Peter couldn’t tell whether it was shock or disappointment. It was hard to tell. His only movement was to push a straggle of tagglietelli around his plate in a random but repetitive sequence.
“Just so you know, I’ll only be coming to you, and we’re looking at a 12-18 month project, probably with around 3-6 heads depending on where we’re up to. It will be in the region of £1m plus, and highly publicised too. It will give us both great exposure. And I’m sure going to your boss with a promise of work like that for the next year and a bit will get you over the line with room to spare eh? Dave?”
“Yeah, Peter...amazing.” Dave was struggling to hide his annoyance.
Strangely, images of the women that he’d let slip through his fingers in the last few weeks all passed in front of his depressed eyes. Maybe the Lawyer girl would have been perfect. Not around much, professional and well spoken. She wouldn’t have demanded too much time, but would have filled a quota of events and networking functions. The blind date girl was lovely. She had her own home, was educated and sophisticated, whilst being relaxed. Her parents were a definite thorn in the side, but they looked elderly and wouldn’t be around forever. Independent and not too needy, she could have been perfect. Plus, religion is only a once a week thing, so that could have easily been accommodated. Even some of the speed dating girls were probably worth a second chance. Even Dave acknowledged now, after the event, that not everyone thrives and is as comfortable as he is in such an environment. The single mum had the most potential. Maybe if the ex-husband was still around, he’d get more of the kid and so it wouldn’t be too intrusive. Then there were the disco girls. Memory suggested that Dave had gone home with a pair of good looking ladies, so it would seem that the ugly taxi came during the night and swapped them with some swamp donkeys. The only thing going for her was that she would have been eternally grateful, and therefore very loyal. Better characteristics for a rescued pet than a life partner.
“Well then. Let’s charge our glasses. To us, our new roles and prosperity within.”
Dave took an unhealthily large swig of his wine, which was cold enough to hurt his teeth and his throat, without achieving the goal. He was still bereft of a way out, and the mystery of Ronnie Patel was not getting anywhere nearer being solved. He felt like he’d just been given first class tickets for any flight anywhere around the world, having just given away his passport the day before.
Defeated by the amazing news that Peter had just given him that now carried no value after his deal with Bill Hennessey, Dave knew there was only thing for it. Despite being worlds apart on how good the news was that Peter had just shared, there was something that both these guys had in common. Peter wanted to celebrate. Dave wanted to commiserate. Different requirements can be resolved with the same solution.
“Another bottle please waiter.”
Dave reached for his phone and sent Laura the message to free him up for the remainder of the day. His head wasn’t up for anything else, and his ego couldn’t cope with any more disappointment. The afternoon plan was to drink. In his head the plan was simple. “Execution should be straight forward given the progress to date. Measurement? Well if I can’t measure, then I’ve failed.”
“Right Peter, that is me clear for the day. Now assuming you can follow suit, how about we change the topic. For the next bottle, let’s not talk shop.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
And they did.
***
Chapter What Comes After Main Course...Headache
***
“Shhhhhhhh. Please be quiet.” A rationale man wouldn’t be talking to his alarm clock, but then a rationale man wouldn’t have the headache that Dave was currently sporting. Ever relieved that it wasn’t a repeat of last Thursday’s nightmare, there was no tug boat in the bed next to him or doing her business in his toilet. Dave was firmly alone, and it was the only way to be in his current state.
In his usually busy head, an earthquake of about 8.8 on the Richter scale was working its way from front to back and side to side. There were occasional spasms along his arms and legs that whilst painful, were a gentle reminder that he wasn’t paralysed. Assuming a tense slobbering version of the foetal position, Dave’s memory from the rest of the previous day was blurry.
His brain had activated enough cells to realise that it was a work day, and sufficient power to compute that an afternoon off on one day could not really be followed by a late morning the next. Knowing that he had to get up, didn’t make the act any simpler.
Avoiding the use of eyes for fear of permanent
light blindness and headache related injuries; Dave took a deep breath and counted to three. Very, very slowly.
“One...ttttttttttwooooooooooooooo.....twoooooooo.....two....and...THREE...OW”
Attempting the manoeuvre in one swoop, Dave aimed to swing his legs out of the foetal position onto the floor, whilst simultaneously taking his upper body from horizontal to vertical, with supporting flapping arms. To anyone else it would be just getting out of bed, but Dave felt like he’d been in traction for months, and was taking his first solo step of the year.
The thud sounded bad. The echo hurt his head and his body. Rolling over, Dave was faced with a sight that he’d rather have delayed. He was face to face with himself in the full length mirror that hung on wall. He could make out most of his body as he was strewn across floor. He looked like he’d just been hit by a truck. An angry truck.
Closer inspection revealed the source of the fall. Dave still had his right shoe on, and his work trousers were still around his ankles. It quietly explained the failed logistics around getting out of the bed, but didn’t soften the blow Dave had just taken. His stumble had led with his head given that his legs were tied together by pants, so his brain had cushioned the blow as he’d fallen from the bed.
After a few seconds of squinting, Dave’s eyes finally found focus on his helpless body that was pathetically glued to the carpet. Somehow, gravity seemed stronger today.
Struggling to kick his remaining shoe off, Dave was left with one option. His arms weren’t following the instructions that his brain was trying to feed them, so to lose the trousers, Dave rolled onto his back like a stunned cockroach and just kicked and riled as much as he could. Miraculously, his childish attempts to remove his trousers worked, and his legs were free once again.
His new proximity to the mirror provided a whole new angle. The blood shot eyes were now surrounded by a colourless shine, that at first appeared no descript. Then Dave felt the soreness in his nose as he went to grab it.
***
Chapter What Else Comes in 3’s
***
“Oh my god, what happened?”
“Nothing Laura. Please don’t fuss. I’m fine.”
“But sir. You’ve got two black eyes. Are you OK?”
“Superficially fine, but not in so many other ways. Come into my office. But can you go grab me a coffee first. I couldn’t bear to queue up before.”
Laura didn’t ask for any money. Her boss looked wounded and in need of assistance, and whilst she didn’t know the full extent of his injuries, her imagination worked on overtime as she ordered his morning coffee and some toast.
She was therefore a little disappointed at the lack of drama in the truth, but the contrast to her conspiracy theory was that the truth was hilarious. Dave was gingerly sipping his coffee and chewing on tiny bites of toast like he’d just come around from major surgery.
“You fell out of bed? But what did you fall over?”
“Nothing. I told you, I must have got into bed drunk and not actually taken my trousers fully off, so they were around my ankles still. The problem was that I hadn’t worked that out when I tried to get out of bed, so it was like having my legs tied together. I went head, or nose first into the bed and then floor, hence the nose.”
“Is it broken?”
“Well judging by the ever changing shade of my eyes and the excruciating pain I get when anything goes near my nose, I would guess that it is. Still, nothing we can do about that now. I must soldier on. Now, am I right in thinking it is mainly internal meetings today?
“Yeah, a few strategic client committees, one business development forum, an appraisal round table session with Human Resources and sales pipeline group. Dare I ask...how was Peter?”
“Now that is a very good question.” Dave examined his wallet, which provided a few clues to the end of the night. “We had a fair few bottles in the Italian, but I haven’t got a receipt from that, which is good. Here is a credit card stub for drinks in the Kudo Bar, which I think is just along the way. Looks like another few bottles and maybe a few shots. And a taxi home at 8.48pm. Hardly a late night.”
“Have you heard from him today? Should I call him for you?”
“Thanks Laura. You’re a star.”
Dave was flicking through a presentation that he was due to talk on that afternoon. His attention to it paid the upmost credit to his hangover. With each page turn, he became more ambivalent and his care factor reduced another unit. He knew that he couldn’t afford another day without being productive. Looking down at his coffee which had now cooled down, he was silently willing it to perform some magic on him. It needed to make him alert, make him motivated and make him care. Right now, without the coffee in his system, all he wanted was to be horizontal and in his bed.
“Come on Mr Long Black. Sort me out.”
Dave tipped his head back, and took the potion.
“OW...OH SHIT.” Before Dave had regathered himself, Laura had rushed into his office to check on the commotion.
“Now what happened? Are you OK?”
“Bollocks is what happened. Bollocks and testicles, with a side order of bloody bollocks.” Dave was holding his nose, and partially facing away from Laura. As he turned, she saw what had happened.
“Oh dear, you’ve got...”
“Yes Sherlock, I’ve got bloody coffee on my bloody shirt, because the bloody coffee cup hit my bloody nose which is bloody sore, and I spat bloody coffee all over my bloody shirt.”
“Bloody hell.” Laura’s untimely empathy brought out a death stare from Dave. “You probably don’t want me to tell you about the phone call I just took then.”
Dave was startled. “Peter’s OK isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah, Peter is fine. I haven’t spoken to him, but I’ve chatted to his PA. He couldn’t drive his car to work and nor could he call himself a cab, so she was going to pick him up. Claims he’s suffering with a 24 hour bug, which has remarkably similar symptoms to yours.”
“So what wouldn’t I want you to tell me?”
“Jason has just been on the phone. He was with his lady friend from Food United Group last night and they were a little late in this morning. Well...”
“Laura don’t. Please don’t tell me anymore. I’ll chop his bloody bits off and feed it to the birds in the park. I’m gonna kill him. I know they said bad luck comes in three’s. First my nose, then I spill coffee all over my shirt and now this. Right, this is officially a disaster. At least it can’t get any worse.”
“Sir, that isn’t it actually. They were late when she got a call to head into the office because they needed her urgently for something. Jason isn’t in trouble and neither is she. They managed to somehow fly under the radar.”
“Oh. Well maybe his tackle will live to see another day. Or another whatever he does with it.”
“Yes sir. But the reason his PA lady friend had to go in was to assist in an urgent Executive Meeting at Food United Group. Ronnie Patel is there today.”
“Wrong again. It can get worse. Brilliant. Awesome. Fabulous.”
Dave sat and pondered, his head in his hands being careful to avoid any contact with his nose. He looked up slowly to Laura who was awaiting the next instruction, but Dave’s head felt like a desert. Someone somewhere clearly had it in for him. He didn’t believe in luck playing a part in success, but maybe bad luck had a big part to play in failures.
“I need a few moments to strategise Laura. Thanks.”
Dave’s head hadn’t completed a single computation in the time Laura was away, other than “why me”, which wasn’t doing a huge amount to promote his forward thinking on the matters at hand.
“Sorry to interrupt your strategicness sir. I’ve just run down the shop and got you a new shirt. Unfortunately I couldn’t remember what suit and tie you had on today, so it might not match as nice as your combinations, but it’s free of coffee. And the nice girl fell for my puppy eyes and even ironed it for you. Here you go.”
The realisation that his under qualified PA had achieved more than him sent a shock wave through his competitive body. Nobody was as good as him. Even with a broken nose and bruised ego.
“You are a legend. In different circumstances, and with different variables, maybe in a parallel world or if times had changed, I could kiss you ya know.”
“Thank you; I think”. Laura had spent enough time with Dave to realise that hidden in there, was a compliment. He didn’t structure them as well as his sales pitches or board room performances, but it meant a lot to Laura all the same.
“Laura, I’ve just realised I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I have an idea. I’ve been tipped on my head once today, so I’m going to tip the world on its head now.”
Dave approached the white board in his office and cleaned off the scrawling with the sleeve of his shirt. It seemed quite a maverick thing to do, even though he had a freshly pressed shirt ready to replace it. On the top of the clean board he wrote his favourite phrase “RULE OF 3”.
Laura looked on, re-assured by his confident swagger, but mystified by what he was actually doing. It quickly became apparent that she was a silent partner in this particular business, so she sat down and got comfortable as the performance began.
“So we’re going to turn it on its head you see.” Along the left hand side of the board, Dave wrote his next favourite 3 words, but something had changed.
MEASURE, EXECUTE, PLAN.
“Laura, today, were going to do it back to front. God I’m clever.”
There was no response required from Laura as the one-man show developed in front of her. Once the strategy, tactics and methodology were all assembled on the board, it was time for action.
“So the final question Laura. Are you OK to tell a few white lies and bend the truth a little to secure our future?”
“YOUR future? Certainly sir.”
***
Chapter Headlines, Headway and Heads I win
***
Dave knew that the devil was in the detail, which is why he had no particular affinity with getting that deep into anything. For this reason, and several others, he’d adopted a ‘headline’ tactic over the years where he’d use a short sharp statement to make a point. The premise which made this tactic so great was that Dave liked to leave the interpretation of the statement to the recipient.