Fitting In

by Amanda Radley

  Heather put the phone down and lowered her head to the desk and softly banged her forehead against the cool wood.

  She’d been on the conference call for over two hours, seemingly the only voice of reason amongst the six people on the call. For some reason she was the only person who could see the problem with drilling so close to the main telecommunications lines on a Saturday when the centre was at full capacity.

  Heather knew from experience that one wrong move could effectively knock out all the communications and, more importantly, payment systems for all stores in a split second.

  If the engineers wanted to drill anywhere near the lines, they could do so in the middle of the night when their mistakes could be fixed before the working day started. And before Heather received complaints from over three hundred different people wondering why their connectivity had vanished.

  She sat up and stretched her arms high in the air to pull out some of the tension from her spine. It was definitely time to get out of the office and get a coffee.

  One of the best things about her job was the close proximity of coffee shops and restaurants. She never had to suffer through a poor cup of coffee or wonder what she’d eat for lunch or dinner.

  She grabbed her purse and checked that her lanyard was still around her neck. Stepping out of her office, she glanced at Yasmin.

  “Coffee?”

  Yasmin’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, yeah. Can I have a coconut latte?” She reached down behind her desk for her bag.

  Heather waved the gesture away. “Sure, my treat.”

  The phone rang. Yasmin thanked her boss before answering the call.

  Heather picked up her speed to get out of the office quickly in case the call was for her. No matter how important it might be, she needed coffee.

  In no time she was in the public area, making a beeline for the nearest coffee shop. With a large selection to choose from, she’d not only become a coffee snob but also an expert at predicting queues at various times of the day.

  As it turned out, she wasn’t the only one.

  “You know that has zero nutritional value, right?” she said as she came up beside Ravi, who was in the short queue, holding a plate with a particularly decadent-looking brownie on it.

  “It has a pecan on top.” Ravi held the plate up for her. “See?”

  “Looks glazed to me,” Heather replied.

  “And under that centimetre of sugar is a pecan. Very healthy,” he reiterated, holding it up closer for her to see.

  “Oh, I stand corrected.” Heather chuckled.

  “Enjoy your conference call?” Ravi grinned, knowing the answer already.

  “About as much as I enjoy a trip to the dentist. Did I miss anything at the operations meeting?”

  They shuffled forward in the queue.

  Ravi shook his head. “No, nothing important. I’ve sent some notes through to you. I did get a call from Richard, though.”

  Heather sighed. “Already?”

  They moved forward again, now at the front of the queue.

  “Apparently, Scarlett is already causing problems.” Ravi turned his attention to the barista. “This decadent delight and a cappuccino, please. Eating in.”

  “And why is Richard calling you about that?” Heather asked.

  “Because Richard thinks I’ll be able to move Scarlett without you knowing, probably.”

  Heather knew it was true. Richard was old-school and didn’t like having a woman in charge; nine times out of ten he’d go to Ravi instead of Heather. Not that she minded; it kept him out of her way.

  However, it did annoy her that he tried to circumvent her instructions and that the main reason he appeared to do it was because he had no respect for her gender.

  She walked a fine line between being happy to not have to deal with him and frustrated by his tactics. Not having to deal with him frequently won the war.

  “What did you tell him?” she asked.

  “I said she’s nothing to do with me and he’d have to speak to you. He didn’t elaborate on what the issue was. Might just be that she’s sprayed body mist in the basement and offended Richard’s masculine nostrils with her femininity.”

  Another barista looked towards Heather questioningly.

  “Hi, a coconut latte and a flat white, please. Both to go.”

  “You know that has zero nutritional value, right?” Ravi teased.

  “Caffeine is a necessary food group,” Heather replied. “How did you leave it with Richard?”

  “He grumbled a bit and then hung up; I didn’t make any promises. Told him to speak to you and that was it. You might want to go down there and have a look around if you have time.”

  Heather mentally brought up her schedule for the next couple of days. “I have that meeting for the new lease in plot forty-four to prepare for, but I’ll see if I can squeeze in a quick trip downstairs at some point.”

  The barista handed Ravi’s drink over, and he thanked her.

  “What did you make of her?” Heather asked.

  “From the twenty seconds I saw her, not much,” Ravi replied honestly. “She’s quiet.”

  “She is,” Heather agreed. “I have a feeling there’s a lot more to her than that.”

  “There must be if she’s been moved around so much,” Ravi replied. “People don’t go through fifteen jobs in three years just because they’re quiet.”

  “Unless they are a spy and they find out what they need to find out by being quiet and then move on to the next location,” Heather added softly, hoping no centre staff were around to hear her paranoia.

  “Well, if she wants gossip on the inner workings of the centre, she’ll need to get talkative,” Ravi said. “It’s my experience that people need a little gentle cajoling to give up their secrets. I don’t think being quiet will cut it.”

  “So, maybe she’s not a spy?” Heather mused.

  “Time will tell,” Ravi replied.

  6

  Keep Up the Good Work

  Scarlett Flynn scanned her ID card and waited for the automatic door to slide open. She’d already noted two instances of staff leaving the security doors propped open, something she would report to security later that morning.

  She’d decided to spend her first day settling into her new role at Silver Arches. Experience from her prior employers indicated that giving her own feedback on the first day of employment was rarely well received.

  It was her second day, and Scarlett felt her insights would now receive the attention she knew they deserved.

  She walked the long corridors and took the two stairwells required to reach the basement level. Her direct line manager, Richard, had informed her that she would get lost in the maze beneath the centre for the first week of employment, a strange concept considering the relatively easy route which only required three turns. Signage and maps surely made it impossible for people to get lost. She had wondered if Richard had been joking with her. Not that he seemed the sort to make jokes, although Scarlett found it impossible to tell.

  She put her briefcase on her desk and walked straight into Richard’s office.

  The surly man gawked up at her with a surprised look on his face.

  “You’re early.”

  “I wish to talk to you about the facilities reporting system,” Scarlett said, standing in front of his desk.

  “What about it?”

  “It’s inefficient.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “We write on sticky notes that are often not sticky enough to stick to anything. The notes are frequently misplaced, if anyone takes any notice of them at all.”

  Richard leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest and looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.

  “And you’ve ascertained all of this in less than one day? That we’re inefficient? Reporting that back to Daddy, are you?”

  Scarlett frowned. “My father has nothing to do with this.”

  “Uh-huh. Look, we’ve used
this system for years. It works. My boys and I understand it. If it’s beyond you in some way, then just say.”

  “Post-it Notes are not beyond me, but the system is inefficient.”

  “Well, there we will disagree. I suggest you get yourself a cup of coffee or whatever flavoured tea it is that you drink and get ready to man your desk. Or should I say woman your desk? Yesterday, Stevie took most of the helpdesk calls; today it will be your turn.” Richard grinned in a particularly unpleasant way.

  “Cocoa,” Scarlett said, adjusting her glasses.

  “What?”

  “I drink cocoa.”

  Richard blinked a few times before he shook his head, sat forward, and continued reading the tabloid newspaper he’d been holding when she entered the office.

  Scarlett waited a beat, checking that the discussion was over before turning on her heel and returning to her desk.

  The rejection of her advice wasn’t completely unexpected; she’d had experience in the past that most people took a while to take her suggestions on board. She made a mental note to approach Richard again the next morning.

  She opened her bag and pulled out one of the three sachets of her preferred brand of instant cocoa. She had allocated longer to speak to Richard about her ideas for improving the efficiency of the department and was now fifteen minutes ahead of her schedule.

  She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should wait fifteen minutes now before getting her drink or get the drink now and move all of her meals and drink breaks forward fifteen minutes.

  After some deliberation she took her seat, placing the cocoa sachet on the edge of her desk in preparation. She would spend the extra fifteen minutes composing an email to security to advise them of the open doors she had encountered the previous day.

  Hopefully those inefficiencies would be corrected.

  * * *

  Several hours later, Scarlett was writing a job on a pink Post-it Note when another telephone call came in. She could tell it was for the facilities helpdesk line by the number on the screen.

  She picked up the receiver and answered the call in the exact manner Stevie had taught her.

  “Hi, it’s Grace from The Gift Box. There’s been a spill in the doorway, some soft drink. I need someone to come and clean it up immediately.”

  “What is your store number?” Scarlett asked.

  “One hundred and seventeen, on the top floor by the main elevator. When will someone be here?” Grace asked.

  “I don’t know,” Scarlett replied honestly. “I will have to write out a green note and wait for someone to pick it up.”

  “A green note? Can’t you call someone? This is urgent, you know,” Grace asked, an edge to her voice.

  “No. I have to wait for someone to pick up the green note. I have advised them that it is an inefficient system.”

  “Look, I need you to speak to someone immediately. It’s a big spill; there are ice cubes. Someone will fall and hurt themselves. I need someone here immediately. This is a serious hazard.”

  Scarlett frowned. “If it’s as hazardous as you claim, then maybe you should clean it up yourself?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, if it’s as hazardous as you claim, then maybe you should clean it up yourself,” Scarlett repeated.

  “That’s not my job,” Grace replied.

  “But you say it’s an immediate danger to guests, in which case you should clean it up yourself. Do you wish to cancel your request and take ownership of the spill yourself?”

  “No, I want you to do your damn job and get someone here as soon as possible,” Grace said, her voice presenting a strange tone.

  “Then I will write a green note and wait for someone to pick it up. Goodbye.”

  Scarlett hung up the call. She picked up a stack of green Post-it Notes and wrote the relevant details and pinned it to the board.

  Richard walked back from a meeting he had been attending and glanced at the board. He lifted his glasses and looked at the newly affixed green note.

  “That doesn’t go there,” he said.

  “I was told that cleaning requests go on a green note on this board in this column,” Scarlett said.

  “Ordinarily, but this is a spill. It’s a health and safety issue.” He ripped the note from the cork board. “Hey, Kaz!”

  Karen Saunders from the cleaning department in the next room shouted back. “What?”

  “Spill outside Gift Box, love,” Richard shouted.

  “I’ll get Kath up there, thanks!”

  Scarlett looked at Richard in surprise. “This system was not explained to me. I am supposed to contact the cleaning department directly if there is a spill?”

  “Depends where it is,” Richard said. He screwed up the piece of paper and threw it in a nearby bin.

  “Do you have an example of when I do and when I do not call the cleaning department?” Scarlett asked.

  “No, you use your head,” Richard replied, tapping the side of his head with two fingers. “Common sense.”

  He brushed past her and entered his office, slamming the door behind him.

  Scarlett winced. She glanced at the cork board and removed the pin and the scrap of green paper that had remained in place after Richard removed the rest. She put the scrap in the bin and put the pin back in the central pin pot.

  She returned to her desk and opened up the document she had been working on. It listed all the recommendations she had for improving efficiency in the facilities department.

  * * *

  Scarlett sipped at her three o’clock cocoa. The kettle in the staff room didn’t make the water as hot as she’d like. Like other things in the department, it was half-hearted in its application to its central role in life.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  Scarlett turned around and regarded the centre director, Heather Bailey, with a raised eyebrow. “Yes, this is my desk.”

  Heather hesitated a second before walking up to Scarlett and perching on the edge of her desk.

  “How are you settling in?” Heather asked.

  “I have yet to get lost, despite the assumption from everyone that I will,” Scarlett replied.

  “That’s good. I had a call from Grace O’Connor this afternoon. She wasn’t very happy,” Heather explained.

  “I also spoke to Grace this afternoon,” Scarlett said.

  Heather expelled a breath. “Yes, I know. Her call to me was after she’d spoken to you. You see, Grace is the kind of woman who likes to complain. And when she does that, she goes straight to the top.”

  “You,” Scarlett surmised.

  “Me,” Heather agreed.

  “She wished to complain about me?” Scarlett asked. She quickly replayed the conversation she had had with Grace and couldn’t find any fault in it.

  “Yes, apparently she didn’t like your attitude,” Heather explained.

  “I didn’t like her attitude either,” Scarlett assured Heather.

  “Well, in this situation, Grace is a customer of ours. You run a helpdesk and you need to be respectful when you speak to her. Or anyone who calls the helpdesk.”

  “I was respectful.”

  “She says you hung up on her.”

  “I’d finished talking.”

  Heather pinched the bridge of her nose and expelled some more air.

  “The spill was cleaned,” Scarlett added. “Richard expedited the request by shouting to the cleaning department. It is not very efficient.”

  “Look, I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Heather slid from the desk and smoothed her trousers. “Just try to be nicer and more respectful when tenants call. Don’t hang up on them, and don’t suggest they clear up spills themselves. That’s what they pay us to do.”

  Scarlett nodded.

  “Great, keep up the good work.” Heather started to leave.

  “You’ve just complained about my work,” Scarlett pointed out, spinning her chair to regard Heather curiously.

  Heather paused and
slowly turned to face her.

  “I…” Heather shook her head. “Yes, I did. I suppose I meant to say, do better work.”

  “I’ll endeavour to follow these new rules,” Scarlett reassured her.

  “Right. Great. Well, I’m running late. I have to go.”

  Scarlett watched her leave before turning back to her desk. She picked up her mug of cocoa and winced at the tepid temperature.

  7

  Nico and the Pop-Up

  Ravi pulled up in his car outside the bookshop and put the car into park. He picked up a bundle of paperwork from the front seat and exited the vehicle.

  A bell announced his arrival into Gay Days Books, and Nico Frazier looked up from the counter.

  “Ravi!” she greeted him enthusiastically.

  “Hey, Nico. How are you?” Ravi asked, looking around the small bookstore.

  “I’m good. I’ll be even better if you have good news for me?” Nico leant on the counter and looked hopefully up at him.

  Ravi waved the paperwork in front of her. “You mean, did I manage to get you a pop-up location in one of the biggest shopping centres in London? Of course I did!”

  Nico screeched happily and jumped up and down on the spot. “Really? Like, really?”

  “Really,” Ravi confirmed. “You better call some of your staff because very soon, you’ll be running two venues.”

  Nico looked around the shop with wild, excited eyes. “I’m totally taking the badges and the postcards. People love postcards. How rude can they be? Some are a bit risqué.”

  Ravi chuckled and put the papers on the counter. “Everything you need to know is in here. As long as the rude merchandise isn’t too prominently displayed, you’ll be fine.”

  “How can I ever thank you for this?” Nico asked.

  “Nothing to thank me for,” Ravi said. “I’m glad these pop-ups will provide some diversity to the centre. And who doesn’t need more LGBTQ books in their lives?”

  “Is that gorgeous boss of yours still single?” Nico asked, waggling her eyebrows.