A Twist in the Tale: Four Stories with Surprising Endings

By Mike Upton

A TWIST IN THE TALE is a book containing four different stories - but what each story has in common is that they all have an unusual and unexpected ending. A final unforseen twist - hence the title.

The first - SEA DEEP- tells the story of Pete an advertising man in London who is suddenly made redundant. Finding it difficult to get another job in the world of advertising he embarks on an adventure to fulfill an ambition which subsequently completely changes his life.

The second - ILLUSION - recounts the impact on a small boy during World War Two of seeing captured Italian soldiers behind barbed wire in a prisoner of war camp built on the moors outside Sheffield and the friendship that he establishes with one of them followed by his subsequent attempt after the war to meet the man back in his home village near Milan.

The third - CHOICE - again returns to the Advertising and Marketing world. As the story evolves we see how the central character Dave struggles with his conscience over the affair he is having with a work colleague, and how it affects his relationship with his wife and two children. Eventually he has to make a choice - wife or mistress? But fate has a way of interfering in his decision.

The final story - GONE - deals with the issue of a businessman
happily married for ten years but who one Sunday afternoon simply walks out of their farmhouse and completely disappears. Where has he gone and why? And who is the mysterious Bulgarian woman who appears on the scene and what has she got to do with the missing man? A taut "who-dun-it" which like the other stories at the end has a Twist in the Tale .

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 20, 2010
• ISBN: 9781477214565

Mike Upton

MIKE UPTON is a retired businessman who for many years worked extensively in industry as Managing Director or Chief executive running several companies in Britain and America. This, his second novel (like his first AMBITIONS END) is a work of fiction, but it again draws from his extensive knowledge of business and large multi-national corporations and their involvement and approach to selling off parts of their business, or acquiring competitors. Living in Norfolk he has been married to Brenda for 42 years and has tw daughters and one granddaughter.

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AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

500 Avebury Boulevard

Central Milton Keynes, MK9 2BE

www.authorhouse.co.uk

Phone: [phone]

This book is a work of fiction. People, places and situations are the

figment of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons,

living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

© 2010 Mike Upton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or

transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 7/19/2010

ISBN: 978-1-4490-6718-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1456-5 (ebk)

CONTENTS

SEA DEEP

ILLUSION

CHOICE

GONE

A Twist in the Tale is dedicated to many people.

As always to my wife Brenda.

To my daughters Catherine and Victoria and my granddaughter Holly.

To my faithful and constantly helpful former secretary Sarah who is always there and without whose help in getting me out of computer glitches I’d be in a continual muddle - but also especially for her ability to make me laugh!

Although I have in the past sailed dinghies I am particularly grateful to my friend Edward Waine, an experienced yachtsman, for his advice and information on the subject of large sailing yachts.

And of course to all the team at AuthorHouse for the terrific support and help which they always so willingly give.

Lastly to all relatives, friends and acquaintances who go on encouraging me with their continuing interest in my writing career.

=====================================

To all of them I say thank you.

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And finally to my readers I do hope you enjoy - A Twist in the Tale.

MIKE UPTON

Adventure is not outside a man; It is within.

David Grayson.

SEA DEEP

CHAPTER 1

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning when I enjoyed my usual luxury railway travel in to London revelling in the comfort, legroom, quiet and relaxed journey that I was having. Or to be more honest it turned out to be anything but an ordinary day as I stood swaying and rocking from side to side in my overcrowded 7.38 commuter cattle truck (sorry train carriage) which smelt of sweaty people. It was jammed too full of people as usual and getting on it at Weybridge meant that every seat was already taken and so I had to stand all the way to London. You would have thought that some clever sod would have realised that if they coupled on an extra coach or two then lots more people would be able to have a seat. Or why don’t they bring in these double decker trains like they use on the Continent or in America? But no those of us who join part way on the journey have to stand. You know they ought to have two prices, a sitting price and a standing price. I might write and suggest that to them as I expect they’d be pleased to get useful suggestions like that.

Eventually we got to Waterloo and thousands (how many people are there on a commuter train?) discharge like a tidal river flowing along the platform to the barrier where we show our tickets. All except that scruffy bugger over there who was obviously trying to get through without showing a ticket and is now arguing furiously with a burley ticket inspector. Serve him right. If I have to pay the fortune that it costs these days why should he get away with it for free?

Like lemmings we all now slither down the steps to the joys of London Underground where I strap hang again after having to have let the first train that came in go as it was too crowded to get on. (They ought to employ people like they do in Japan to push more onto the carriages. I think I’ll write and suggest that to them).

This morning is particularly horrendous as not only is it mega crowded but as I reach up for the overhead strap so does a man standing next to me and the waft of a smelly armpit hits me full on. Bloody hell the stink is dreadful and I try and ease away from him but the flipping train is so crowded that I can’t move back. I glance around to see if others are wrinkling their noses in disgust but they don’t seem to be. Oh wait a minute that woman over there has definitely adopted a strange expression. Yep she’s caught his whiff I’m sure. Hang on though she’s looking at me. Surely she doesn’t think that it’s my armpit that’s causing the problem does she? And that chap next to me has definitely moved a fraction further away. I feel like shouting Hey I wash my armpits and use Tesco’s deodorant you know. It’s this smelly sod next to me generating a smell which is something of a cross between dog poo and overfull dustbins that have been left out in the sun for too long now that our wonderful local authorities have switched to fortnightly collections.

I am wondering if I ought to get off at the next stop and then all those people who think it’s me stinking out their carriage would realise that its not but as I wouldn’t be able to see the dawning of understanding break onto their faces I decide to stick it out. Perhaps smelly man will get off soon. Suddenly he changes arms and that is even worse especially as this one is a little nearer to me.

Three stops to go and still smelly is there. We stop at the next station. Two to go. All of a sudden I receive a push in my back which projects me closer to the offending armpit and as I twist round I see a well dressed bloke who has forced his way onto the train and is now leaning against me to try and get himself some space. I’ve had this problem before and have a variety of fight back techniques. Today I decide to adopt the heel squash and so lifting my right foot I ease back and thump it down on his toe. A satisfying exclamation of ‘Youch’ comes forth so retrieving my foot and turning round I say politely ‘Sorry’. I get a muttered ‘Ok’ but at least he stops him pushing me.

Eventually we are there and out I get at Baker Street to make the seven minute walk to the offices of Gerald Martin Spooner and Thompson known in the advertising industry as GMST. They are one of the small to medium sized ad agencies but have a good reputation for quality work.

I wouldn’t say that I was a creature of habit really although sometimes I do wonder. After all it’s simply for convenience when I make my morning stop to call into Pret a Manger to buy my lunchtime bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich. I stare as I always do at the wide variety but always chose a BLT. There are a couple of other sandwich shops I pass but I always stop at Pret.

A couple of minutes more and I’m trotting up the marble steps that lead to the swanky reception of GMST. Through the swing doors and I call my usual greeting to the Spanish receptionist. ‘Hi buenos dias Lola. How’s your love life?’

She is a typical Spanish beautiful girl with long dark hair, very dark brown eyes, neat figure, wonderfully long and very shapely legs, although sadly this morning they are hidden under her desk, and a nice smile.

‘Ees very good thank you Pete. And ‘ow is your wife today?’

‘Great thanks’ I grin in reply and then push the button for the lift to whisk me to my place of work on the third floor. Some old boy also gets in. Not seen him before but I decide against setting up a conversation and so we both stare at the illuminated floor indicator in silence. I get out at 3. He nods at me but stays in.

I walk briskly along the short corridor, pause at the coffee machine for my free cup. The Directors recently arranged for the vending machines to operate free of charge until nine o’clock in the morning and then again after six o’clock in the evening. Jolly decent of them. I swipe my card, press for black coffee and after it is dispensed carry it carefully to my desk and plump down. You have to carry vended drinks carefully as recently new pale apricot carpets have been laid throughout the building and it would be a shame to spill coffee all over them. Mind you when it gets to winter and everyone’s got wet shoes when they come in I’m sure the carpets will pretty quickly get wrecked. Daft idea to choose such a light colour if you ask me.

I fire greetings to the two others who are already there in my work area. Jack (the oldest of us at thirty six) is talking on the phone while looking at some brochure, Nicki (twenty one last month) is pounding the keyboard of her laptop, doing her personal e-mails and general chit chat I expect as that’s what she usually spends the first hour of each day doing. Nothing to do with GMST but all to do with her friends and social life.

Eight forty five and between then and nine the other three members of this work area arrive. First in is Ray (thirty four and a keen rugby player) quickly followed by Colin (thirty and spends all his spare time restoring an old Land Rover - why?) and finally Andrea drifts in just on nine. A very drifty sort of person is Andrea, mid twenties with long blonde hair, a stunning figure and one of the cutest bums you could ever see (not that I’ve seen it you understand, just surreptitiously leered at it in her tight designer jeans or trousers when she isn’t looking).

So there is our little work group all ready for another thrilling day’s work at GMST. We are a creative team.

Stuart Beddington our Managing Director has apparently always admired a Volvo experiment where instead of making cars on long automated production lines with each worker doing the same job all day every day, they experimented with putting people into teams so that a small team of people built a car with each team member doing several jobs. Apparently did wonders for morale. I’ve no idea whether they still build Volvo cars that way. Probably not and I expect they’re all made by robots now but Stuart thought it a great idea and so a few months ago he created upheaval throughout the business when he mixed up people into Customer Facing Creative Teams.

Total bullshit of course but many clients seemed to like it and so now instead of the Creative people being in one place, the Copywriters in another, the Account Managers in another we’re all up mixed together. So Jack is the Copywriter, Nicki is a sort of gofer (rather a spotty one unfortunately), Ray is a Designer as is Colin, and Andrea is Continuity, (as well as having a cute bum). And me - oh I’m a thirty three year old Account manager so I’m the primary interface with our group of clients.

Our team now work on six client accounts. One big, three medium and a couple of tiddlers and we are one happy Customer Facing Creative Team. Well we are most of the time but like everyone we have our moments of challenge. Ok arguments if you prefer. Stuart says we shouldn’t argue but rather we should challenge each other. Can’t see the difference frankly but challenge each other we do and overall we produce pretty good work. Our clients seem happy enough with it thank goodness.

Ah, well that is all except for the big Cruise line client that only last month moved its business from GMST to a rival agency as did the electrical retailer who also took their business away. Mind you it’s not just our team that’s lost clients as some of the other Client Facing Creative Teams at GMST have as well. In fact to be honest, GMST are having a fairly torrid time of it losing several clients while others are dramatically cutting back on how much they spend on advertising and promotion as the recession and economic crunch bite hard into the world of advertising.

Opening up my personal e-mails before logging into the company e-mail system there are three offering me the biggest penis I can dream of, or variations on that theme (don’t need it as I’m quite happy with my dick as it is and certainly I’ve never had any complaints from women about it); another suggesting that if I want to stay hard all night they have the solution (why would you want to do that? You’d never be able to get to sleep as every time you turned over you’d pole vault!); another telling me that their pills will make my partner scream with passion (I don’t like women who are really noisy when they orgasm - a few grunts, a couple of huffs and puffs or a long deep satisfied groan are great, but definitely not screams); one telling me that I am a lucky winner of some lottery (oh yes I bet); one from Lloyds Bank telling me that my security has been compromised and to send them my account number and pin immediately. I bank with Barclays so this is obviously false and probably originating in Nigeria as I believe that most of these bank scams come from there.

Easy Jet are offering me unbelievably cheap return flights (not so cheap when you add in all the extras though); Best Western Hotels urge me to book a late summer break; an offer of Rolex watches for $50 (is anyone stupid enough to fall for that?); a couple of messages from friends to which I quickly send off replies; four jokes from male pals - one featuring a picture of an extremely fat naked lady which is totally revolting but quite funny (in a disgusting sort of way that would horrify a wife or girlfriend but would appeal to some of my mates - a sort of bloke joke). So I send that on to my ‘joke selection mates’.

Having dealt with my morning’s personal e-mails I then log into GMST and there are a couple of unimportant general notices; another from M D Stuart urging everyone to seek out every cost saving possible; one from accounts department regarding new procedures for getting expenses authorised (as if the old system wasn’t sufficiently draconian and complicated enough) and one from Maggie (our Director) asking me to go to a meeting in her office at eleven this morning. I acknowledge and confirm I’ll be there. For a moment I wonder what she wants but then decide it’s probably about the thoughts I sent to her last week on some ways to improve internal communications.

Having finished my e-mails I check my watch and decide I might just be able to get another free coffee as the clock on the vending machine is a couple of minutes slow so a quick dash and yes, just make it. Might as well get my money’s worth from GMST eh?

Coming back into our work area I deliberately wander towards and then past Andrea’s chair noticing that she’s wearing a white bra as the back strap is clearly visible though her white blouse. As I pass slowly behind her she’s leaning forwards staring at some papers on her desk thus creating a nice gap between her slim tanned lower back and the waistband of her hipster designer jeans enabling me to glance down the space and see that this morning she’s wearing bright pink panties which seem to be trimmed with white lace. As I regain my own chair I reflect that Andrea frequently doesn’t have matching bra and panties. I mean take today. White bra and pink panties and yesterday the panties were pale blue but she had a black bra on, as the little sleeves of her top left most of her shoulders and the black bra straps clearly on show.

Interesting I mused. Quite unlike my wife Chrissie who always ensures she has matching bra and knickers. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen Chrissie with non matching undies as she has quite a thing about it whereas Andrea obviously doesn’t bother to do that.

However putting the vagaries of women’s underwear aside from my mind I settle down to a discussion among the team to try and finalise the ad campaign for our medium sized client’s new range of pate. Hopefully we won’t have to repeat the tasting session we had yesterday. I’m not keen on pate at the best of times but having to eat all five of these new ones together with samples of competitive products was probably the most revolting thing I’ve had to do for ages. Mind you I’d been the good corporate fellow when George Pearce the Sales director of the client rang in the afternoon to ask how the tasting went and what we thought.

‘Wonderful depth of flavour yet cleverly infused with subtle hints of herbs and spices’ I’d replied and I could hear him purring down the phone but when he asked which of the five I preferred I thought my reply was an absolute masterpiece of smarmy good client relations. ‘Do you know George they were all so good I simply couldn’t pick out a favourite. I just loved them all’. More purring. Twit!

Now we (Customer Facing Client Team) were trying to find a new advertising campaign that would help sell the muck - sorry range of pates.

Everyone was looking rather serious and the creative session was a bit slow starting. I thought I’d liven things up a bit so to open the ideas I said ‘How about this?’ Everyone looked at me expectantly. ‘It looks like shit, it smells like shit and yep folks it tastes just like shit so hurry and try Blicksons new pate range’.

Nicki giggled; Ray switched on a smile and then immediately switched it off again; Colin looked bored; Jack grinned and stuck his thumb up at me and Andrea said ‘That’s not at all funny Pete’.

‘True though’ I countered (rather cleverly I thought) as I wondered what colour panties she’d have on tomorrow. Funnily enough her bra colour isn’t of so much interest to me I suppose because it’s easily seen down neck tops, shoulder straps or through blouses or jumpers. It’s the glance at the hidden panties that is exciting. Jerking myself back to this morning we went round and round until Jack looked at me.

‘What did you say at the start of this session?’

‘When?’

‘That joke about shit?’

‘I said something like …. umm oh yes ….. it looks like shit, it smells like shit and it tastes ……’

‘Yeah that’s it’ he interrupted smiling. ‘Hey guys how about this? It looks like ordinary pate, it smells like ordinary pate but it isn’t ordinary pate. It’s Blicksons new mouth watering delicious pate, so good, so tasty, so wonderful’.

There was silence all round. ‘Say it again’ asked Ray. Half an hour later we’d improved that quite a bit and got some copy lines and everyone congratulated me on sparking things off except Andrea who snapped ‘I still think what you said was disgusting!’ Alright pink knicks I thought, as I turned back to preparing for a client meeting next week.

A couple of minutes before eleven saw me knocking on Maggie’s door. At her level she had a proper office to herself not a six person Customer Facing Client Team mutual work space. Inside it was all pastel shades (to help creativity) with a large glass desk, pale green leather chairs and settee, trendy abstract (crap) pictures on the wall and carefully sited pieces of sculpture.

‘Pete come and sit down’ she smiled getting up and leading the way across to some comfortable chairs around a low glass coffee table (matching the glass desk). ‘How are you today?’

‘Good thanks’ I responded brightly as I quickly studied her. In her late forties, quite attractive, always smartly dressed like today with a well fitting black trouser suit and an apricot neck scarf with a sort of ring thing at chest level through which the scarf fitted. I used to have something like that in the cub scouts. It was called a woggle (now there’s an odd name isn’t it? In fact who on earth sat down one day and said I tell you what chaps we’ll call this ring thing for our scarves a woggle?). Coming away from cub scouts and back to today’s discussion with Maggie I continued. ‘We’ve just had a great creative session on Blicksons pate and we think we’ve got the makings of a really good campaign but I’ll let Ray talk to you about it when it’s been knocked into shape a bit more’.

As I paused I wondered whether to put in that it was my shit idea that kicked the whole thing off but decided that it might be seen as a bit too self promoting and more importantly might be seen as not taking Blicksons work, product and requirements sufficiently seriously.

‘Now Pete you remember Stuart’s talk in the Board room last month about the need to cut costs?’

‘Yes jolly inspiring it was too and I have to say that I’ve come up with some cost cutting ideas of my own which I’d like to share with you when you’ve got a few spare minutes. For example ………’

I stopped when she held up her hand.

‘Not now Pete. I want to discuss some of the cost savings that we’re going to be implementing’.

‘Right’.

‘As well as some of the more obvious things like cutting down on international travel, everyone flying economy class instead of business class within Europe (yes the extra cost for business class is quite unnecessary on short trips), or business class instead of first on trips to The States (bloody right I mean the cost of first class fares to The States must be horrendous), scaling back on corporate entertaining (I knew the bosses wasted money on too many freebies and jollies), examining all aspects of cost and reducing everything we can, in addition sadly we are also going to be reducing the number of people on the payroll’.

‘Good idea. I’ve always thought that there are a few hangers-on in this place that we can do without’.

‘Pete I’m sure that we’ll be dealing with that issue but the reductions are more fundamental than that I’m afraid. We’re taking a diagonal slice out of the company. (A what?) One Director at my level is going and so my colleague Gerry Wilson will be leaving, three senior managers are going, one from upper middle management will leave, four middle managers, five junior managers and several at clerical level will also be going’.

‘Oh right. Quite fundamental stuff then but obviously the right thing to do however I’m glad you’re ok’.

‘Thanks ……. but unfortunately I have to tell you that your name is on the list of casualties’.

(Eh? Did I hear that right?) ‘Me? Did you say I’m on the list?’

‘Yes and it gives me no pleasure to have to be the one to tell you, but I am afraid that you are going to be made redundant. Well of course you’re not as it is jobs that are made redundant, not people. Employers can’t make people redundant …. just jobs and yours is one of the jobs to go. Sorry’.

Oh so I’m not being made redundant just my job. Well that’s alright then I thought until I asked Maggie to repeat what she said next as I didn’t quite catch it or its significance.

‘Yes certainly. I said that there is an appointment made already for you at twelve fifteen today with Personnel, or as they prefer to be called nowadays Human Resources department. You will leave the business on Friday’.

‘Friday? What this Friday? Three days time?’ (Fucking hell. Three days to oblivion).

‘Yes’.

‘But you said that I wasn’t being made redundant, just my job’.

‘Yes that is correct’.

‘Well then why do I have to leave?’

‘Because there isn’t any other job here for which you are suitable’.

‘Oh. Are you sure?’

Sod it I wish now that I’d mentioned that it was my looks like shit idea that had got the ad campaign off the ground this morning. Might have made a difference? No probably not, as clearly they’d made up their minds already. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

‘Now HR will answer any technical questions you may have, deal with your rights, appeals procedure etcetera and don’t forget they’re expecting you at quarter past twelve’.

‘Thanks’. What the hell am I thanking her for? She’s just put me out of a job. ‘Err sorry to be a bit mercenary about this but can you tell me what sort of payoff I’ll get? I mean I assume I’ll get one? People do when they’re made redundant don’t they? Well when their jobs are made redundant’.

‘Yes I was coming to that. It will be a little north of thirty thousand’.

What an odd expression that is. North of something means better than, whereas south of something means less or worse than. Our Managing Director Stuart always whittled on about sales or costs being north or south of budget and it seemed that Maggie had picked up the habit as well.

‘Right Pete well I’ll see you of course before you leave’.

‘This Friday?’

‘Yes ….on Friday. Sorry it had to be you as the one in upper middle management that was selected’.

Upper middle management? That’s a new one on me. Previously I thought I was just middle management. Now I find that I’d been promoted to upper middle without knowing and then as a result I’d been kicked out. Wonder why they never told me I was upper middle management?

‘If you are wondering why it was you’ (well yes actually I bloody well was) ‘let me assure you that it is no reflection on your work, your attitude or your commitment here …. simply that it had to be someone at your level and knowing how good you are at your job then I know you won’t have any difficulty in getting a new one, whereas others might struggle in this economic downturn to get another job as easily as I am sure you will’.

Ah well that’s ok then. If I was useless then I wouldn’t have been kicked out, but because I’m good at what I do, then it’s me for the chop. Really reassuring to know that! I was just about to debate this somewhat contrary point with her when Maggie stood up and held out her hand.

Obviously the interview was at an end and I shook hands still in something of a daze. Maybe I was dreaming and would wake up in bed next to Chrissie in a minute and realise that this was just a dream - or nightmare.

‘Thanks Pete, now don’t forget HR at twelve fifteen’ she called as I started to walk out of her office.

‘Oh Maggie. One thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘My season ticket’.

‘What about it?’

‘Well I only got a new one last week. A three month one. If I’m not working here I won’t need it. I’d like a refund for it please’.

‘I don’t know about that. Talk to HR. That’s their sort of thing but if, err no sorry when ….. you get your next job in London you’ll need it then won’t you?’

‘Yes but my next job might not be in London’.

‘Right. Well as I said, talk to HR about it. Now I really must ………’

‘It’s ok I’m going and I’ll ask HR’.

I stopped at the coffee machine pushed in my ten penny coin then stood beside it sipping the disgusting brew. I’m sure that since they made free drinks available in the mornings and evenings they’ve put cheaper and nastier stuff in the machines. My mind worked slowly as I tried to come to terms with what had just happened to me.

Looking at my watch I saw that it was a quarter past eleven so the whole discussion had lasted only just over ten minutes. As I’d worked at GMST for four years that was two and half minutes per year of service. An interesting statistic I mused quietly to myself as I wandered back to my Customer Facing Client Team work area.

‘So was it a bollocking she gave you then?’ queried Ray.

‘Yes what have you been up to you naughty boy?’ chuckled Nicki.

‘Overuse of the free coffee concession I expect’ added Colin.

‘I’ve been made redundant’ I said quietly. (That shut them up quick enough as they all stared at me I can tell you). ‘Well I haven’t but my job has’ I went on. ‘Not sure quite what the difference is, but anyhow I go on Friday’.

‘Friday? What this Friday?’ queried Andrea.

‘Yep this Friday so you lucky people have only got the benefit of my skill, experience, charm, wit and assistance for another three days’.

‘Christ that’s brutal’ muttered Jack. ‘Look Pete …. sorry and all that’.

There was then a chorus of ‘sorry’ from all of them. Andrea came over to me and patted me on the shoulder. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help?’ she said softly.

‘Oh yes there definitely is. Take off your jeans and let me kneel down in front of you while you turn slowly around through three hundred and sixty degrees so I can have a proper look at your pink knickers to cheer me up’. (Well that’s what I would have liked to have said but in reality I just said ‘No not at the moment, but thanks very much for asking’).

At twelve fifteen I went into the Human Resources department where Margaret Sutcliffe (miserable cow in her fifties - never liked her) handed me a letter. I glanced quickly through it noting some of the obviously insincere and clearly gratuitous sentences.

This is to confirm that following an extensive review

of costs the Agency has reluctantly decided that it is

necessary to reduce the number of people it employs.

I wonder how long it took the Board to decide on how many were to go and who? Did it over gin and tonics after work in the Board room one day I expect. Or on one of the corporate jollies to Ascot or Henley where they would have all been sitting around swigging free champagne and tucking into caviar and canapés and flicking a coin to decide how many to go. ‘Heads it’s fifteen, tails it’s twenty plus’ they probably said.

Unfortunately your current position as Account Manager

is one of the jobs that is to be made redundant.

You’re dead right it’s unfortunate. Unfortunate for me!

Naturally we much regret having to take this decision but

the Agency would like to thank you for all your past hard

and effective work over several years.

That was nice of them but if I was so effective with all my hard work why kick me out? Proves it was just a load of meaningless old tosh that they’d written. There was a lot more guff which I skipped through and when I got to the end Margaret handed me another piece of paper which was a schedule of my financial entitlement. I didn’t bother to study the detail as I thought I’d review that later just looked at the final number on the bottom of the page which seemed to jump out at me.

£ 32,462.85

Well thirty two grand would wouldn’t it? I mean it is a tidy old sum of money which an enterprising chap like me could do a lot with. Buy a new and bigger boat maybe.

‘Of course the first thirty thousand is tax free’ stated Margaret. (Somewhat pompously I thought as if it was her personal gift rather than the law).

‘Well that’s alright then isn’t it? Good show. Right is there anything else?’ I demanded.

‘On Friday please report here at two thirty and return your id badge, your company mobile phone and laptop and any other company equipment that you have. Oh yes and your coffee machine swipe card’. (Good God did they really think that after I’d left I was going to sneak in before nine in the morning to get a free coffee?) She looked up and I studied the moustache hairs on her upper lip and the two long gingery ones growing out of a nasty looking mole on her lower left cheek as she asked ‘So do you have any other company equipment in your possession?’

‘No’.

‘Fine. There will be a buffet lunch in the Board room on Friday courtesy of the Directors for all those departing the business. I assume you’d like to attend?’

‘Whatever’.

‘Is that a yes or a no then?’ she snapped.

‘Oh yes I will really look forward to it. Can’t wait’ I replied and I saw a flicker of irritation in her eyes.

‘Is there anything else on your mind at the moment?’

‘Yes there is actually’. (That brought her up short as clearly she hadn’t expected me to say yes). ‘My season ticket for the train and tube. I’ve only just renewed it and as I’m ….. or my job is being made redundant I think you should reimburse me for it’.

‘That would be most unusual’.

‘So is that a yes or a no then?’ (Ha two people can snap out that phrase).

‘E-mail me the request with the cost details. I’ll have to consult. It would not be normal GMST policy’.

‘It’s not normal GMST policy to make my job redundant is it?’

She sniffed. ‘I will let you know on Friday when I sign you off. Now if you have any other questions feel free to contact us’. (Not if I can help it I won’t you old bat). ‘On the company website there is a special new section which you can access with the password New Pastures One, with a capital N and capital P followed by the number one. New pastures one. Got it?’ (New Pastures one? Would have been better to have had chucked out). ‘It details all your legal rights, gives advice on job hunting, shows a suggested cv layout’ (I can write my own cv thank you) ‘and has links to other sites and organisations that you might find helpful. Right’ and she looked at her watch ‘if that’s all I have someone else coming at twelve twenty five. So goodbye, good luck and see you Friday for hand-in’.

Hand-in? What an odd phrase. Still thirty two grand doesn’t mean that it’s all bad does it?’

I didn’t go back to my Customer Facing Client Team work space but walked out of the building and wandered along the street for a while. Don’t know why I did, I just felt the need to stretch my legs and see some other faces of people as they went about their lunch time chores or activities.

I don’t remember much about the rest of the day. When I got back I had another quick but surreptitious leer down Andrea’s jeans, ate my BLT sandwich, had a non free coffee with it and at four thirty suddenly decided that I’d had enough of GMST for the day so I switched off the laptop, shoved it and all the papers that were on my desk into a drawer and uttering a loud ‘Fuck it I’m off home’, I walked out. The rest of the team watched me in silence as I left, but I bet when I’d gone they all started talking about me and the redundancies.

The tube was less crowded than usual as I was at least an hour earlier than normal and then I actually got a seat on the train eventually arriving home a little after six. Chrissie wasn’t back from her job as a call centre supervisor so I poured myself a lager and slumped down in the armchair and waited for her to arrive which she did about half an hour later.

‘Pete darling’ she cooed when she saw me ‘you’re unusually early tonight. Are you ok? Not feeling ill or anything?’

‘No I’m fine (bloody brilliant!) just had enough of GMST for today’.

‘Oh good’ and she bustled off into the kitchen to start on supper. ‘Are you happy if we finish up that lasagne that I made yesterday? There’s quite a bit of it left still and be a shame to waste it?’

‘Fine’ I replied.

The evening was fairly normal because I wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject that I would be out of work after Friday. Several times I was about to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. We ate supper, read the papers, watched some tv and then after the ten o’clock news Chrissie said that she was going to have a bath and an early night. There was no glint in her eye indicating a degree of horniness as she