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Authors: Rowan Coleman
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until it’s time to go home. I don’t mind really, my pattern is the same. As long as the calls get picked up and I don’t get any customer complaints and we meet our targets, I don’t mind. It’s not exactly the world’s most dynamic career but at least I can afford good shoes, which goes a long way towards making up for a lack of personal fulfilment any day of the week.
‘No, they’re a good bunch, really,’ I say.
‘The floor looks a mess, doesn’t it?’ she says.
Oh no, here we go again. The paper will be blocking the flow of our
chi
and causing a build-up of negative forces or something.
‘Do you think? I’ll get them to do a tidy-up,’ I say, thinking there isn’t a cat in hell’s chance.
‘No. I’ve got an idea I want to go over with you. Pop over and see me, will you?’ And in a typically Georgie style she hangs up without saying goodbye.
Emerging from my little office, I pick my way through old photocopying paper boxes full of, well, old photocopying, navigate my way around the green bags of rubbish that accumulate by the recycling bin and stop short at the fax where the orders seem to have piled up beyond the collecting tray and are now fluttering on to the floor.
‘Carla,’ I turn to the youngest member of the team, who is clearly going to have to work for at least five years before she’s any good at anything, much like myself at her age, ‘can you pick up these faxes and distribute them amongst the team, please?’ I turn to the floor as a whole.
‘Ladies, and Kevin and Brian, can you please
try
and remember that we are here to process sales, therefore when orders come through on the fax we need to deal with them quickly? Thank you!’ There is a general murmur and a couple of them get up from their desks and come to help Carla sort out the pile of orders. Well, Brian and Kevin actually, Carla being exceptionally pretty, with her waxed blonde curls piled up on her head and her
very
short skirt making the most of her
very
long legs. Sometimes I wish my powers extended to enforcing a dress code.
A couple of years ago I was the one slacking behind my VDU and ignoring the hum of the faxes. I never thought I’d get to the stage where I was confident enough, efficient enough and grown up enough to run a team of people every day, it just sort of crept up on me. It’s a bit scary when I think about it.
Georgie has her feet up on her desk and the crystal that hangs above her chair glints in the sunlight that I can’t see from my office. She is an attractive woman, and looks exactly the way I want to look when I’m her age: pretty in a mature way, with clear blue eyes that are surrounded by pleasant laughter lines when she smiles. Of course I have the laughter lines; I just don’t find them very pleasant just yet.
‘Ah, hello love … ooh, you do look a bit peaky.’ I nod pathetically and cough a bit. I’m not offended. I am the sort of person who does look peaky at the drop of a hat; it’s the pale complexion and dark hair that does it.
‘You want to get some Echinacea down your neck, that’ll sort you out sharpish.’ And she shoves a couple of brown-looking capsules at me, which I pocket with a grateful smile and a plan to dispose of them later.
‘Now. Hypnosis, what do you think of it?’
‘Well, in what context do you mean?’ I can’t figure out where she’s going with this one. The Christmas party maybe?
‘You know, like, helping you give up fags, stop being afraid of spiders, lose weight, that sort of thing.’
‘Yes, well, it certainly seems to work for some people,’ I nod. It’s best to be noncommittal on these occasions or before you know it she’ll have you enrolled in a retreat for Buddhist nuns for six weeks.
‘Well, anyway, hypnotherapy. I’m thinking of having you all done.’ And she waves her hand expansively towards the now seemingly orderly office floor. ‘What do you think?’
‘Done?’ I am almost afraid to ask.
‘Yes, a group
‘No, they’re a good bunch, really,’ I say.
‘The floor looks a mess, doesn’t it?’ she says.
Oh no, here we go again. The paper will be blocking the flow of our
chi
and causing a build-up of negative forces or something.
‘Do you think? I’ll get them to do a tidy-up,’ I say, thinking there isn’t a cat in hell’s chance.
‘No. I’ve got an idea I want to go over with you. Pop over and see me, will you?’ And in a typically Georgie style she hangs up without saying goodbye.
Emerging from my little office, I pick my way through old photocopying paper boxes full of, well, old photocopying, navigate my way around the green bags of rubbish that accumulate by the recycling bin and stop short at the fax where the orders seem to have piled up beyond the collecting tray and are now fluttering on to the floor.
‘Carla,’ I turn to the youngest member of the team, who is clearly going to have to work for at least five years before she’s any good at anything, much like myself at her age, ‘can you pick up these faxes and distribute them amongst the team, please?’ I turn to the floor as a whole.
‘Ladies, and Kevin and Brian, can you please
try
and remember that we are here to process sales, therefore when orders come through on the fax we need to deal with them quickly? Thank you!’ There is a general murmur and a couple of them get up from their desks and come to help Carla sort out the pile of orders. Well, Brian and Kevin actually, Carla being exceptionally pretty, with her waxed blonde curls piled up on her head and her
very
short skirt making the most of her
very
long legs. Sometimes I wish my powers extended to enforcing a dress code.
A couple of years ago I was the one slacking behind my VDU and ignoring the hum of the faxes. I never thought I’d get to the stage where I was confident enough, efficient enough and grown up enough to run a team of people every day, it just sort of crept up on me. It’s a bit scary when I think about it.
Georgie has her feet up on her desk and the crystal that hangs above her chair glints in the sunlight that I can’t see from my office. She is an attractive woman, and looks exactly the way I want to look when I’m her age: pretty in a mature way, with clear blue eyes that are surrounded by pleasant laughter lines when she smiles. Of course I have the laughter lines; I just don’t find them very pleasant just yet.
‘Ah, hello love … ooh, you do look a bit peaky.’ I nod pathetically and cough a bit. I’m not offended. I am the sort of person who does look peaky at the drop of a hat; it’s the pale complexion and dark hair that does it.
‘You want to get some Echinacea down your neck, that’ll sort you out sharpish.’ And she shoves a couple of brown-looking capsules at me, which I pocket with a grateful smile and a plan to dispose of them later.
‘Now. Hypnosis, what do you think of it?’
‘Well, in what context do you mean?’ I can’t figure out where she’s going with this one. The Christmas party maybe?
‘You know, like, helping you give up fags, stop being afraid of spiders, lose weight, that sort of thing.’
‘Yes, well, it certainly seems to work for some people,’ I nod. It’s best to be noncommittal on these occasions or before you know it she’ll have you enrolled in a retreat for Buddhist nuns for six weeks.
‘Well, anyway, hypnotherapy. I’m thinking of having you all done.’ And she waves her hand expansively towards the now seemingly orderly office floor. ‘What do you think?’
‘Done?’ I am almost afraid to ask.
‘Yes, a group
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