Read Online Less Than Perfect by Ber Carroll - Free Book Online Page A

fit into two days?’
    â€˜At a push.’
    â€˜How about two long days?’
    â€˜How long can you make a day?’
    â€˜As long as you need it to be, Derek,’ I say matter-of-factly. ‘In fact, we can train your people through the night if that’s what’s needed!’
    He hardly notices when I sink the black. He looks as though he’s seriously considering it: training through the night.
    The game is over and I nod to the group of men whose gold two-dollar coin rests on the edge of the table. ‘It’s all yours.’ I smile at them, and then turn to Derek. ‘Why don’t we say 8 am till 7 pm, five rooms running concurrently?’
    â€˜How long would it take in total?’
    â€˜Three thousand people would go through in about eight weeks.’
    He nods, suddenly looking impatient to go. He slings his suit jacket over his shoulder and I put my bag on mine. Outside it’s warm but the sun has long gone.
    â€˜I expect a big discount,’ he states.
    â€˜Of course.’ I hide a grin.
    â€˜I mean it!’
    â€˜Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.’
    â€˜When can you send me a quote?’
    â€˜Next week. I’ll show the discount clearly.’
    The quote will spark more haggling, maybe even another dinner and drinks. But it’s close now, very close.
    Derek spots a taxi and raises his hand. ‘I’ll talk to you soon,’ he says as he gets into the cab.
    He leaves me on the pavement to find a taxi of my own. Next week, or the one after, he’ll be handing me a five-million-dollar order; apparently this exempts him from everyday manners.
    I turn and begin to walk down the street. I’m not ready for a taxi just yet anyway. I want to stroll, clear my head, savour the moment, the city. The pubs have spilled onto the streets, there’s a party under the stars, rock music swirling with conversation,laughter and a sense of excitement: Melbourne on a Friday night, the working week over, a long sunny weekend ahead. God, I love the atmosphere of this city, the distinct lines drawn between work and leisure, what’s serious and what’s fun. Everything so clear-cut and in its place, with no undercurrents of religion or politics. No history or past injustices to undermine the happiness of the present moment.
    My first few years in Australia were tumultuous, a succession of different jobs, friends and places to live. I arrived in Sydney not knowing a soul and for a while I revelled in my anonymity. Living in a hostel and working casually, I gradually met some people, mainly backpackers in transit to somewhere else, and formed the kind of friendships that last until one or the other of you moves on, the kind that have no history and are based in the present only, and where you make a conscious decision what, if anything, you reveal about yourself.
    After the hostel, I lived in an apartment in an old-style building in Bondi Junction. The apartment came with three bedrooms and two wild flatmates who clubbed and partied from one week to the next. I got my first permanent job, selling credit cards over the phone. It was hard work, cold-calling strangers, trying to persuade them they needed more credit, and nine times out of ten people hung up on me. It was useful grounding, though. It taught me how to make a good first impression, how to close a sale, and it was the first step in establishing my career.
    A year later I moved to Brisbane where I started over with a new job, friends and flat. Another year saw my return to Sydney, this time to the north side of the city, and nine months later I moved to Melbourne. Melbourne instantly felt like a better fit. Ithad the right mix of foreignness and familiarity, of excitement and safety, and it was where I finally settled, or at least stopped running so hard and swinging so wildly from one thing to the next. I found a job that had good prospects for future promotion. I found an apartment