first time to talk to someone
since my meeting with Felix. Everyone knew something had happened over METX but
I had said no to the lunch invites and drinks suggestions like I was closing a curtain.
I was trying to digest the information myself first, before letting the vultures
descend.
‘How’s tricks?’ he asked.
‘Different.’
‘Different?’
‘I’ve been put on a revision programme.’
‘That’s outrageous! Say you’ll leave if they try to go through
with it.’
‘There’s no way I’m staying. I’ve already sent out my C.V. I’m
waiting for confirmation of an interview.’
‘What did Stern say?’
‘Didn’t push for what my project needed. Didn’t
react fast enough. Apparently that’s not senior behaviour.’
‘But, how can they justify a revision programme? That’s for people
who are deliberately negligent or repeatedly break the rules. It’s not for someone
who’s relatively new and still learning the ropes. What are they playing at?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said wearily.
‘Fuck. That’s harsh.’
I looked at my plate and began pushing food around. Sam retreated
to his lunch too and chewed angrily.
‘Look,’ he said through bites, ‘Boris is trying to talk me into
going to some Exchange party tonight. You want to come along?’
‘The Tradeq thing? I don’t know. Those things always get messy.’
‘C’mon. I don’t want to go with that idiot by myself.’
‘Oh well... then you’ve persuaded me,’ I laughed. ‘Who can I
be this time?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know we’re not supposed to go. It’s only for Exchange group.’
‘Ah, that’s what he was talking about. You must be Jenny then.
So, does this mean we’re supposed to sneak out or something? Do we need to come
up with a signal?’
‘No. We can leave together.’ I cocked my head with mock exasperation.
We ate the rest of our curry and rice with the conversation cutting
up CouperDaye policies. I listened to Sam’s rants about
the history of its inconsistencies and depths of its incompetency, laughing, but
my stomach still felt sick.
The darkly-lit basement cranked like a booze-cruise bar under
the strain of alcohol filled thirty- somethings and long
forgotten work ethics. The party was being held in the Exchange’s auditorium but
the speeches were long over and dancing had broken out in corners as well as on
the dance floor. Boris, Sam and I huddled over a table. We had deliberately avoided
mixing with clients. I was definitely not in the mood and to Sam it was the condition
for his coming. Boris had given in to us.
‘How dare Felix question my senior level. I mean what the fuck does he think I am?’ I shouted above the music. ‘I may be still
fairly new to this company but I’ve been writing software for eight years.’ I took
another swig of G&T. ‘He acts like I have a bad attitude or am some kind of
delinquent. And like, leaning on me is the best way to motivate me.’ The thought
warranted another gulp.
‘You just don’t know how to play the game, Orls ,’ Boris teased. ‘Got to know the rules
of the game.’ He winked as if we shared a secret.
‘Don’t be so smug. And don’t call me Orls either.’ I slumped back in my chair.
‘Ooh, someone’s had a little too much to drink.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ I clinked my glass
into Boris’.
‘Felix is a prick,’ Sam began. ‘Look, I think you’ve got to gather
evidence now. I mean, say you go through this programme and something goes wrong
with one of your projects. You’ll need to have your case ready. You’ve got to justify
every step.’
‘ Orla , that chap you had a thing with
last time is here.’ Boris gestured to the dance floor.
‘Boris, I didn’t have a thing with him,’ I scolded. ‘Anyway I’m not interested.’
‘I reckon you should run over there and snog the girl next to
him,’ Boris said.
I fell to the side, laughing, spilling my drink. ‘Keep your fantasies
to yourself, Boris.
since my meeting with Felix. Everyone knew something had happened over METX but
I had said no to the lunch invites and drinks suggestions like I was closing a curtain.
I was trying to digest the information myself first, before letting the vultures
descend.
‘How’s tricks?’ he asked.
‘Different.’
‘Different?’
‘I’ve been put on a revision programme.’
‘That’s outrageous! Say you’ll leave if they try to go through
with it.’
‘There’s no way I’m staying. I’ve already sent out my C.V. I’m
waiting for confirmation of an interview.’
‘What did Stern say?’
‘Didn’t push for what my project needed. Didn’t
react fast enough. Apparently that’s not senior behaviour.’
‘But, how can they justify a revision programme? That’s for people
who are deliberately negligent or repeatedly break the rules. It’s not for someone
who’s relatively new and still learning the ropes. What are they playing at?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said wearily.
‘Fuck. That’s harsh.’
I looked at my plate and began pushing food around. Sam retreated
to his lunch too and chewed angrily.
‘Look,’ he said through bites, ‘Boris is trying to talk me into
going to some Exchange party tonight. You want to come along?’
‘The Tradeq thing? I don’t know. Those things always get messy.’
‘C’mon. I don’t want to go with that idiot by myself.’
‘Oh well... then you’ve persuaded me,’ I laughed. ‘Who can I
be this time?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know we’re not supposed to go. It’s only for Exchange group.’
‘Ah, that’s what he was talking about. You must be Jenny then.
So, does this mean we’re supposed to sneak out or something? Do we need to come
up with a signal?’
‘No. We can leave together.’ I cocked my head with mock exasperation.
We ate the rest of our curry and rice with the conversation cutting
up CouperDaye policies. I listened to Sam’s rants about
the history of its inconsistencies and depths of its incompetency, laughing, but
my stomach still felt sick.
The darkly-lit basement cranked like a booze-cruise bar under
the strain of alcohol filled thirty- somethings and long
forgotten work ethics. The party was being held in the Exchange’s auditorium but
the speeches were long over and dancing had broken out in corners as well as on
the dance floor. Boris, Sam and I huddled over a table. We had deliberately avoided
mixing with clients. I was definitely not in the mood and to Sam it was the condition
for his coming. Boris had given in to us.
‘How dare Felix question my senior level. I mean what the fuck does he think I am?’ I shouted above the music. ‘I may be still
fairly new to this company but I’ve been writing software for eight years.’ I took
another swig of G&T. ‘He acts like I have a bad attitude or am some kind of
delinquent. And like, leaning on me is the best way to motivate me.’ The thought
warranted another gulp.
‘You just don’t know how to play the game, Orls ,’ Boris teased. ‘Got to know the rules
of the game.’ He winked as if we shared a secret.
‘Don’t be so smug. And don’t call me Orls either.’ I slumped back in my chair.
‘Ooh, someone’s had a little too much to drink.’
‘Speak for yourself.’ I clinked my glass
into Boris’.
‘Felix is a prick,’ Sam began. ‘Look, I think you’ve got to gather
evidence now. I mean, say you go through this programme and something goes wrong
with one of your projects. You’ll need to have your case ready. You’ve got to justify
every step.’
‘ Orla , that chap you had a thing with
last time is here.’ Boris gestured to the dance floor.
‘Boris, I didn’t have a thing with him,’ I scolded. ‘Anyway I’m not interested.’
‘I reckon you should run over there and snog the girl next to
him,’ Boris said.
I fell to the side, laughing, spilling my drink. ‘Keep your fantasies
to yourself, Boris.
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