Work was horribly hectic. With The Climber gone, the others now had larger teams, and what with a spell of bad weather, volumes of calls were through the roof. We were all feeling the strain. It didn’t help that Martin The Drain was off sick again. I phoned him to see what was wrong. He said he was suffering from an anxiety attack - his wife had told him she was in love with her salsa teacher and was leaving him. They’d gone to a 50th birthday party where the DJ was a big Ricky Martin fan. He’d called his wife up onto the dance floor to show them all her salsa moves. She couldn’t dance a step. The DJ had dragged her round the floor like a rag doll. When they got home he’d confronted her about all the lessons she’d been having and she’d broken down and confessed: it was mainly horizontal dancing that he’d been teaching her. All the new outfits she’d bought were just so she could dress sexily for him. The Drain was in bits. I checked he had the Perypils counselling number, which of course, he knew off by heart, but there was not much else I could do for the poor sod.
TLS George also had a couple of days off sick, and returned to work with a black eye and bruised hand. He said it was a footballing injury, but The Snake told me that a jealous boyfriend had caught up with him. At least, that was according to Facebook.
On the 23rd, I came into work expecting to hear about my job. I hadn’t slept a wink and my stomach was churning. I kept nipping in and out of the loo. By lunchtime, there was still no news. I phoned Big Andy. He hadn’t heard anything either. At around 3 pm, HR sent an email round to say that the job announcements would be put back a week. They didn’t give a reason. God, after all that. Emails started to fly around saying it wasn’t fair, managers making the point that we were given less than a week to complete our applications but HR could take as long as they wanted to make a decision. Brett the Boss didn’t call me, or email me. Had he called Cruella? She was keeping her head down. She probably already knew she’d got the job so was keeping out of my way.
A week came and went. Another email from HR told us we would have to wait until 13th December. They blamed the unions this time, accusing them of dragging their feet. That was going to be a great Christmas present. What did Santa bring you this year? Well, let me see, redundancy followed by mortgage arrears, followed by homelessness, followed by prostitution.
Lee Halfpenny’s piss-poor-performance hearing was set for the 4th December. Darren, one of the managers from Bridgend was coming down to do it. On the morning of the 4th, Lee phoned in sick with a stomach upset.
I called Darren who said: “But I’ve just driven over the bridge - I’ll have to pay six fucking pounds to go back over it now.” I didn’t really know what to say to that. We rescheduled the hearing for 11th.
I was getting worried about Christmas Day, as at the moment, the plan was it would just be me and the Husband. My parents were going to my brother’s for the day. I think the Bunny Boiler was going to be knocking up a rabbit stew. I hadn’t bought anything yet for the Husband, I didn’t know what I should do. We were usually quite generous with each other, but this year it didn’t seem appropriate, it would seem false to shower each other with gifts. I’d have to talk to him about it. I’d phoned my Dad to see what they wanted for Christmas.
“A shot-gun for me and a trip to a Swiss clinic for your mother.” Not exactly helpful. He had at last received a hospital appointment for my mum to see a specialist in January. He told me he’d phoned to check that they meant “this bleeding January and not the next.”
11th December - Lee was still off sick with a mysterious stomach virus. I rescheduled the hearing for 18th December after doing battle with HR, who told me that Perypils did not like to dismiss their colleagues so close to Christmas, and therefore the hearing would have to wait until the New Year. I told them no way was I going to pay that useless little shit any longer than was absolutely necessary.
The snotty HR woman said to me “Do you realise how serious it is for people to lose their jobs?” Ha ha! I told her I was about to find out, and that Perypils seemed to have no problem announcing management redundancies so close to Christmas. Why don’t the usual rules and courtesies apply to managers too? No contact from Brett the Boss. Was he still alive?
15th December. I arrived at work, nerves in tatters. First stop - the loo. I jumped every time the phone went. Just before 11.00, Brett called me on my mobile. Oh no, here we go. I braced myself. I’d decided I was going to be very adult and professional about this, and I would not break down and cry and call him a knobhead.
“Hi Brett.” I knew I had a wobbly sheep’s voice.
“Kate, hi,” he said. “I’m calling everyone today with the outcome of the recent applications following the restructure.” He paused. “It’s really tough you know, I’m having to have some really difficult conversations today.” Oh poor you! Are you seriously expecting sympathy? Just tell me, you spineless piece of crap.
“Yes, well,” he continued when I didn’t say anything. “It’s been extremely difficult, and we’re having to lose some really good people.” Here we go. “However, good news for you Kate, I’m very pleased to tell you that your application was successful and I can confirm you in the role.” I’d got the job? Had I heard that correctly? That was the last thing I’d expected him to say - I was absolutely astounded.
“Of course, it will be a stretch, I know that,” he was still talking. “You’ll be doubling your numbers, and taking on customer complaints, which is an extremely demanding department. But I know you’ve got the capabilities to do this Kate, you’re far and away the best person to take on this challenge. I’ve always known that. And remember, I’m always here to support you.”
I stammered out some thanks. He asked me not to discuss it with anyone until after an official announcement was made by the communications team at midday. Had he phoned the right person? Would he phone me back in a few minutes and say, “Oh sorry about that, I thought I was talking to someone else.” My head was whirling. On my God, I’d got the job! It was a job I didn’t bloody want, and it would be a completely impossible job to do, but I still felt on top of the world that I’d got it. I’d beaten Cruella! It was a victory for people skills over the cruel lemon-lipped bullies. Hoorah! Perhaps the Perypils hierarchy was changing after all; maybe it would become a really great place to work, like it says on all the posters.
I was dying to tell everyone, but I had to wait for the announcement. I wondered how the others had got on. Just after midday, the communications team sent an email round detailing the new management structure, which would come into effect on the first of January. Brett was keeping his job, how, how? The Boys Club at work of course. Big Andy was in, but The Shark was not on the structure. His rival and totally coincidentally close friend of the Chief Exec was named instead. Cruella was missing too, of course. The email had gone out to everyone, so my phone was soon ringing with congratulations and my inbox filling up. I felt I really ought to go and see Cruella, but decided that today was too soon. It was very awkward. Perhaps I’d try and see her tomorrow. What would I say? Tough shit loser! No, no, I would be gracious, she must be distraught.
I received an email from Cruella’s deputy, Mini-Me:
“Hi Kate.
As I understand you are to be our new manager, I would be grateful if we could discuss the team’s shift patterns at your earliest opportunity. The shifts are causing much tension between the teams and badly affecting morale. Also I should like to request the weeks commencing 4th and 11th July as my two weeks holiday next year. Clare has turned this request down once, but I felt this was extremely unfair and I would like you to reconsider. Can you please let me know as soon as possible, I wish to book my flights to Poland and arrange a tour of Auschwitz. Thank you.”
She was going to be trouble. And shift patterns, I hated dealing with shifts. I’d get The Rock to sort them out; she was great at things like that.
My guys all came up to say well done. I knew they were hugely relieved not to be working under Cruella. I phoned Big Andy with congr
atulations. He told me to stay away from The Shark as he’d “kicked off big time” when he’d been given the bad news and was not taking it at all well. I said I would steer clear.
Then he said: “Good news for you, Kate. That was a stroke of luck about Cruella, wasn’t it? You must have been pissing yourself.”
“What do you mean, a stroke of luck?”
“Oh come on Kate, don’t tell me you didn’t know!”
“No, know what?”
“That she’s pregnant! It was the worst kept secret in the building. She tried to cover it up under baggy jackets and huge great handbags, but you could see she’s got quite a bump there. And she kept taking time off with morning sickness. They were never going to give the job to a pregnant woman, that’s why she did her best to hide it. But it seems word got out. You know what this place is like.”
I was speechless. So I didn’t get the role because I was “far and away the best person”. I got it because Cruella was up the duff.
“But that’s, that’s immoral!” I said, finding myself outraged on Cruella’s behalf.
“Yep,” he said, “It sure is. She’s fuming of course, says she’s going to sue them.” He paused. “Do you think it happened by immaculate conception? I mean, someone would have had to have sex with her otherwise. I can’t think of anyone who’s that brave. Or do you think she used a turkey baster? Perhaps she advertised....”
He twittered on, but I wasn’t listening. Brett was a lying little sod who’d shafted Cruella because he knew she was pregnant and made me think I’d been first choice all along. I’d been his only choice. I hoped Cruella did sue them, sue the bloody arses off them. I felt stupid for thinking I’d got the job on merit. So much for the Perypils hierarchy changing for the better. It was only getting worse. The bastards. I seriously thought about handing in my resignation. No, not today, but I’d do it in the New Year. I had to get another job first. I would put my CV on every jobsite I could find and get out of here as soon as I could. Enough was enough.
At home The Husband opened a bottle of champagne and we had a Chinese take-away by way of celebration. I didn’t tell him about Cruella being pregnant, I wanted to feel successful for once, even though I knew it wasn’t real.
Chapter Twenty-Nine