It wasn't long
till closing time, but Martin was so sunk in boredom and lethargy that he
couldn't even summon up sufficient energy to loook forward o the weekend.
Nothing was happening; absolutely nothing. When he'd first taken up the job in
the Bathroom Accessories department of BSDM (formerly the Kingdom department
store, since taken over by a conglomerate) he'd put it down as something
temporary; useful work-experience; but all he'd learnt to date was that he'd
rather sweep the streets, or even live on the streets, than spend any longer in
such an institution. More than once he'd considered simply walking out, but had
rejected that as very boring and unoriginal. What he really wanted was to be
sacked: not for some petty misdeed, but for something specatacular and original
(but of course non-criminal; he didn't want his future prospects too
blighted); something that would cause his name to be remembered for ever; to
live on in legend amongst all the grey, tedious people of BSDM. But what?
He had no idea. His mind wandered round aimlessly.
Then Muriel, his typically grey and tedious departmental
head, shuffled up to him and addressed him in her usual irritating whiney
voice.
"Oh, Michael!" she said, getting his name wrong as
usual, "I wonder if I could ask the most enormous favour of you? I've got
a dreadful migraine and I'm going to have to go home early. The thing is, after
we close there's a meeting for the heads of department. Please say you'll go
and stand in for me: there's no-one else to do it. I'm afraid you'll find it
terribly dull, but someone's got to be there. Please say yes!"
Nothing like filling me with enthusiasm, thought Martin. But
before he could think of an excuse not to be there, Muriel continued,
""You'll be meeeting the new boss, Mr Armitage. He's only been CEO
for a few weeks. He's a very interesting man, but a word of warning! You must
never call him anything but 'Chief''; that's what he expects. Got it? And don't
ever disagree with him in public; he can't stand that!"
Martin brightened up a bit. That could be something: a man
sacked for standing up to the boss, telling him he was talking rubbish and
offending protocol by addressing him by his name: people would remember that!
Perhaps the unions might get involved, and call a strike over unfair dismissal!
Perhaps it would make the papers! So, rather against his better judgement, he
agreed to go along.
He arrived at the committee room in good time. The only person he
recognised was Derek, the cynical head of Books and Stationery, whosr
department was on the same floor as Bathroom Accessories. Martin explained
about Muriel's migraine.
"Well well, who'd have thought it?" Derek
responded. "Muriel having to go home with a migraine just before the
weekend! You astonish me! I wonder whether she'll be fully recovered come
Monday morning? Don't bet on it! Now, did Muriel tell you anything useful about
this meeting?"
"She said it might be boring. And I was to call Mr
Armitage 'Chief' and never contradict him".
"Both correct! You've never met our beloved fuhrer, have
you? Well, he says he likes to be on first-name terms with everybody, and
welcomes free discussion, but that's only to make him sound trendy and
democratic. So he may call you Martin, but you must never under any circumstances
call him Reggie: he hates the name!"
Across the table a fat, balding red-faced man was holding
forth loudly.
"Roger, from Shoes", said Derek. "A foot-fetishist,
naturally, but a gay foot fetishist .... My advice would be, avoid all contact.
Unless you like that sort of thing, of course. It looks like he's downed a few!
He despises our Reggie: he really does!"
The people around the table rose to their feet. The Chief was
arriving! Martin looked at him closely: a short man with piercing blue eyes
which swept rapidly round the room. Behind him there walked a youngish lady
with black hair and a surprisingly short skirt.
"Jane, from Cosmetics", whispered Derek.
"Everyone's bet to be the next Number Two. Selected on bra size.
Now,she'll agree with everything Armitage says, and with a bit of luck Roger
will disagree with everything. This could be rather more fun than I expected!"
Mr Armitage took his seat at the head of the table, and said,
in a strange nasal voice, "I see we've got a new face among us. Stand up
and intoduce yourself, laddie. It's first names here, we're all friends, don't
be shy!"
What a revoltingly condescending way of talking, thought
Martin. But he explained about Muriel's absence and how he was there to
represent Bathroom Accessories. "My name's Martin, Chief", he
concluded, and sat down inwardly seething. He'd chickened out! He hadn't
intended to say "Chief"! He'd have to do better than that if he
wanted to be remembered!
The early parts of the meeting were deadly dull. Martin knew absolutely
nothing about the isues under discussion, and had nothing to contribute. He
tried not to doodle too obviously on the paper in front of him, though at times
this was all that was keeping him awake. Then eventually Mr Armitage announced,
"Next item: the Christmas display. Now I don't need to remind you that
it's a big thing in this town: all the big stores compete to have the best
display with a Christmas theme; it brings a lot of kudos and it's good
publicity. So this year let's really go for it with somethingtruly original.
Any bright ideas tostart us off?"
"A Victorian Christmas?" said someone.
"Been done! Many times! Boring!"
"American Christmas?"
"Scandinavian Christmas?"
"Come on, guys! This is pathetic! If that's all we can
think of, we might as well go completely over the top and have an Australian
Christmas!"
No doubt this was meant sarcastically, but Roger pretended to
take it seriously, and began to discourse to no-one in particular about how
puzzled archaeologists of the distant future would be to discover evidence that
Australians had celebrated a midsummer festival by featuring an old man dressed
in furs, riding a sleigh drawn by animals not native to that country. However,
Jane, perhaps alerted by an impatient look on her boss's face, cut Roger short
by saying, "I think that's a great idea, Chief! Santa at a barbecue on the
beach! That would be different!"
Martin's brain suddenly started whizzing. He remembered how someone
had once told him that, when confronted with a silly idea, the best counter was
not to contradict it but to extend it to its logical conclusion, so everyone
could see how absurd it was. At this point his surrealist imagination took over.
"I think it's a great idea too!" he announced,
"There's such a lot we can do with it! A barbie on the beach, yes! And
Santa come arrive from the sea on a surfboard! Wearing a red wetsuit!
Surrounded by dolphins and sharks! All smiley, and with little red and white
hats! And what about his helpers? Koalas, perhaps? Or if it's a night-time
scene, we don't want reindeer! How about kangaroos?"
He was on his feet by this time, making expansive gestures,
and could have carried on longer, getting more and more outrageous, but Mr
Armitage said quietly, "That's fine, Martin: don't get too carried away!
We'll all give it some serious thought before the next meeting; okay?"
The remainder of the meeting contained little of interest,
and as they were filing out, Mr Armitage said, "Oh, Martin, a word with
you, please!"
Now I'm for it! thought Martin. But at least I've done
something they'll remember, and I can leave this dump!
Mr Armitage took him by the elbow as they walked off down the
corridor. "Now, Martin", he said, "I like a kid with some guts
and enthusiasm, who has ideas and isn't afraid to say what he thinks. Have you
ever thought of putting in for a job up at headquarters? We could do with some
new blood and fresh thinking. Bear it in mind. Don't let me forget, Jane!"
"Thank you very much, Chief!" said Martin..
.
