The Park Bench Test

“Oh my god B. I can’t believe it. And you let me go on and on about Jim!”

“That’s okay. You’re upset. I understand that.”

“But B. Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn’t think you were being serious the other day. I thought it was just a phase. I thought you really loved him.”

“I did love him. I do love him. Just not enough to marry him. Not enough to know I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“Well if that’s how you really feel then I guess you’ve done the right thing. But blimey, I still can’t believe you let me go on about Jim for so long.”

CHAPTER TWELVE (#u1d9f1cbe-faa7-5737-bbf0-df3cb6fdfa4f)

When I get to work the following morning Erin says Malcolm wants to see me in his office.

“He has a 9.30am meeting so he says can you go in before you do anything else.”

No cup of tea then.

“Did he say what it was about?”

“No. He probably just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

“Probably wants to make sure my mind is still on the job, more like.”

I’m being unfair really. As bosses go we could do a lot worse than Malcolm Hurley – Penand Inc’s sales director for as long as anyone can remember, including Fliss. Admittedly he makes our lives a bit difficult sometimes and demands account changes which virtually have us camped out in the office for days on end. And he wears the most shocking ties that require both a strong stomach and dark glasses. And he looks like a slightly better looking version of Shrek – although in fairness you can’t really hold that against him. But on the plus side he does give us generous pay rises and bonuses and always makes sure we have a Christmas bash to remember – even if it is for his not-quite-perfected plate spinning demonstration – with a free bar all night, which really shouldn’t be scoffed at.

But nonetheless, I’m dreading this. I’m already feeling wobbly. What if he’s mean to me and I start sobbing in his office? How embarrassing. Or, even worse, what if he’s really nice to me and I start blubbing because of that instead? It happens, doesn’t it? A few kind words from an unexpected source and, whoosh, enough tears to make Niagara Falls look like a leaky tap.

I knock lightly on his door. If he doesn’t hear me I can slope back to my desk and avoid him for the rest of the day.

“Come in.” Damn.

“Ah, Rebecca,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose as I enter his office.

“Thank you for coming to see me. I know how busy you girls are. Take a seat.”

I sit in the chair opposite him. I feel like I’m in a job interview.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” he asks.

Odd. He doesn’t normally offer hot beverages. Maybe this isn’t going to be as quick and painless as I was hoping.

“Erm, that would be great,” I say nervously, because I am a bit parched as it happens. I’m normally slurping my first cup of tea at my desk by now.

Malcolm buzzes through to his secretary and orders two coffees. I decide not to tell him I’m a tea drinker. He looks at me and smiles.

This is all looking very formal.

Maybe I’ve made some gargantuan cock-up with one of the accounts – given someone too much discount, perhaps, or given a £500,000 credit limit to a dodgy customer who has ordered his maximum and skipped the country with a lorry load of laptops?

Maybe he’s going to sack me. Do you think you’d get coffee if you were getting the sack? To soften the blow, maybe?

Hang on… maybe he is going to sack me. Excellent. If he sacked me then that would force me to do something else, wouldn’t it…?

“How are you feeling Rebecca?” Malcolm asks, interrupting my fantasy. Damn him. “I gather you’re having a few personal problems.”

“I’m fine,” I say, a little defensively. And then I feel bad because he is only showing concern. I think.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I repeat, a little softer this time.

“If you need to take some time off…”

“No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” I say quickly, hoping that will put an end to all this. Although, I would quite like to have my coffee before I go back to my desk. Malcolm drinks the posh stuff, none of your instant rubbish.

And then he leans back in his chair, takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose. He looks very serious. He looks like he’s about to offer me some words of wisdom on affairs of the heart or something. Oh please no….

Thankfully I am saved by the arrival of the refreshments, complete with a plate of chocolate Hobnobs. My favourite. Actually, that’s a fib. Jammy Dodgers are my favourite, but chocolate Hobnobs definitely come in a close second.

What? You hardly expect me to diet when I’ve just split up with my boyfriend? I need comfort foods. And somehow lettuce and celery sticks just don’t quite make the grade. Hobnobs, on the other hand, most definitely do. I take one and put it next to my coffee on the edge of Malcolm’s desk.

“So, Rebecca,” he says, putting his glasses back on. Back to business then.

I’m a bit nervous. I want to say “So, Malcolm.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip instead.

“As you know we had to let Hannah go last month.”

“Yes,” I confirm.

“For reasons I won’t go into,” he continues.

Who’s he trying to kid? It was the talk of the office.

“Of course,” I say, picking up my biscuit and taking a quick bite before it’s my turn to speak again.

“You have been acting senior account planner since then haven’t you?”

“I have, yes,” I confirm, wiping a crumb from my lip with my thumb.

“And have you been enjoying the role?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” I say.

Yes, I know it’s a big fat lie, but what do you expect me to say? “No, Mr Hurley, I can’t stand the bloody job. In fact, you can shove your rotten job up your bum”?

“It’s giving me some exciting challenges through which I can develop my skills and enhance my experience,” I add for authenticity, before taking another slurp of coffee.

“That’s excellent news Rebecca, excellent news, because the reason I’ve asked you in here today is to offer you the role on a more permanent basis.”

Bollocks.