The Park Bench Test

Does coffee stain? And did I just say bollocks out loud?

“There will of course be a pay rise to go with the promotion,” Malcolm adds, clearly mistaking my horror for financial intrigue, and apparently overlooking the whole ‘bollocks’ faux pas.

“As well as a generous bonus structure,” he says. “I have prepared a contract so take it away it with you to read and perhaps I could ask you to sign it and have it back to me by…shall we say Monday?”

“Right, sure,” I say. “Thank you very much Mr Hurley,” I add, because, again, what else could I say?

“It’s no more than you deserve Rebecca. You are a hard worker and, if you want to, you can go far in this company.”

If I want to. Exactly.

“So?” Erin asks, as soon as I get back to the office.

She can’t bear not knowing anything, that girl. She’ll have chewed her finger nails right down to her knuckles in anticipation while I was gone, because she knew as well as I did that Malcolm didn’t ask me into his office to express his heartfelt concern for my welfare. I was either being bollocked or rewarded. I’m still not sure which category I’d put it in.

“It seems I’m being promoted,” I say, moving the pile of papers that have been dumped on my chair during my brief absence and sitting down. The sales guys are in the office today for their twice-monthly meeting, which means shed loads of work for us. I don’t know why they think it will get done any quicker if they put it on my chair, though. It’s not as if I ever pick it up and get straight on the case – I just move it onto my desk where it has to draw straws with every other bit of paper marked ‘urgent.’

“Wow, that’s great,” Erin says, rushing over to my desk to hug me.

I look over at Fliss, who isn’t saying anything. She doesn’t need to. She doesn’t want me to take this job; I know that. She wants me to leave. She wants me to do what I really want to do.

“Well done, lovey,” she says, eventually. A compromise. “Do you really want it though?” she asks. ‘You don’t really want it though, do you?’ is what she actually means.

“Not really, no,” I admit.

“Why not?” Erin asks, puzzled.

“Wait a minute, Erin love,” Fliss says, holding her hand up to stop her from saying anything else.

“So what did you say to Malcolm then?” she asks me, hopeful.

“I said thank you very much.”

I phone Katie while Fliss makes the tea.

“Books!. Katie Roberts speaking.”

“It’s me.”

“Hi B. How are you doing? How is everything at Felicity’s?”

“I’m okay. Fliss and Derek have been fantastic,” I say, looking over at Fliss and smiling.

“I need your advice. Again.”

“What about? Has Alex phoned you?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s work. I’ve been offered a promotion.”

“Hey, well done! More money then?”

“Yes, and some sort of bonus structure, although I don’t know all the details yet.”

“But? I’m sensing a ‘but’?”

“But I hate working here,” I say. “I hate my job. Do I really want a promotion that’s going to keep me here forever?”

“Nothing’s forever.”

“Well a couple more years at least and a couple more years here would feel like forever.”

“So leave.”

“And do what?”

“What you’ve always wanted to do, but never have.”

“It’s not that easy though is it?”

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy, B. It just depends how much you want to do it. Listen hun, I’ll call you back in a few minutes, I’ve got to take a call from an author.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll phone you later. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Okay. But if you really want my advice, then I don’t think you should take the job.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Leave, B. Come home. There’s nothing stopping you now. There’s nothing up there for you anymore.”

She’s right. There isn’t.

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

I’m making a habit of turning people down, it seems.

I’ve done it. I’ve told Malcolm I don’t want the promotion. Or to work at Penand Inc at all, thank you very much.

He was ever so understanding, as it happens. In fact, he even congratulated me on an ‘excellent decision’ and wished me all the best for the future. Until I pointed out that he had misheard me, that is – that I hadn’t said “thank you for the offer, I’m going to take it, you won’t regret it,” and that what I’d actually said was “thank you for the offer, but if I take it I’ll regret it”. Seems I’d never noticed his hearing impairment before.

“I don’t want to look back in ten years and wonder why I never did something I really wanted to do,” I explain, once he has recovered from the initial shock. The concept of not wanting to spend your whole life working for Penand Inc is not one with which Malcolm is familiar. Here is a man who has earned his carriage clock, and then some.

“I see,” he says, despite, I suspect, not seeing at all. “And you don’t want a bit more time to think about it?”

“No. Thank you. I knew as soon as you offered me the job, if I’m honest. But I have thought about it – a lot – and I still feel the same. Now just seems like the right time to make the break, what with Alex and I, and…well…you know…”

“Okay, Rebecca,” he says, getting up from his chair. He’s probably worried I’ll start pouring my heart out. “You’ll be sorely missed, though. You’ve been a great asset to Penand Inc. And of course, it goes without saying that I’ll be happy to give you a glowing reference.”

“Thanks Mr Hurley,” I say, shaking his hand, before turning and leaving his office.