It's a nice, sunny
day. Well obviously not that nice (I'm at work) but still sunny. A senior
manager appears.
"Hello".
For a large (read
"fat") person he can clearly move very lightly. He must be a spare
time Ninja or I'm slipping.
Years ago a boss
crept up on me as I was dozing at a desk. I was faster in those days and as I
woke hit him with my elbow, as I've been trained to in Karate. Moments later I
had fully awoken so I didn't follow through. A pity from a
Karate standpoint but probably advisable career-wise. There are laws
against killing managers.
After he recovered
his breath he was very British about it. But he never crept up on me again.
Anyway I don't hit
this manager who has glided into my field of view. Nevermind. Can't hit every
manager you meet I guess. Instead I
follow him into another room. There is an even more senior manager.
"Oops"
This one starts by
reminding me that "a lot of reason they are in this new office" was
down to me. True but, in fact, a lot of reason they were still in business at
all was down to me - I like to think. "But", he carries on, they
weren't making enough deals and so, reluctantly, they have to make my job
redundant.
"Oh"
But here's some
free money.
"$$"
And
some outplacement services.
"Wow" -
no hint of sarcasm. Honest.
My senior manager
then escorts me back to my desk. In his presence I pack up my personal
belongings ("so that's where I left my toilet brush"). Slowly. I then hand over my pass and am escorted by him out
of the building.
"Bye bye".
In
all, half an hour.
So, I go home
rather early for once. It’s mid-morning, past the rush-hour and there’s a
choice of seats. As I descend on my chosen seat an armrest catches the left
pocket of my chinos. It creates a big tear in the trousers. It looks like I’ve
gone from senior manager, to unemployed bum in under an hour. I consider buying
a bottle of vodka and drinking it on the streets, just to complete the image.
© John Chaudhry 2002