Director, you know.’
‘I suppose that’s a compliment. Well, I’m not saying it is Marcia or it isn’t. So carry on.’
‘You have to give your reasons. And then if things still aren’t satisfactory you have to give two more written warnings, with further reasons. And then if things still aren’t satisfactory you can sack her … them.’
‘Right. Thank you, Sandra.’
‘My pleasure. Any time.’
He called Marcia in. She came so eagerly. It was dreadful.
‘Marcia …’
He could see that she was surprised by his tone of voice. So she wasn’t entirely insensitive.
‘Marcia, you know we have to make cuts. I think I told you. Fifteen per cent across the board.’
She looked at him with slowly growing horror, fear, disbelief, more horror. It was as bad as he’d feared.
‘I’m afraid … and, believe me, Marcia, this is one of the most difficult and awful things I’ve had to do in the whole of my forty-eight years.’ He threw his age in to try to distance her from him emotionally. ‘I’m going to have to consider your future here.’
All the colour drained from her face. She couldn’t go white, she was too sunburnt. She just looked … muddy. And so shocked. So bereft. She looked as if a bolt of lightning was coursing through her, pinning her to the top-of-the-range-wood-effect plastic floor.
‘I’m very, very sorry, Marcia.’
‘But …’ Slowly she regained the power of speech. ‘You’ll still need a PA. That’ll cost you. It may cost you more. Probably I’m cheap.’ For a moment she seemed more in control of herself. ‘I can’t see how this fits in with your fifteen per cent savings.’
He sighed.
‘I’m sorry, Marcia. You’re too clever for me. It doesn’t. The truth is … Sit down, please, you look dreadful standing up. I mean, not dreadful, you couldn’t look dreadful if you tried, I mean, it looks a dreadful ordeal for you to stay standing. Please, Marcia dear, sit.’
She sat down at the other side of his desk, pulling her skirt over her large knees. There was a look of resigned disappointment and disillusion on her face, as if she was a dog that was being taken to the vet by its beloved master to be put down.
‘I was trying to spare you the truth, Marcia. I have actually been told by Mr Schenkman to sack you.’
‘I see.’
‘The actual words he used, if I recall them correctly, were that you are “a liability to the company image”.’
‘If only you’d told me what it was,’ she said with a hint of reproof.
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t know there was one.’
He tried to smile, but gave up the attempt. He had rarely known a moment when a smile would have been less useful.
‘And you have to do what Mr Schenkman tells you, do you?’
She gave him a nervous look, wondering if she had gone too far. She blushed under her suntan. For a few moments she didn’t look so muddy.
But he welcomed this spark of spirit.
‘Not at all,’ he said, ‘but in this case, sadly, I didn’t think I had the weapons with which to launch a serious attack upon him.’
She gave a brave half-smile.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m crap, aren’t I?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that, Marcia. In my eyes you have great virtues. You’re very good to look at.’
She blushed.
Careful, James, or you’ll have a stalker on your hands.
‘You make a good cup of tea.’
Lousy coffee, but we won’t go into that.
‘You have a warm heart, which to me is an essential qualification, but which regrettably doesn’t register on Mr Schenkman’s radar. Unfortunately, you have punctuality problems, your memory isn’t great, you aren’t methodical, and you’re weak on certain points – spelling, punctuation, meanings of words, spacing and I don’t think you were ever taught apostrophes, were you? I could live with it all, but Dwight Schenkman the Third couldn’t. Anyway, I’m not going to do what he asked. I’m merely going to give you a verbal warning, which I have to
‘I suppose that’s a compliment. Well, I’m not saying it is Marcia or it isn’t. So carry on.’
‘You have to give your reasons. And then if things still aren’t satisfactory you have to give two more written warnings, with further reasons. And then if things still aren’t satisfactory you can sack her … them.’
‘Right. Thank you, Sandra.’
‘My pleasure. Any time.’
He called Marcia in. She came so eagerly. It was dreadful.
‘Marcia …’
He could see that she was surprised by his tone of voice. So she wasn’t entirely insensitive.
‘Marcia, you know we have to make cuts. I think I told you. Fifteen per cent across the board.’
She looked at him with slowly growing horror, fear, disbelief, more horror. It was as bad as he’d feared.
‘I’m afraid … and, believe me, Marcia, this is one of the most difficult and awful things I’ve had to do in the whole of my forty-eight years.’ He threw his age in to try to distance her from him emotionally. ‘I’m going to have to consider your future here.’
All the colour drained from her face. She couldn’t go white, she was too sunburnt. She just looked … muddy. And so shocked. So bereft. She looked as if a bolt of lightning was coursing through her, pinning her to the top-of-the-range-wood-effect plastic floor.
‘I’m very, very sorry, Marcia.’
‘But …’ Slowly she regained the power of speech. ‘You’ll still need a PA. That’ll cost you. It may cost you more. Probably I’m cheap.’ For a moment she seemed more in control of herself. ‘I can’t see how this fits in with your fifteen per cent savings.’
He sighed.
‘I’m sorry, Marcia. You’re too clever for me. It doesn’t. The truth is … Sit down, please, you look dreadful standing up. I mean, not dreadful, you couldn’t look dreadful if you tried, I mean, it looks a dreadful ordeal for you to stay standing. Please, Marcia dear, sit.’
She sat down at the other side of his desk, pulling her skirt over her large knees. There was a look of resigned disappointment and disillusion on her face, as if she was a dog that was being taken to the vet by its beloved master to be put down.
‘I was trying to spare you the truth, Marcia. I have actually been told by Mr Schenkman to sack you.’
‘I see.’
‘The actual words he used, if I recall them correctly, were that you are “a liability to the company image”.’
‘If only you’d told me what it was,’ she said with a hint of reproof.
‘I couldn’t. I didn’t know there was one.’
He tried to smile, but gave up the attempt. He had rarely known a moment when a smile would have been less useful.
‘And you have to do what Mr Schenkman tells you, do you?’
She gave him a nervous look, wondering if she had gone too far. She blushed under her suntan. For a few moments she didn’t look so muddy.
But he welcomed this spark of spirit.
‘Not at all,’ he said, ‘but in this case, sadly, I didn’t think I had the weapons with which to launch a serious attack upon him.’
She gave a brave half-smile.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m crap, aren’t I?’
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that, Marcia. In my eyes you have great virtues. You’re very good to look at.’
She blushed.
Careful, James, or you’ll have a stalker on your hands.
‘You make a good cup of tea.’
Lousy coffee, but we won’t go into that.
‘You have a warm heart, which to me is an essential qualification, but which regrettably doesn’t register on Mr Schenkman’s radar. Unfortunately, you have punctuality problems, your memory isn’t great, you aren’t methodical, and you’re weak on certain points – spelling, punctuation, meanings of words, spacing and I don’t think you were ever taught apostrophes, were you? I could live with it all, but Dwight Schenkman the Third couldn’t. Anyway, I’m not going to do what he asked. I’m merely going to give you a verbal warning, which I have to
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