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believe what he was hearing. Only last week he had sat Emma down to explain why Wolverine and Sabretooth were sworn enemies. “I’ll tell you what the difference is, young lady! One is a group of cool outlaw mutants who are forever saving the universe from certain doom and the other isn’t!”
“Fine!” said Emma crossly. “X-Men it is! But the question is, do you love your job more than your X-Men comics?”
“Yes!” snapped Ian. He was getting cross with Emma for getting cross with him. “I do indeed love my job more than I love my X-Men comics, okay?”
“No,” said Emma. “Not okay. I’m still finding it hard to believe that you love your job more than those dusty old comics because you won’t let me anywhere near them! But that’s fine. I don’t mind. Let’s take a look at this. You love your job more than you love those stupid sandwiches and more than your comic collection. My final question to you is this . . . do you love your job more than me?”
Ian looked at Emma and could see that she was deadly serious. Emma, his girlfriend of the last six years, really wanted an answer and she wasn’t going to take any old rubbish. “Oh, Em!” he said with a sigh. “If you have to ask, then all I can say is that you really don’t know me at all.”
Chapter 2
One year later
“Moonwalk! Moonwalk! Moonwalk!”
It was just after ten on a Friday night in May and a very, very drunk Ian Greening was being hounded by his chanting workmates. They wanted him to climb onto the table and perform the “It looks like I’m going forwards but actually I’m going backwards” dance routine made world famous by Michael Jackson. And the reason they wanted Ian to do his Michael Jackson dance routine was simple – they wanted a laugh. Ian worked on the fourth floor of Holling House in the Policy Planning department of the Department of Work and Pensions in Birmingham. And as far as the workers there were concerned, Ian Greening was a laugh and had been ever since his first day at work eight years ago.
Although Ian had usually worked in poorly paid jobs, he had always managed to make them fun. For instance, when Ian had worked at a large DIY store he had organised trolley races along the aisles whenever the store was quiet. When he worked at a petrol station near Ladywood he had made up a game called the “Carless Car Wash Challenge”. This involved trying to find out which member of staff could stand in the car wash in borrowed Scuba gear the longest.
Then there was the time that he worked as an orderly at Selly Oak Hospital. He got the other orderlies to join him during their break in a game of 101 Uses for a Non-Latex Glove. Whatever the job and whatever the situation, Ian had never doubted that there was a way of making it fun. But that was then.
Ian had been just twenty-three when he joined the fourth floor of the Department of Work and Pensions as a temp in what was then known as the “Office of No Hope”. On his first morning, he walked up to the drab concrete building and watched his fellow workers, armed with their passes, make their way through security up to the fourth floor. And he had wondered whether he was about to make the mistake of his life. He had never seen a building quite so grey or fellow workers who looked quite so beaten down by the daily grind of the work routine. This would either be his worst defeat or his greatest success.
Five hours later, as he moonwalked across a row of tables in the local pub, having talked half the office into coming for a lunchtime drink, he found out. The people who staffed the “Office of No Hope” were nowhere near as boring as he had feared they might be. In fact they were the best bunch of people he had ever had the pleasure of working with. All they needed to bring out their inner party demon was a bit of booze, a smattering of Eighties music and a bit of moonwalking. Even after eight years of performances at their after work drinks dos, that
“Fine!” said Emma crossly. “X-Men it is! But the question is, do you love your job more than your X-Men comics?”
“Yes!” snapped Ian. He was getting cross with Emma for getting cross with him. “I do indeed love my job more than I love my X-Men comics, okay?”
“No,” said Emma. “Not okay. I’m still finding it hard to believe that you love your job more than those dusty old comics because you won’t let me anywhere near them! But that’s fine. I don’t mind. Let’s take a look at this. You love your job more than you love those stupid sandwiches and more than your comic collection. My final question to you is this . . . do you love your job more than me?”
Ian looked at Emma and could see that she was deadly serious. Emma, his girlfriend of the last six years, really wanted an answer and she wasn’t going to take any old rubbish. “Oh, Em!” he said with a sigh. “If you have to ask, then all I can say is that you really don’t know me at all.”
Chapter 2
One year later
“Moonwalk! Moonwalk! Moonwalk!”
It was just after ten on a Friday night in May and a very, very drunk Ian Greening was being hounded by his chanting workmates. They wanted him to climb onto the table and perform the “It looks like I’m going forwards but actually I’m going backwards” dance routine made world famous by Michael Jackson. And the reason they wanted Ian to do his Michael Jackson dance routine was simple – they wanted a laugh. Ian worked on the fourth floor of Holling House in the Policy Planning department of the Department of Work and Pensions in Birmingham. And as far as the workers there were concerned, Ian Greening was a laugh and had been ever since his first day at work eight years ago.
Although Ian had usually worked in poorly paid jobs, he had always managed to make them fun. For instance, when Ian had worked at a large DIY store he had organised trolley races along the aisles whenever the store was quiet. When he worked at a petrol station near Ladywood he had made up a game called the “Carless Car Wash Challenge”. This involved trying to find out which member of staff could stand in the car wash in borrowed Scuba gear the longest.
Then there was the time that he worked as an orderly at Selly Oak Hospital. He got the other orderlies to join him during their break in a game of 101 Uses for a Non-Latex Glove. Whatever the job and whatever the situation, Ian had never doubted that there was a way of making it fun. But that was then.
Ian had been just twenty-three when he joined the fourth floor of the Department of Work and Pensions as a temp in what was then known as the “Office of No Hope”. On his first morning, he walked up to the drab concrete building and watched his fellow workers, armed with their passes, make their way through security up to the fourth floor. And he had wondered whether he was about to make the mistake of his life. He had never seen a building quite so grey or fellow workers who looked quite so beaten down by the daily grind of the work routine. This would either be his worst defeat or his greatest success.
Five hours later, as he moonwalked across a row of tables in the local pub, having talked half the office into coming for a lunchtime drink, he found out. The people who staffed the “Office of No Hope” were nowhere near as boring as he had feared they might be. In fact they were the best bunch of people he had ever had the pleasure of working with. All they needed to bring out their inner party demon was a bit of booze, a smattering of Eighties music and a bit of moonwalking. Even after eight years of performances at their after work drinks dos, that
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