Weight Till Christmas by Ruth Saberton

You’ve all been wondering what was going to happen regarding Drake’s position and as you know we’ve been waiting to see how the sales figures pan out before coming to a decision.”
    I do know.  I’ve asked Charlie several times about promotion and he’s dodged the issue skillfully.  I even rewrote my CV and a covering letter to say why I should be considered for Drake’s job, but so far so silent.  He probably shredded it instantly.
    “Anyway, gang, I’m happy to tell you that we’ve decided to promote a member of our team here to fill it.”
    Suddenly all eyes are on him.  Vicky pauses in mid nail paint, the brush hovering between gore red talon and bottle, Rick and Nick put their beers down and stitch conscientious expressions to their faces and even the receptionists look hopeful.
    “I’ve decided to appoint the post of Luxury Brand Salesperson to a member of the team who’s constantly shown professionalism, dedication and enthusiasm,” says Charlie.  “Someone who is undoubtedly the type of person whose attitude and image fit the ethos of our company.”
    Here we go again.   This is the bit where he’ll say that Vicky has the job, we’ll all have to be pretend to be surprised and then she’ll lord it over us as usual.   Excuse me if I switch off for a bit and go back to day-dreaming about Drake…
    “Ellie!  Ellie!”  Charlie’s boom is on a par with the 747s taking off down the road at Heathrow. “Don’t be shy!  Come up here and shake my hand.”
    Eh?  Roused from the best bit of my dream, the part where Drake takes my hand and leads me to the mistletoe, I look up and find that everyone is staring at me and clapping.  Everyone except Vicky, that is, who just looks furious.
    “Go on!” hisses Rick, giving me a little push. “He wants to congratulate you.  Boss!”
    I stare at him. “What?”
    “You’ve got Drake’s job,” Nick explains slowly and as though I am very, very thick.  “You’ve been promoted, Ellie!”
    As though in a very weird dream, I join Charlie.  Only when he shakes my hand so hard that my wrist is nearly sprained do I realize this really is happening.  Oh.  My.  God.  I have been given Drake’s sales role!  After all this time of plugging away and hoping desperately to be noticed.
    Good-bye Micras, hello BMWs!
    I wonder what changed?
    Then it dawns on me: absolutely nothing has changed, or not the things that count anyway.  I’m the hard working and good sales woman that I’ve always been.  My customers feel as valued as they always did and I have earned the company the large sums that have become a badge of personal pride.  The only thing that’s changed is my appearance.  Now I’m a bit slimmer and fitter, I’m considered suitable for the role, the role that I was just as qualified to fill when I was heavier and so unfit I couldn’t run a bath.  Being slimmer doesn’t make me a better person or saleswoman.  It just makes me – slimmer.
    What’s going on?  I have the body I’ve always wanted and now the job too, but instead of turning cartwheels I’m hardly able to summon the enthusiasm to accept.  I can afford to have a fantastic Christmas now and a really happy new year on my new salary.  All I need is to see Drake this evening and I’ll have everything I’ve dreamed of.  Come on, Ellie, smile.
    And I do smile and shake hands and thank everybody when they congratulate me, but it feels hollow.  If I wasn’t good enough when I was overweight then I shouldn’t be good enough now.  It’s actually really insulting.
    Finally the excitement dies down and we all return to our desks to pack away for the Christmas break.  Once the computers are unplugged, answerphones switched on and the showroom locked up, we all head to the Coach for more pre-party celebrations.  I’m just about to secure the back door and join the others when Sam appears from the darkness of the workshop.  He’s dressed in jeans, scuffed CAT boots