by Unknown
The word budget is not coming naturally to this woman. She keeps looking over her shoulder as if she’s checking that no one is listening to our conversation.
‘Well as I said, I’m not actually a wedding planner. I’m really flattered though, thank you.’
‘Whatever Lara’s paying, I’ll double it.’
‘It’s not about the money,’ I say.
But, you know what? A thousand pounds would come in quite handy. It would only take ten weddings with that fee and I would have made back what I gambled away on Internet bingo. I know Mark made me promise that it would be a one-off, but surely he’d be pleased with the extra cash? I mean it wasn’t that hard planning Lara and Ben’s wedding, and it didn’t really take up too much time. I have a quite a lot of knowledge in the area. I also have to write blog posts for Princess-on-a-Shoestring and this way I could combine the two. And I do get loads of special offers and hints of discounts from local suppliers who want editorial on the website, so I could possibly do this wedding, just this once.
What am I thinking? I can’t. Mark made me promise and I’ve learnt that our relationship is not worth risking.
‘Well, if it’s not about the money, what is it about? What can I do to get you to be my wedding planner? I’m at my wits’ end. My fiancé has insisted that we plan our wedding with ten thousand pounds and I can’t for the life of me work out where to start. I mean, what could I possibly get with that amount? I thought my dress would cost that much.’
A shiver runs down my spine as I feel like I’ve been there, done that, worn the T-shirt.
‘I mean, seriously, Penny, please, I’m begging you.’
I can’t say no to someone that’s begging me, can I? I mean, maybe I could get Mark to understand. And, before you ask, yes, I do have to tell him. I nearly lost him when I started keeping secrets and I’ve promised to be one hundred per cent honest with him. Which I am, ninety-nine per cent of the time, except when I buy shoes.
‘When’s the wedding?’ I ask, hoping that it isn’t going to come back and bite me on the arse.
‘Hopefully this summer. Oh, Penny, I’m thrilled you’re taking me on as a client. Thrilled.’
‘Hang on a minute, I haven’t said yes yet. Look, I need to talk to my husband first and then perhaps we could meet up and discuss it?’
‘Sounds great. How soon can we meet?’
‘Um, well technically I’m still working at this wedding, so why don’t we start with you giving me your name and number.’
‘OK, my name’s Henri. Henri with an i and then the surname is Scott.’
As I store the number from Henri in my phone, I look over at Lara and Ben, who seem to have finished photos and are now greeting guests. I’d better get my skates on. I’ve got to get them out of the registry office and to the reception, and soon as I’m due back at work at one-thirty.
‘Thanks, Henri. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Super-dooper,’ she says before tottering back off to the other guests with her sky-scraper heels. I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before. If I’m not mistaken, they’re Miu Miu; this season Miu Miu. I can suddenly see why the word budget doesn’t come naturally to her.
I’m just putting my phone back into my pocket when it beeps at me.
Hey honey, hope the wedding went well. Just wanted to say good luck with the meeting today, I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead.
Oh, why is it whenever I’m up to something Mark contacts me? It’s like his Spidey senses tingle and he just knows. And the meeting! With all the pre-wedding palaver with a groom who couldn’t say more than ‘eh’ at eight this morning, I’d forgotten about the meeting. It’s with my new all-powerful boss. He’s meeting the whole team one to one to get to know us. I look at my watch; I’d better get a move on. I don’t want to be late. Something tells me that this new boss isn’t going to be good news.
chapter two
princess-on-a-shoestring cost cutters:
Something Borrowed
You’ve got to have something borrowed as part of your wedding outfit, it’s like wedding-day law, so why not extend it to the whole wedding? What can you beg, borrow and steal from your loved ones on the big day? Veils are great things to borrow and it’s supposed to be good luck to wear one belonging to a happily married woman (just choose wisely). But there are heaps of other things like tiaras and jewellery that friends and family can loan to keep the cost down. On a more practical level, do you have guests who could offer you things to spruce up your reception: a Polaroid camera or props for the evening, such as inflatables or fancy dress?
Tags: wedding, borrow, cheapskate.
What a lovely wedding reception. If I hadn’t had the loveliest wedding in the world last year, I would have wanted one just like that. The Greek restaurant came up trumps. It felt like we’d all been transported to Greece, rather than the reality – Guildford on a rainy April day.
The top floor of the restaurant had been transformed. The tables were arranged into a square, with seats for the thirty guests laid round it. There were fairy lights twinkling over the indoor plants, and candles flickering on the table. The smell of lamb kleftiko filled the air and Lara and Ben told me it transported them right back to when they first met in Greece when they were working as holiday reps. Apparently the only thing missing was the overripe stench of sick and the pungent smell of Ouzo that apparently their apartments stunk of. But as a top wedding planner, I told them that was something they could easily recreate in their honeymoon suite later that night. I even left them a parting gift of a bottle of the Greek liqueur that I bought from the restaurant.
I only wish I hadn’t had to leave when the reception was just getting started, but my job was done and I was, after all, only the wedding planner. I wasn’t Lara’s friend to start with and I didn’t deserve to be one of the thirty guests. So instead, I’m back here at work on an ordinary, drizzly Friday afternoon.
‘Penny, I’m ready for you now.’
I look up and see Giles Bishop, my new boss, standing over my desk. I glance hesitantly up at my screen to make sure I’ve clicked off the Miu Miu shoe website. Not that I’ve been looking up how much Henri’s shoes had cost or anything.
Luckily for me, all that’s on my computer screen is my clogged-to-the-brim inbox, so that it actually looks like I’m supremely busy and he’s interrupted me hard at work, rather than daydreaming about weddings and expensive shoes.
‘Fabulous,’ I say in a horribly fake voice that I reserve for strangers on the telephone and anyone in a position of power at work. It’s an awful infliction that I blame on my mother.
‘Do I need to bring anything?’ I say, like an eager beaver picking up a pen and the notepad that I always take to meetings, though in fact I only ever seem to use it to make lists of possible blog ideas.
‘No, as you are,’ says Giles walking towards his office.
I work in a large multi-national engineering company and most of us minions sit in an open-plan office. My desk is opposite Shelly’s, and next to Marie’s. I think I’ve got the best position in the whole place as I have a wall behind me. Which means I can do the odd sneaky bit of browsing and no one can see me do it. Except the all-seeing IT department who, I imagine, keep a beady eye on what everyone’s up to, or people, like Giles, that walk up to my desk stealthily without me realising.
The door to Giles’s office is just behind Shelly’s desk. Since he arrived two weeks ago, his office door has remained firmly shut. His management style is world’s away from our previous boss Nigel-come-in-my-door-is-always-open-Pearce.
I sit down in a chair that is as new as Giles. Nigel used to have comfy swivel chairs that made you instantly relaxed. The one I’m sitting on now is made of white plastic and looks like it was on special offer at IKEA, though I bet it cost a fortune. The room’s a bit chilly and I shiver. Maybe it’s all the stark white surfaces that make it seem cold. I’ve never seen an office so devoid of all home comforts. I glance around the room
hoping to find at least one feature to prove he is a human being and not a soulless zombie.
Now, if this was my office, there would be comfy cushions, photos of Mark, an under-desk foot heater. All the important items. In fact, I’d get maintenance to paint it a warming yellow, and maybe on the floor I’d put that bright-orange rug that I bought in Morocco. It’s currently languishing in a cupboard in the spare room because Mark thinks it’s hideous.
‘So, Penny,’
I look up at Giles and am almost surprised to see him behind the desk, my daydream was that vivid.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, as you know I’m holding these little meetings with the department to “get to know everyone”.’
I cannot believe he just did air quotes with his fingers, Giles is just as embarrassing as my dad.
‘Yes,’ I say nodding sagely, trying to give him the impression I am wise beyond my years.
‘Great stuff. So I understand you’ve been working here for four years now.’
‘That’s right,’ I say.
‘And from your appraisals I can see you’ve got an excellent record with us. Nigel wrote some glowing reports about you.’
I’m chuffed at this. I know Nigel was a bit soft on us, but I like to think I am pretty good at my job.
‘Now, then, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’m going to be making some changes.’
I personally would have thought that the word changes warranted their own air quotes. I know exactly what changes he has in mind. You see, Giles hasn’t replaced Nigel directly as HR manager. He’s one of the senior directors in the company and is apparently ‘filling in’ Nigel’s position. But I know he’s here for more than that.
I was in Sweden last month for our annual meeting with all the different global HR departments and I was chatting to Kim, a girl I knew from the US office. When I mentioned that Giles Bishop was going to be my new boss, she started avoiding eye contact and looking down at the floor. After plying her with biscuits, I managed to coax out of her what the shifty behaviour was about. It turns out he’d ‘filled in’ in their department too and had restructured and stripped not just the HR team, but a fair few of the others in the office too. Her parting advice was to befriend him. But just how do you befriend a soulless zombie?
‘So, are you happy here, Penny? You’ve been here four years, no promotion.’
Gee, thanks, Giles, for bringing that up. I’m fully aware that I’m stuck in this position. The only step up in this department is Nigel’s job, which I’m not qualified for. I could always try and move to one of our global offices, but then Mark would have to change jobs and since his company paid for all his accountancy training, he’d have to pay them back if he leaves within three years. And anyway, I don’t want to move companies yet because Mark and I are trying to have a baby (stage six in our life plan) and my company has excellent maternity pay and benefits.
‘No, no promotion,’ I say.
‘Yes, it’s the same with Shelly too. You must have started around the same time.’
‘We did, she started just before me.’
‘And she’s in the same boat too. No promotion either.’
‘No.’
‘Well, during my time here I’m going to be looking at how the department works.’
Here we go. Here’s the talk of redundancy.
‘Where do you see your career going, Penny?’
How the hell do I answer that? I don’t want him to think I’m time-wasting here until I become a baby factory and go on maternity leave, year-on-year, until I’ve had all the babies I want. But, at the same time, he must know that I have nowhere to go.
‘Well, I’d like to have more responsibilities of course, and to be in a more managerial position at some point.’
That’s it, be vague, Penny. It’s not that I’m not ambitious. I’d love my career to keep progressing, but realistically I don’t want to work my arse off for the next few years and then give it all up to have kids. Or, worse, have to keep up with ridiculous hours and ferrying my children to endless childcare situations.
‘That’s good. That’s good. And I’m sure that we’ve been helping you out, putting you on courses for CIPD?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Excellent. Well, I’ve only just arrived, and I still need to get the lay of the land, but I’d imagine that we’re going to be getting rid of Nigel’s old position.’
Here we go, before I know it he’ll be telling me that we don’t need an HR department at all.
‘Oh, really?’ I say, the words catching awkwardly in my throat.
‘Yes. I think these days with all the communication tools we have to hand, there really isn’t a need to have local HR managers. Having looked through Nigel’s notes, I think that perhaps we could create the new position of HR supervisor, it would have a little less responsibility than Nigel’s role, but it would still be a bit of a step up from the assistant’s post.’
My heart is starting to race in a good way. That sounds like a perfect promotion for me. Is Giles going to promote me, right here, right now? And there was me thinking he was the axe-wielder. Maybe I’ve had Giles all wrong. In my mind, the money from my raise is already pouring into my bank account.
‘I think that it would be perfect for either you or Shelly.’
Me or Shelly? Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good. I hope they don’t interview us for the same job. Shelly and I have never been particularly close outside of the office, but we do have a really good working relationship. For instance, she always has Frazzles lurking in her drawer and she always gives me a packet if I’m having an afternoon crisp craving when I can’t be bothered to walk to the vending machine.
‘Right,’ I say, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. I’d already imagined handing out my new business cards and more importantly, spending my increased salary. Those Miu Miu shoes that Henri was wearing were only £750, out of my league normally, but if I had just a bit (or a lot) of a raise I could afford them.
‘It’s obviously early days at the moment. But I thought you might like to bear it in mind,’ he says, raising one of his eyebrows like he’s starring in a black-and-white suspense movie.
‘OK, I will do.’
I’m trying to keep a smile plastered on my face but, as much as I don’t want to spend the next couple of months throwing paperclips across the desk at Shelly and fighting over the job, I wouldn’t want her to be my boss either.
She’s one of those really sweet people most of the time, but if you piss her off she holds a grudge. One of our colleagues once borrowed her stapler whilst she was at lunch and didn’t return it until the next day. Not only did she practically launch a steward’s inquiry to find the missing stapler, but once she knew who’d taken it, she didn’t speak to him for three months afterwards.
‘Great. Well, thanks for coming to see me, Penny,’ says Giles, smiling.
He really is a mystery. For someone who works in such a sterile office with his door shut, he seems to be able to chat like a normal human being, when he wants to. Then I’m struck by what Kim from the American office had said: befriend him.
I hesitate before I get up out of the chair. I’m guessing Giles is expecting me to leave as he’s placed his little glasses on the bridge of his nose and he’s gone back to looking at his computer.
‘So, someone was saying that you used to work here before? In Farnborough, I mean,’ I say.
Giles looks up at me as if he’d forgotten that I am still here.
‘That’s right. Before I transferred to head office about fifteen years ago.’
‘Oh, so is it nice to be back?’
‘Well I had to come back this summer for my daughter’s wedding, so this temporary posting is killing two birds with one stone.’
Weddings; now there’s a topic I can talk about.
‘How exciting that your daughter’s getting married.’
Giles has now slipped off his glasses again and he’s rubbing his eyes. I�
�m not sure if that’s in irritation or not.
‘Yes, I suppose.’
‘That’s lovely,’ I say, smiling and nodding. This is just like being friends, right? ‘Where’s she getting married?’ I ask.
‘I’m not sure. In London I guess, or somewhere expensive at least, if I know my daughter.’
That couldn’t have been further from my £5,500 wedding at a museum.
‘Sounds delightful,’ I say still in über-posh work mode.
He puts his glasses back on: Business Giles has returned.
‘So, Penny, over the next few months I want you to impress me. OK?’
‘OK.’ Blimey, that’s just what I need, having to be both conscientious and impressive at work. But if someone is going to get that promotion, then it had better be me.
‘And tell Shelly to come in.’
I walk back out of Giles’s office with the new knowledge that I have a frenemy. I sit down and wonder how I’m going to act with her.
‘So?’ says Shelly scrunching her eyes up at me in curiosity.
‘Giles wants you to go in,’ I say casually, trying to avoid eye contact. She’ll find out soon enough what’s coming.
‘But what’s he like?’ she asks.
‘Surprisingly nice.’ Or surprisingly human is what I want to say.
I watch her walk in; she’s almost dragging her feet along the floor. When she comes out of that office my working life will be different. Either we’re going to be competing with each other, or one of us will be the other’s boss. Work will never be the same again.
I know I’m being melodramatic but I’m feeling down in the dumps. Maybe it’s post wedding-planning blues. I wonder how Lara and Ben are getting on?
‘How did it really go?’
I look up and see Marie leaning over her desk. She’s not in the running for the promotion as she’s only been here about six months, and she’s fresh out of university.
‘Not good,’ is all I say. I don’t want to put Marie in the middle of it. I go back to my emails and hope that I can get through the rest of this crappy Friday.
