by David Cooper
“Fair enough. I’m going to run that issue past the Law Society first, just in case.”
Lennie thought for a moment about how Squire would fare under cross-examination, and whether Soraya would be able to gain the upper hand over an experienced legal professional who was her senior by more than twenty years. He decided not to burden Karen with his passing twinge of doubt, knowing how impressed he had been with Soraya’s analysis and her handling of the two earlier court applications. But he could not completely banish the thought that he only had Alex Harris’ word for her capabilities as a trial advocate. Karen’s dispute was as serious a debut as could ever have been devised.
“Before you go, Karen, one last point to mention. Remember how we found out about Wayne’s new serviced office address on the day we served the court papers on him?”
“Not really. Remind me.”
“His website. Only showed up on Google for the first time on that day.”
“What about it?”
“The domain name. Turns out it was only registered to him on the previous Thursday, just before the Easter break. So there wouldn’t have been any real sign of Wave Recruitment online in those early days. At least not until his website was properly up and running.”
“I see what you mean. Pity the paralegals are all making out they’re his mates.”
“Well, you never know. Someone might make a mistake…”
Thursday 6 th June
As he looked across the meeting room table at Finnie, who was writing almost deliberately slowly on his notepad while Squire sat beside him with an air of detached indifference, Craven wondered if he had ever been subjected to a more distressing and hostile workplace experience than the formal appraisal that had been inflicted upon him.
The day had got off to a poor start, with the arrival of Finnie’s written analysis of Craven’s performance over the preceding two months. The initial faint praise for his achievement of the first month’s billing target was qualified with ‘despite the surely avoidable consequences of a client’s insolvency’, an injustice that still burned with Craven long after MDV Precision’s demise. Finnie had carefully emphasised the next month’s missed target with the comment ‘see below: Endbrack’. Craven’s technical competence on routine matters had been rated adequate, but this led in turn to criticism for his supposed lack of ability to take the initiative and to understand clients’ commercial needs and goals, ‘notably Endbrack: will expand upon at appraisal meeting’.
Finnie had moved onto wider matters beyond the work of the firm. He had picked up on ‘a noticeable and marked lack of enthusiasm’ on Craven’s part to join in social occasions. For one fleeting moment, Craven thought Finnie was referring to his horrified reaction at the boorish proposal from Jerry Endacott that he might accompany Endacott and Finnie to a lap dancing bar. He managed to convince himself, after a few moments’ careful reflection, that this could not possibly be what Finnie had meant. But it was plain that Finnie’s sweeping comment had either taken no account of the recent fence mending on Roger Blake’s part, or had wilfully ignored it.
It had upset Craven even more that Finnie had seen fit to refer to ‘your patchy record of staff relations’. He was as sure as he could ever be that when it came to working and co-operating with colleagues at all levels to deal with clients’ needs, he could not be faulted. He knew that he had clashed more than once with Jake Hutchings, and that on other occasions he had encountered behaviour and attitudes towards him that had struck him as needlessly confrontational. But Craven found it astonishing that the partners in his department would either take the side of his critics and enemies, or think it was justified to criticise him over trivia.
And not once had Finnie even acknowledged Craven’s decision to disclose that he was a victim of Asperger’s Syndrome. There was no praise for what he had actually managed to achieve in his first two months at the firm despite having to cope with the condition, and no perspective for the faults that had gone down on record.
For the first twenty minutes of the session, Craven had reacted to Finnie’s ever increasing criticism partly in contrition and partly in sheer disbelief. His increasingly frantic attempts to recall and apply the techniques he had used in his interview with Squire and Wagstaff, which had somehow struck a chord with the jovial bluffing on Squire’s part all those weeks earlier, were clearly wasted on Finnie, whose aggression was all the more unnerving.
“You just don’t seem to appreciate our mission statement. We should all be striving to get closer to our clients’ decision making processes. It’s not good enough to plod along and wait to be told what to do.”
Craven was torn between letting the comment pass, vacuous as it sounded, and reminding Finnie of the marked contrasts that his daily workload involved. Much of his work on contested debt claims was routine, and involved little more than aiming to recover as much of the money claimed by the client as was commercially possible. And yet he had enjoyed the challenge of the work on the Endbrack dispute, however much of a ordeal the session at the Hyatt had been, and he regretted the fact that his dogged pursuit of answers from Endacott to his carefully thought out questions had only led to him being taken off the case altogether. Trapped in indecision, the moment was lost when Finnie moved on to a completely different issue without warning.
“Now I want to look at this working relations point a bit more closely. Let’s take Jake Hutchings, for a start. Is it something personal?”
Craven’s patience finally snapped when he heard Finnie mention one of his least favourite colleagues.
“No, of course it isn’t. Well, not on my part. I do find his manners and his attitude towards me really offensive. And I don’t know how you can defend him and condone him and his smoking…”
“Now you’d better stop right there.” Craven realised, moments too late, that his own appraisal was the worst possible time and place to have come out with such an exasperated response, however justified it may have been. “Remember that you’re nothing but an unadmitted and unqualified assistant. If you think you’re entitled to talk to partners on our level about other people we employ and how we handle them, it’s high time you took a long hard look at yourself. And you do as we say, you don’t do as we do. Can I take it that I make myself clear?”
As Finnie glared in his direction, Craven was utterly lost for words. He smarted with the injustice of Finnie’s failure to acknowledge that he had been a qualified legal executive for many years, but realised that correcting him would only fuel the flames even more. Finnie turned towards Squire, who was still keeping up a benevolent gaze that only added to Craven’s discomfort.
“I don’t think there’s any point in carrying on. Anything to add, Rufus?” Squire remained silent. “Right, I think that the next three months are going to need some proper performance management targets putting in place. We can’t carry passengers in this firm. I’ll be letting you know exactly what I expect you to be achieving month by month, across every area of how this firm works and plays, and you’d better start proving that you’re up to it. If you haven’t got anything else to contribute to this discussion while we’re all sitting here, you’d better leave us in peace.”
The look on Finnie’s face made it plain, even to Craven, that it would be futile to protest. Finnie waved his hand impatiently in the direction of the door, and Craven rose to his feet and left without a further word.
“Nice work, Seb.” Squire did not waste time in breaking the silence once the door had closed. “My soft cop routine this afternoon will be plain sailing. Assuming he’s not gone and hanged himself in the toilets before I call him in. I wish I could put on an act like you just did!”
“Who said anything about acting?” Finnie met Squire’s braying laughter with a malevolent chuckle. “Right, whoever’s next in the firing line will have to wait. I’m off for a fag. Back in ten minutes.”
* * * * *
“Oh God…”
It took ten very long minutes before C
raven found the strength to lift his head out of his hands, having slumped across his desk as soon as he had returned to his office and sat down. The ordeal that he had just experienced at his appraisal was filling every corner of his conscious mind.
What have I done? How can I stay at this place any longer after what I’ve just been through?
After long hesitation, he keyed in Jackie’s number. When her voicemail message cut in, he was almost relieved at the thought that he would not be sharing his troubles with her after all, before his sense of isolation sunk in once again.
I’ve never once in my life had to think about quitting a job…
Craven suddenly realised that the answer was staring right back at him. Reaching for his mobile phone, he looked through his list of contacts before finding the name he was looking for. But he only reached a voicemail message.
‘Hi, this is Wayne Avery of Wave Recruitment. I can’t take your call right now, but if you’d like to leave a message, I’ll do my best to get back to you within twenty four hours…’
Craven hung up and keyed in a text message, preferring the certainty of the written word.
‘Wayne, remember me? I think I may be in need of your services. I know it’s not long since you last helped me, but this job at BLH really isn’t working out. Can you let me know what I need to do to start the search for a new role again? Regards, Paul Craven.’
Two further hours passed by, as Craven vainly attempted to focus on his client work, hoping for a response from Avery. The ringing of his office phone brought an end to the afternoon’s gloomy silence, and he seized it in the hope that Avery had caught up with his message and was calling back for a chat about opportunities elsewhere. When he heard the caller’s familiar voice, his sense of despair returned with a vengeance.
“Paul, Rufus Squire. Can you come over? We need to have a few words.”
Oh God. This is it. I’m going to be sacked.
Craven knew that there was no point in prolonging his agony. He stood up and walked slowly in the direction of Squire’s office, trying his best to avoid eye contact with any of the secretaries and hoping that no one would interrupt him on his way. As he opened the door, Squire gestured to him to sit down while he finished off whatever he was typing. The smile he gave Craven when his task was over only added to Craven’s confusion.
“Right then, Paul, first things first. I had a few words with Seb Finnie after this morning’s session. I thought that he might have overdone it. Well, to be honest with you, if I hadn’t been there, I wonder if you might still be here.”
To his surprise, Craven realised that he had not been summoned for further criticism or for anything worse. He was blissfully unaware of what Squire and Finnie had actually discussed.
“Er…what do you mean?”
“Listen, Paul. You probably know by now that Seb’s not the most patient of people in this firm, and he’s far more dynamic in what he expects of others. That’s what comes from being a lot younger than most of the partners. As far as I’m concerned, I think that if you put your mind to it, I can help get you over this. If you do your bit, in six months’ time we’d be able to forget any of this ever happened.”
Although his expression gave nothing away, Craven could hardly believe what he had heard.
“Really?”
Squire nodded.
“Do you mean that you’ll be my supervisor rather than him?”
Craven’s response was not what Squire had expected, but he quickly overcame his initial feeling of irritation, thinking of what the long term might actually involve.
“Well, it’s always a possibility. I can pass things down to you. You’d obviously need to keep fending for yourself with the contested claims that Laurie Dougall gives you. And if you think you can make the low level stuff pay rather than let him give it to the trainees, that’s fine by me. The main point for you to understand now is that I’d prefer to steer things back to an extended probation period, probably just another three month stretch from here and now, rather than go through the performance management targets routine. That’s probably not what either of us would want. You’re obviously going to need to play your part, though. Are you up for that?”
Craven needed no time to think. If there was any chance of sparing himself the need to start searching the job markets again, and if the atmosphere at the firm was likely to improve at the same time, he would do whatever was asked of him.
“Yes, I think so.”
“I hope you know so! Good. That’s just what I wanted to hear. Now this brings me onto Wayne Avery.”
“Wayne Avery?” Craven’s shock at hearing the name, so soon after he had made a tentative step towards becoming one of Avery’s candidates once more, was plain. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if his call and text message might have been intercepted by Squire or someone else at the firm, but realised just as quickly that the thought was absurd. “Er…what about him?”
“Nothing to worry about, I can assure you.” Squire turned on the charm once more. “It’s like this. We’re representing Wayne in a court action that’s coming up for trial in a couple of weeks. Tony Wagstaff’s handling it for him. I’ll spare you the fine details, but Wayne’s being taken to task by his old boss, some arrogant woman who’s convinced she’s always right, you must know the type. And it’s all about what he may or may not have been entitled to do after he left and set up on his own, and how he dealt with his own personal client candidates. Are you with me so far?”
Squire hoped that Craven would be so grateful to have been thrown a lifeline that he would not start asking difficult questions. His hopes were realised.
“Er…yes, I think so, but how does this involve me?” Craven’s mind had raced back to his past dealings with Avery, and how Avery’s skilled guidance in interview techniques had brought him to the very workplace in which he now found himself. He was curious about the arrogant woman to whom Squire had referred, but could not immediately think of anyone at Ripple who might have fitted the description. Certainly not the kind one who…
“Let me tell you. It’s really very simple. You were one of his personal candidates. You only ever dealt with him, and your introduction to this firm was all down to his efforts. It’s all reflected in a couple of items of paperwork. We’ve been recommended to strengthen Wayne’s case for the court, because there’s still some silly argument going on over who handled you as a candidate and who made all the running to get you here. And this is where you come in.”
By now Craven had switched over from anxiety to enthusiasm, as he thought of how he might be given a chance to play a part in a real live dispute. To his mind, it sounded as if it was exactly the kind of case that he would dearly love to become involved in on behalf of a client.
“How’s that?”
“I’ll tell you. We’d like a witness statement from you, just to confirm that you received our offer letter after the interview, and you signed Wayne’s start confirmation on your first day at work. It cuts out any damned foolish argument that Wayne might have faked the documents. You wouldn’t believe some of the nonsense that he’s had to put up with in this case. Now that’s not going to be too difficult, is it?”
“No, it doesn’t sound like it.” Craven replied. He thought of his first day at the firm, trying to remember exactly what he had been asked to sign, but his mind was a blur. Memories of the battle he had fought over the right to close his office door, the firm’s questionnaire and its personal health issues section, and the way in which Sheila Driver had given him a brief and disinterested introduction to his new working environment, had displaced almost everything else.
“That’s good.” By now Squire was beaming. “This is how it will work. It’s more like a presentation than anything. Tony will put a few words together in your name, referring to both documents. Probably no more than a page. You’ll check it for accuracy and sign it. We’ll serve it, and hopefully the other side will accept the point, and there won’t be any need to argue
the toss at trial.”
“What if they don’t accept it? Would I need to give evidence?”
Squire knew that the question would be asked, and was well prepared.
“Yes, you would. Hopefully it would be all over in ten minutes. The trial starts on Monday the seventeenth, and if you were needed you’d be the last witness on the Tuesday afternoon. Make sure you keep that afternoon completely free, just in case. No client meetings, no CPD, no other commitments at all. It’s important. Wayne would be really grateful.”
“OK.” Craven noted that the trial dates were very close. He knew from his own experience that last minute activity of this kind was better avoided. But he realised that the point was not something he needed to query.
“Good. I’ll tell Tony, and he’ll hopefully be in touch with a draft statement tomorrow. One last thing, though. I’ll just give you a quick heads up on the party line that everybody’s sticking to. And that includes me, just so that you know. I’m going to be the one who covers how Wayne introduced you to us, which is why you only need to confirm what happened after I offered you the job. Not before, just after. Are you still with me?”
“Er…yes, I think so.” Craven felt a touch of unease. “What’s this about a party line?”
“It’s nothing to be concerned about. Tony was going to run through it with you, but it makes sense for you to hear it from me, while you’re here. All you’d need to do, if you’re asked about what might have gone on before you got my letter offering you the job, is say that you can’t really remember anything in detail. Other than the fact that you only ever dealt with Wayne personally, and that you were happy for him to take you with him when he set up on his own. Words to that effect. Everything else can be glossed over. That’s going to be the best way to help Wayne. That’s not too much of a favour for him to ask, is it?”
Squire was still beaming. For his own part, Craven was still overwhelmed with relief that he was evidently no longer threatened with the loss of his job. The thought of helping the man who had rescued him from his distressing spell of unemployment was not at all unreasonable in principle. But he needed to be sure. Especially as he had never been told exactly when Avery had started his own business. Perhaps he had just been sharing space until he had a new office…
