Money For Nothing

by Dom Price

  “No problems Dave. Dare I ask why you are going to Putney? Assuming you got my messages, I think we need to get you into the office and then out to Food United Group immediately.”

  “I couldn’t agree more Laura. Which is why I’d like a second cab from mine to the office. As I said, I’ll explain later.”

  Laura’s blush could be heard loud and clear.

  There was a twinge of guilt in Dave’s body. His night had been geared towards one outcome, and in that experiment, things in theory couldn’t have gone better, but this was not what he wanted. He was sure Sweet Dreams was a lovely girl, but the night had become a nightmare. The conclusion creeping into his mind was that there was no such thing as a perfect companion.

  “Right, there is a cab on its way for you and your sister. I need to jump in the shower and freshen up. I hope you’ll be OK to show yourselves out.”

  “Sorry. Did you want me to write my number down?”

  “Not unless you know any intelligent and ambitious women who wouldn’t feel threatened by my level of success.”

  “You what?”

  “Nothing. Look, I’m going for a shower. I had a fun night last night, but that wasn’t me. I was doing it for someone else. You and your sister should get ready. The cab will be here soon. And don’t worry, it’s all paid for.”

  As Dave rushed towards the bathroom, Miss Sweet Dreams gave him a parting shot that guaranteed that he’d clean himself that little bit more in the shower.

  “She isn’t my sister. That is my daughter.”

  ***

  Chapter Recovery Position

  ***

  Laura had everything ready for Dave’s arrival in the office. The information pack on his desk was cumbersome and contained all the background and current literature on Food United Group. Knowing her boss as she did, Laura had taken out the specific information for the engagement with Tim Parkin and his team. Next to the information pack were the essential ingredients to get the day off to a belated start.

  “Morning Laura.” Dave rushed into his office, concerned by the gossip that might be zipping around the office courtesy of Jason’s mouth and Dave’s uncharacteristic late arrival into work. Laura joined him in the office.

  “What are they saying out there? Do I need to go into damage limitation?”

  “Luckily sir, Jason hasn’t spoken a word about whatever you chaps got up to last night. Even I’m in the dark.” Laura didn’t have the heart to tell Dave that no-one actually cared either, and that even if Jason had said anything, no-one would have believed it. Dave was one of the few people whose perception was stronger than reality and couldn’t be broken.

  “Good. What are these?”

  “Well sir. That is a vitamin performance drink. It is supposed to fizz like that and whilst it doesn’t taste nice, it should work wonders. That is a double extra strong espresso. And that is your Food United Group Info pack. I suggest you digest them in that order Sir.”

  “Thank you Laura.”

  “No problems sir. Have you been eating cough sweets sir? I am sure I can smell aniseed”

  Dave cringed as the luminous orange drink fizzed down his throat and into his acidic stomach. It was the first thing he remembered passing his lips since his last drink of the night, a drink which was now sweating itself out of his body and taking its odour with it. Thankfully anything else he might remember was being pushed to the back of his mind into the ‘please forget’ section. The cringe was replaced by a spine straightening shudder as the coffee hit home and Dave felt alive again. Alive, but very tender.

  “Is there any way of turning the lights down in here and the air conditioning up?”

  “Ha. No sir. The lights for the whole office are centrally controlled. I could try covering them with something if that helps?”

  Taking a moment to look up, Dave was temporarily blinded by what felt like the sun bearing down on him. “Yeah, that might be an idea.”

  By the time he’d read the information pack, Laura had broken all health and safety workplace rules, and clambered up on his desk to cover the lights with coloured plastic covers that she’d acquired from the stationery cupboard. Dave giggled to himself at the irony, but his office was now the same variety of colours as the dance floor from the night before. Just a lot quieter and safer.

  “Right, when can I get out to see Tim? And why on earth did we send Kipto out there. He is friggin useless at the best of times?”

  “Well sir. We weren’t available last night or this morning when I was calling you, so I could only send someone who was free. He was the only person free, and he is your counselee. I thought you’d be happy. Anyway, onto Tim. I’ve liaised with his PA, and he is pretty chocker today. I also wouldn’t suggest he see you today looking like that, so maybe schedule something for Tuesday. Would you like me to do that?”

  “Do we not work Mondays any more Laura? I have a few too many drinks one night and we turn to 4 day weeks huh?”

  “No sir. Have you listened to your voicemail? Bill Hennessey came down yesterday afternoon looking for you. He wants you to do a presentation to him on Monday about your push for promotion. I assumed you’d want the morning free to prepare?”

  Dave’s reactions had been sub-optimum up until that stage, and the words rang through his ears quicker than his head could measure the magnitude of what was being said.

  “You what? Why didn’t you say something? This is my career you are talking about. Idiot.”

  “Sorry Sir. I tried calling last night but your phone was off, and I left voicemails and sent you texts. I didn’t want to interrupt your night as you’d blocked it out in your diary to ‘Personal Research’.”

  “No, that is fine. Right, move all my meetings for the rest of today to next week. Lock me in for breakfast with Tim Parkin on Tuesday. E-mail Jason and Kipto, and then call them, and inform them using your most persuasive tone possible, that they are under no circumstances whatsoever to do anything remotely risky whilst at Food United Group. They should talk to nobody, engage in zero conversation and just remain looking busy at all times. They should be the first to arrive and the last to leave, but shouldn’t engage with anyone whilst there. I’ll go out on Tuesday and then we’ll have to get someone intelligent in there next week to play catch up.”

  “No problems Sir. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I am not sure if I want to know, but how are the performance stats looking?”

  “Actually sir, I can show you now.” Laura dropped the report in front of Dave. To anyone other than him, it would be a mirage of colours, words and numbers with no meaning, but even his hungover brain was more analytical than the next best.

  “As I feared. Lag indicators are fine, current position is as expected with continued trajectory. Feedback is fine, and supported by client numbers. Margin is on track, and volume is above where we should be. The only problem is that forward order book. We just have to make this work.”

  “Is there anything you need me to prepare for your presentation on Monday?”

  “No thanks Laura. One of the things I’m learning to rely on is my own instincts, so thanks for the offer but I’ll be OK. Could you print off the two outstanding reports from Barker Construction and the CEC 2012 strategy that Bill sent out the other week? I think my recovery will be better served in the peace of my own home, so I’ll be working from there this afternoon. I’d prefer no calls, so can you filter anything other than the urgent ones. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Dave had only been in the office for an hour, but his achievements had been impressive by even his own high standards. Without knowing it, he’d offended Laura, belittled Jason and Kipto, and disrupted a number of PA’s by cancelling the meetings he had locked in for that afternoon.

  It was at times like this that Dave wondered about having a mentor. It had been suggested to him on more than one occasion, but to him, it just smelt of admitting defeat. What could he possibly learn from someone else that he couldn’t learn himself with a
little time, application and the right opportunity? What had really kept him away from mentors was that horrible thought of having to share the glory with someone else.

  Getting into a taxi on the way home, he was about to rationalise away any doubts by convincing himself that the rule of 3, and his rule of 3 around Plan, Execute and Measure, was far more powerful than any advice he’d get from some random. Just as that thought passed through his head, the full magnitude of his hangover replaced it. For the journey home, Dave took deeper breaths than your average marathon runner, holding back the body’s instinct to repel whatever was causing the pain. The reports could wait and the strategy document could go on hold.

  Dave lay in his bed, alone but for the stale smell of leftover kebab and a subtle undertone of smoke machine. Lying back on his bed, he felt lost, dazed and confused.

  The distraction of trying to find a woman was having frustrating side effects, and Dave was losing confidence in himself as well as his actions. For a man who traded on confidence, this was a dangerous combination. He quickly looked around the room at the mixture of post it notes that still adorned his apartment and it lead his brain down a train of thought. As he relaxed into slumber, he had a plan for the weekend that might just make things better.

  ***

  Chapter Iterations of Reassurance

  ***

  “Kids, can you please put your clothes on. Just this once?”

  Anne had invested a lot of her Saturday mornings in various past times, but this was her least favourite. Today she had 3 kids on her hands and it felt like torture. The plan was simple. A family day at the local park, with a picnic a few toys and each other’s company.

  The two youngest kids were being their usual errant selves. They didn’t want to get ready, they wanted to watch cartoons. They didn’t want to be dressed in clean clothes, preferring heavily stained night wear. They didn’t want to comply with Mummy’s demands, they wanted to be kids and just run around in circles seeing who could scream the loudest.

  This made the third child particularly grumpy. At nearly 30, Tony shouldn’t have been categorised as a child, but after a busy week at work and an especially busy Friday night in the pub with his colleagues, he was now as useful as your average 4 year old. Anne normally giggled at Tony in his post drink stupor, but the combination of drink with not enough sleep made this one seem much worse.

  Phase 1 had been navigated without argument, which was Tony’s grumbling, groaning and moaning selection. It usually started with his fish out of water impression, where he’d angrily flip from lying on his front, to lying on his back, adding a moan or groan with each flip, looking like a freshly caught fish trying to escape the net. His customary cup of coffee on the bed side table had softened his mood slightly, but not much.

  As Anne battled the kids, Tony slouched into the living room, looking like Neanderthal man. His arms were outstretched and loose, wobbling at the side of his body like an ape. His facial hair had been joined with expressionless features like a zombie. His mood had regressed 26 years to that of a 4 year old.

  “It’s not fair. Why did you have to wake me up? Not fair.” The flapping of his arms was having no effect on Anne whatsoever, who’d learnt to give him just long enough for his coffee to settle in.

  Tony continued his inaudible whinge, breaking only occasionally to scratch his crown jewels. Getting dressed was too much for him in this state, so he preferred to collapse on the sofa and flop. Anne knew he’d eventually get bored of whinging, and all she was waiting for was the sign.

  The sign came, and with it she acted with the predatory instinct of a well seasoned mother. The sign had been 30 seconds of continued silence from Tony. To Anne, this was the optimum time; he’d recovered enough to stop complaining, but not enough to get his excuses in for not helping out. So sensing this lull and opportunity, Anne plucked each child from the circling motion, and dropped them onto Tony.

  “Right. I need to shower. They’ve been fed and dressed. All you need to do is keep them entertained and keep them clean. Back in 10 love of my life.” Before the wink had rounded off the sentence, she was out of the room, up the stairs and revelling in the scent of her conditioner. “Maybe 10 mins was a little under cooked, but who is counting” she thought to herself.

  Returning refreshed, Anne was intrigued to hear Tony in what sounded like deep conversation with the kids. Not only that, but the lack of accompanying racket and pandemonium suggested that they were listening.

  Sadly, reality wasn’t quite as good as the image in her head, but Anne was still happy. The kids were quiet, albeit bribed with a combination of sweets and a cartoon. But Anne couldn’t fault Tony for his actions, as they weren’t entirely selfish.

  “Bloody hell. To what do we owe this pleasure? It’s nobody’s birthday, and I’ve already spoken to mum and dad this morning, so I know no-one’s dead.”

  “Ah, you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t. Is it really so bad that your brother wants to come and see you and spend some quality time with you, his best friend and his favourite nieces and nephews?”

  “Not bad at all dearest brother. A first by all accounts, but not a bad idea. We’re off to the park for a picnic if you are keen?”

  “Now then, is there anything I can do to help?”

  Anne stood. She stood and stared. This person looked like a good 9.5/10 lookalike of her brother, but sounded very different. He looked like he’d had a good sleep, which was a rare commodity for Dave. That though, could be explained. What couldn’t be explained was his apparent desire to spend time with them, and the icing on the cake was the offer of help. Anne wasn’t even sure that the word help was in Dave’s dictionary.

  “Erm, no, I think we’ve got it all covered. You can come and get a cuppa in the kitchen with me while Tony goes and gets ready. Tony, go and get ready.” Tony hadn’t required words. The burning look with the eyes had provided all the information he required. He’d undressed, showered and dressed again by the time the kettle had boiled. Fear had an amazing place in relationships.

  “So what’s wrong then?”

  “Nothing is wrong. Look, I know I am not great at all this stuff and I’ve been a bit pre-occupied, but I’m taking some time out and doing a few new things. Can we just roll with it for now and get on with having a fun day. No need to over analyse.”

  Those words coming from a man who analysed analysis, was enough to quell that line of questioning.

  The rest of the afternoon continued in the same unfashionable manner. Dave had joined them at the park, helped entertain the kids and had even taken a back seat in the conversation. What Anne and Tony had found most disconcerting were his questions. It was traditional and an expectation for them, that when they had Dave over, he ruled the conversation and most of the time it was merely a chance for him to brag and rave about his latest deal.

  But the picnic at the park had been different. It was almost as if he was quizzing them on life, and trying to really understand the sacrifices that they had to make. Dave had controlled the conversation, but the vast majority of the talking was left to Anne and Tony. The conversation flowed seamlessly and it was a pleasant surprise for the sister and husband to feel that their life story could contribute so much to someone so close, who also often seemed so alien.

  Dave carefully navigated around the key topics, being careful not to pry, and throwing in the occasional chuckle to chill the mood. He was a master at controlling like this, and he was in auto pilot. They’d covered marriage, relationships, the kids, working, compromise, lifestyle and even finances, although Dave had kept that particular topic high level so as not to come across as prying.

  His techniques were such that no-one around the picnic rug felt grilled, and yet at no point were his motivations or reasons for asking such questions raised. The interest seemed genuine and with each passing sentence, Anne felt that she was growing closer to her brother as they bridged the understanding gap between their very differe
nt lives. They were chats that they’d wanted to share with Dave for considerable years, but his guard was normally up and it was wasted breath preaching to the superior. Anne was engrossed in the conversation. Tony sat, motionless and without comment. Sometimes he looked like a passenger in his own life. A man who’d had his soul stolen from him and had it replaced with a bossy wife and two demanding kids.

  As the snacks and nibbles came to a natural conclusion, the parents were joined by the out of breath and slightly dirty children. With the Frisbee well and truly thrown and the ball utterly kicked, they were out of puff and rosy in the cheek from their exertion. The site of healthy and fresh remains on the picnic rug did nothing for their appetites.

  “Daddy, Daddy” they tugged on Tony’s arm. It seemed to stretch to suggest this wasn’t the first time he’d been pulled over. Dave watched, as Tony instinctively looked over to Anne for clues. “Can we ice cream daddy, can we?” Tony clearly hadn’t been empowered to make such strategic decisions and was happy to play dumb on this occasion.

  “Mummy has the money so you’ll have to ask her?” It seemed looking after children was one long game of hot potato. Anne was well equipped and ready to take on all comers. “Now you know the rules. You have been good, but ice creams are expensive and a treat, and you had some earlier in the week when we went to feed the ducks didn’t you.”

  Unaware of the rules of this particular game, Dave gazumped his sister and rose from the rug. Reaching for his pocket, even the children were shocked as he playfully rustled their bobble hats and encouraged them along. “Come on then, Uncle Dave will shout you an ice cream...but you owe me and I charge interest at market rates. OK?”

  The kids didn’t understand either the humour or ironic truth in Uncle Dave’s words, but had merely heard the trigger to jump up and down excitedly shouting “ice cream ice cream, now I SCREAM” before yelling uncontrollably. Thankfully for the kids, they also didn’t overhear Uncle Dave call the ice cream man a “daylight robber” for what he claimed were “extortionate prices for some frozen cordial”.

  As they packed up the trinkets from the afternoon’s fun get together, Dave declined the kind offer of a coffee back at theirs. Sadly, they only had instant and it played havoc with Dave’s digestion. He’d offered to buy them a coffee machine a few years back, but Tony had discouraged him based on “the ongoing maintenance and supply costs of proper coffee. “