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Of course. Steve Shepton.
He has been sabotaging my career ever since the whole ‘Black Benjamin’ debacle.
“If your manager can recommend you for the course…” Jo clicks on her computer and suggests, but I don’t need to hear the rest.
I turn around, head high, and walk as fast and proud as I can even though my feet feel heavy and leaden.
I go outside and sit on the low brick wall that separates our building form the street. This is smokers’ corner because staff come out here when they need a fag break.
“Hi.” A young woman in a navy-blue hijab and matching navy trouser-suit comes to sit a couple of feet away, cigarettes and lighter in hand.
When I don’t reply, she says, “I’m Samar, I work in accounts… er… would you like one?” She holds out her cigarette pack.
This kindness from a random stranger opens the flood gates to my pent-up emotions. Tears course down my face and I cannot even hide them. Samar offers me a packet of tissues. “What happened?”
I’m too upset to censor myself and the whole story spills out which she listens to quietly.
“My boss, he heads the ghost-writing division, which means he writes other people’s books and then sends them off to be printed and sold on Amazon. One of his clients, a reformed criminal called Mark Elverson, wanted his life story published. At the last minute, realising the police might read it and arrest him, he asked Steve to change his name from Mark to Benjamin. We’d normally send this to the editor, but my boss didn’t want to pay for another edit, so he told me to do it. I have no experience in editing, but he insisted it could be done with the press of a button. That’s what he said,‘you want to progress, well here’s your chance.’
“He took, twenty seconds, not even half a minute, to show me how to clickFIND/REPLACEto change every Mark to Benjamin.
“Except it’s more complicated because you need to tell the software to only change full words Mark, not parts of a bigger word like market. You should ask the program to show you each change, one at a time, so you can approve it. Then you run the language checker to catch anything that doesn’t look right.
“I didn’t know. So black market became black benjaminet, a black mark against me changed to a black Benjamin against me. And make my mark on the world turned into make my benjamin on the world.
“A month later when the book was published, Mark bought copies for all his friends, and they discovered the mistakes. Having paid for 10,000 books to be printed, he was furious and demanded his money back. My boss blamed me.
“After that, he started blaming me every time he made a mistake, and he makes many mistakes because he has way too many spinning plates. Keeps calling me error-prone. Since then, I’ve been side-lined, excluded, passed over for promotion.”
“Anyway,” I say at the end. “I can’t find a private course and pay for it myself because it’s too expensive and I’m saving to move out of this horrid bedsit which is upstairs from a bus garage and...”
Crying makes my voice thick and hoarse. It’s not crying about Steve, or about my job, not even about Andrew. I’m crying because I’ve been such an idiot. Why hadn’t I checkedbefore moving out of the penthouse that the bedsit was habitable? Why hadn’t I checked where Andrew spent all his weekends? I should have armed myself with knowledge then I wouldn’t have been so blindsided like a fool.
“Yeah, this isn’t the first time Steve’s cocked up.” Samar blows out smoke and waves a hand to fan it away from me. “He often misquotes jobs to clients, then gets us to call and bill them for extras he already promised. But he gets away with it because no one challenges him. Just like you’ve been doing.”
Surprised, I wipe my face and glance up at her.
“Why should you miss out on a course that you’ve already been accepted for?” she asks. “You have rights, you know. Don’t let him keep obstructing your career development. This time you can prove it because you were offered a place on the course. Ask for a meeting with HR and put in a formal complaint.”
“Believe me I’d love nothing better, but I’m not going to waste my savings on solicitors and employment tribunals.”
“You don’t have to.” She stubs her cigarette end in the sand-box ashtray. “The company wouldn’t want a messy public tribunal. They’ll handle the grievance internally. That’s what they always do.”
“It’s too late. The course has already started. By the time my grievance is heard I’ll have missed too much.”
Samar stands up and brushes the back of her trousers, preparing to go inside. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the company will pay for you to go on a private course. They always settle disputes this way. I know because we’re the ones who pay invoices. Just fill out an internal grievance complaint and send it to HR.”
She goes back inside but I stay, the cold December air blowing my hair over my face, and I think about this. About what Andrew and Barbara did to me, the four years of being a good little girl hoping to be rewarded. Samar is right. People act like bullies because no one challenges them. It’s time I fought for myself.
On my way home that evening, I stop at the local supermarket to pick up a lasagne to cook in the microwave. I’ve already researched and found the company’s employee complaint procedures and printed them out. I’ll be spending the evening filling out the necessary forms.
Just as I’m paying for my lasagne, my phone dings with a text.
PAUL: I’m sorry, New Year’s Eve dinner not happening now.
My brother had invited me to spend New Year’s Eve with them in their gorgeous Victorian house in Southport.
ME: what happened?
