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‘You don’t know?’ He grins mischievously. ‘It’s a building site tradition. Every Friday is dedicated to a different poet, so we pack up at lunchtime and spend the afternoon reading that particular poet’s work. We may work with our hands, but we’re not an uncultured bunch.’
‘Really?’
‘No, of course not. It stands for Piss Off Early, Tomorrow’s Saturday. I had you going, though, didn’t I?’
‘Very clever. Are you going to show me around, or just take the mickey for the rest of the afternoon? And why did you call me the latest victim when we first met?’
‘Before I answer, can I ask you a couple of questions?’
‘If you must.’
‘How much experience have you really got with building sites?’
Damn. This isn’t a question I want to deal with right now. I’d been kind of hoping to dazzle them all with my amazing project management before they found out I didn’t know the first thing about construction.
‘My brother-in-law is in the trade. I’ve worked with him on a few projects,’ I bluster.
‘Really?’ He looks sceptical.
‘Yes, really.’
‘Forgive me for noticing, but all your gear is obviously brand new. There’s not even a scuff on your boots. Do you buy new gear for every project? Is that a thing for you?’ Despite trying desperately not to show it, I know I’m crimson with embarrassment. Of all the ways to be caught out.
‘OK, fine,’ I huff. ‘I don’t have a lot of experience on building sites, no. But I do have a proven track record in project management, and that’s what I’m here to do.’
‘Hey, no judgement from me. I didn’t hire you, and you’ll have enough to contend with once you get started on Monday. It just helps me to know what I’m dealing with. You might want to scuff your hat and boots up a bit, and I’d recommend jeans rather than the skirt you’re wearing. If you go up a ladder in that, you’ll be sure to attract an audience on the ground, just saying.’
‘I wasn’t planning on coming to work in a skirt. It’s just more comfortable for driving, if you must know. Anyway, you still haven’t explained why you referred to me as a victim.’
‘No, I haven’t. Here’s a suggestion. Why don’t I show you around, help you unload, and then I’ll take you to the pub and fill you in? Don’t worry, I’m not coming on to you, it’s just that it’s half past four on a Friday afternoon, and my brain is threatening to go on strike if I don’t get a pint inside me soon.’
I study him. He is definitely attractive, in a rough and ready kind of way that I find refreshing in comparison to Lee, but his constant piss-taking and his descriptions of the general sexism I’m going to be launched into have wound me up. I’m also enormously irritated by the fact that he rumbled me so quickly. On the other hand, he hasn’t been unkind, and I have a feeling I’m going to need all the allies I can get.
‘You’re on,’ I tell him.
15
‘What on earth is that?’
We’re standing in the site office, which is much as you’d expect it to be. Directly in front of me, an ancient-looking computer sits on a battered, teak-effect desk. I glance at the grimy keyboard and make a note to get some antibacterial wipes. Behind the desk is a moth-eaten swivel chair that has definitely seen better days. There are a couple of dented, grey, metal filing cabinets against one wall, underneath one of those yearly planners that, if I’m deciphering it correctly, seems to be tracking everyone’s holiday plans. An ancient photocopier and printer stand against the other wall. At the other end of the cabin sits an equally unloved kitchen area, with multiple ring stains on the worktop along with used mugs and dirty teaspoons. There’s a microwave as well, and I dread to think what’s growing in there. However, the article that’s caught my attention is on the wall behind the desk. It’s best described as a series of flipchart sheets taped together, with what look like dates across the top, and annotations like ‘No. 4 Kitchen Units’ in hand-drawn boxes underneath.
‘That’s the project plan. Your predecessor, Andy, drew it up. Surely you’re familiar with those, at least?’ Noah seems bemused.
I study it for a while. ‘That’s not a project plan. It’s just a series of events. Where is the resource allocation? How do the various elements fit together? How could anyone work out the critical path from that?’
‘I’ll admit that I don’t understand a lot of what you just said, but the resource bit is my job. Your job is to make sure that we have the right materials for the right houses at the right time.’
‘Well, I’m never going to be able to work it out from that. I’ll have to start again on Monday. I’ll need to borrow you for most of the day, is that OK?’
‘That will depend on what crops up, but I’ll give you as much time as I can.’
‘Please. This is just chaos. You and I need to put together a proper plan, with resources allocated so we can coordinate the work and the people. Otherwise I can’t see how anything will get done.’
‘Yes, boss,’ he grins. ‘Would you like to see the site now?’
‘Go on then. Hopefully it’s in better shape than the site office.’
‘We’re building two styles of property on this site,’ he explains as we walk. ‘“The Eton” is a five-bed detached, and “The Windsor” is a four-bed semi. We’re building eight Etons and twelve Windsors. The show homes are over there,’ he points out the houses closest to the site entrance, ‘and they’re nearly done. We’re on second fix with those. The rest, well, we’ll figure it out on Monday.’
