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“Well, balls.”
One of these days I’m going to have to do something about Claire’s habit of calling our boss His Royal Dickishness. And also about her habit of shouting swear words across the showroom. And also, for that matter, about Brian just, y’know, in general.
Though I’m guessing that right now His Royal Dickishness is going to care more about the swearing.
I’m guessing right.
“So”—Jonathan Forest’s slightly too-polished accent glides down the phone line and into my ears—“this isn’t what I was originally calling you about, but why the hell is your assistant manager calling me a His Royal Dickishness in front of what sounded like the whole shop?”
There’s no way to cover for this, but I try anyway for Claire’s sake. “It’s affectionate?”
“How’s it affectionate?”
“It’s a northern thing. Y’know, like when you’ve got a mate you call y’bastard.”
“I lived in the north for sixteen years,” says Jonathan Forest—he likes to bring that up because it makes him sound more working class even though he’s a rich fucker who only gives a fuck about other rich fuckers. “And I never had a mate I calledy’bastard.”
Privately, I think he’s probably never had a mate. “I’m just saying it’s how folk talk.”
“Even so,bastard”—he saysbastardwith a shortalike a normal person, even if everything else he says sounds like one of the shittier royals—“has a very different connotation todickish.”
“It’s the same principle,” I try. It sounds weak even to me.
“Okay.” I’m pretty sure Jonathan Forest isn’t a robot, but I almost hear his brain click as he moves on. “While this isn’t what I wanted to talk about, it’s very much connected to it.”
Oh fuck, he knows I call him a dick as well. We all call him a dick because he’s a dick. The way I see it, if you don’t want people calling you a dick, you shouldn’t be a dick. “Is it?” I ask, trying not to sound too much like he’s just caught me wanking.
“Splashes & Snuggles has three branches now and a fourth opening next year. The Croydon branch is performing as I expect it to. The Leeds branch is performing as I expect it to. The Sheffield branch decidedly is not.”
Probably not the time to tell him one of my employees just wrecked four grand’s worth of mattress with a tea run. “In what way exactly are we not performing as you expect us to?”
“You’re over budget and under target. And, frankly, I’m a bit concerned you don’t already know that.”
Oh why does this dick have to be such a dick? Yes, we are technically abitover budget what with all the stock Brian has trashed, and yes, we are technically a bit under target, but that’s because Jonathan’s targets are bollocks. “I know what the figures are. But we’re a new store, it’s a competitive area, and we’re getting pretty close.”
“I didn’t hire you to getpretty close.” Somehow he manages to sneer just with his voice. “I hired you to meet the goals I give you, and if you can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”
Part of me really wants to say “fine, do that”. This job’s notworth putting up with this kind of crap. Except it’s not just my job we’re talking about. If I get the boot, then Jonathan Forest replaces me with somebody who’ll give him his precious fucking “targets” and then what’ll happen to Claire and Amjad and Brian and the rest of them?
So I don’t push back. Instead, I try to walk that line between promising results I won’t deliver and giving him an excuse to replace me with someone who will. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“I’ve already worked something out.” He gives the tiniest, tiniest pause and then his tone softens just faintly. “I don’t want to let you go, Sam. I think you’ve got it in you to be a really good manager.”
You patronising shit. As far as I’m concerned, I’m already a good manager. Or at least as good a manager as you can expect in a second-rate bed-and-bath showroom in a competitive area with a team full of Brians.
Claire is holding up a piece of paper. It says,Is he being a dick?
I mouthyes obviouslyback at her, and she holds up another piece of paper sayingsorry I can’t read lips.
Normally this would be fine, but normally I’m not trying to work out whether I’m at risk of losing my job. I wave at her to get her to stop. She doesn’t. And there’s no way she was ever going to, but I like to pretend I’m in charge sometimes.
“So that’s why,” Jonathan’s saying when I can focus on him again, “I want you to come to Croydon tomorrow so you can see how I do things.”
Tomorrow is Friday. My least favourite day for going to London. My favourite day for going to London is never. “We’re quite busy what with the run up to Christmas.”
“I’m sure Claire can handle it. She seems to have a lot of time on her hands. Certainly she has enough time to invent ‘affectionate’ nicknames for me.”
Looks likepatronising shitis still where we are. “Claire is a valued member of the team and…”
