The Heel Bar Ch. 03

The first on-call guy was two minutes overdue -- and two minutes late was two minutes late.

Still, I thought that perhaps just this one time, he might be let off with a ticking-off, if he tried to make up for his first-night unpunctuality by showing a bit of willing in his barstool facilitation and was commented on favourably by his barstoolistas.

"I ... I'm with the Instant Response Standby Unit ... I ... I got here as soon as I could," the guy announced himself, short of breath and red in the face from his fast-response exertions.

"Name?" asked Doorman Tony, who I saw glance at his watch before consulting his clipboard.

"Steven Stevens -- I've just been contacted on my AFP-issue mobile phone by some bossy-sounding woman called Ms Andrea Leasome."

"Steven Stevens ... Steven Stevens ..." intoned Doorman Tony, drawing his forefinger down the names listed on his clipboard.

Still panting from his headlong sprint, Steven Stevens took a deep breath and then went on.

"This Ms Leasome bint -- she gave me a right old earful. She said she hoped for my sake that I was complying with standing regulations for tonight's introduction of the On-Call Emergency Replacement Programme and on red-alert readiness for my possible call-up.

"She said my name was fifth on tonight's Instant Response Standby Unit list, and I was to report immediately to the Heel Bar to cover for the fifth barstool footboy relief no-show, at one of the ten p.m. changeovers.

"This Ms Andrea Leasome woman told me that arrest warrants are being issued to CSOs to have all of the no-shows picked up for offences indictable under Article One of the Female-Friendly Code -- which means indefinite detention at one of the AFP's female-run Corrections and Rehabilitation facilities.

"She said it was a loud and clear message to other would-be barstool footboy no-shows. And she warned me to expect a severe, example-setting sanction myself if I was not at the Heel Bar within the regulation ten-minute response time.

"Ms Leasome said she was summoning me to facilitate Barstool Thirty-Seven -- whatever that means -- until the next scheduled Barstool Thirty-Seven changeover relief takes over from me at midnight."

Steven Stevens, then, had been on-call summoned as the emergency-replacement failsafe backup to two-hour facilitate Barstool 37.

But where was the Barstool 9 guy?

I looked at my watch: 22:15.

Steven Stevens was now five minutes overdue: he should have responded to his call-up in time to begin his facilitation of Barstool 37 by 22:10 at the latest. Probably it was just nerves, which was understandable, but he had wasted some of those minutes in running away at the mouth to doormen Tony and Vince about Ms Leasome's phone call and her abrupt summons.

I looked up and down Tockenham Coat Road.

He had to be here at any moment, but there was still no sign of the other emergency-replacement respondent, who Ms Leasome or one of the barmaids would have summoned to cover for the Barstool 9 changeover relief no-show.

"Steven Stevens ... Steven Stevens -- yes: I've got you on my clipboard," said Doorman Tony.

Doorman Tony clicked his pen on and wrote two notations on his clipboard: male citizen Steven Stevens's on-call attendance, officially registered; his time of arrival and his two-minute transgression, duly recorded.

"Male citizen Steven Stevens: I've got you down as one of the Instant Response Standby Unit's on-calls for tonight."

"That's right; my Case Worker at Highberry Job Centre has sanction-Placemented me to provide on-call cover at the Heel Bar on an alternate-day basis for the next three months -- starting today: Saturday! I always go out on Saturday night!" lamented the aggrieved Steven Stevens. "It was ten o'clock, and I'd just got to thinking it would probably be okay to head on out to the pub to join my mates; I'd still get three or four pints in -- when my AFP-issue mobile phone rang and this Ms Leasome woman's name was on the display screen! I mean -- for Pete's sake!"

"Well, you had better get used to it -- and anyway, you've got no call to go to the pub when you're on-call, male citizen Steven: standby, means stand by," admonished the unsympathetic Doorman Tony."

"I know, but ..."

"And you should look on the bright side," advised Doorman Vince. "If you are covering alternate days, you'll get alternate Saturdays off. Have you thought of that?"

"Well, yeah. But ..."

"Who is your Case Worker at Highberry Job Centre?" questioned Doorman Tony.

"Miss Candice Clinton -- Candy, to her friends. Which I'm definitely not -- she's really got it in for me! On the outside, she's as pretty as a peach -- but on the inside, she's just as stone-hearted."

"Miss Clinton's got it in for you? No -- she hasn't got in for you," disputed Doorman Tony. "And she's not stone-hearted, either. It's just your imagination -- or a lack thereof."

"But you don't know her, Doorman Tony!" Steven Stevens complained. "You don't know what she's like! You have no idea! She's a real piece of work! She—"

"You do not see this thing from both sides; only your own," Doorman Vince remonstrated. "You do not see this thing from Miss Clinton's angle. Can't you see that she's only doing her best for you, acting in your own best interests?"

"Ha! Her? Miss Clinton -- acting in my best interests? Well, now I've heard it all. She—"

Doorman Tony said, "Haven't you thought, male citizen Steven, that your Case Worker at Highberry Job Centre Miss Clinton could just as easily have sanction-Placemented you to on-call emergency replacement cover with the Instant Response Standby Unit, not on alternate days for three months -- but for three solid months' worth of Saturdays?"

"Uh, I ..."

"Think about that ...

"Ninety consecutive Saturdays, of knowing you won't be going out to the pub with your mates.

"But just moping around at home -- waiting.

"And, because you'll have no idea if your name is one of the first call-ups or one of the last on the Instant Response Standby Unit list -- you didn't know, that tonight you were emergency replacement call-up number five -- not even knowing the chances of your AFP-issue mobile phone ringing.

"Just waiting around for something to happen or not to happen is not only extremely boring but very tiring as well because it wears on the nerves.

Which is bad enough; but then, guess what?

"Just when you are starting to relax; just when you are beginning to think your AFP-issue mobile phone isn't going to ring; just when you think you've gotten away with it tonight; just when you think it's safe to go on upstairs to bed at gone midnight or one a.m. -- then you'll get the phone call from Ms Leasome or one of her barmaids.

"See what I'm saying?

"Just when you've breathed a huge sigh of relief that it wasn't going to happen -- it happens: your Saturday-night call-up summons to the Heel Bar.

"Called up, to emergency-replace some no-good no-show barstool footboy changeover relief.

"To barstool-facilitate a, by then, seriously sozzled barstoolista.

"Who, from the moment of your barstool installation just after midnight or one a.m., will sit right over your miserable head and crow over your late-night on-call emergency-replacement attendance at her inches-away feet while she guzzles yet another AFP-subsidised drink.

"Your boozed-up barstoolista will make less than two hours seem like twenty.

"She'll inflict her casual cruelties, prolonging your barstool-bound torments and indignities right up until the closing-time call at two a.m., when she'll remove her soles from your face and reinsert her feet into her tottery Saturday-night high heels and vacate her barstool only because she has to.

"But you'll have to hope that your sloshed barstoolista vacates her barstool quietly. That she won't, first, as many barstoolistas do, disdainfully desert her barstool footboy with a drunken thank-you-and-good-night backheel or two to take home with him to remember her by awhile each time he looks in the bathroom mirror to see how his black-eyed bruised-up stigmatised face is coming along -- just because she can.

"Just think, how long you'd have that hanging over you; it would seem like forever."

"Are you starting to get the picture?" chimed in Doorman Vince. "Ninety consecutive Saturday nights, Miss Clinton could have sanction-Placemented you for -- if she had it in for you; if she had a heart of stone."

"Um ..."

"So, there you go, male citizen Steven," resumed Doorman Tony, spreading his hands. "If your Miss Candice Clinton is as pretty as a peach on the outside, then I'll bet that's just exactly what she is on the inside too.

"Miss Clinton isn't stone-hearted, and she hasn't got it in for you; she is just putting her foot down. Don't you see? She is doing a thankless job, dealing with difficult people -- people who don't give her the respect she deserves."

"Do you see now?" Doorman Vince wanted to know.

"I ... guess."

"So," Doorman Tony went on, "at your next interview at Highberry Job Centre by Miss Clinton, perhaps you'll remember what she could have done to you but didn't -- because she's not hard-hearted, but fair-minded."

"Uh ..."

"And maybe you'll show her a very much improved attitude: you'll be less difficult, more thankful -- and above all: a hell of a sight more respectful."

"I ... suppose."

"And maybe a little contriteness wouldn't go amiss, either. Because I have to tell you, male citizen Steven: you don't sound very contrite.

"So, how about ... Each time you visit Miss Clinton from now on, to try and make amends and make things up to her you bring her a small present; a token of your newfound appreciative regard: a bunch of fresh-cut flowers, or box of Belgian chocolates, or maybe a nice bottle of Burgundy wine -- something like that? To show her your improved attitude; to demonstrate your contrition."

"Um ... I guess," Steven Stevens said unconvincingly.

"You could buy these small but thoughtful making-amends-and-making-up tokens of apology and enlightened appreciative regard for your long-suffering Case Worker with the savings from your Saturday-night going-out money. The Saturday nights when you aren't going out to the pub with your mates, because you are sitting around at home on standby waiting for a phone-call summons from the Heel Bar that you might or might not get."

"Yeah ... I could."

"See, there it is again: that tone of yours. Vinnie, is it just me, or have you picked up on it too, male citizen Steven's negative tone?"

"It's not just you, Tone. I'm getting male citizen Steven's negative vibe as well. It's as plain as the nose on his face."

Doorman Tony said, "I thought so. See, male citizen Steven, I don't think you are buying into this making-amends and putting-things-to-rights atonement thing. I don't think your heart is in it. No, I really don't. So ... how about I make you a deal?"

"A deal? I don't know ... what deal?"

"To show her you've changed, call your Case Worker at the Job Centre Miss Candice Clinton now and tell her that if she can make it, you would love to see her down at the Heel Bar, where you have been summoned to facilitate Barstool Thirty-Seven as an emergency replacement for a ten p.m. barstool footboy changeover relief no-show. Tell her that she'll get priority-occupancy of Barstool Thirty-Seven, and you would consider it an honour and a privilege to facilitate her barstool for as long as she wants while she enjoys whatever she'd like to drink at your expense."

"What the ... what kind of a deal is that? Are you kidding, Doorman Tony? You want me to facilitate Miss Clinton's barstool, and pay for her drinks with my dole money? That's not fair! It's too much! It's—"

"I'm not kidding. It is fair, and it's not too much. Given the circumstances."

"But—"

"Do that, and I won't drop you in it with the Heel Bar proprietress Ms Andrea Leasome."

"But—"

"Do it, and I won't let on to Ms Leasome about all of those unkind things you said about her, which she would then tell to her good friend Alma Ruddy who is the Community Service Liaison Officer and the AFP MP for Tockenham and Highberry."

"But, I—"

"Which would result in your certain prosecution, conviction, and imprisonment at Greystone Prison and, at Ms Leasome's request and Ms Alma Ruddy MP's OK-ing it, the equal certainty of your being bare-bottom caned every day by the infamous Jailhouse Blue female prison officers ... Deal?"

"Hell! Okay! I don't believe this -- are you a doorman or a moral crusader? Okay, Doorman Tony, I'll make the call to Miss Peachy! It's a deal. But -- hell! I mean -- hell!"

"Now, you'd better hop to it and go right on in -- Ms Leasome said to send you through pronto.

I looked at my watch ... this was Doorman Tony's idea of pronto?

"The lady sitting on Barstool Thirty-Seven has been unfacilitated with a barstool footboy for nearly twenty minutes, now, since the five p.m. to ten p.m. assigned facilitator refused to stay on after his scheduled relief's no-show and to facilitate her barstool voluntarily."

"Uh, this is my first time. What do I have to do? I mean, to ... facilitate?" inquired the on-call emergency-replacement, Steven Stevens, much to the amusement of the two doormen Vince and Tony.

I had another look up and down Tockenham Coat Road ... still no sign of the second on-call Instant Response Standby Unit emergency-replacement respondent, who by now should be tearing down the road to get here to facilitate Barstool 9 if he hoped to have any chance at all of avoiding a sanction for lateness.

I looked at my watch again: 22:21.

Maybe I was in luck ... maybe the Barstool 9 guy was a no-show.

Doorman Vince said, "Barstool facilitation is simple, male citizen Steven, and you'll soon get the hang of it. For the duration of their duty -- which can range from anything between just one hour and the full nine hours -- barstool footboys facilitate the occupant, or the succession of occupants of their assigned barstool -- their barstoolistas -- by keeping their face accessible and their manner compliant.

"Generally -- and I guess I can understand why -- the barstoolistas prefer to preserve the secrecy of their identity; to remain anonymous to their barstool footboys.

"So unless she chooses to reveal her identity -- to lean down to look at you: installed under her barstool with your head within its eighteen-inch-diameter rounded-rimmed chrome footrest -- you won't get to see your barstoolistas' faces. Just their legs, feet and shoes. But most especially, of course: their heels. Because this is the Heel Bar."

"Doorman Tony said, "And now you should hop to it -- unless you want Ms Leasome to make good on her threat of a severe, example-setting sanction for lateness; because trust me: she will. And there's another thing, male citizen Steven: I didn't like your lack of respect for the proprietress Ms Leasome. I didn't like it at all. If Ms Leasome were ever to find out from someone that you called her 'a bossy-sounding woman' -- let alone 'a bint', who gave you 'a right old earful' -- you'd be in a whole world of trouble. You got me ...?"

"Yes, I've got you."

"Are you sure? Because I'm not sure you have."

"Yes, I've got you. And, I'm sorry, Doorman Tony ... sir."

"That's better, male citizen Steven," said Doorman Tony. "One last thing; a word of advice: respect.

"Think of yourself as a sidelined substitute player, given a surprise chance to impress; handed the unexpected opportunity to help the team out when it's a man down.

"Look up to the Heel Bar proprietress Ms Andrea Leasome, and her seven barmaids: Chloe, Leanne, Camilla and Rosalind are the ones on duty tonight -- as the figures of high authority that to you they are.

"And regard, respect, and revere the barstool-occupying ladies you facilitate -- the barstoolistas -- as your all-powerful Goddesses."

"That's damn good advice, Tone," agreed Vince. "You should listen up, male citizen Steven. Take onboard what Tone is telling you."

"That sounds a bit extreme to me, Doorman Tony," complained Steven Stevens.

"No, male citizen Steven, it's not," Doorman Tony contested.

"You'll find that a modicum of humility goes a long way; a healthy respect for Ms Leasome and her seven barmaids, even further; and a reverential regard for your barstoolistas -- including your Case Worker at the Job Centre Miss Candice Clinton who, if she can make it, you'll get the chance to start making a good impression -- further still."

"You should listen up, male citizen Steven," repeated Doorman Vince. "Tone's right. Take what he says to heart."

Doorman Tony went on, "Do all of that, male citizen Steven, abide by those three golden rules I've laid out, and there's a chance you might get along relatively okay. You might serve out the terms of your alternate-day three-month sanction-Placement handed down to you by Miss Clinton, without her having to award too many add-on penalty hours as a result of complaints from dissatisfied or just plain mean-minded barstoolistas.

"Because you need to be clear on one thing: give the barstoolistas just cause, and they'll see to it that you spend not just months, but years, facilitating their barstools.

"Now hop to it. Go right on in and report to Barstool Thirty-Seven, before your barstoolista starts making an even bigger fuss about having no footboy -- because she might decide to take it out on you.

"Just one word of complaint from her, and you could find that your Instant Response Standby Unit alternate-day on-call cover has been upgraded by your Case Worker Miss Clinton to a seven-day week and extended from three months to six months or even a year.

"So if I were you, I'd hop to it and go right on in. These are precious barstool-facilitation minutes you are wasting, standing around here talking.

"As a first-time barstool facilitator, either Ms Leasome herself or one of the barmaids will install you in situ."

I'd thought that male citizen Steven was a chatterbox. But at least his loquacity could be put down to first-time nerves -- or maybe he was just trying fritter away some minutes to put off the inevitable for as long as possible. But either way, he had nothing on the blethering Doorman Tony and his fellow prattler doorman Vince.

Again I looked up and down Tockenham Coat Road ... still no sign, of the on-call emergency-replacement facilitator for Barstool 9.

Again I looked at my watch: 22:25.

He was very late now ... maybe my luck was in; maybe, this was my 'in'.

Doorman Vince now pointed at me and said: "And, who are you?"

Knowing I could be talking myself into a whole heap of trouble, I tried to appear casual and sound plausible as I trotted out the lines I'd prepared in the event of spotting an unfacilitated barstool.

"Um ... well, I was walking by, and I just happened to look in the window and notice that the lady sitting on Barstool Nine was without a barstool footboy."

"Oh, did you?" said Doorman Tony.

"Well, yes. And, well, as I have no plans for this evening, I thought I'd offer to facilitate Barstool Nine for the rest of tonight."

"Oh, you did, did you?" said Doorman Vince.

"Well, yes. You know, in cooperation with our AFP Prime Minister Caroline Flynt's TV, radio, and newspaper appeals to male citizens to honour their societal obligations under the Female-Friendly Code and to volunteer to man an undermanned or unmanned female-friendly service or facility in their spare time."

The on-call emergency replacement Steven Stevens stood and looked at me, his mouth agape.

Doorman Tony said, "Are you male citizen Carl Carson?"

Struck speechless, I could only nod dumbly in confirmation.

Recovering quickly, the on-call guy Steven Stevens said, "This is great! Don't you see, Doorman Tony? I'm off the hook! I can go to the pub for the last-pint with my mates. This guy Carl can cover Barstool Thirty-Seven for me!"