The Volunteer

I did get a chance to have a word with my immediate superior though, and possibly because of my demeanour, he reluctantly agreed to the request I made of him.

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The Rolls Royce stood-out like a sore-thumb as I entered my block's car park on my way home from work that evening. Jenny -- dressed in a short skirt and blouse -- bounced out of it, and was waiting by my car door when I opened it.

"Hey stranger, this is a coincidence, fancy taking a lady to dinner?" She asked with a tentative smile on her face.

"Let me get washed and changed then." I replied.

"Oh yeah, no hurry; the car will wait."

Jenny's smile had changed into a grin.

"Jenny."

"Yes?"

"You wait in the Rolls; I won't be two minutes."

"Spoil sport!"

===================

We had a meal in one of the local pubs, nothing special or anything. Then we sat in the bar and talked. Eventually Jennifer brought the conversation around to Elaine -- which I was not too pleased about -- and wangled the story of Elaine and my, three year relationship out of me. She didn't really make much comment but she appeared to understand how emotionally upset I'd been specifically concerning how Elaine had died.

Back at the Moat House I walked Jenny to the door of her suit again, the Rolls was waiting in the car park to run me home.

That night Jenny kissed me on the lips again and I let the kiss go on a little longer, because it would be the last time she did it. I didn't, and had never taken Jenny in my arms, by the way; unless we'd been on the dance floor.

"I guess this is goodbye?" She said as she broke our little kiss.

"Not quite Jenny. I have to drive you to the airport in the morning, haven't I?"

A big smile came over her face and she threw her arms around my neck, squeezing me like hell and kissed me again. But much harder that time, if you understand me?

Then she suddenly released me and apologised. Jenny told me that she'd lost control of her emotions for a moment because she was so surprised and happy that I managed to get the time off work to take her to the airport.

I explained that I'd informed my superior at the office that I either got the morning off work, or I took the day off sick. And, as he was aware that I was not actually ill, he'd then be forced to reprimand me. And, that I'd take that happening as an excellent opportunity, to tell him exactly in which part of his anatomy, he could file the relevant paperwork.

"Oh god Simon; don't lose your job just to run me to the airport. I've got a car booked anyway."

"Jenny, I promised Billie I'd be your escort for the weekend. Actually I agreed on the wedding, but everyone else seems to think that included your whole visit to the country. I neglected my duties today, for which I apologise. I'm bored out of my mind with my current job anyway; I've been doing it so long. So if push comes to shove, who gives a monkeys?"

===================

You know, I almost cried as Jenny went through the departure gate. We'd kissed again and I'd even taken the risk of taking her in my arms. Funny, I'd only known her for five days and she'd really got to me.

I watched her plane take-off and then went home and got drunk; bugger the bloody office!

My superior didn't admonish me, when I strolled into the office a few minutes late on the Wednesday morning; neither about my late arrival, or my failure to appear at all the previous afternoon.

Someone did drop a letter on my desk later in the day, but that informed me that I was being moved up a salary grade. I figured, I'd have to do a vanishing act again sometime in the future. Or maybe it was the home truths I'd voiced to my superior on the Monday afternoon.

===================

I suppose that I was a little disappointed that only one letter arrived from Jennifer, a week after she got home. It simply said she'd got home safely and that her mother and stepfather had been pleased to have her back. I should imagine the local guys were as well!

Several weeks past and Jenny almost faded from my memory, but not quite. I found I was having some interesting -- if a little upsetting -- dreams. Usually the only person in my dreams had been Elaine; suddenly I had to contend with Jennifer making an appearance, and often substituting for Elaine.

===================

Then one morning I arrived at the office and very quickly learnt that there was an almightily flap going on, on the top floor. During the day word filtered down to the lower floors that there was a hostile takeover in the offing.

Quite a few of my fellow employees immediately began to worry about their jobs. Our employers didn't run the most efficient company around. The guys upstairs appeared happy to have the latest computers on their desks, but nearly everyone else in the place did things the hard way; shoving bits of paper around; hence my recent raise being announced via a letter instead of email.

However being in a niche in market and having a reputation for reliability, if not efficiency, the company had always maintained a full order book. But I'd been well aware that the place was ripe for a takeover by some multi-national, more interested in our companies patents, than they were in its manufacturing (dis)organisation. So I wasn't really surprised to hear about the panic going on, on the top floor.

To be honest I'd got into more than a bit of a rut. Redundancy would possibly do me good. It would force me to get out and find a different job. Hopefully one I'd be able to make my mark in.

For the next week or so and atmosphere of doom pervaded to whole company. The stuffed shirts from the top floor had the gloomiest expressions on their faces. I'm pretty sure they knew that they would be the first to be thrown out on their ears. Some of the folks on the lower floors would survive I was sure, and maybe even some of the workers out in the plant. The only really good thing about the company was the reliability of the stuff they turned out.

Two weeks and it was a done deal. Word quickly filtered down that there were some new faces -- wearing very serious expressions -- wandering around the upper floors.

In the following days those serious faces began to venture for quick forays onto the lower floors. They were usually spotted in department managers' offices and those managers always had equally serious expressions on their faces.

The next thing that I noticed as I arrived at the office one morning was one of the maintenance guys' removing the chairman's reserved parking place sign. When I came out that night I noted that nearly all of the directors named signs had also been taken down. The chairman's sign being replaced by one reading CEO, led me to believe that maybe and American company had been behind the takeover. Although I knew that a lot of Multi-nationals and some British companies used American terminology for their executives nowadays.

I managed to clap eyes on Marsha a few times, but the opportunity never presented itself to embarrass her. Usually she had a notepad in her hand and was trying -- best she could in those stilettos of hers -- to keep up with some guy who strode around in double time, like he was on a mission. Which, I suppose, he was!

Us workers still had no idea of exactly who had bought the company out; or what their long-term plans for it were. Some names had been banded about, on the gossip grapevine. But no one from upstairs was really talking. I believe they were all scared shitless that to say anything to anyone, might lead to them losing their jobs.

Two weeks later and I had had enough. On a whim that Monday morning I didn't go into the office, instead I paid a visit to the local Job Centre to see how job market looked. Not that I thought I'd find a job for myself there, rather I thought my visit might give me an idea of how things were going generally. It didn't look good, but I still went home and hit the telephone.

Two days I wasted before I worked it out that my only real option was to sit it out and wait until the axe fell. At least I'd get my redundancy pay that way. But I figured that I might be able to hurry that eventuality along a little; I hated the permanent air of limbo that was pervading the office.

Fifteen minutes late, I figured ought to do the trick. And, maybe a little more lackadaisical approach to my work! I'd always been known for my dedication and efficiency, maybe if I eased off a bit, I'd get shown the door a little sooner.

As I wandered into the office that morning, I caught sight of my department supervisor watching me through the glass wall of his office. With him was one of the new guys from the top floor who'd I'd seen kicking around a few times.

Placing the cup of coffee I'd picked on my way in on my desk, I pulled the top file from my in-tray and opened it. As I did so, out of the corner of my eye I saw the new guy leave my boss's office. I didn't look up, but I was aware that had his eyes were on me as he passed my desk.

No sooner had he left the department than my supervisor was standing over me. I was expecting an ear bashing for being late, what I got was.

"Simon, you're wanted on the sixth floor. You are to go up there immediately."

"Who wants to see me?"

"Farnforth, in Human Resources!"

"Human Resources: aye." I thought, "Christ I hadn't expected it to work that fast." Human Resources had to be the new name for the Personnel Department and they had always done the hiring and firing in the company. I wondered whether I should clear out my desk before I bothered to go up there.

"Well, are you going or not?" he demanded when I didn't immediately leap to my feet.

I picked up my still nearly full mug of coffee -- bringing an even blacker look the numbskulls face -- and headed for the lifts.

===================

When I arrived at the door that had a cardboard sign declaring "Human Resources" taped over the painted on words: "Personnel Department." I'd noted those cardboard signs stuck on nearly every door on the sixth floor.

"Simon, you better go straight in, Roger's been waiting for you!" Jean, one of the few faces I'd recognised on the sixth, grinned at me.

Then confusing me even more she gave me a double thumbs up signal and hurried me along with a sideways gesture of her head. Still confused I gently tapped on the door and strode into the room.

"Simon, come in; pleased to meet you at last." Farnforth said, rising to his feet and proffering his hand for me to shake.

Then clearing a space on his crowded desk for me to put my coffee he added, "Take a seat please?"

Having sat where he'd indicated, I suppose we eyed each other for a few seconds before I asked. "You wanted to see me Mr Farnforth?"

"Roger, please, Simon? Yes now, tell me what do you know about computers?"

"Computers?"

"Yes computers. Things have got to change around here Simon and your department is going to be moving into the twentieth century very shortly. Most of the paperwork done in there should have been computerised years ago. Far more efficient!"

"Yes well, I should imagine I'll soon be able to pick up the new system."

"Wow Simon, you misunderstand me. We don't want you to work with a new system. We want you to help the programmers design it."

"I'm sorry?" I wasn't quite sure that I understood what Roger Farnforth was saying. There was no way I could write a computer program and I expressed the fact to Roger.

Roger laughed and explained to me that professional computer programmers would write the software. The job he was offering me was to work with them and ensure that the program they wrote fulfilled the tasks the company needed it to do.

"Shouldn't my supervisor be doing that job?" I suggested.

Farnforth, looked at me long and hard, before he said. "Simon, you know as well as anyone that that bloody idiot would be lost before he even got started. He sits behind the desk only because his father is a member of the same Lodge as this company's previous MD. I don't believe the new CEO will tolerate that kind of thing.

"No, you're the ideal candidate. But I believe you'll have to keep an eye on what's happening in the department at the same time. Things appear to go a little haywire down there when you are not around.

"Now if you are prepared to undertake the task, we'll get down to the details; your salary for instance."

"Just a minute Mr Farnforth..."

"Roger!"

"Okay Roger. What about all the staff? Surely modernisation is going to lead to a lot of redundancies."

"It's termed rationalisation nowadays Simon. Yes, some of your co-workers will probably go; the department won't need as many staff. But, as many as we can, will be redeployed elsewhere in the company.

"Simon, whether you or anyone else helps with this modernisation, that fact won't change. Are you in?"

I thought for a few moments. If I was on the inside myself, I might be able to... protect at least some of my colleagues' jobs.

"Well, on the proviso that any members of the present staff are offered alternative employment within the company; I'm in!"

"Brilliant! But you drive a hard bargain. It's agreed that all non-supervisory staff will be offered alternative employment. We are expecting the organisation to expand in the long term anyway. Now we'll going to leave everything down there as it is, until we've got this modernisation underway. However to start with, you will spend most every morning up here of the sixth floor with the computer programmers. They're ensconced in the conference room now, waiting to talk to you. The sooner you brief them on what needs to be done, then the sooner they can get started. I'll take you down there now.

I spent the rest of that morning and most of the afternoon -- I'm not sure what happened to my lunch hour that day -- cloistered in the conference room with half a dozen computer geeks trying to explain what was needed. Not that I was sure I understood myself what was required. But I was surprised that the geeks appeared to think their work wasn't going to take very long. I kinda got the impression that all they had to do was make modifications to programs they already had written, and were being used elsewhere.

Oh yeah, the high point of the day was that Marsha had apparently been assigned to keep us stocked-up with tea, coffee and sandwiches. I really enjoyed saying, "Thank you, Marsha!" in the most condescending tone of voice I could muster.

One of the geeks asked if there was any history between us. I smiled and told him "Not of the kind you imagine!"

I got some work done back at my desk, but I had to fend-off a lot of questions about where I'd been all day. I hadn't thought about how to answer them, so I remained as noncommittal as I could get away with.

My supervisor sat in his office glowering at me. I'm sure he had an inkling as to what was in the wind. He was still sitting in his office with a sullen expression on his face when I left for the evening.

===================

As I left my flat for work the following morning, there were some removal guys carrying furniture into the empty flat opposite mine. Nothing odd really, it was a bachelor pad type complex and people were moving in and out all the time. One thing I did notice was that all the furniture I saw looked like it was brand new to me, straight from the showroom. The guys had to move their lorry so that I could get my car out. That made me late for work again and I wasn't best pleased about that, for obvious reasons.

At the office, I'd parked my car already, when I found myself doing a double take of one of the reserved parking place signs. It had "Simon Truman" written on the bugger, with "IT Liaison" below.

I must have stood there for several minutes convincing myself that my eyes were not deceiving me and that I was seeing, what I thought they were seeing. I was only brought back to the real world, when out of the corner of my eye; I noted four of the new guys rushing down the main entrances steps. One of them I recognised as the guy that Marsha was usually running along behind.

As they approached a black cab that had apparently just pulled up at the bottom of the entrance steps, John Wayne stepped out of the bugger. Well not really John Wayne, but a bloody good look-alike.

He had the same build as the actor and looked to me like he was seven foot tall. But that was probably because, even though he was dressed in a business suit, he had a massive Stetson perched on his head and a pair of cowboy boots -- with at least two-inch heels -- on his feet. You know, the quintessential incarnation of a Texan oil millionaire we've all seen in films. I was a little surprised that he wasn't wearing spurs, holster and gun.

After exchanging brief greetings with his welcoming committee, he turned back to the taxi and assisted an elegant woman to alight.

Chalk and cheese! The woman looked half his size even with her three-inch stilettos. I figured she was about forty-five, maybe fifty years old, and noted that she was carrying those years extremely efficiently.

For just an instant she glanced in my direction and smiled. I've got to say I had no idea at the time, whether she had smiled at me, or just returned the stupid grin I had on my face. And I still don't know whether I was grinning myself because I'd just seen that reserved parking sign with my name on it, or that I'd found the sight of her cowboy companion slightly humorous.

Look, you don't come across many people dressed as he was in the UK; not even in the country and western bars and dance clubs.

The woman had an enchanting and vaguely familiar face, which was to trouble me for the rest of the day. Still smiling she said something to the big man, who also glanced my in my direction, and appeared to study me carefully me for an instant, moving his head back and actually appearing to get even taller as he did so.

Then he said a few words to the woman before returning to talk with the welcoming committee as they all made their way up the steps and into the building. The elegant woman sneaked another smiling glance my way just before she stepped through the door.

There was something about that woman that I couldn't get my head around. Film star looks, okay maybe an older film star, but you know what I mean and... Oh yeah, that picture of an air-stewardess in mufti crept into my brain. I remembered someone else bringing that thought into my mind, but I couldn't recall whom at that moment.

The doors were closing on both lifts by the time I followed them inside, so I waited and watched the indicators as they up to the seventh floor and slowly returned again.

===================

"What about redundancies?" I heard one of my colleagues call out even before I'd entered the department.

As I made the door, the first thing I noted was that everyone was sitting on chairs grouped around my desk. Roger Farnforth was actually sat on my desk and another man -- I'd never seen before -- was standing beside him addressing everyone.

"We do not envisage any redundancies at all in this department. That was the first query Simon had before he accepted the position. Eventually though, we envisage that some of you will be invited to transfer to other departments. Please understand that this modernisation is long overdue. The new management accept that you've done so well considering the archaic conditions you've been working under so stoically. We have no intention of forgetting your dedication this company.

"Now things are going to get worse for Simon. He's going to have to keep this department struggling along, as well as spend a lot of his time helping design and implement the new systems. His first thought was for you, his work colleagues. I hope you'll all give him all the support needs."

Then the guy, who'd obviously seem me enter the department, gestured to where I was standing.