Sam,
What the fuck is going on? Next time you feel like announcing a new staff initiative, would you mind consulting the other directors?
Malcolm
The next is even more to the point:
Sam,
What’s this all about? Thanks for the heads-up. Not.
Vicks
I feel a twinge of guilt. It never occurred to me that I might get Sam into trouble with his colleagues. But surely everyone will see the beneficial side as soon as the ideas start flooding in.
Dear Sam,
The word is that you’re appointing a new “ideas czar.” You may recall that this was my idea, which I raised in a departmental meeting three years ago. I find it a little rich that my initiative has been appropriated and very much hope that when the appointment is made, I will be at the top of the short list.
Otherwise, I fear I will have to make a complaint to a more senior level.
Best,
Martin
What?
Dear Sam,
Will we be having a special presentation of all our ideas? Could you please let me know the time limit on a PowerPoint presentation? May we work as teams?
Best wishes,
Mandy
There. You see? A brilliant, positive reaction. Teamwork! Presentations! This is fantastic!
Dear Sam,
Sorry to bother you again.
If we don’t want to work in a team after all, will we be penalized? I have fallen out with my team, but now they know all my ideas, which is totally unfair.
Just so you know, I had the idea about restructuring the marketing department first. Not Carol.
Best,
Mandy
OK. Well, obviously you have to expect a few glitches. It doesn’t matter. It’s still a positive result….
Dear Sam,
I’m sorry to do this, but I wish to make a formal complaint about the behavior of Carol Hanratty.
She has behaved totally unprofessionally in the new-ideas exercise, and I am forced to take the rest of the day off, due to my great distress. Judy is also too distressed to work for the rest of the day, and we are thinking of contacting our union.
Best,
Mandy
What? What?
Dear Sam,
Forgive the long email. You ask for ideas.
Where to start?
I have worked at this company for fifteen years, during which time a long process of disillusionment has silted up my very veins, until my mental processes …
This guy’s email is about fifteen pages long. I drop my phone into my lap, my jaw slack.
I can’t believe all these replies. I never ever meant to cause all this kerfuffle. Why are people so stupid? Why do they have to fight? What on earth have I stirred up?
I’ve read only the first few emails. There are about thirty more to go. If I forward all these to Sam, and he steps off the plane in Germany and gets them in one fell swoop … I suddenly hear his voice again: Round-robin emails are the work of the devil.
And I sent one out in his name. To the whole company. Without consulting him.
Oh God. I’m really wishing I could go back in time. It seemed like such a great idea. What was I thinking? All I know is, I can’t land this on him out of the blue. I need to explain it all to him first. Tell him what I was trying to achieve.
My mind is ticking over now. I mean, he’s in a plane. He’s off-radar. And it’s Friday night, after all. There’s no point forwarding anything to him. Maybe everyone will have calmed down by Monday. Yes.
The phone suddenly bleeps with a text and I jump, startled.
Taking off. Anything I need to know about? Sam
I stare at the phone, my heart beating with slight paranoia. Does he need to know about this right at this very moment? Does he need to?
No. He does not.
Not right now. Have a good trip! Poppy
61 In fact, probably pressing a glass up to it.
62 His waistcoat cost nearly the same amount as my dress.
63 I think cymbals in the work of Coldplay would make more sense, but what do I know?
64 Wanda made beef stroganoff for us the first time I met her. How could I tell her the truth, which is that it makes me gag?
65 He was on Newsnight and everything. According to Magnus, Antony loved all the attention, although he pretended he didn’t. He’s been saying even more controversial things ever since, but none has ever taken off like the Philistines thing.
I don’t know what to do about Antony and Wanda and Antechapelgate, as I’ve named it in my head. So I’ve done nothing. I’ve said nothing.
I know I’m avoiding it. I know it’s weak. I know I should face the situation. But I can barely even take it in, let alone talk about it. Especially to Magnus.
I didn’t realize how good at acting I was. All weekend, I’ve given nothing away. I’ve had dinner with the Tavish family. I’ve been out for a drink with Ruby and Annalise. I’ve laughed and talked and exclaimed and joked and had sex. And all the time there’s been this little gnawing pain in my chest. I’m almost getting used to it.
If they’d say something to me, I’d almost feel better. We could have a stand-up row, and I could convince them that I love Magnus and I’m going to support his career and I do have a brain really. But they’ve said nothing. They’ve been outwardly charming and pleasant, politely inquiring about our house-hunting plans and offering me glasses of wine.
Which only makes it worse. It confirms that I’m an outsider. I’m not even allowed into the family powwow about how unsuitable this new girlfriend of Magnus’s is.
It would even be OK if Magnus hated his parents and didn’t respect their views and we could just write them off as loonies. But he does respect them. He likes them. They get on really well. They agree on most things, and when they don’t agree it’s with good nature and banter. On every subject.
Every subject except me.
I can’t think about it for too long, because I get all upset and panicky, so I allow myself only a tiny snippet of worry at a time. I’ve had my quota for this evening. I sat in a Starbucks after work, nursing a hot chocolate, and got quite morose.
But right now, looking at me, you’d have no idea. I’m in my best LBD and high heels. My makeup is immaculate. My eyes are sparkling (two cocktails). I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror just now, and I look like a carefree girl, wearing an engagement ring, drinking cosmos at the Savoy, with nothing to worry about.
And, to be truthful, my mood is a lot better than it was. Partly because of the cocktails and partly because I’m so thrilled to be here. I’ve never been to the Savoy in my life before. It’s amazing!
The party is in a stunning room with paneling and spectacular chandeliers everywhere and waiters handing out cocktails on trays. A jazz band is playing and, all around, smartly dressed people are chatting in clusters. There are lots of back slaps and handshakes and high fives going on, and everyone seems in a great mood. I don’t know a single person, obviously, but I’m happy just to watch. Every time someone notices me standing on my own and starts to approach, I get out my phone to check my messages, and they turn away again.