I’ve been umming and ahhing about buying Death Curse Intransigent, and was rather hoping Crackdown would have put his review up by now. He tends to finish games within days of their release, such is his commitment to his craft – but this game has confused and frustrated him as much as anyone else.
I think I’ll hold off on buying it for a while. I don’t need any more frustration in my life right now. Not with Zap Graphics stealing jobs off me, and my bowels refusing to work properly.
I don’t recognise the Uber driver who’s taking me across town. He must be new. I use the service so much that I’ve become pretty familiar with all of the drivers in my local area.
Mustafa drives a rather nice Mercedes, I must say.
I tell him as much as I climb into the back seat.
‘Thank you very much, sir! It’s a wonderful car to drive!’ he tells me enthusiastically, before pulling away from my block of flats and beginning the twenty-three-and-a-half-mile journey to Fluidity. According to the Uber app, we should get there in twenty-nine minutes, so I sit back and try to relax as much as I can, with a little more Candy Crush.
During the journey, Mustafa tells me all about why he decided to buy the Mercedes over the Audi, and I pass another five Candy Crush levels. I also receive a text from my friend Fergus, reminding me about the drinks party he’s holding to celebrate his promotion at work, and also telling me that I have to watch season three of Kill Space on Netflix, as it’s literally the best show he’s ever watched. I reply, telling him that I will of course be at the party, and will also watch the show.
In actual fact, though, I doubt I’ll get around to it any time soon, as my watch list is already longer than my arm.
My watch list on Amazon Prime Video is only slightly shorter. There just aren’t enough hours in the day!
After that, I take a quick look on Tinder, as you never know when the future love of your life might pop up on your phone screen. I end up swiping left seven times, and right once, on a particularly pretty black-haired girl with a set of lovely green eyes, called Grace. I don’t hold out much hope that she’ll also swipe right on me, but Tinder is more about the fantasy than the reality, in my experience.
‘We have arrived, sir!’ Mustafa tells me in a happy, excited tone. He must be angling for the coveted five-star review.
‘Thank you,’ I reply, and gather up my rucksack, checking that the iPad is still plugged into the bag’s inbuilt charger. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it is. I never want a repeat performance of what happened at Spinnaker Sails. Everything was going so well until the bloody battery ran out. I’m pretty sure that was one of the main reasons why they chose Zap Graphics over me. It’s a little hard to show off your graphic design skills when all you have to work with is a pen and one of their napkins. The K1425 Smart Rucksack cost me a small fortune, but I’ll never turn up to another business meeting with a battery on less than 100 per cent again.
As Mustafa drives away, I thumb in a five-star review on Uber, before swiping it away and checking my emails one final time. I’m still waiting on a response from McGifferty’s Pies about whether they want me to pitch for their new shop logo. My teeth grind together as I see that there still isn’t one. Paul McGifferty promised he’d get back to me within one week, and it’s been nearly two.
Never mind.
That’s not important now.
I have to concentrate on getting across the line with Fluidity. That’s all that matters. Like my Instagram friend Lucas La Forte says – you have to focus on your goals! He has a Porsche, and a haircut you could eat your dinner off, so he must know what he’s talking about.
I feel my stomach flip over and hear it give a little gurgle as I walk into the enormous glass office block that contains the Fluidity offices on the twelfth floor.
These kinds of meetings never go down well with my internal workings – be they the ones in my gut or the ones in my head. Being a self-employed, freelance graphic designer is not easy on the mind or body. Especially not when the spectre of Zap Graphics is constantly looming over one shoulder.
During the ride in the elevator up to the twelfth floor, I note that Jerry Pimbleton has replied to my last comment on Facebook, with another lengthy diatribe about how the lorries will kill off his begonias. I’ll have to read it and respond later.
I also check the weather for this evening, choose the Chinese restaurant I’m going to order my dinner from on Deliveroo, and look at my DeviantArt page. On the last, I’m pleased to see that the illustration I drew last night of Imiko from Death Curse Intransigent has gone down a storm. I may not have bought the game yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m not buying into the hype. So far, the picture has over seven hundred likes, and I’ve gained thirteen followers. A warm bloom of happiness swells in my chest as the elevator door bings open.
I walk down the rather nondescript corridor, and arrive at the main door to Fluidity’s offices. These do not look nondescript. Not in the slightest.
In fact, if there’s some great universal scale on which nondescript is at one end, then these offices must be at the other. They are superdescript. Megadescript. There’s so much descript going on here, you could bottle it and sell it at a car boot sale.
I would say a riot of colour hits me as I walk through the doorway and into the offices proper, but that wouldn’t do it justice. This isn’t a riot. It’s a bloody thermo-global nuclear war.
Fluidity designs clothes exclusively for Generation Z. And Generation Z really loves a lot of colour. I know this because I googled it.
I’m thirty-six now, and am therefore completely disconnected from the youth of today, but the world’s most popular search engine has told me all that I need to know about Generation Z’s fashion choices. They largely consist of bits of multicoloured material, sewn together haphazardly before being torn to pieces by a hyperactive badger.
The interior decor of the Fluidity offices apes this approach to an alarming degree. No two walls are the same colour. Hell, no two square yards of wall are the same colour. It’s headache-inducing.
But I dutifully sit down on one of the brightly coloured plastic chairs in the reception area, having been directed there by the receptionist, who gave me a very funny look for daring to be over the age of twenty-five.
While I wait for someone to come and get me, I have another look at Twitter, to see that Fat Chance has been replaced at the top of what’s trending by the latest shenanigans in Parliament. I generally ignore everything to do with politics, as in recent years it’s become abundantly clear that those who work in it roundly ignore everything to do with me.
I also read Jerry’s Facebook post properly, and find myself grinding my teeth at his selfishness. There have been no additional comments on my latest DeviantArt picture in the last few minutes – which is rather disappointing, as I really thought I was gaining traction.
Then I pull the iPad out of my rucksack, and have one last-minute read-through of the presentation. I absently rub the back of my neck and my shoulder as that familiar aching pain reappears. I should probably get something done about that.
‘Andy!’ a clipped voice says from off to my left. I look up to see someone dressed in Fluidity clothing coming towards me. I wish I was wearing sunglasses.
This must be Pikky – the person who arranged this meeting with me.