An extract from Different Planet – a story about 5 days in an English office available here on Amazon.
continued from Different Planet – 7
“When will you pay us for the 200 we’ve already sent you?” asked Dingle.
“If you agree to double your output, we’ll pay for the others by the end of the month.”
“You were supposed to pay us by the end of last month,” said Dingle, “so that’s not much of an offer, however if I can have that in writing by the end of the day, then I won’t be taking you to the small claims court, as is currently the case.”
“Well sounds like we’ve worked something out, so I will write out what you require right now. Albert, go and introduce yourself to the lads and lasses, you might be working with them in the future – you never know.”
“OK, Jon, I know when I’m not wanted. I’ll go and chat them up. I think I recognise the bald one.” With that Merton walked over to the nearest desk and introduced himself to the bald one.
“Hello, I’m Albert Merton, from Britannical Suppliers, who are you?”
“Hello Al-Al-Albert, I’m Te-Terry Argent, you l-l-look familiar, were you at that pub in Manchester’s gay village on S-Saturday night?”
“I wasn’t, no, I’m not gay.”
“I’m not g-g-gay either. I went for a d-drink with my friend. I had my hand on the b-b-banister and I felt this other h-hand caress mine, that wasn’t y-you then?”
“Why would I want to hold your hand?” blurted Merton.
“Y-you m-might d-do, you might find me a-attractive.”
“I might if I’d had ten pints of strong beer or Kestrel export strength, but under normal circumstances I wouldn’t. That was a joke, I would never find another man attractive, least of all you.”
“I have s-s-seen you before though, somewhere.”
“Wait a second, yes, you’re that git who drives a Sierra Cosworth in the outside lane of the motorway at about 120 mph, aren’t you? You almost hit me once, cos you were driving so fast.”
“Almost r-r-rammed you up the ex-exhaust pipe, did I?” smiled Terry.
“He is a very unforgiving driver,” shouted Barry Dingle, “he was telling me this morning how he was driving along a single-track road last night and neither he nor a car coming in the other direction would give way, so they ended up knocking each other’s wing mirrors off.”
“That’s a bit brainless, isn’t it?” said Merton.
“I-I-I misjudged the w-width of the road,” said Argent laughing slightly, “that’s all – it w-wasn’t a g-gladiatorial c-contest.”
“Right, well whatever turns you on I suppose – nice to have met you anyway,” said Merton, “I’ll move on to your other colleagues, now.”
“Don’t b-b-be a stranger,” said Argent, enjoying Merton’s discomfort. Argent straightened his tie and continued with his work.
“Hello, I’m Christine Montgomery, I work on ordering parts for the company,” said the lady sitting next to Terry Argent.
Julian Worker Fiction Writing 