Do Not Disturb - Friday

Walk into a shabby hotel lobby and in the absence of one of those A-boards listing room venues for the various pale-faced business executives meeting to discuss redundancy plans, I traipse across to the reception desk.

Although I’ve mentally buffed my CV, to date I’ve not physically updated it, principally because seeing almost Olympian under-achievement in stark on-screen Times New Roman will only serve to deepen the depression, but it’s clear English as a first language isn’t going to help much in the hotel and leisure business anyway.

‘No, the estate agents.’ I reiterate, after I’ve been offered the venue for a carpet company and some sort of new age beardy-weirdy seminar. Although on reflection any sort of shag pile, or even a polar bear rescue plan, will top what I’m about to endure.

‘Ok.’ Replies the woman who has a name badge seemingly devoid of vowels. ‘Second floor, you take lift.’ And she points towards a pokey corner where a dull elevator door lurks menacingly. Familiarly, I get the feeling derision for my profession crosses all EU boundaries. Either way, I take the stairs. There are some lessons to be learnt after all this time in property and not trusting poorly maintained lifts is one.

As I make the upper hall, breath shortened, dust motes dancing unsettlingly in my eyes, there’s a ping and a Star Trek-style swish, before H my vertically challenged rival manager appears from the carriage.

‘Didn’t you know there was a lift?’ He asks with a sneer as poorly disguised as the receptionist’s.
‘Don’t trust them.’ I enlighten the poison dwarf, before scanning the pale wood doors for the right number.
‘Always make thing’s hard for yourself don’t you?’ Offers H, as I begin to fantasise about that Land Of The Giants TV programme in my youth, and imagine scooping the little twerp up and stuffing him in my brief case.

‘Right shit-hole this place.’ Opines H, unfortunately from somewhere near my navel, rather than secreted in a secure Samsonite.
‘Cheaper apparently.’ I muse, as we both reach the designated door and enter.

The other managers are gathered around a tightly drawn table, flip chart to one side, making small talk as the bean counter boss fiddles with his laptop VGA connector. Gloomily I gaze at the portable display screen a minion is erecting with difficulty, and I silently yearn for those old fashioned laminate projectors that at least limited the number of slides a verbally challenged presenter could inflict.

One cup of bitter stewed coffee and a stale Danish pastry later, the screen comes to life and a litany of failure begins scrolling to the assembly. We all know the numbers; our commission-heavy salary depends on them. So this monthly group flagellation by PowerPoint doesn’t add anything to the debate.

Thoroughly demoralised by the bean counter’s charmless delivery I begin gazing out of the window and idly wondering if I could grab one of the fire reel hoses and abseil out, Die Hard style, leaving the others to burn. Until I realise someone is talking to me.

‘Well?’ Demands the bean counter, finger no longer on his touch-pad, pointing accusingly at me. ‘Do you want to get us started?’
Blankly I stare back, and all I can think is I haven’t any matches, until my next-door neighbour whispers.
‘Market report!’

Now here’s another unwanted dilemma. Does the bean counter want fact or fiction? Is he after what you might tell a seller, or a buyer? Or should I just take a chance and jump.

Round the table we go with a mixture of blind optimism, stark reality and at least one Hans Christian Anderson style fairy tale of stabilised and gently rising prices. My pitch, needless to say, leans towards the brothers Grimm, before we move onto cost saving and consolidation plans.

‘Do you reckon the cabinet do this sort of thing?’ I ask a sympathetic ear as we leave. After all if offices are expected to consolidate their register and staff then close because we got the sums horribly wrong, surely you don’t need two comedian’s living at number ten and eleven?

I stop off at the reception briefly - but apparently they have no vacancies.