Same Time Next Week

Chapter 5

Well, it was a day later in coming than she’d expected, thought Amanda, as she switched on her Mac and the first email she saw was one from Linus’s PA, asking if she would pop up to the directorate at eleven. She knew what it was about, of course; her disastrous presentation to him on Monday, when she’d done a modern-day equivalent of the Morecambe and Wise/Andre Previn sketch: I’m saying all the right words, but not necessarily in the right order.

Philip, the head of her department, had really wanted the team to dazzle in that meeting and she’d let him down. He’d stood up and taken over, manipulating her off to the side as if she wasn’t embarrassed enough, standing there stuttering, her dark brown hair lank, face shiny because her sweat glands had chosen this time of all times to crank up and pump out every bit of moisture inside her that they could find. She had been convinced ever since that people were laughing about her, discussing her: Did you see that walking fountain and how can we get her out of the company?

So at five to eleven, Amanda set off from marketing like a condemned prisoner, upstairs to the top offices with the newly fitted bouncy blue carpet that denoted she was now in ‘director zone’. She took a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at her temples before knocking on the door of Linus’s PA. She was twenty-five, assured, smart and had no idea that one day this could be her: damp enough to grow mould, tired yet unable to sleep, brain fog so thick it could have appeared in a James Herbert novel; ready for the knacker’s yard.

The young, slim, dry, coherent woman showed her through to Linus’s office.

Linus Hastings Crowther, aged twelve.

Slight exaggeration. Linus had his fortieth birthday on the same day that Amanda had her fifty-fourth. He’d been in situ for three months. Amanda wasn’t the type to think a boss necessarily had to be older to be efficient, because Linus was very efficient and he’d gone through the business like a dose of salts, making it pull up its britches. He was one of the famous industry ‘superpowers’, whizz kids who had turned into whizz men who flitted from company to company working their magic, applying a seasoned axe with the skill of Uhtred son of Uhtred to the dead wood and one did not get into those lofty positions by being Mr Nice-Guy. Many of these behemoths were on the psychopathic scale with their charming veneers and ability to sleep like a baby after separating a family man from his salary when good business sense dictated it. Anyway, her neck was so damp that if he intended to apply an axe to it, the blade would slide to one side. Maybe that’s what happened in Mary Queen of Scots’ case, because she remembered from history that it had taken a couple of attempts at least to separate her head from the rest of her. Was Mary having her last hot flash? As if her execution wasn’t enough horse-crap on her day.

‘Ah, Amanda, do come in and take a seat’, said Linus with a smile. It looked genuine enough, but how could it be? He wasn’t here to offer her a promotion because he thought she’d handled herself with aplomb in the boardroom, and it was too much to hope he was looking for a new court jester. Philip, no doubt, had been distancing himself from the debacle, dripping his poison into Linus’s ear about her. Linus gestured towards the chair at the other side of his enormous desk. Mon Enfant spent a lot on their office furniture. At least for the executives, who had throne-like leather swivel chairs, and the best drawers and cupboards that South American mahogany trees could make.

As Amanda sat, Linus got up, as if he were on the other end of a see-saw.

‘Coffee? Tea? Water?’

Unexpected. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She’d better deny herself the opportunity of spilling it all over herself. It wouldn’t be a great look, covered in coffee as well as perspiration pouring out of her forehead as if there was a dodgy tap behind it.

‘Sure? I’m having one.’

‘Not for me, but thank you.’

Linus walked to one corner of his office where there was a water cooler. He took a glass and held it up to the dispensing nozzle. Amanda studied him from the back, noting how snow white his shirt was. He always wore white and all his shirts looked fresh out of the packet. And all his suits were tailored to fit his long slim build but surprisingly wide shoulders. He couldn’t have got that shape off a peg.

Linus returned to the desk and sat on his chair. He took a sip and Amanda waited for the shitstorm to begin. The sooner it did so, the sooner it would stop.

‘Well, it’s nice to finally have a one-to-one with you, Amanda. We’ve only really said hello in passing so far more or less, haven’t we?’

‘Yes,’ Amanda tried to smile and failed dismally. The tension in the air was thickening by the microsecond.

‘So…’

Here we go.

‘I’ve invited you in because of…’ He paused, and Amanda filled in the rest of the sentence for him in her head:… of some concerns about you being in charge of an annual budget you can’t even pronounce.

Amanda swallowed, felt her cheeks begin to glow with an uncomfortable warmth. Looking for a new job at her age was going to be a laugh.

She was wrong though. Linus started his sentence again.

‘Can I be frank? I want to talk to you… because you’re a woman.’

That was also unexpected.

‘Not quite with you, Linus,’ Amanda said slowly, in case she was missing something that was glaringly obvious.

‘There aren’t a lot of women in this company, are there? Which is odd for a firm that specialises in baby equipment. Why do you think that is?’

No, there weren’t, that was true. It didn’t help that the head of HR was a closeted misogynist and only set on men, where he had a choice. Also there had been three other women in the marketing department until Philip became its manager and he’d managed to drive them all out with his rigid, ungiving leadership style. He seemed to think they were an alien race out to make his life difficult when they needed to leave early for a school emergency or to take an elderly parent to an appointment or had rung in sick with crippling period pains. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her when she’d had to stand by an open window just to cool down for five minutes or disappear off to the loo mid-meeting because her bladder now gave her ten seconds notice to get there. But could she say all this to Linus or should she just rattle her head and play dumb. That would have been the safer course, but too often these days the brake on her better judgement just didn’t operate like it should.

She’d expected to come into his room and be given a warning for being incompetent, maybe a push towards the exit door, that’s what the climate of this company had instilled in her to presume but it hadn’t happened. What did she have to lose by saying to him what she’d tried to say to HR on three separate occasions? She hadn’t even tried to sit Philip down because he’d have run off with his fingers in his ears singing ‘la la la’.

‘This is not a woman-friendly organisation, Linus. It’s scared them all off.’

There, it was out, the words hanging in the air in twenty-foot, flashing neon, unmissable letters. Words that acted like a slap on Linus’s face, from the look of it.

‘You’re going to have to explain that statement,’ he replied eventually.

In for a penny…

Her tongue darted out of her mouth, wetted her lips in preparation to give him the big reveal. She realised that whatever she said couldn’t be taken back, there was no rewind button and so she’d better get it right.

‘A little understanding of women’s health circumstances would go a long way in this industry. I don’t know why it’s taking so long for management to realise this. We lost a wonderful young graduate last year because she was going through terrible monthly pains with her periods and needed time off when they struck her, even though she didn’t want the time off because she was fully committed to her post. She was prepared to work from home on such days but she wasn’t allowed to. In the end it was suggested to her that she might be better off finding a job more flexible to her condition, even though it was totally within our remit to be that flexible, so she did and she’s thriving at Tesco – our loss was very much their gain,’ Amanda began. It had greatly angered her when she found out about it. She just hoped that Linus was ready for more matters female and gynaecological because her gun was loaded with them.

‘We lost Mo from Marketing because she had a parent who was terminally ill and Philip wouldn’t give her any time off, nothing, not even to use up her holiday days, so she had no choice but to hand in her notice. Sandra, dreadful depression thanks to the menopause. She’d been a solid worker for fifteen years and yet she was made to feel like an inconvenience, a drain on the company, so she left. And take myself. The menopause has hit me like a sledgehammer, Linus. I forget things, I say “animal budgie” when I mean “annual budget” in meetings’ – she thought she’d get that in – ‘I sweat, I get panic attacks sometimes, I can’t sleep at night so I arrive at work with eyes swollen and bloodshot and sometimes I find myself forced to take a cat-nap at my desk in the afternoon, leading to some sneering – from Philip, again – as if I’m some sort of mid-week party girl. I have to pause meetings to go to the loo, and I know how I’m being talked about behind my back for all this and trust me, that does nothing for my already hormonally-induced elevated anxiety levels. I’ve been here for over twenty years, never even took a sick day. I know my job inside out, I’ve even won awards but this past couple of years, all I can think of is getting to the earliest retirement date I can reach and then handing in my notice, because I don’t like what I’m seeing regarding how women are treated here, how I’m being treated here. Yes, there are always going to be those who ride the system, but there are plenty of women who have been loyal and hard-working and are going through changes over which they have little control, and you’ll lose the ones you haven’t already if this firm doesn’t alter its ways.’

She was well aware she was giving him a monologue worthy of Shakespeare, but she had his ear and she wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

‘Yes, our mothers put up and shut up about the menopause but we shouldn’t have to, Linus, because it’s not myth or made up; these changes happening within us are real and they tend to clobber us when we’ve got elderly parents and children to get through their own difficult stages. It can impact on our whole lives and it needs to be talked about more, not less; it isn’t a dirty secret and it shouldn’t be treated as such. Have you any idea how many things it affects: our mental health as well as our physical, our bones, our joints, our sleep, our bladders, our self-worth, our hair, our skin, our heart rates… and don’t even get me started on the rage , Linus.

‘I don’t know what vitamins to take and do I take them with black pepper, turmeric, ashwagandha, apple cider vinegar? I don’t know what sort of collagen; bovine, marine, or even if any of them do any good – powders, capsules, gummies? I don’t know why I’ve apparently got a folic acid deficiency, because who knew women of my age were supposed to take it. Magnesium helps for sleep – or does it, and if so what sort? And then you’ve got size zero celebs on the TV pratting about, not a bead of sweat on their heads after a two-hour session with their personal trainers, sponsored by companies, telling us we’ll all have superpowers if we take their stupidly expensive supplements… and how we want to believe them, so we stump up. If men went through the menopause, there would have been definitive programmes and information and help in place for years.’

She let loose a long breath by way of a full stop and allowed that to sink in. If Linus’s expression was anything to go by, it would take some time. He looked buried under the avalanche of her words. She dabbed at her face with a fresh tissue because the effort of saying all that had made her start sweating again. Who even knew that top lips could drip as much? She was a living, breathing example of what she’d just been describing. But then her dad had always told her to tell the truth. Her mother left any disciplining to him so he’d take her out for an ice cream and they’d sit on a wall, or in a café, and he’d give her the gentlest pep talks which sank in far more than a slap or shouting would have. Always tell the truth and be true to yourself. And she had, give or take the odd little white lies that she’d told to spare the feelings of others.

‘Well, thank you for being so candid,’ said Linus, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. His brain was clearly chewing on her words, as if they were one of her bloody useless collagen gummies. ‘This… this has totally bypassed me.’ He gave a small laugh, rooted in a mix of confusion and embarrassment.

‘I’ve tried to raise this with Carl in in HR on numerous occasions. No point with Philip.’ Sod it, they needed dobbing in, Amanda decided.

Linus pressed his hands together, tapped them against his mouth as if setting his thoughts to a rhythm.

‘So what do we do?’ he asked eventually. ‘How can I help change things? Make them better?’

Amanda gulped. ‘Really?’

‘Well yes of course. I don’t want to add to the list of men who are ignoring this in the workplace. How do we approach it sensibly and sensitively? How do we march forward? I’d like your assistance if you could.’

This really wasn’t turning out for either of them as they expected when she walked in through Linus’s office door.

‘I was hoping to beat Carl into submission by trying to pin him down again. I had some fresh ideas, I can collect more. I don’t mean forty extra days holiday per year sort of ideas, let’s be clear,’ said Amanda. ‘Constructive, workable suggestions that will improve things for women at certain stages of their lives while causing the minimum disruption to the company. There’s a meeting place in the middle. You’ll always get the odd person who wants to milk the complications of their sex, but for all women to be judged on that basis is unfair.’

‘I totally agree, Amanda. This is very exciting.’ Linus was talking and thinking at the same time; she could virtually see the cogs turning in his skull. ‘This could really send wide ripples throughout every workplace in the country,’ he went on. ‘We could lead. ’

Amanda nodded. ‘Yes we could.’ Initially it would need someone at Linus’s level to make changes with HR because Carl had all the bending capabilities of tungsten. He and Philip were a pair in that, which was probably why they got on like a house on fire – each recognising a fellow twat in the other, was the general consensus.

‘May I ask what your personal circumstances are – at home, your set-up, as background?’ asked Linus. ‘Do you have a family to care for, for instance?’

She found his curiosity touching and she trusted its face value so she answered honestly.

‘I’m single, I have no children. I have a mother in her eighties to care for and I see her almost every day after work and at weekends. I’ve had to use most of my holiday entitlement up to take her here, there and everywhere.’

‘My own mother cared for both her elderly parents as well as holding down a full-time job and bringing me up. My childless uncle, who could have done much more, didn’t,’ Linus traded with her.

‘I have a brother too and it’s more or less the same scenario.’

Linus gave her an understanding smile before he spoke again.

‘Amanda, can you compile a report for me of what you were going to take to HR? I mean I could, I suppose, look things up on the internet but it would carry more weight if someone like yourself, going through what you are, could show me first-hand what might be useful.’

‘I did intend to hold focus groups, talk to women outside Mon Enfant…’ Discussion groups within the company so far had proved useless. No one wanted to talk in case it was held against them, plus they didn’t trust that anything would be done anyway, so it was pointless.

‘Then please still do that. I can give you a small budget for whatever you need. And I’ll make sure that Philip gives you some leeway if you have to arrange anything in office hours.’

‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ said Amanda. The seed of an idea popped into her brain that would stretch to benefitting someone else, too.

‘It would be good to stop women who work for me bending so much they snap.’ Then he looked at Amanda as if he might be talking about her and she swallowed.

Linus glanced at his watch.

‘If I may be so bold… you look totally shattered. Go home, recharge, and we’ll see you back in the office on Monday.’

‘Go… go home?’ she repeated to clarify.

‘Yes, Amanda, go home.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll let you tell Philip.’

At home, Amanda sat at the table with a sandwich from the bakery around the corner, a pot of tea and her address book. She flicked to the ‘B’ page and typed a number into her phone. It connected after two rings and a husky, friendly voice poured from it into her ear.

‘Hello, stranger. How lovely to hear from you.’

‘You know how it is, Barb, weeks turn into months.’

‘… And into years. Trust me, this I know. What have you got for me? Is it a sex-scandal scoop?’

Amanda laughed. ‘No, it’s pie with ice cream scoop. Blueberry pie, genuine American blueberry pie.’

‘Tell me more,’ said Barb with a purr.

‘New diner opened up on Spring Hill just outside Penistone. Absolutely gorgeous gen-u-ine Texan bought it and he’s having a bit of difficulty luring customers in, which is a bummer because it’s fab. Just needs a magic wand waved by a hot reporter.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Do you know any?’

Barb hooted. She had a laugh like a female Sid James.

‘Seriously. It would make a great feature and if he offers to ply you with pie, say yes immediately. And you’d go to heaven obviously for doing someone a good turn.’

‘I’m on it. What’s it called?’

‘Ray’s Diner.’

‘I’ll get it in this weekend.’