Chapter 18
A ‘special meeting’ is put in the shared calendar the following Monday by Angus, with three exclamation marks in the subject line.
Attendance is compulsory for all senior staff, meaning any prior plans must be cancelled – even holidays or medical appointments.
And yes, I suspect that does include triple bypass surgery.
‘I’ve just seen Carole bringing in a tray of posh sandwiches,’ Kayla says gravely, as we take the lift to the third floor. ‘You know it’s serious when the budget stretches to those.’
Today is our first opportunity since the takeover to meet Niles Fischer, CEO of our new owners, the Barisian Group – aka, Mr Big.
‘You can almost smell the tension in the building, can’t you?’ Kayla whispers, as the doors close.
‘I think that’s the air-con filter,’ I reply, though she’s not wrong.
‘So what do you think? Is he going to sack us all on the spot?’
‘Oh, I doubt it. He’ll say something about how day-to-day operations will remain the same but that he has ambitions to improve value for customers and take a larger market share.
He’ll admit that roles and responsibilities may be under review but will stress that the company is absolutely committed to treating everyone fairly and respectfully. ’
She looks at me, perplexed.
‘That’s what they always say,’ I add, as the lift opens.
I’ve been through periods of change in the past, cost-cutting exercises at this company and at my last employer.
But a takeover is a new one. I keep telling myself not to assume the worst, but I can’t not think about this.
I need to have some kind of contingency up my sleeve if I do need to leave.
And frankly, it’s hard to see what that would look like.
I do know a couple of women my age, school mums mainly, who stopped working when they had kids and never went back.
But there’s been only one income in our household since Ed died, and now I’m facing three years of Frankie’s university fees.
Things were already feeling tight even without this uncertainty.
We enter the room to find Angus in a state of high excitement, pacing about like a groom at the altar.
‘Well, this is all very exciting, isn’t it?
’ he says, which is an eccentric take on the situation given the number of job losses the Financial Times was speculating about this morning.
‘One thing before the guest of honour arrives. Make sure he has first dibs on the cheese sandwiches. I don’t want there to be a scrum and him be only left with prawns. ’
When the door opens and a man I recognise from his Wikipedia entry as Niles Fischer appears, Angus jumps to attention.
He ushers him into the boardroom and we all sit around the table in a suitable state of awe.
He has thick, silver hair, which he styles upwards in a little point, and a tan that gives him the air of a retired ski champion.
He’s got one of those perfectly symmetrical faces that is empirically handsome but oddly unattractive all at once.
In a certain light, he might have been created by AI.
The only thing I know about him is what I’ve googled. That he is Swiss-Canadian, fifty-eight years old and, as chairman of the Barisian Group and owner of multiple high-street retailers both in the UK and abroad, has a net worth that would make your eyes water. After a short, excruciating
introduction in which Angus takes the definition of arse-licking to new heights, Niles addresses the room in a smooth, baritone voice.
‘Hi everybody. Let me start by saying how wonderful it is to be here in Manchester.’
There’s a murmur of approval, led by Angus, who is grinning so hard his nose is almost running.
‘The purpose of today’s visit is not merely to introduce myself, but also to talk about day-to-day operations, which will remain the same for the foreseeable.
Our vision for the future is, I suspect, a shared one: to increase value for customers and take a larger market share.
While there may of course be changes to roles and responsibilities down the line, I’m committed to treating everyone fairly and with respect. ’
Kayla flashes me a look from the other side of the table. I return it and lower my gaze.
It is patently clear from Niles’s speech that he’s done this before, probably many times.
He says a great deal without saying anything at all.
It’s a skill that I suspect will leave everyone temporarily soothed, before they start panicking about job security the moment they step out of the room.
Unfortunately for me, I can already feel the panic rising, as he finishes his talk by inviting us to ask questions.
‘Just looking at the time, I think it’s probably best we move onto the sandwiches,’ Angus jumps in, clearly terrified one of us is going to show him up. I’m so convinced he’s about to thrust a platter at Niles before we find out anything meaningful, that I pipe up myself.
‘Actually, I do have a question,’ I say. I need some answers, even if nobody else seems prepared to put themselves out there. Everyone turns to look at me. ‘I wondered when you hope to have the review of the business completed?’
‘I’m aiming to have a clearer picture within three months. Certainly before the end of June.’
‘Brilliant!’ declares Angus, like Niles has just pulled a rabbit out of a hat. ‘Now, how about that lunch?’