Oh God.
I don’t want to lose my job. I love my fucking job!
Well . . . I did, up until the last few months anyway. Stratagem was a fun, exciting place to work. We had some great clients (with the large and obnoxious exception of my aforementioned ex-boyfriend, Robert Ainslie Blake), a strong portfolio and a happy work environment. My colleagues and I used to go out together for drinks on a Friday night, and we’d generally have a whale of a time. We got along so well that it was always something I really looked forward to.
I want that back again! I don’t want it to all fall apart!
I don’t want to have to update my bloody CV, and try to prove that I’m worthy of employment to anyone else. I want to stay here!
. . . I’m aware that I’m starting to sound like a spoiled little girl who doesn’t want to go to Grandma’s for tea, but fear and stress always tend to make me regress a bit. Sometimes the unfairness of the world just makes you want to retreat back to a time when things were simpler and easier to understand.
Also, little girls don’t have to go out and find new jobs, do they? The lucky little sods.
At 9.59 a.m., my mouth goes incredibly dry. This always tends to happen to me when I’m extremely nervous. As the clock strikes ten, I take a big swig of water from my Evian bottle, and go to join my colleagues as we troop into the conference room.
If you’ve ever watched an episode of The Walking Dead, you’ll recognise the short line of people that shamble their way in. Or possibly, a more accurate analogy would be a herd of particularly depressed cows going to slaughter.
I take a seat around the circular boardroom table with the other doomed cattle, and start to squeeze my half-empty bottle of water nervously. I can feel my heart jackhammering in my chest as the nerves ramp up.
As we all get about as settled as a group of people can be when they’re terrified, in walks Peter, looking equally nervous. He knows he has some horrible information to impart to us, and he’d quite clearly rather be anywhere else than here – up to and including inside a macerator, next to a pair of dirty Xmas knickers.
And then . . . somebody else walks in behind Peter. A man I have seen only once before.
He’s tall, quite thin, slightly awkward-looking, and wearing a dark-blue suit that’s probably a size too big for him. The thick mop of black hair on top of his head is unruly, and the expression on his face is one of expectant anxiety. He looks to be about my age – though there’s a youthful quality to his face that means he can probably pass for a lot younger in the right light. You might call him ‘unconventionally handsome’, if you were pressed to provide a description. There’s a touch of Adam Driver about his looks.
And it’s him.
The guy from the car park.
The one I nearly murdered with my malfunctioning Mercedes.
Oh, fucking hallelujah. This is going to be wonderful, isn’t it?
Peter gets to the head of the table, with the other man standing next to him, offering us all one of those smiles people tend to plaster over their face when they have to greet a room full of complete strangers.
It’s meant to convey warmth and friendliness, but rather comes across as someone who’s hoping that they’re not about to be assaulted.
‘Thanks for gathering here, folks,’ Peter begins. ‘I’m going to try to keep my part in this meeting as quick as possible, before I hand over to Nolan here.’ His eyes go wide. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, everybody, please say hello to Nolan Reece.’
‘Hi,’ Nolan Reece says, waving a hand at us and broadening that smile a bit.
‘Hi,’ we all parrot back at him, returning the wave. The confusion plastered across our faces must be quite something to behold.
‘So, this is how things are,’ Peter continues, holding out his hands. He takes a deep breath. ‘I have sold Stratagem PR, and will be stepping down immediately as its CEO.’
Gasps. Groans. Moans.
Make no mistake, Peter Rothman has been the best boss I’ve ever had. Kind, hard-working, honest and understanding.
‘Please . . . it’s okay. Honestly it is,’ he tells us. ‘This was the only way this was going to go. I simply couldn’t keep Stratagem running any more in the state it’s in.’
Well, that is a fair enough point, I suppose.
‘It’s right for me to leave, and start a new chapter in my life,’ he says.
Can’t disagree with that. And even as he speaks, I can see a transformation happening on the face of my (former) boss. It’s a cliché to say that someone has a weight lifted from their shoulders, but it genuinely looks like that’s what’s happening to Peter Rothman right now. He grows about two inches right in front of me.
‘But it’s also right that Stratagem continues,’ Peter carries on. ‘And the only way for me to guarantee that was to sell it to someone who can bring it back from the brink.’ He gestures towards the man standing next to him. ‘And that someone is Nolan here.’
Slowly, inexorably, a dozen pairs of eyes turn to regard the tall, skinny man, with a mixture of curiosity, doubt and probably a little fear.
Nobody likes the unknown, do they?
Nolan Reece does the smile-and-wave thing again. ‘Hello everyone, it’s very nice to meet you all,’ he says, and looks at Peter.
‘Er . . . Nolan here is the new owner of the company,’ my former boss tells us, before lapsing into an awkward silence.
Nolan stares at Peter for a moment, before realising that this is his time to speak. ‘Oh! Yes! Yes, I am!’ he says, clapping his hands together and looking back at us. ‘And I’m very happy to have bought it!’
I’m not sure he looks it. In fact, he looks like someone suffering from the same kind of buyer’s remorse I always get after my ASOS order has been delivered.
This, as you can imagine, I find extremely reassuring.
‘I’m happy to have bought it, because it gives me a chance to both secure the future of such a renowned and respected PR company . . .’
Hmmm. Not sure we’re all that renowned, to be honest, but I like his confidence in us.
‘ . . . and also because it gives me a chance to do something I’ve always wanted to do.’
Make your employees fight to the death for their jobs?
Nolan Reece seems to relax as he speaks. Now we’re past that awkward introduction stage, he’s warming to the crowd.
‘I’ve been in the marketing and PR game for most of my working life,’ he tells us, ‘and have done okay out of it.’
‘Nolan here was the man responsible for bringing Walker & Wright Pharmaceuticals back from the brink,’ Peter interjects.
I blink a couple of times. That is bloody impressive. Walker & Wright Pharmaceuticals nearly went under a few years ago, because its CEO was caught molesting a pig on camera, while high as a kite on some of the company’s own product.
Don’t laugh.
It was harrowing.
Walker & Wright quickly became Porker & Wright, to anyone born with a sense of humour. Said CEO went slightly bonkers in the aftermath, and made some decisions before he was forced out that further ruined the company’s reputation.
All seemed lost, but then a PR firm called Chantry Relations was hired to turn things around . . . and boy, did they. An aggressive campaign to change the company’s branding and reputation began in earnest, and now W2 Pharma is one of the most respected businesses of its type in the UK. Nobody even mentions the pig thing any more – except at parties.