‘Electric-vehicle manufacturers,’ Terry adds.
‘Precisely!’ Nolan beams.
Oh, fabulous. This has become an inadvertent question-and-answer session, with everyone trying to impress the new boss with their environmental knowledge. I have to think of something to say!
This is going to be quite difficult as, I must confess, I am to environmentalism what Ann Widdecombe is to bikini modelling.
Think, Cooke! Think!
‘Recycling companies,’ Joseph mutters.
Damn! Why didn’t I think of that?
‘Sustainably produced clothing,’ Peter remarks.
Oh, sod off, Peter! You’re leaving! I could have had that one!
‘Spot on!’ Nolan replies, with a broad grin.
‘Getting rid of single-use plastic bottles,’ Sarky Marky says, from where he’s sat next to Terry.
Bloody hell. Sarky Marky never contributes anything constructive to the conversation. He always just takes the piss, or has a moan. That’s why we call him Sarky Marky. And yet, here he is, contributing something valuable. The pressure really is on to impress this guy, and remain employed by him.
‘Absolutely!’ Nolan says, clearly enjoying the to and fro. ‘Plastic bottles are an absolute blight on our society. They’re one of the single worst things in terms of environmental damage. Any business that is trying to replace them with a biodegradable equivalent should be top of our list.’
‘Along with people trying to stop all that paper waste!’ Nadia adds. ‘I read the other day that we waste billions of tonnes of paper a year. It kills so many of the trees!’
‘Yes, it does!’ Nolan is super animated now. ‘That’s why I want this company to do all it can to increase the profile of businesses trying to combat climate change! We need to get rid of things like plastic bottles and paper waste . . . and the people that cause it.’
Everyone in the room goes silent as they digest this.
They don’t look at my mound of tissues and crumpled-up Evian bottle all at once, but slowly, inexorably, all eyes are dragged down to them over a period of a few seconds – like asteroids pulled into the gravitational well of a large planet.
Nolan Reece looks particularly perturbed, as he stares down at my mess.
I also look down at it, and consider my next move . . . to the job centre.
That’s probably where my next move is going to be, isn’t it?
I lean forward and gently pick up the wodge of sodden tissue, and the bottle. ‘I’ll just go and put these in the bin, shall I?’ I remark, in as calm a voice as possible, and stand up.
With all eyes upon me, I exit the conference room and walk over to where the nearest bin is, depositing the two offending items into it.
When I look back in, reassuringly things appear to have moved on, with Nolan and Peter now standing by the smartboard at the end of the conference room.
Is there any point in going back in?
Or should I just slope off and spend the rest of the day on Monster.com?
The thought of rewriting my CV and attending job interviews fills my head again, and I feel my legs go wobbly.
No. I can’t go through that!
Get back in there! It’s not too late!
Or is it?
Stratagem PR is apparently about to become a standard-bearer for all things environmental, according to its new Adam Driver–ish owner Nolan Reece. Do I have any place in a company like that?
After all, I drive a dreadfully polluting car, I order way too much fast fashion online, I can’t even be bothered to find a drink in a glass bottle at Boots, and I used to date a man who ran a property business that built on pretty much every available green space it could gobble up.
I’m the anti-Nolan.
But you can’t look for another job! It’s hell out there!
Yes, yes, I know!
Then forget all of that! Just get back in there and try, Ellie! For the love of God!
Alright, alright!
I do as I’m told, by scuttling back into the conference room and sitting in my seat just as Nolan unveils the new name and logo for our company.
‘Viridian PR,’ he tells us triumphantly, as the logo flicks up on to the smartboard. It’s a very nice logo. Simple, but elegant.
I quite like the name too.
Stratagem PR has always been a pain to both write and say. It’ll be nice to have something that trips off the tongue a little more easily.
Well . . . it’ll be nice for all the people still working here, anyway. I’ve managed to nearly run over the new boss, choke him to death with car fumes, and show him that I apparently couldn’t give two shits about plastic waste. I’m out on my arse, and there’s no point in trying to think anything different.
Don’t be such a defeatist! my brain says, trying its hardest to rally the troops. Just get through the rest of this meeting without doing anything else stupid, and maybe we can think of a way to make up for the bad first impression.
Yes, brain! I like your thinking.
Thank you. Now say something nice about the logo. That’ll be a good start.
‘The serif font is great,’ I remark, nodding my head at the smartboard. ‘Feels quite timeless, but with a hint of the modern.’
Nolan points an excited finger at me. ‘Exactly! That’s just what I was after. I told Andy the graphic designer that’s what I wanted, and he definitely came up trumps.’
Oh, thank God for that. I’ve contributed something worthwhile at last.
I might not be in Nolan Reece’s good books as yet, but at least I might have done something to start climbing out of the bad ones.
The meeting carries on for a little while longer, with Nolan continuing to sell us on the concept of Viridian PR. It all sounds lovely and quite exciting, but there’s an ongoing tension in the room that can’t quite be broken by all of this apparent good news.
The fact of the matter is that two of us will be losing our jobs very soon, and none of us knows who yet. It’s a little hard to get super enthused about a company you might be thrown out of in the very near future.
Proceedings conclude with Nolan telling us he’s going to be sending us all an extensive email proposal, outlining everything in detail.
‘It will tell you everything you need to know,’ he says. ‘Everything I’ve probably missed out today, for definite.’ He pauses for a second before continuing. ‘Look, I know this has been difficult, and given how up in the air things are currently . . . I thought it might be nice for you all to have some time off. Starting now.’
A pleased murmur goes up. Nobody minds when they get told they have a surprise couple of days off, do they?
‘You should all go home, read the Viridian PR proposals, and get back here on Monday, ready to start work with the new focus in your heads.’ His smile fades a little. ‘I’ll also be able to say more on who will unfortunately be leaving us. I’m so sorry to leave you hanging, but we just need a little more time on it.’
‘I’m sure they all understand,’ Peter says, reminding us that he’s still in the room. Our focus has been so lasered in on the man who will decide our futures that the man who used to no longer seems to matter. I find that very sad.
My mood is as bleak as a winter moor as the meeting concludes, and we all troop back out on to the main office floor. The general atmosphere appears to be one of supreme ambivalence as we all gather in small groups to discuss what’s just happened. Everybody else feels pretty unsure about their future, but muggins here is convinced she’ll be looking for new gainful employment by this time next week, given the performance she’s put on today.