The chair’s voice droned on.
‘Agenda item number 12.2’
This had been the longest day of my life, and we were barely halfway through.
‘All in favour?’
There was a unanimous show of hands.
We had all learnt from previous meetings. Any dissent to his proposals would mean even more procrastination, and would mean an all-nighter.
My stomach growled loudly. Simkins, from Accounts smirked at me from across the table. The new secretary, Miss Jones, sent a haughty look my way.
One of the company’s new health regimes was ‘no biscuits’. It was the only thing that had got me through the endless hours of these interminable meetings. At least when I was eating, I was more alert. I stifled a yawn behind the ream of the previous minutes, which I hadn’t bother reading. I couldn’t remember if I’d actually read the agenda for today either.
I could see that Pat from Sales, had already successfully managed to write her shopping list under the table, and William from Dispatch had finished the Times Crossword.
Stan, the sycophant deputy CEO, was nodding affirmatively at everything that the speaker said. He reminded me of one of those toys I had as a boy, a drinking giraffe that would bob up and down once you set it in motion. With this thought of my childhood so clear in my mind, I realised that all those present resembled old toys. That had to be a good few hours of entertainment to match them up, in order to while away the afternoon.
I had no idea which point of the Agenda we had reached, there was a pregnant pause, which broke into my time wasting. There seemed to be a need for action. Automatically my hand shot up. I wondered why everybody else had held back.
‘Well done, Jones, I knew we could count on you. Thank you for volunteering. You have made a tough decision easy for the Board.’
I slowly recoiled my hand, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about.
At the end of the meeting, all present came over and shook my hand,
‘The office will not be the same without you.’
‘We must keep in touch.’
‘Perhaps we can meet later for a few drinks.’
I slowly began to realise that I’d volunteered for redundancy. There was no backing out now. They had witnesses. Human Resources were already to wipe me out of existence.
I had to talk to my wife before anyone else did. She’d understand, wouldn’t she?
I was only fifty-seven. I’d been at the same company for over thirty five years.
What would I do now?
And then it came to me. I could eat as many biscuits as I liked. Spend all my afternoons in meaningful ways and not be bored to death at meetings. Yes, I think early retirement/redundancy and I will get along very well.
The chair’s voice droned on.
‘Agenda item number 12.2’
This had been the longest day of my life, and we were barely halfway through.
‘All in favour?’
There was a unanimous show of hands.
We had all learnt from previous meetings. Any dissent to his proposals would mean even more procrastination, and would mean an all-nighter.
My stomach growled loudly. Simkins, from Accounts smirked at me from across the table. The new secretary, Miss Jones, sent a haughty look my way.
One of the company’s new health regimes was ‘no biscuits’. It was the only thing that had got me through the endless hours of these interminable meetings. At least when I was eating, I was more alert. I stifled a yawn behind the ream of the previous minutes, which I hadn’t bother reading. I couldn’t remember if I’d actually read the agenda for today either.
I could see that Pat from Sales, had already successfully managed to write her shopping list under the table, and William from Dispatch had finished the Times Crossword.
Stan, the sycophant deputy CEO, was nodding affirmatively at everything that the speaker said. He reminded me of one of those toys I had as a boy, a drinking giraffe that would bob up and down once you set it in motion. With this thought of my childhood so clear in my mind, I realised that all those present resembled old toys. That had to be a good few hours of entertainment to match them up, in order to while away the afternoon.
I had no idea which point of the Agenda we had reached, there was a pregnant pause, which broke into my time wasting. There seemed to be a need for action. Automatically my hand shot up. I wondered why everybody else had held back.
‘Well done, Jones, I knew we could count on you. Thank you for volunteering. You have made a tough decision easy for the Board.’
I slowly recoiled my hand, not having the faintest idea what he was talking about.
At the end of the meeting, all present came over and shook my hand,
‘The office will not be the same without you.’
‘We must keep in touch.’
‘Perhaps we can meet later for a few drinks.’
I slowly began to realise that I’d volunteered for redundancy. There was no backing out now. They had witnesses. Human Resources were already to wipe me out of existence.
I had to talk to my wife before anyone else did. She’d understand, wouldn’t she?
I was only fifty-seven. I’d been at the same company for over thirty five years.
What would I do now?
And then it came to me. I could eat as many biscuits as I liked. Spend all my afternoons in meaningful ways and not be bored to death at meetings. Yes, I think early retirement/redundancy and I will get along very well.
