for?'
I mustn't laugh. I must not laugh.
I force myself to look up and focus on the wall behind him. 'I just came to put in a request to have tomorrow afternoon off,' I say.
He frowns. 'For what purpose?' he asks.
'Cynthia’s mother’s funeral,' I say.
He looks taken aback. I try to look as if everyone knows about it except him.
'Were you close to her?' he asks.
Because I would actually say no.
'Cynthia asked me to go with her actually,' I say, trying to imply that we’re bosom buddies without actually lying outright. 'For support, you know.'
I cross my fingers behind my back.
'I suppose that is an acceptable reason,' he says, with effort.
I wonder anew how I could have dated a guy who seems to think my happiness must be prevented like a third world war.
I open my mouth to thank him and scarper.
'However,' he says, frowning more. The lines on his forehead now resemble trenches. 'I don’t want you to think that this can happen with any regularity.'
I bite my lip to keep from saying that I’m fairly sure Cynthia’s mother won’t be dying again anytime soon.
'In this office,' he says, like I haven’t been here eighteen months longer than he has. 'We pride ourselves on commitment. It is of grave importance that you attend everyday and work to your highest potential.'
He now appears to be impersonating Professor McGonagall. He looks more like Dobby the house elf after having been concussed by a bludger.
I nod. I can’t manage speech.
'And frankly,' he continues, 'I’m a little concerned that your attitude doesn’t meet our high standards.'
Oh please, half our office called in sick last FA Cup finals day and there is not one person in the entire place whose grandmother hasn’t died at least once since they started working here.
I adopt what I hope is a meek expression. It’s demeaning, but it might get me out of a lecture.
Hey, what do you know? I did learn something at school.
'And if it doesn’t improve, drastic measures may have to be taken.'
Yada, yada, yada. Can I go yet?
'You may go.'
Hallelujah!
I hurry out before he can change his mind, trot downstairs and bump into something hard at the bottom.
Oooo, it’s Matt.
And, as they say, a hard man is good to find.
'Hi,' I say, extracting myself from him. More or less anyway. I’m still the tiniest bit closer than is absolutely necessary.
'Hi,' he says, smiling down at me. This is the great advantage of being short.
'Have you been summoned?' I say, smiling back.
Matt glances up the stairs. 'I think he’s seeing most people. Easier to pick us off one by one.'
I pull a face. 'I can save you the trouble of going up there. He’s going to talk about your attitude and how important it is that you bypass your personality and become a poorly-paid version of him.'
'I can hardly wait,' Matt says dryly.
'Good luck,' I say, but I don’t move.
Matt doesn’t move either. 'Are you doing anything this weekend?' he asks.
I pretend to think about it. 'Well,' I say, 'on Saturday I’m having my self-esteem ripped to shreds by my family, but on Sunday we’re having a picnic.'
'Sounds nice,' Matt says.
'You should come,' I say, like he hasn’t already guessed I’m going to invite him. 'My flatmate Beth is cooking, so you won’t have to eat my culinary disasters and I’ll be able to introduce you to Will – your fellow computer fiend.'
'You could have just told me that you were going to be there,' Matt says, reaching up and tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear. 'I still would have said yes.'
Nice. Very smooth.
'Drop by my desk later,' I say, sorely tempted to skip the small talk and fast forward to the kissing part. 'I’ll give you my number.'
For a moment, I almost think he’s read my mind. Then he steps sideways out of my way.
'See you when I get out of the donkey’s pen,' he says, winking at me.
I step down onto the landing and he heads up the stairs. I’ve got no choice but to head
I mustn't laugh. I must not laugh.
I force myself to look up and focus on the wall behind him. 'I just came to put in a request to have tomorrow afternoon off,' I say.
He frowns. 'For what purpose?' he asks.
'Cynthia’s mother’s funeral,' I say.
He looks taken aback. I try to look as if everyone knows about it except him.
'Were you close to her?' he asks.
Because I would actually say no.
'Cynthia asked me to go with her actually,' I say, trying to imply that we’re bosom buddies without actually lying outright. 'For support, you know.'
I cross my fingers behind my back.
'I suppose that is an acceptable reason,' he says, with effort.
I wonder anew how I could have dated a guy who seems to think my happiness must be prevented like a third world war.
I open my mouth to thank him and scarper.
'However,' he says, frowning more. The lines on his forehead now resemble trenches. 'I don’t want you to think that this can happen with any regularity.'
I bite my lip to keep from saying that I’m fairly sure Cynthia’s mother won’t be dying again anytime soon.
'In this office,' he says, like I haven’t been here eighteen months longer than he has. 'We pride ourselves on commitment. It is of grave importance that you attend everyday and work to your highest potential.'
He now appears to be impersonating Professor McGonagall. He looks more like Dobby the house elf after having been concussed by a bludger.
I nod. I can’t manage speech.
'And frankly,' he continues, 'I’m a little concerned that your attitude doesn’t meet our high standards.'
Oh please, half our office called in sick last FA Cup finals day and there is not one person in the entire place whose grandmother hasn’t died at least once since they started working here.
I adopt what I hope is a meek expression. It’s demeaning, but it might get me out of a lecture.
Hey, what do you know? I did learn something at school.
'And if it doesn’t improve, drastic measures may have to be taken.'
Yada, yada, yada. Can I go yet?
'You may go.'
Hallelujah!
I hurry out before he can change his mind, trot downstairs and bump into something hard at the bottom.
Oooo, it’s Matt.
And, as they say, a hard man is good to find.
'Hi,' I say, extracting myself from him. More or less anyway. I’m still the tiniest bit closer than is absolutely necessary.
'Hi,' he says, smiling down at me. This is the great advantage of being short.
'Have you been summoned?' I say, smiling back.
Matt glances up the stairs. 'I think he’s seeing most people. Easier to pick us off one by one.'
I pull a face. 'I can save you the trouble of going up there. He’s going to talk about your attitude and how important it is that you bypass your personality and become a poorly-paid version of him.'
'I can hardly wait,' Matt says dryly.
'Good luck,' I say, but I don’t move.
Matt doesn’t move either. 'Are you doing anything this weekend?' he asks.
I pretend to think about it. 'Well,' I say, 'on Saturday I’m having my self-esteem ripped to shreds by my family, but on Sunday we’re having a picnic.'
'Sounds nice,' Matt says.
'You should come,' I say, like he hasn’t already guessed I’m going to invite him. 'My flatmate Beth is cooking, so you won’t have to eat my culinary disasters and I’ll be able to introduce you to Will – your fellow computer fiend.'
'You could have just told me that you were going to be there,' Matt says, reaching up and tucking a stray bit of hair behind my ear. 'I still would have said yes.'
Nice. Very smooth.
'Drop by my desk later,' I say, sorely tempted to skip the small talk and fast forward to the kissing part. 'I’ll give you my number.'
For a moment, I almost think he’s read my mind. Then he steps sideways out of my way.
'See you when I get out of the donkey’s pen,' he says, winking at me.
I step down onto the landing and he heads up the stairs. I’ve got no choice but to head
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