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| Maries the name, of his latest flame | |
| By Leo | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 06 June 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Here i picked the title of a record at random and then tried to come up with a short story. Sorry Elvis It was Herbert Spencer that said dominance amongst commercial organisations was down to the ‘survival of the fittest’. He said you could extend this principle to the human population. It was his contention that poorly adapting entities would be forced out, by better-adapting ones: effectively they would be "killed" by the competition. Carrington’s Office Equipment, is one such highly performing commercial organisation. It turned over £12.4 million last year. It contains lots of highly performing entities. Always busy, busy, busy. As for me, I’m a lowly IT technician. I am almost completely without status, or significance. I’m just there to support others; to help staff when they can’t navigate a new piece of software, retrieve misplaced files or occasionally clean up when they spill coffee over their keyboard. I exist. But only just. I am somewhere near the very bottom of the food chain. I suppose that means that if you believe the theory, it’s just a matter of time before my ‘fitness’ is tested… Now, lets face facts, the sales team are the real engine that drive this company. They generate the revenue, which is the lifeblood of any company. They hold the power. Almost inevitably such driven people are type ‘A’ personalities; motivated, opinionated and tenacious. At Carrington’s they are all men, so it’s very much a boys club. At the head of this little club is Ray Vickers. Slick, smooth talking and charming. He’s the king of the castle. But don’t be fooled by his silver tongue and boyish charm. Beneath that shining exterior, he’s a pig. He’s the worst of the worst. A bully, a sexual predator and a braggart. Ray always gets what Ray wants. Nobody stands in his way, or stops him. He’s worth too much. He always tops the sales figures; he’s always bringing home the bacon. He’s can’t do any wrong. But I know the real Ray Vickers; I’ve seen him in action. I’ve even seen him reduce another man to tears. On that occasion he thought it was hilarious when he and some of his simpering goons initiated the new boy on the warehouse floor. They pinned him down, painted his face and cut great chunks out of his hair. Welcome to the world of Ray Vickers. He’s so funny. He’s such a player as well. There’s a rumour that circulates in the canteen. The gossip is that Ray has slept with chairman’s wife. And his 17-year-old daughter. But these whispers never seem to reach the ears of management, they are probably held in check by other staff, out of some perverse loyalty to Ray. Either that or the chairman is deaf, because he continues to pay Ray bonuses every month and is supposed to be playing golf with him next weekend. You still want more proof? You want to know more about the damage he leaves in his wake? Just look at the receptionists. The company has had three receptionists to my knowledge, and all of them have handed in their notice quite suddenly. I know why. I’ve seen him in the toilets showing all his grinning mates the images on his mobile phone. It seems that one of his little idiosyncrasies is to get his conquests to fellate him, and then take photos on their mobile phone cameras. He then gets them to send him the images. How sick is that? If you ask me it’s all part of the control and domination he enjoys. Remember, Ray always gets what Ray wants. I feel sorry for these girls. Their only crime is wanting to make friends. They are blind to his deceit. Before you know it everyone else in the office has heard how easy they were. Ray makes sure of that. ‘She must be some sort of easy slut. A whore’. Within no time at all they have become persona non grata. Nobody cares when they leave. They were only a receptionist. In the blink of an eye they are gone and forgotten. Ray is not stupid either. His little Kodak moments also serve well as an inbuilt defence strategy. Lest anyone should have the courage to take it to management, or even the Police. I can hear it now: ‘What are you talking about – she got me to take the photo’s – it was her camera- she sent them to me….’ He makes me sick. Words cannot express what a vile, loathsome and repulsive specimen he is. And so I suppose it was almost inevitable that at some point I was going to become his next victim… It was at the annual summer ball. It was a thank you from the suits upstairs. It was also probably some sort of huge tax write off. All the staff came every year. They all brought along their partners, husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. I had taken Marie along with me. We weren’t exactly a long-standing item. But the important thing is that we came together. She was beautiful. She had almost pure black hair that hung down her back to her waist, soft olive skin and the most beautiful green eyes. She had told me she was from Mexico. I was so pleased when she turned heads. Most people must have just thought ’what a lucky guy!’. Ray however, with a sickening inevitability, clearly felt that he need to do something to reverse my good fortune. To punish me and humiliate me. People would be watching. For him, that would be part of the kick. He came over. He made his introductions and set about dominating the conversation. He made Marie laugh, whilst at the same time slowly reducing my worth. Little digs to begin with. ‘he’s a good little lad, like a loyal little puppy, aren’t you boy..’. He also skilfully built his credibility. Never missing an opportunity to underscore his prowess and power. ‘I was the first guy to bring home bonuses twelve months in a row…’. He bought her drinks. He made her laugh some more. They danced. They slow danced. They went outside. And then later in the evening I realised they were gone…. He came into the office this morning. I was down on my knees reassembling a hard drive. He wasted no time in closing in like a shark on the scent of blood. “Were you all lonely on Sunday morning?” he said with a horrible fake air of concern. Mocking me, just like a playground bully, “Well were you computer boy?” He leant in. The sickening sweet stench of lasts nights alcohol oozed from his pores, and invaded my nostrils. “Didn’t you notice that your little lady was missing?….” Warm coffee vapours clung to his breath, smelling like something newly dead. “All I can say is that I looked after her for you…”, he grasped his groin with grotesque theatricality, “.. You know that sometimes a real man has got to step up…, and do the business…” His lips tightened across his gritted teeth, in a contemptuous sneer. He just laughed at me. I could now see the white crusted sweat rings under his armpits. Close up he was nothing special. He shouldn’t be better than me. He leant in even closer. “Ask me nicely and I’ll show you the photos later…” With that, he stood up, turned away and swaggered back across the office. Stopping only to share something with one of the new girls on the telesales team…. Having finished with the hard drive I now sit in my little office on the third floor. There are no windows, and I wouldn’t really call it an office. It’s just a space where I can grab some peace and quiet between call outs. I don’t think many of the staff even know where I am. I’m up out of the way, behind the document storage rooms. Now, if you’re feeling sorry for me, don’t. There is no need. If I’m honest, I wasn’t all that cut up about it. Shit happens, you know. Like I said with Ray, he’s so predictable. I suppose I kind of knew he wouldn’t be able to resist temptation. You want to know the truth? The truth is that I’m actually very, very pleased with the way things panned out. God, he’s so predictable. …oh yes..… and there is something I may have neglected to mention.. you know Marie, well the beautiful Marie is actually a postoperative transsexual…and guess what? ..she is also HIV positive. We met over the net. We were two lost and lonely souls, travelling through cyberspace, reaching out for a kindred spirit. When we connected it was like it was… ..destiny. We had such a lot in common. It seemed we had a shared loathing for bullies. She had been infected by one. And of course we shared the same wicked sense of humour… So it is that I sit here in my little room with my finger hovering over the ‘send’ button. This anonymous e-mail, with its photo attachment will make interesting reading for the chairman, and all the other members of staff, oh, and of course not forgetting Ray’s clients…. What was I saying about survival of the fittest.. Click..
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