Chapter 21
Idrive,inabit of a daze, to the office. This morning has been more than a little weird, so what I need is the familiarity of sitting at my desk, the comfort of googling Ryan Reynolds to see what he’s appalled about today, and to be assertive and in control. More importantly, I need to catch Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen in the act of not working. I creep into reception. Indeed, as predicted, I find her on the phone chatting.
‘Put that phone down!’ I bark.
As she looks up startled, I realise she may be booking in a client or changing an appointment for someone. She is surrounded by notepads and bits of paper and has a pen in her hand. Come to think of it, that does also look like our shared diary open on her desk.
‘Never mind!’ I quickly shout, ‘Carry on! CARRY ON!’ I stomp past her to my office, leaving her open-mouthed and gaping at me. I sit at my desk and let my head drop onto it.
I can’t do this. I can’t.
My desk phone ringing minutes later, jolts me out of my trance. It is Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen warning me that I have two minutes before a new Zoom client comes online. She asks if it is okay to give me her notes.
What new client? How? Why? When?
‘Can’t you change the website to stop clients from making new bookings?’ I ask as soon as she walks in.
She shakes her head. ‘Nidi has not trained me how. I do not have access to website log-in.’
‘You run the website but… youdon’thave access to it?’
This does not seem like the sort of oversight that Nidi would be guilty of. There has to be more. I wait it out.
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen looks incredibly guilty. ‘There is a training file she gave me, but I think I took it home and left it there.’
I shall try to remain serene. Fair but firm in my role as her new boss. ‘I must say Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen, that this is very disorganised of you.’
She seems to take the hump at this. ‘But I have printed notes for you. Information you need. For to pretend to be life coach.’
Thank God, Nidi is not here to witness this shameful display of disrespect.
Before I can tackle her cheek, my computer screen pings to life with an incoming video chat. I click accept and see myself flash up onto the computer screen before shrinking into the top right-hand corner.
‘Hello Wendy,’ I smile brightly. The client is mid-twenties and wants to learn some tools and techniques to manage the stress she is under at work. The time seems to fly by and we are getting on like a house on fire.
‘I know all about stress,’ I tell her with a sympathetic sigh. ‘And it seems clear that the difficulties you’re having are related to managing your bullish colleagues.’ Turns out that she is the only female in an all-male environment. She feels left out at times because these men tread on eggshells, in case they offend her in any way. They fear she might yell ‘HASHTAG-ME-TOO!’ at them and they get sacked.
I glance down to the Life Coach Handbook open at page forty, a section called ‘Your Boss Hates You’ and remind her that how she thinks can profoundly influence how she acts and feels. I tell her all about the wankers that I had to deal with on a daily basis and their unacceptable behaviours in the workplace. ‘It’s all about the mindset Wendy, love. You don’t spend eight years amongst a group of lazy, self-promoting dickheads without picking up a few tips along the way.’
Wendy seems delighted to have found a kindred spirit and promises to be in touch to book more sessions with me as we draw to a close. I can’t help but realise that while I was helping Wendy to build confidence and identify some strategies to manage her staff positively, I on the other hand, am very guilty of letting Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen get away with all sorts of terrible behaviour. I prompt myself to spy on her later this afternoon, to ensure she is not reading theHola!magazine or chatting with her mother. Besides, we have a huge event to plan and I need her to bring her ‘A’ game. I must stay focussed and not let my sister’s arrival or Oliver’s treachery, distract me from the task at hand. But I keep experiencing searing flashbacks to the retreat, of Oliver and his beefy arms holding me tightly, and the way he kept looking at me.
I look around the office for some inspiration. Nidi has a ton of self-help books on how to be a successful entrepreneur and how to get the best from relationships, dotted round the office to make the place (me) seem productive. I should read them. I sweep my gaze over the new, shiny, untouched covers. And I will, right after I’ve had a good look at Ryan Rodney Reynolds’ Twitter feed to see who he is helping today. He is such a kind-hearted man. Rarely a day passes without him looking gorgeous. I mean without him being compassionate and caring. No wonder he has almost eighteen million followers. Every single one of them, like me, following him with interest, keen to learn from his benevolent way of life, not simply to judge him on his magnificent looks.
As I’m researching Ryan Reynolds appreciation groups, the more I think about it, the more I think that it is perhaps me with the terrible behaviour, not Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen. As though she’s reading my mind, my phone trills.
‘Mees Weston, it’s the one you call Boring Berry.’
Feck!
I watched Nidi get approximately nowhere with him last week. He comes in every single day because he is lonely, and I am simply not in the mood. I have much to worry about and much finger-pointing still to do. Just as I’m telling her to send him away, he walks straight into my office and sits down.
‘Hello, Nell. I hope you don’t mind me just turning up like this, but I had nowhere else to go.’
I take one look at his bony frame and milky, sad eyes and feel a pang of sympathy. We’ve all felt lost and hopeless at some time in our lives. I scan the chapter on loneliness while he shuffles over to the sofa.
‘Okay. Even though you’ve clearly turned upwithoutan appointment, let’s see if we can close the gap between where you are in your life today and where you want to be,’ I say briskly, trying not to sound exasperated with him. ‘Now, tell me Berry, what makes your heart sing?’
Boring Berry is taken aback. We spend an hour rationalising why no one ever visits him and why he never leaves the house other than to come to our office. I hold back my professional opinion that it is, of course, because he’s too bloody boring. But I’m going to get right to the heart of his fears.
