Free Less Than Perfect by Ber Carroll Page A

rounded off the night.
    â€˜Not very,’ I reply evasively.
    â€˜Right. Well, show me the pricing when it’s done, okay?’
    â€˜Sure.’ I turn towards the door. ‘Do you want this open or shut?’
    â€˜Shut.’
    I leave, closing the door softly behind me. My workstation isin a quiet corner of the fifth floor, next to the window. I smile hello to Zoe in the neighbouring cubicle; she’s already busy on the phone. Switching on my laptop, I swivel my seat to face the window while I wait for it to start up. The view is dominated by the building across the road, a high-rise exhibit of modern architecture with alternating layers of glass and thick concrete. The green area in front of the building is a nice focus for those moments when I need to stare at something other than my screen. This morning there are some bike couriers lounging on the grass, waiting to be radioed to their next job, and the usual smattering of office workers sitting on benches with coffees and newspapers. I turn back to my laptop but the phone rings before I have a chance to type in my password.
    It’s Jo. ‘They’re looking for you down on level four.’
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    â€˜The usual – food.’
    It never ceases to amaze me that with all the different factors involved in the training business, the number one complaint is always food.
    â€˜I’m coming.’
    Level four has its own separate reception area, the red feature wall behind the desk distinguishing it from the similarly kitted-out training floors on levels two and three. Nicola, the floor manager, stands against the red backdrop waiting for me.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ I ask.
    She rolls her eyes. ‘The Roads and Transport Board have eaten Chambers Bank’s breakfast, that’s what’s wrong! I’ve ordered some bacon-and-egg McMuffins to compensate, but Tanya insisted that you be told.’
    Nicola, like me, is in her late twenties. She’s originally from London but her parents are Greek and she has the dark hair, skin and eyes of her heritage. She’s a very competent floor manager, adept at dealing with most crises. Tanya McManus, the complainant, is in the breakout area, her feet planted apart, watching us. Her hands are not on her hips but they might as well be. Tanya is a large woman. Her face is soft and round and she has big soulful eyes, but her cuddly appearance is deceiving.
    â€˜I’ll talk to her.’ I give Nicola a conspiratorial smile and walk over to where Tanya is standing. ‘Nicola just told me what happened,’ I begin in a sombre tone. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Tanya.’
    Tanya looks down at me over folded arms. ‘Sorry is
not
good enough. This is meant to be a professional organisation … things like this
simply
shouldn’t happen … the food should be closely
supervised
by your staff …’
    Tanya is the learning and development manager for Chambers Bank, one of my most important clients. The bank’s training needs are ongoing and they’re one of the few clients who have permanently dedicated rooms. This is why Nicola called me down: Tanya’s complaints, no matter how trivial, must be seen to be taken seriously.
    â€˜My people need to be
fed
and
watered
to keep their
energy
levels up …’
    Tanya likes to over-enunciate certain words, which makes her speech pattern very uneven. I nod and make all the right placatory noises, though I suspect her gripe is driven more by her own sustenance needs than those of her trainees.
    â€˜The training program is gruelling, and they need to be
physically
and
mentally
alert …’
    With some effort I keep a straight face until the McMuffins arrive and Tanya goes to load her plate with three of them.
    â€˜Caitlin, I’m really sorry.’ The training coordinator for the Roads and Transport Board comes to take Tanya’s place by my side. ‘My guys