Arun D. Ellis's Blog

Alb and Gerry chose to breakfast in the communal room, both wanting the proximity of others although the gruffness of their exchanges hid this well; to the uninitiated it would appear that the last thing either of them required was the company of another living thing.

"Bloody Muslims," muttered Alb, head in his newspaper, "It says here they're pressing to have Sharia law. Foreign laws here, in England? What's that about?"

He sounded grumpy, never at his best at breakfast, not yet having unwound from the night’s tightening that welded his joints together. He'd had his tablets; fifteen in all, some to counter the side effects of another and so on. He was privately convinced that that was where the last vestiges of his sex drive had gone. One day he'd stop the lot and just see what happened.

"The government wouldn't let them introduce that," said Gerry, looking up from the demolition of his second boiled egg.

"Says here that they're thinking of it," said Alb, "and apparently they have it in Canada. There's a piece about these so-called honour killings as well, apparently there's more of it going on all the time. We've let these bloody people into our country and they go around flouting our laws."

Gerry nodded, happily eating his toast soldiers, aware that his doing anything other than listening would be superfluous to requirements at the moment.

Alb continued, "And there're the Muslims who prey on our young girls, as well. What's that about, why aren't the police dealing with that, eh? I bet they're worried about causing offence."

Gerry nodded vigorously, still waiting for the right moment to speak; he knew from experience it was not yet.

"We're English so this land should have English laws, we can't go around changing our laws just because some idiot let too many bloody foreigners in. And don't even get me started on that mutilation they're doing to young girls right under our noses..."

"Hmmm." Gerry wasn't sure that that was Muslims but the point was valid so he let it pass.

"That's why we fought the bloody krauts in the first place," said Alb, "to defend England so that we could live like Englishmen, with our own laws and own way of life."

He went back behind his newspaper, explosion over. Gerry waited a few moments, munching steadily, then said, ruminatively, “You know, someone should do something, something to make people sit up and take notice.”

“Eh? Like what?” asked Alb, muffled words emerging from behind the newspaper.

"I don't know," said Gerry, "something."

"That's all very good and well," said Alb, "but what?"

"Petition our local MP," offered Gerry.

"Ah, what good would that do?" dismissed Alb, "When did they ever listen to what we want? It's all about them and their fancy careers."

"True, and whether or not they can claim it on their expenses. Well, what about getting a local protest movement together?"

"Waste of time," Alb snorted, "who'd turn up?"

"We could do a Hitler and form our own party?"

"At our age? Anyway, it's a waste of time," Alb was back into his newspaper, "there's nothing that we can do to save our country. If Churchill were alive today he'd turn in his grave."

"Ha!" said Gerry, "turn in his grave, like it."

"What?" Alb was frowning; he'd already forgotten his exact words.

"If he was alive today he'd turn in his grave," repeated Gerry.

"Oh, you know what I mean, he'd know what to do." Alb was in no mood for jokes.

"Of course he would," said Gerry, "he knew what to do when the Nazis were threatening....we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds...."

"We shall fight in the fields and in the streets...." Alb chimed in.

"We shall fight in the hills," said Gerry, with a wide smile, they'd done this before.

"We shall never surrender," spoken in unison, loud with a deep growl.

They were quiet for a few moments in homage to the Great Man and also to give some of the other occupants of the communal dining area a chance to eat in peace.

Then, "He'd lead a bloody revolution against this lot, that's what he'd do," said Alb, "but there's nothing we can do about it."

Gerry sat upright and lengthened his neck, "Well, there is," he said, his voice mild as befit the fact of other people’s proximity, “we can fight back.”

“We already covered this, Gerry.” Alb was curious as to why his friend was re-working the argument, it was unlike him. He surveyed him, his head bent forward at an odd angle the better to see him over the top of his reading glasses.

“No, I mean as in 'fight' back.”

Ken plonked himself down, jarring the table as he did so then leaning past Gerry and helping himself to toast. Alb surrendered the newspaper to him, folding it in half and half again, like the old days when it was a broadsheet and had proper news in it.

“Like the rioters, you mean?” now a little more interested.

“No, like soldiers.”

“Ah,” said Alb, propping his chin in his hand, “you mean a proper military campaign? Like Churchill would organise if he were alive today.”

Gerry was pleased with Alb's interest, and his idea grew on the strength of it, “We were in the forces, we’re trained, we’ve all seen dead bodies, we’re more than qualified to take these bastards on.”

“Dead bodies? Take who on?” Ken whispered, looking round at the other tables. "Have I missed something important?"

Alb ignored him, playing with the idea. “Mmm, they’re all a bit fitter and younger than us.”

“Yes, but we're trained,” said Gerry, “and we’re not afraid to die, I mean, at our age an’ all.”

"Die? Why would we die?" Ken was aghast, his voice high.

“You’re right, Gerry and when you’re right, you’re right!" Alb nodded, thoughtfully, musing, “We could do it, you know.”

Ken looked from one to the other, his face almost young with wide-eyed astonishment.

"And let's face it the army and police can't go after them, the government won't let them, they're chasing votes and it's not 'PC'," Gerry did the fingers movement as he spoke.

"What?" Alb stared at him

"PC – you know, ‘Politically Correct’."

There was silence for a few moments; Ken appeared to be having difficulty swallowing and his voice was strangulated, "I don't understand, Gerry - go after who?"

Gerry continued, “We need to get the others together and see what we can come up with. But, there's Pete for starters, he was a sapper."

"An' Wilf," said Alb, naming one of their oldest friends, "he was a marine and did a spell as a mercenary in the Congo, if I recall correctly."

"Pete's not very ...fit, though, is he." Ken inserted a down-to-earth bubble buster into what he rather hoped was a purely fanciful conversation.

"Then there's Jonesey, he's an ex-para."

"And David Hall, he's ex-REME," said Gerry.

"Now Dave, I do know, finds it hard to walk very far." Ken was growing desperate. "And you know I...I didn't serve in any...my feet for one thing..."

"Okay, that's settled, we'll get them all together, later on and sound them out."

"Sound them out for what?" Both Alb and Gerry turned to stare at him as though he'd appeared from nowhere.

"More toast?" asked Gerry, proffering the now empty plate at him.

"Oh, yes," said Ken disappearing with alacrity into the kitchenette.

"What about him?" whispered Alb.

"Don't know, do you think he knows too much already?"

Alb nodded, "We might have to silence him."

"I can't do it," said Gerry, affronted, "he's my bridge partner, it wouldn't be right."

"Well, I can't do it either," said Alb, "he went out with my sister."

"Not Margie, she'd not..."

"No, Flora."

"Oh, 'cause I liked Margie," said Gerry, ignoring Alb's quick scowl.

They fell silent; Gerry in contemplation of a tall girl with warm brown hair and equally warm brown eyes, married a spiv who left her high and dry. By that time he'd married his Gwennie and that was that. Alb's mind was on the potential disposal of Ken and the wider campaign, running through the inhabitants of the Village, discarding all the women, about whom he knew little, remembering past conversations whereby each man on arrival had paraded his military credentials to demonstrate a prouder time.

"What about Johnno? He's a mate, he'd do him for us."

"No," said Gerry, "heart condition and besides he likes Ken, they play chess together."

"Someone will have to do it if he bails on us."

"Don't worry," said Gerry, "if he bails, we'll find someone."

"If who bails?" Ken asked, approaching soundlessly, plate proffered.

“No-one, Ken,” Gerry spoke fast, grabbing toast off the plate, "and get Mags to bring some of her Angel cake, she makes lovely Angel cake.”

“Right on,” said Alb, a high colour in his cheeks, have to sharpen up, be more alert if this was going to work, walls have ears and all that.

∞

Gerry and Alb passed the afternoon in an agony of impatience; Ken had retired to his room to lie down. Given he'd not long got up Alb took it to mean he was shocked and wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Gerry was all for smothering him if he dozed; he could get another bridge partner if needs must. Alb urged caution; an unexplained death would 'draw the heat' and they needed to keep a 'low profile'. They consoled themselves with making a list of those in the Village who could prove useful, bearing in mind the need to be selective, and firming up their plans for attack.


Hope you have a nice weekend

Cheers

Arun

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'Wise Eyed Open' is the Compendium edition which includes

The Independents -The Debt Makers

“Hello, my name is Sandeep Rajan and I’m standing as independent candidate for London Borough of Ealing and like my esteemed colleagues, I have no party affiliation. Whilst I thank Chris for diplomatically introducing me as an entrepreneur, which I am, yet I prefer to stand before you in unvarnished truth: I’m an ex-trader who made and lost a lot of money in this broken system of ours and that makes me a bit of an expert in how it all works and what we actually did with all the money.”

He stood quietly, waiting politely to give the floor time to exercise their democratic right to boo him off the stage. Instead the audience greeted his words with complete silence; he decided to take this as permission to continue.

“I’m only going to speak to you briefly but I’m going to discuss ‘austerity’, why we have austerity and what they want from us.”

Silence; broken by the odd cough.

“As we all know the banks lost a lot of money back in 2008. We know this because they told us; we had the threat of a financial Armageddon. But was it the truth? What really happened with the banking crisis? What really happened to all of that money and whose was it in the first place?”

A few people leaned forward, more alert, interested.

“Well the banks definitely lost a lot of money, and that’s for sure. But what they didn’t tell you is that they lost all of the money, everything, all of it,” he used quiet emphasis, no shouting and that somehow made it all the more believable. “And by that I don’t just mean what they had in their vaults” he shook his head slightly; “I mean all of the imaginary money as well.”

He left that with them for a few moments, glanced over at Colin, received a nod of affirmation then continued, “I have assumed you know how the banking system works, although a lot of people don’t. So, if you will forgive me, I will go through the process for you.”

He walked away from the rostrum, towards the front of the stage, the better to engage; a slim figure, immaculate in a bespoke city suit, an impossibly white shirt and expensive shoes. He hadn’t thought it tactful to dress down, clearly.

“A lot of people don’t realize how much of a confidence trick the whole process is; most people think that money comes from the government, and that Parliament dictates the amount of money that the Bank of England distributes. However, that is not the case, the banks do that.”

He waited for a response but there wasn’t much forthcoming.

“When someone puts their money in a bank, say £100 for simplicity sake… the bank can lend 90% of that money to someone and keep 10% in their vaults. In other words, the bank can lend £90 to someone who spends it and the £90.00 they spend ends up being deposited in another bank. That bank can then lend 90% of that £90 to someone else; or £81, as long as it keeps 10%, in this case, £9, in its vaults. The £81 is spent and ends up in another bank and this bank can lend 90% of that or £72.90 to another person and so it goes on. So what have we got? Add it up…we’ve lent out £90 + £81 + £72.90. So in total we’ve lent out £243.90 in three transactions when there was only ever £100 in the first place. And this practice goes on and on with ever larger sums of money. They even have a name for it; it’s called Fractional Reserve Banking.”

There was some shuffling in the audience and some noises indicating increased interest and, Sandeep hoped, a slight lessening of hostility. “And that’s only the tip of it,” he said, excitement in his voice, “because what do you think they issue money against in the first place?”

He scanned the crowd, “Did someone say gold? No, no, we’re no longer on the gold standard; we’re not on any standard. They just issue money, and that’s it.”

He drank some water from a bottle he’d brought with him. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you want a loan. You phone up the bank and say ‘Hi, I want to borrow £10,000’”. There was a stifled titter from the crowd and Sandeep smiled, “Well, how does it go after that? If your credit rating is good they will lend it to you, if your credit rating is not, then they will not. That is all there is to it. They don’t go to their vault and see how much is in there….They don’t get a warning come up on their screens saying ‘not enough money left’…They just give it to you and add your debt to their figures, it’s as simple as that.”

He paused, comfortable and relaxed, sipped more water, “so the question now is, if the banks don’t really have the money in their vaults and they just make up the money they lend to you… who are the banks? …Surely, you might say, it must be the government…it must be regulated in some way. They can’t just lend money they don’t have, surely? ...But they can and they do. The banks are owned and run by private investors. The private investors are making up the amount of money that they want to lend out and for this service they are charging you interest.”

There was a stunned silence; in part because a lot of the audience hadn’t ever thought about the concept before and in part because now they were being forced to do so and weren’t sure what to make of it.
Sandeep gave them time, then judging them ready, continued, “Let me put it another way …you go into a shop and you buy a chair, and what have you got? Simple…You’ve got a chair, it’s solid, 3 dimensional, and you can sit on it, it’s real… but if you phone a bank for a loan they type a few things into a computer and you have a loan. You have no real money, you understand, you have pretend money that you can spend on their say so.”

He paused to look around the hall, no doubt, they were all listening now “They pass the numbers across to your bank account and when you spend it the numbers go to another bank. There’s no requirement to dig hard cash out of a vault; they transfer the numbers across on the PC. It’s a numbers game and they have us all trapped in it. Our wages are paid directly into the banks. Who amongst you can remember when that was not the case? Or has older relatives who tell you about those days when paper money appeared in a little brown envelope in your hand each Friday? The good old days when you could choose to put your cash in a box under the bed or into a building society? It is now a job requirement that you have a bank account; you have no choice. You are encouraged to pay by direct debits, incentivised so to do, the transfer is made invisibly from your bank to another bank, you don’t see any cash, so where is the money? Where is the real money?”

Sandeep stared around the hall, “Think about it, they’ve lent you something that doesn’t exist. It isn’t theirs, they haven’t taken any hard earned cash out of their pockets, it’s not real, it’s just made up money, but they’re going to charge you interest on this. They’re going to charge you interest on money that doesn’t exist, that they never had, that isn’t theirs and isn’t real. But they are going to charge you real interest on it; they are going to take money by direct debit directly from your bank. And make no mistake – this is real money which you have earned by your labour, and the banks are going to deduct this from your wages to cover interest on money that never existed.”

Sandeep watched whilst the audience digested his words, then launched again, “We accept this craziness because we think we get something out of the deal; a new car, the latest TV or a new kitchen. What we ignore is that we are being robbed by the banks. The only real money in this whole process is your money, you pay back real money on the loan and you pay back real money on the interest. They have lost nothing during the period of the loan. So, to recap, what they lent you did not exist so the lack of it for the period costs them nothing, the interest they charge is pure profit on a loan of nothing. It’s a cheap confidence trick.”

He paused briefly, “Well when deregulation started to come in the high street banks merged with the investment banks they started gambling with people’s savings, then we had the subprime loans - all of which combined to lead to the ultimate crash, now what was the crash? I mean what happened and what did it actually mean?”

He seemed to actually expect answers from the floor but it appeared no-one was willing to betray ignorance, so he was forced to continue, “Not to put too fine a point on it, the banks lost all of the money, not just the real money in their vaults but all of the made up money as well. They lost everything; which is why people started talking about a financial Armageddon. But was it really that bad? This is the big question because it’s why we have austerity today and why if they get their way, we will have austerity for decades to come.”

Sandeep paused again to let his words sink in, “I can see a question in your eyes…” some in the audience turned to look at their neighbours, “You’re asking, if the banks created all the money from nothing in the first place why, when they’ve lost everything, don’t they just go and create more?”

He lifted his hands and his shoulders went up, “The answer is simple; the banks never created any real money in the first place, they simply created the impression of money. Now people have lost faith and want their real money back from the banks that haven’t got it to give them.”

He drank more water from his bottle, “So now the banks have creditors on their backs; they have debts they cannot honour and if they were an ordinary company they would have gone bankrupt. They would’ve crashed without a government bailout and by government you need to read taxpayer… you and me. So if we had let the banks fail? What then? Well, you and I, the small investor would have lost our savings and that’s bad. We would have lost a few thousand, but would still have our homes and our jobs.”

Sandeep looked around the hall, “And the pension schemes, they would have lost a fortune as investments turned bad and share prices crashed. But that is an even spread, bad news for some, but not disastrous.”

There was movement in the hall, as they wondered where he was going with this.

“Then there’s the super rich investor, the millionaire, the billionaire; the wealthy 1%. Where do you suppose their money actually is? It’s invested by the financial services, by the banks and that is the reason the banks weren’t allowed to fail.”

He left a moment for his audience to absorb his point, “The banks were bailed out using PAYE tax payers money only because the wealthy 1% were about to lose everything; this greedy 1% of individuals would have lost all of their millions, all of their billions, their many homes, their jets, their yachts and their livelihoods. They would have been rendered poor. That is why the governments bailed out the banks, not to save us but to protect the investments of the rich, of the wealthy, of the 1%.”

Finally, applause from the hall.

“The wheels have come off the wagon but they will not admit that this is due to their profligacy and bad management. They are using our money to prop up these institutions to protect the super-rich, so that the rich 1% can keep their investments and keep cashing in their interest payments, and keep hold of their valueless shares until the market recovers, so they can keep their many houses and yachts and jets and fleets of cars.”

More applause and a few cheers, some people were standing to clap.

“That is why we really have austerity; we have austerity so that you and I can give more of our hard-earned money to the government so that it can continue to bail out the rich. That is the reason you are being taxed so heavily, that is the reason they are privatising the NHS, the reason they have raised VAT, the reason they are cutting public services, and that is the reason they are reducing funding to councils who in turn are reducing community services.”

He walked to the edge of the stage, clearly emotional for the first time.

“ Make no mistake about it…they are robbing the poor to pay the rich; robbing the 99% to prop up the 1%.... and it is not fair, it is not just and ….it is not democratic.”

The hall erupted.

Hope you have a nice week

Cheers

Arun

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'Wise Eyed Open' is the Compendium edition which includes

Uprising (Corpalism #1) by Arun D. Ellis

Suddenly

A man may die, nations may rise and fall,
but an idea lives on.
John F. Kennedy

Cramming the last piece of toast into his mouth Terry Jones grabbed his jacket and left his apartment for the office.

He’d had the option of a high-rise within walking distance when he was first assigned to Relocations; his reasons for turning it down had seemed sound; cost = astronomical, space = minimal. Now, and not for the first time, he wished he’d taken it. That morning he’d set his alarm earlier than usual in the hopes of beating the rush hour traffic, problem was he never really managed to keep to his schedule (poor time management or lousy schedule?) and he found himself, yet again, bumper to bumper and yet again, late for work.

Brian Olsen made the final adjustments to his tie, jacket and hair before leaving the men’s room and heading to his desk; all the while diligently maintaining an erect 6ft 6in posture, a copy of today’s Times clamped under his right arm, his brief case gripped firmly in his right hand, and as he strode he repeated his mantra over and over in his head ‘today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations, today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations….’

Rain Morgan, stared at the free drinks machine for a few moments before selecting a cappuccino with sugar. Her actual name was Rainbow Sunset, her mother having one her odd moments, but she preferred Rain. She was quickly joined by Debby Jenna and Phillippa Djukovic; just time for a quick debrief of Phillippa’s date with Simon Brookes from Finance.

Peter Illyffe, the divisional manager for Relocations 1, left his office and headed for the usual 8:30 briefing in meeting room 3, aka the cupboard due to its lack of size and windows. His staff fell in behind, a well-rehearsed troupe, that is everyone except Terry Jones who was still driving fruitlessly round and round the car park.

The room filled quickly; those lucky enough to get in the door first grabbed a seat at the table, Peter at their head.

“Morning everyone,” he said, to which there were the usual responses of “morning, morning Peter,” a few nods and coughs and a silky “morning, Boss” from Brian, tall even when sitting down. “No Terry, I see?”

This too was greeted by the usual responses, initial silence, then embarrassed coughs or ums…. followed by a clear and unequivocal “he’s not in yet, Boss” from Brian. Peter made a note in the top corner of his meeting notes, as usual.

“Ok, everyone got a copy of today’s agenda?” general nods everywhere, “good, ok – item one then – the recent merger with Alderson’s. As per our meeting yesterday morning I’ve checked up the line and can confirm that Alderson’s Relocations are being wound down and we will ‘inherit their workload’.”

“Relocations are being relocated.” Phillippa’s quip was not altogether unexpected; there were a few groans.

“Thank you Phillippa,” said Peter.

“How big a workload we talking?” asked Rain.

“Approx half again our existing workload,” replied Peter.

“Will we be getting more staff?” Rain again.

“No,” said Peter.

“But how are we meant to cope with that?” asked Debby, saying what the others were thinking.

“By ‘working smarter’,” Brian jumped in, borrowing one of Peter’s ‘phrases of the moment’, “and if some people spent less time at the coffee machine talking then we’d get a lot more done.”

“Who’re you on about?” demanded Debby, realising too late that by asking the question she had singled herself out. Peter made another note at the top of his meeting papers.

“Moving on” said Peter, sounding tired, “there will be a further meeting at 2pm today with the team from Alderson’s so we can ‘manage the handover’ smoothly. Rain and I will attend that. Another quick point, the company will no longer be providing free drinks.”

There was a collective gasp, then “Why’re they changing it?” asked Debby, “I mean we’ve had free coffee for years now.” For some reason her mouth seemed to be working overtime this morning, in the absence of Terry it could be deemed she had assumed his mantle.

“As you all know we’re facing ever ‘stiffer competition’ out there, which is one of the reasons we’ve been merged with Alderson’s. The Efficiency Department has identified that the company could save almost £100,000 a year by moving to a ‘pay for your own’ drinks environment.”

“Can we bring a kettle and make our own drinks?” asked Phillippa.

“No,” replied Peter, “that would mean providing kitchen facilities – an added expense.”

“What about a flask?” asked Brian.

“Flasks are OK,” said Peter, flashing him a grateful smile.

“If you can drink anything from a flask,” muttered Rain.

“Everyone, now, come to order, please.” Peter was becoming irritated and the strain of not showing it was telling on his stress levels. At that point Terry opened the door and slipped into the room, “Ah! Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Terry “couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

“There were loads of spaces when I got here at 8:00,” said Brian.

“I got held up in traffic,” offered Terry, his expression hopeful.

“Then might I suggest you leave earlier,” replied Brian, “we all make the effort to be here on time, it’s only ever you who’s late.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Peter interceded. “OK the final point, we’ve had a report from C.I.T, the Counter Intelligence Team,” he elaborated, staring pointedly at Phillippa over whose head most things of import were known to sail, “that we have a ‘heightened terror threat’ as a result of our merger with Alderson’s.” He waited for the information to sink in then continued by way of explanation, “Apparently we’re now the 3rd largest provider of labour resource in the EU so it makes us an even bigger target.” Phillippa looked on the verge of tears, possibly at being singled out for the stare, the rest were demonstrating variously dismay or affected disinterest but no-one spoke. “So everybody please ‘stay alert, stay vigilant’ and re-watch the compulsory DVD ‘Terror and Counter Terrorism’. Remember, ‘we’re all in this together’ and it’s up to each and every one of us to …‘keep the workplace safe’.”

Terry winced; he was convinced that Peter’s insistence on speaking in inverted commas and quoting the company watchwords at every opportunity had a damaging effect on his psyche.

“Did anyone see the news this morning?” asked Rain, too brightly. “There was an explosion in the town centre.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Debby, “near Macheson’s.”

“They said something about 20 casualties,” Rain added, “it’s awful”.

“Did they say who it was?” asked Terry.

“It’s a bit early for that kind of info,” snapped Brian.

“I dunno,” defended Terry, “they sometimes give a warning.”

“That’s the Red Freedoms,” said Debby, “the Black Hands don’t give a warning.”

“Which could imply the Black Hands,” said Terry, settling in for a natter on the merits and demerits of one terrorist organisation’s way of doing business versus another.

“OK,” interrupted Peter, forestalling further chat, “Any questions?”

“Parking,” said Terry, opportunistic as ever, “when are they doing something about parking?”

“As we said yesterday and the day before and, oh yes, as we’ve been saying every day in all these months since you joined us, they aren’t going to do anything about the parking, thank you, Terry.” Peter stared round the table, lingering on Phillippa, as if daring any more utterances.

“When are they going to fix the tower clock?” she asked, making a sterling effort to fight back tears.

“And they aren’t going to fix the clock, either, Phillippa. As we’ve already said it will cost too much to repair. Any more questions?”

Silence.

“Good, back to work all of you, except you Terry, if you could just stay back a minute.”

The others filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“You were late again Terry.”

“I know but it was the traffic….”

“Traffic is not an excuse, Terry,” said Peter, “you should know to factor that in to your plans. Also, as I recall, Human Resources offered you an apartment close by when you joined us, a much sought after facility that had only come available due to the unfortunate demise of your predecessor.” He fell silent, possibly in recognition of human frailty and the fact that the previous occupant had thrown himself ungratefully off the 7th floor balcony of the much vaunted facility. “You are paid to be here between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. It’s up to you to get yourself here on time.”

“Yes,” said Terry, for once recognising a time when the less words said might be the better.

“Everyone else manages to be here. I have to come from further away than you so I leave earlier. Brian always gets here at 8:00.”

“I know,” Terry murmured, humbly, while thinking 'yeah but Brian hasn’t got a life…'

“And he doesn’t leave his desk until 5.45 whereas you are packed and out the door by 5:10 if you can get away with it.”

Again, Brian hasn’t got a life …“I always do my hours…”

“Do you want to see your clocking in sheet?” asked Peter. Terry ducked his head; he knew what it would show. “The thing is Terry, it’s not working out for us; I think we need to move you on.”

Terry grimaced “I’m sorry Peter, I promise I will get here earlier in future.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Terry, Galaxy has already collated your data and raised it with Human Resources. They’ve spotlighted you and put in the transfer request.”

“You mean I’m already on the List?” asked Terry. “That was quick.”

Peter gave him a look; he was a strange one and no mistake, “Should come through in a few days. …Obviously you can’t be on site when it comes through, that would create a conflict of interest so your employment with Peter Brookes will be terminated this morning.”

Terry placed his head in his hands; his date with Cathy in Finance had just gone down the pan.

“I’m sorry, Terry but you knew your stats were in the system. It was only a matter of time before Galaxy highlighted you. You know the drill; it’s out of my hands.”

“I know, I know,” said Terry.

“I’m afraid I have to escort you off the premises.” Terry nodded. “Straight from this meeting.”

“Right now? Don’t I get to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Afraid not, you will be clocked out …” Peter flicked through his paperwork, “5 minutes from now. Sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Terry, “I know how the system works.”

Cheers

Arun

Amazon.co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Uprising-Cor...


Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WRT59HX/...

Uprising (Corpalism #1) by Arun D. Ellis

Suddenly

A man may die, nations may rise and fall,
but an idea lives on.
John F. Kennedy

Cramming the last piece of toast into his mouth Terry Jones grabbed his jacket and left his apartment for the office.

He’d had the option of a high-rise within walking distance when he was first assigned to Relocations; his reasons for turning it down had seemed sound; cost = astronomical, space = minimal. Now, and not for the first time, he wished he’d taken it. That morning he’d set his alarm earlier than usual in the hopes of beating the rush hour traffic, problem was he never really managed to keep to his schedule (poor time management or lousy schedule?) and he found himself, yet again, bumper to bumper and yet again, late for work.

Brian Olsen made the final adjustments to his tie, jacket and hair before leaving the men’s room and heading to his desk; all the while diligently maintaining an erect 6ft 6in posture, a copy of today’s Times clamped under his right arm, his brief case gripped firmly in his right hand, and as he strode he repeated his mantra over and over in his head ‘today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations, today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations….’

Rain Morgan, stared at the free drinks machine for a few moments before selecting a cappuccino with sugar. Her actual name was Rainbow Sunset, her mother having one her odd moments, but she preferred Rain. She was quickly joined by Debby Jenna and Phillippa Djukovic; just time for a quick debrief of Phillippa’s date with Simon Brookes from Finance.

Peter Illyffe, the divisional manager for Relocations 1, left his office and headed for the usual 8:30 briefing in meeting room 3, aka the cupboard due to its lack of size and windows. His staff fell in behind, a well-rehearsed troupe, that is everyone except Terry Jones who was still driving fruitlessly round and round the car park.

The room filled quickly; those lucky enough to get in the door first grabbed a seat at the table, Peter at their head.

“Morning everyone,” he said, to which there were the usual responses of “morning, morning Peter,” a few nods and coughs and a silky “morning, Boss” from Brian, tall even when sitting down. “No Terry, I see?”

This too was greeted by the usual responses, initial silence, then embarrassed coughs or ums…. followed by a clear and unequivocal “he’s not in yet, Boss” from Brian. Peter made a note in the top corner of his meeting notes, as usual.

“Ok, everyone got a copy of today’s agenda?” general nods everywhere, “good, ok – item one then – the recent merger with Alderson’s. As per our meeting yesterday morning I’ve checked up the line and can confirm that Alderson’s Relocations are being wound down and we will ‘inherit their workload’.”

“Relocations are being relocated.” Phillippa’s quip was not altogether unexpected; there were a few groans.

“Thank you Phillippa,” said Peter.

“How big a workload we talking?” asked Rain.

“Approx half again our existing workload,” replied Peter.

“Will we be getting more staff?” Rain again.

“No,” said Peter.

“But how are we meant to cope with that?” asked Debby, saying what the others were thinking.

“By ‘working smarter’,” Brian jumped in, borrowing one of Peter’s ‘phrases of the moment’, “and if some people spent less time at the coffee machine talking then we’d get a lot more done.”

“Who’re you on about?” demanded Debby, realising too late that by asking the question she had singled herself out. Peter made another note at the top of his meeting papers.

“Moving on” said Peter, sounding tired, “there will be a further meeting at 2pm today with the team from Alderson’s so we can ‘manage the handover’ smoothly. Rain and I will attend that. Another quick point, the company will no longer be providing free drinks.”

There was a collective gasp, then “Why’re they changing it?” asked Debby, “I mean we’ve had free coffee for years now.” For some reason her mouth seemed to be working overtime this morning, in the absence of Terry it could be deemed she had assumed his mantle.

“As you all know we’re facing ever ‘stiffer competition’ out there, which is one of the reasons we’ve been merged with Alderson’s. The Efficiency Department has identified that the company could save almost £100,000 a year by moving to a ‘pay for your own’ drinks environment.”

“Can we bring a kettle and make our own drinks?” asked Phillippa.

“No,” replied Peter, “that would mean providing kitchen facilities – an added expense.”

“What about a flask?” asked Brian.

“Flasks are OK,” said Peter, flashing him a grateful smile.

“If you can drink anything from a flask,” muttered Rain.

“Everyone, now, come to order, please.” Peter was becoming irritated and the strain of not showing it was telling on his stress levels. At that point Terry opened the door and slipped into the room, “Ah! Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Terry “couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

“There were loads of spaces when I got here at 8:00,” said Brian.

“I got held up in traffic,” offered Terry, his expression hopeful.

“Then might I suggest you leave earlier,” replied Brian, “we all make the effort to be here on time, it’s only ever you who’s late.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Peter interceded. “OK the final point, we’ve had a report from C.I.T, the Counter Intelligence Team,” he elaborated, staring pointedly at Phillippa over whose head most things of import were known to sail, “that we have a ‘heightened terror threat’ as a result of our merger with Alderson’s.” He waited for the information to sink in then continued by way of explanation, “Apparently we’re now the 3rd largest provider of labour resource in the EU so it makes us an even bigger target.” Phillippa looked on the verge of tears, possibly at being singled out for the stare, the rest were demonstrating variously dismay or affected disinterest but no-one spoke. “So everybody please ‘stay alert, stay vigilant’ and re-watch the compulsory DVD ‘Terror and Counter Terrorism’. Remember, ‘we’re all in this together’ and it’s up to each and every one of us to …‘keep the workplace safe’.”

Terry winced; he was convinced that Peter’s insistence on speaking in inverted commas and quoting the company watchwords at every opportunity had a damaging effect on his psyche.

“Did anyone see the news this morning?” asked Rain, too brightly. “There was an explosion in the town centre.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Debby, “near Macheson’s.”

“They said something about 20 casualties,” Rain added, “it’s awful”.

“Did they say who it was?” asked Terry.

“It’s a bit early for that kind of info,” snapped Brian.

“I dunno,” defended Terry, “they sometimes give a warning.”

“That’s the Red Freedoms,” said Debby, “the Black Hands don’t give a warning.”

“Which could imply the Black Hands,” said Terry, settling in for a natter on the merits and demerits of one terrorist organisation’s way of doing business versus another.

“OK,” interrupted Peter, forestalling further chat, “Any questions?”

“Parking,” said Terry, opportunistic as ever, “when are they doing something about parking?”

“As we said yesterday and the day before and, oh yes, as we’ve been saying every day in all these months since you joined us, they aren’t going to do anything about the parking, thank you, Terry.” Peter stared round the table, lingering on Phillippa, as if daring any more utterances.

“When are they going to fix the tower clock?” she asked, making a sterling effort to fight back tears.

“And they aren’t going to fix the clock, either, Phillippa. As we’ve already said it will cost too much to repair. Any more questions?”

Silence.

“Good, back to work all of you, except you Terry, if you could just stay back a minute.”

The others filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“You were late again Terry.”

“I know but it was the traffic….”

“Traffic is not an excuse, Terry,” said Peter, “you should know to factor that in to your plans. Also, as I recall, Human Resources offered you an apartment close by when you joined us, a much sought after facility that had only come available due to the unfortunate demise of your predecessor.” He fell silent, possibly in recognition of human frailty and the fact that the previous occupant had thrown himself ungratefully off the 7th floor balcony of the much vaunted facility. “You are paid to be here between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. It’s up to you to get yourself here on time.”

“Yes,” said Terry, for once recognising a time when the less words said might be the better.

“Everyone else manages to be here. I have to come from further away than you so I leave earlier. Brian always gets here at 8:00.”

“I know,” Terry murmured, humbly, while thinking 'yeah but Brian hasn’t got a life…'

“And he doesn’t leave his desk until 5.45 whereas you are packed and out the door by 5:10 if you can get away with it.”

Again, Brian hasn’t got a life …“I always do my hours…”

“Do you want to see your clocking in sheet?” asked Peter. Terry ducked his head; he knew what it would show. “The thing is Terry, it’s not working out for us; I think we need to move you on.”

Terry grimaced “I’m sorry Peter, I promise I will get here earlier in future.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Terry, Galaxy has already collated your data and raised it with Human Resources. They’ve spotlighted you and put in the transfer request.”

“You mean I’m already on the List?” asked Terry. “That was quick.”

Peter gave him a look; he was a strange one and no mistake, “Should come through in a few days. …Obviously you can’t be on site when it comes through, that would create a conflict of interest so your employment with Peter Brookes will be terminated this morning.”

Terry placed his head in his hands; his date with Cathy in Finance had just gone down the pan.

“I’m sorry, Terry but you knew your stats were in the system. It was only a matter of time before Galaxy highlighted you. You know the drill; it’s out of my hands.”

“I know, I know,” said Terry.

“I’m afraid I have to escort you off the premises.” Terry nodded. “Straight from this meeting.”

“Right now? Don’t I get to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Afraid not, you will be clocked out …” Peter flicked through his paperwork, “5 minutes from now. Sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Terry, “I know how the system works.”

Cheers

Arun

Amazon.co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Uprising-Cor...

Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WRT59HX/...

Uprising (Corpalism #1) by Arun D. Ellis

Suddenly

A man may die, nations may rise and fall,
but an idea lives on.
John F. Kennedy

Cramming the last piece of toast into his mouth Terry Jones grabbed his jacket and left his apartment for the office.

He’d had the option of a high-rise within walking distance when he was first assigned to Relocations; his reasons for turning it down had seemed sound; cost = astronomical, space = minimal. Now, and not for the first time, he wished he’d taken it. That morning he’d set his alarm earlier than usual in the hopes of beating the rush hour traffic, problem was he never really managed to keep to his schedule (poor time management or lousy schedule?) and he found himself, yet again, bumper to bumper and yet again, late for work.

Brian Olsen made the final adjustments to his tie, jacket and hair before leaving the men’s room and heading to his desk; all the while diligently maintaining an erect 6ft 6in posture, a copy of today’s Times clamped under his right arm, his brief case gripped firmly in his right hand, and as he strode he repeated his mantra over and over in his head ‘today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations, today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations….’

Rain Morgan, stared at the free drinks machine for a few moments before selecting a cappuccino with sugar. Her actual name was Rainbow Sunset, her mother having one her odd moments, but she preferred Rain. She was quickly joined by Debby Jenna and Phillippa Djukovic; just time for a quick debrief of Phillippa’s date with Simon Brookes from Finance.

Peter Illyffe, the divisional manager for Relocations 1, left his office and headed for the usual 8:30 briefing in meeting room 3, aka the cupboard due to its lack of size and windows. His staff fell in behind, a well-rehearsed troupe, that is everyone except Terry Jones who was still driving fruitlessly round and round the car park.

The room filled quickly; those lucky enough to get in the door first grabbed a seat at the table, Peter at their head.

“Morning everyone,” he said, to which there were the usual responses of “morning, morning Peter,” a few nods and coughs and a silky “morning, Boss” from Brian, tall even when sitting down. “No Terry, I see?”

This too was greeted by the usual responses, initial silence, then embarrassed coughs or ums…. followed by a clear and unequivocal “he’s not in yet, Boss” from Brian. Peter made a note in the top corner of his meeting notes, as usual.

“Ok, everyone got a copy of today’s agenda?” general nods everywhere, “good, ok – item one then – the recent merger with Alderson’s. As per our meeting yesterday morning I’ve checked up the line and can confirm that Alderson’s Relocations are being wound down and we will ‘inherit their workload’.”

“Relocations are being relocated.” Phillippa’s quip was not altogether unexpected; there were a few groans.

“Thank you Phillippa,” said Peter.

“How big a workload we talking?” asked Rain.

“Approx half again our existing workload,” replied Peter.

“Will we be getting more staff?” Rain again.

“No,” said Peter.

“But how are we meant to cope with that?” asked Debby, saying what the others were thinking.

“By ‘working smarter’,” Brian jumped in, borrowing one of Peter’s ‘phrases of the moment’, “and if some people spent less time at the coffee machine talking then we’d get a lot more done.”

“Who’re you on about?” demanded Debby, realising too late that by asking the question she had singled herself out. Peter made another note at the top of his meeting papers.

“Moving on” said Peter, sounding tired, “there will be a further meeting at 2pm today with the team from Alderson’s so we can ‘manage the handover’ smoothly. Rain and I will attend that. Another quick point, the company will no longer be providing free drinks.”

There was a collective gasp, then “Why’re they changing it?” asked Debby, “I mean we’ve had free coffee for years now.” For some reason her mouth seemed to be working overtime this morning, in the absence of Terry it could be deemed she had assumed his mantle.

“As you all know we’re facing ever ‘stiffer competition’ out there, which is one of the reasons we’ve been merged with Alderson’s. The Efficiency Department has identified that the company could save almost £100,000 a year by moving to a ‘pay for your own’ drinks environment.”

“Can we bring a kettle and make our own drinks?” asked Phillippa.

“No,” replied Peter, “that would mean providing kitchen facilities – an added expense.”

“What about a flask?” asked Brian.

“Flasks are OK,” said Peter, flashing him a grateful smile.

“If you can drink anything from a flask,” muttered Rain.

“Everyone, now, come to order, please.” Peter was becoming irritated and the strain of not showing it was telling on his stress levels. At that point Terry opened the door and slipped into the room, “Ah! Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Terry “couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

“There were loads of spaces when I got here at 8:00,” said Brian.

“I got held up in traffic,” offered Terry, his expression hopeful.

“Then might I suggest you leave earlier,” replied Brian, “we all make the effort to be here on time, it’s only ever you who’s late.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Peter interceded. “OK the final point, we’ve had a report from C.I.T, the Counter Intelligence Team,” he elaborated, staring pointedly at Phillippa over whose head most things of import were known to sail, “that we have a ‘heightened terror threat’ as a result of our merger with Alderson’s.” He waited for the information to sink in then continued by way of explanation, “Apparently we’re now the 3rd largest provider of labour resource in the EU so it makes us an even bigger target.” Phillippa looked on the verge of tears, possibly at being singled out for the stare, the rest were demonstrating variously dismay or affected disinterest but no-one spoke. “So everybody please ‘stay alert, stay vigilant’ and re-watch the compulsory DVD ‘Terror and Counter Terrorism’. Remember, ‘we’re all in this together’ and it’s up to each and every one of us to …‘keep the workplace safe’.”

Terry winced; he was convinced that Peter’s insistence on speaking in inverted commas and quoting the company watchwords at every opportunity had a damaging effect on his psyche.

“Did anyone see the news this morning?” asked Rain, too brightly. “There was an explosion in the town centre.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Debby, “near Macheson’s.”

“They said something about 20 casualties,” Rain added, “it’s awful”.

“Did they say who it was?” asked Terry.

“It’s a bit early for that kind of info,” snapped Brian.

“I dunno,” defended Terry, “they sometimes give a warning.”

“That’s the Red Freedoms,” said Debby, “the Black Hands don’t give a warning.”

“Which could imply the Black Hands,” said Terry, settling in for a natter on the merits and demerits of one terrorist organisation’s way of doing business versus another.

“OK,” interrupted Peter, forestalling further chat, “Any questions?”

“Parking,” said Terry, opportunistic as ever, “when are they doing something about parking?”

“As we said yesterday and the day before and, oh yes, as we’ve been saying every day in all these months since you joined us, they aren’t going to do anything about the parking, thank you, Terry.” Peter stared round the table, lingering on Phillippa, as if daring any more utterances.

“When are they going to fix the tower clock?” she asked, making a sterling effort to fight back tears.

“And they aren’t going to fix the clock, either, Phillippa. As we’ve already said it will cost too much to repair. Any more questions?”

Silence.

“Good, back to work all of you, except you Terry, if you could just stay back a minute.”

The others filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“You were late again Terry.”

“I know but it was the traffic….”

“Traffic is not an excuse, Terry,” said Peter, “you should know to factor that in to your plans. Also, as I recall, Human Resources offered you an apartment close by when you joined us, a much sought after facility that had only come available due to the unfortunate demise of your predecessor.” He fell silent, possibly in recognition of human frailty and the fact that the previous occupant had thrown himself ungratefully off the 7th floor balcony of the much vaunted facility. “You are paid to be here between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. It’s up to you to get yourself here on time.”

“Yes,” said Terry, for once recognising a time when the less words said might be the better.

“Everyone else manages to be here. I have to come from further away than you so I leave earlier. Brian always gets here at 8:00.”

“I know,” Terry murmured, humbly, while thinking 'yeah but Brian hasn’t got a life…'

“And he doesn’t leave his desk until 5.45 whereas you are packed and out the door by 5:10 if you can get away with it.”

Again, Brian hasn’t got a life …“I always do my hours…”

“Do you want to see your clocking in sheet?” asked Peter. Terry ducked his head; he knew what it would show. “The thing is Terry, it’s not working out for us; I think we need to move you on.”

Terry grimaced “I’m sorry Peter, I promise I will get here earlier in future.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Terry, Galaxy has already collated your data and raised it with Human Resources. They’ve spotlighted you and put in the transfer request.”

“You mean I’m already on the List?” asked Terry. “That was quick.”

Peter gave him a look; he was a strange one and no mistake, “Should come through in a few days. …Obviously you can’t be on site when it comes through, that would create a conflict of interest so your employment with Peter Brookes will be terminated this morning.”

Terry placed his head in his hands; his date with Cathy in Finance had just gone down the pan.

“I’m sorry, Terry but you knew your stats were in the system. It was only a matter of time before Galaxy highlighted you. You know the drill; it’s out of my hands.”

“I know, I know,” said Terry.

“I’m afraid I have to escort you off the premises.” Terry nodded. “Straight from this meeting.”

“Right now? Don’t I get to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Afraid not, you will be clocked out …” Peter flicked through his paperwork, “5 minutes from now. Sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Terry, “I know how the system works.”

Cheers

Arun

Amazon.co.uk
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Uprising-Cor...

Amazon.com
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06WRT59HX/...

Uprising (Corpalism #1) by Arun D. Ellis

Suddenly

A man may die, nations may rise and fall,
but an idea lives on.
John F. Kennedy

Cramming the last piece of toast into his mouth Terry Jones grabbed his jacket and left his apartment for the office.

He’d had the option of a high-rise within walking distance when he was first assigned to Relocations; his reasons for turning it down had seemed sound; cost = astronomical, space = minimal. Now, and not for the first time, he wished he’d taken it. That morning he’d set his alarm earlier than usual in the hopes of beating the rush hour traffic, problem was he never really managed to keep to his schedule (poor time management or lousy schedule?) and he found himself, yet again, bumper to bumper and yet again, late for work.

Brian Olsen made the final adjustments to his tie, jacket and hair before leaving the men’s room and heading to his desk; all the while diligently maintaining an erect 6ft 6in posture, a copy of today’s Times clamped under his right arm, his brief case gripped firmly in his right hand, and as he strode he repeated his mantra over and over in his head ‘today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations, today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations….’

Rain Morgan, stared at the free drinks machine for a few moments before selecting a cappuccino with sugar. Her actual name was Rainbow Sunset, her mother having one her odd moments, but she preferred Rain. She was quickly joined by Debby Jenna and Phillippa Djukovic; just time for a quick debrief of Phillippa’s date with Simon Brookes from Finance.

Peter Illyffe, the divisional manager for Relocations 1, left his office and headed for the usual 8:30 briefing in meeting room 3, aka the cupboard due to its lack of size and windows. His staff fell in behind, a well-rehearsed troupe, that is everyone except Terry Jones who was still driving fruitlessly round and round the car park.

The room filled quickly; those lucky enough to get in the door first grabbed a seat at the table, Peter at their head.

“Morning everyone,” he said, to which there were the usual responses of “morning, morning Peter,” a few nods and coughs and a silky “morning, Boss” from Brian, tall even when sitting down. “No Terry, I see?”

This too was greeted by the usual responses, initial silence, then embarrassed coughs or ums…. followed by a clear and unequivocal “he’s not in yet, Boss” from Brian. Peter made a note in the top corner of his meeting notes, as usual.

“Ok, everyone got a copy of today’s agenda?” general nods everywhere, “good, ok – item one then – the recent merger with Alderson’s. As per our meeting yesterday morning I’ve checked up the line and can confirm that Alderson’s Relocations are being wound down and we will ‘inherit their workload’.”

“Relocations are being relocated.” Phillippa’s quip was not altogether unexpected; there were a few groans.

“Thank you Phillippa,” said Peter.

“How big a workload we talking?” asked Rain.

“Approx half again our existing workload,” replied Peter.

“Will we be getting more staff?” Rain again.

“No,” said Peter.

“But how are we meant to cope with that?” asked Debby, saying what the others were thinking.

“By ‘working smarter’,” Brian jumped in, borrowing one of Peter’s ‘phrases of the moment’, “and if some people spent less time at the coffee machine talking then we’d get a lot more done.”

“Who’re you on about?” demanded Debby, realising too late that by asking the question she had singled herself out. Peter made another note at the top of his meeting papers.

“Moving on” said Peter, sounding tired, “there will be a further meeting at 2pm today with the team from Alderson’s so we can ‘manage the handover’ smoothly. Rain and I will attend that. Another quick point, the company will no longer be providing free drinks.”

There was a collective gasp, then “Why’re they changing it?” asked Debby, “I mean we’ve had free coffee for years now.” For some reason her mouth seemed to be working overtime this morning, in the absence of Terry it could be deemed she had assumed his mantle.

“As you all know we’re facing ever ‘stiffer competition’ out there, which is one of the reasons we’ve been merged with Alderson’s. The Efficiency Department has identified that the company could save almost £100,000 a year by moving to a ‘pay for your own’ drinks environment.”

“Can we bring a kettle and make our own drinks?” asked Phillippa.

“No,” replied Peter, “that would mean providing kitchen facilities – an added expense.”

“What about a flask?” asked Brian.

“Flasks are OK,” said Peter, flashing him a grateful smile.

“If you can drink anything from a flask,” muttered Rain.

“Everyone, now, come to order, please.” Peter was becoming irritated and the strain of not showing it was telling on his stress levels. At that point Terry opened the door and slipped into the room, “Ah! Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Terry “couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

“There were loads of spaces when I got here at 8:00,” said Brian.

“I got held up in traffic,” offered Terry, his expression hopeful.

“Then might I suggest you leave earlier,” replied Brian, “we all make the effort to be here on time, it’s only ever you who’s late.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Peter interceded. “OK the final point, we’ve had a report from C.I.T, the Counter Intelligence Team,” he elaborated, staring pointedly at Phillippa over whose head most things of import were known to sail, “that we have a ‘heightened terror threat’ as a result of our merger with Alderson’s.” He waited for the information to sink in then continued by way of explanation, “Apparently we’re now the 3rd largest provider of labour resource in the EU so it makes us an even bigger target.” Phillippa looked on the verge of tears, possibly at being singled out for the stare, the rest were demonstrating variously dismay or affected disinterest but no-one spoke. “So everybody please ‘stay alert, stay vigilant’ and re-watch the compulsory DVD ‘Terror and Counter Terrorism’. Remember, ‘we’re all in this together’ and it’s up to each and every one of us to …‘keep the workplace safe’.”

Terry winced; he was convinced that Peter’s insistence on speaking in inverted commas and quoting the company watchwords at every opportunity had a damaging effect on his psyche.

“Did anyone see the news this morning?” asked Rain, too brightly. “There was an explosion in the town centre.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Debby, “near Macheson’s.”

“They said something about 20 casualties,” Rain added, “it’s awful”.

“Did they say who it was?” asked Terry.

“It’s a bit early for that kind of info,” snapped Brian.

“I dunno,” defended Terry, “they sometimes give a warning.”

“That’s the Red Freedoms,” said Debby, “the Black Hands don’t give a warning.”

“Which could imply the Black Hands,” said Terry, settling in for a natter on the merits and demerits of one terrorist organisation’s way of doing business versus another.

“OK,” interrupted Peter, forestalling further chat, “Any questions?”

“Parking,” said Terry, opportunistic as ever, “when are they doing something about parking?”

“As we said yesterday and the day before and, oh yes, as we’ve been saying every day in all these months since you joined us, they aren’t going to do anything about the parking, thank you, Terry.” Peter stared round the table, lingering on Phillippa, as if daring any more utterances.

“When are they going to fix the tower clock?” she asked, making a sterling effort to fight back tears.

“And they aren’t going to fix the clock, either, Phillippa. As we’ve already said it will cost too much to repair. Any more questions?”

Silence.

“Good, back to work all of you, except you Terry, if you could just stay back a minute.”

The others filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“You were late again Terry.”

“I know but it was the traffic….”

“Traffic is not an excuse, Terry,” said Peter, “you should know to factor that in to your plans. Also, as I recall, Human Resources offered you an apartment close by when you joined us, a much sought after facility that had only come available due to the unfortunate demise of your predecessor.” He fell silent, possibly in recognition of human frailty and the fact that the previous occupant had thrown himself ungratefully off the 7th floor balcony of the much vaunted facility. “You are paid to be here between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. It’s up to you to get yourself here on time.”

“Yes,” said Terry, for once recognising a time when the less words said might be the better.

“Everyone else manages to be here. I have to come from further away than you so I leave earlier. Brian always gets here at 8:00.”

“I know,” Terry murmured, humbly, while thinking 'yeah but Brian hasn’t got a life…'

“And he doesn’t leave his desk until 5.45 whereas you are packed and out the door by 5:10 if you can get away with it.”

Again, Brian hasn’t got a life …“I always do my hours…”

“Do you want to see your clocking in sheet?” asked Peter. Terry ducked his head; he knew what it would show. “The thing is Terry, it’s not working out for us; I think we need to move you on.”

Terry grimaced “I’m sorry Peter, I promise I will get here earlier in future.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Terry, Galaxy has already collated your data and raised it with Human Resources. They’ve spotlighted you and put in the transfer request.”

“You mean I’m already on the List?” asked Terry. “That was quick.”

Peter gave him a look; he was a strange one and no mistake, “Should come through in a few days. …Obviously you can’t be on site when it comes through, that would create a conflict of interest so your employment with Peter Brookes will be terminated this morning.”

Terry placed his head in his hands; his date with Cathy in Finance had just gone down the pan.

“I’m sorry, Terry but you knew your stats were in the system. It was only a matter of time before Galaxy highlighted you. You know the drill; it’s out of my hands.”

“I know, I know,” said Terry.

“I’m afraid I have to escort you off the premises.” Terry nodded. “Straight from this meeting.”

“Right now? Don’t I get to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Afraid not, you will be clocked out …” Peter flicked through his paperwork, “5 minutes from now. Sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Terry, “I know how the system works.”

Cheers

Arun

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The octogenarian inhabitants of 'EDEN HALL RETIREMENT VILLAGE' make a final stand for their way of life

Mags the MI6 agent (retd)
Val the man hungry Nurse (retd)
Alb ex army (retd)
Gerry ex army (retd)
Ron, ex socialist agitator (retd)
Mackie - the mysterious friend of Mags (retd)

Naturally I have investigated both sides;

NATO's expansion Eastwards and Ukraine's desire to escape from Russia's totalitarian form of government.

It's pointless to discuss who started this because it's actually a hot war not a theoretical war; any investigation is for the historians of the future if there is a future.

The main points we have to consider are.

1. The books written by Zbigniew Brzezinski advising the NeoLiberals on the way ahead. He wrote that the USA would not be able to maintain its hegemony indefinitely and that eventually, although the US would remain the strongest power others would rise up to form a second tier which, if those countries worked together, could threaten America's position. He, therefore, as an example, advocated incorporating Ukraine into NATO and the EU in the hopes that it would lead to regime change in Russia which could then be incorporated into the West and broken down into smaller territories.

2. Russia has been stating for years that if NATO keeps expanding East and exporting its NeoLiberal policies into the Russian sphere of influence it will lead to war. Putin has no intention of being ousted by the West and couldn't have been clearer about it.

3. It is interesting to note that American administration is trying the same game with China and will get the same level or resistance.

These really are the only facts that you require.

The question then is NOT why did Russia invade but WHY didn't the West heed the warnings coming out of the Kremlin and back off.

Why did our leaders keep pushing knowing that it would eventually lead to war between Russia and the Ukraine?

They never had any intention of letting the Ukraine join the EU or NATO.

They never had any intention of sending troops to the Ukraine because it would start WWIII and there's no way on this earth that any of them are really that stupid, even though they have encouraged the media to whip up war fever amongst the more impressionable.

They will send weapons, [naturally our political leaders who have shares in the right companies will earn good dividends as a result] to the Ukrainians so that they can keep on fighting and dying...in fact it has been said that America and NATO will fight on until the last Ukrainian is dead.

Note we now have a new bogeyman of whom we must all be afraid.

So far this century we have had Bin Laden and the Sheep herders of Afghanistan [although we lost that one the rich élites earned a small fortune from their shareholdings in the armaments industry], then we had Sadam Hussein [they earned a fortune from that one as well], we have the ongoing drama of global warming [the elites will earn vast sums from their investments in clean energy providers], then we had Covid19 and the threat of death from a cold [naturally our elites have shareholdings in all of the right pharma companies so they have earned really good divs and intend to keep earning them with mandated vaccinations and the never ending threat of new strains] and now we have Putin and the new arms race [again our elites will earn a fortune in divs from their shareholdings in the armaments industry].

The media, which we all know is the governments preferred choice of tool for manipulating the masses, does its bit every time; raising our fears of Sadam Hussein and the preposterous 45 minute warning when it was fully known that Iraqi scuds couldn't even reach Israel, Bin Laden ex-CIA [or was he still active?], Gaddafi, ISIS, Assad - then we have the end of world fears - global warming, the spread of Covid19 pushed and pushed on the masses until people started demanding that those who aren't vaccinated are ostracised from society and fined...some people were even demanding that the unvaccinated didn't receive medical treatment if they needed it - and now they're all calling for war with Russia even though Russia is a nuclear power; which would of course mean the end of all life on the planet.

Of course, as I say, we will never go to war with Russia but once the masses are convinced that Putin is a madman they will readily agree to the new arms race earning vast fortunes for the elites.

Are you seeing the pattern yet?

Oh and with regards to Putin's invasion of the Ukraine we are constantly being told that it is failing- well it isn't. Think about it. He sent in less than 200,000 soldiers to conquer a country of 44,000,000 with a standing army in excess of 300,000, such an enterprise really isn't possible.

No, he sent in a small army not to conquer but to smash the Ukraine up, to return it to the Stone Age so that it is no longer be a military threat to Russia. He never had any intention of occupying the country and the West never had any intention of going to the Ukraine's aid.

Both sides are going to achieve their primary objective.

Putin will secure Russia's border with Ukraine and Ukraine will no longer be a military threat to Russia.

Our elites will earn shed loads of money from rearmament.

You the masses will not only foot the bill for Western aid and rearmament but you will be held in fear yet again for a period of time.

The Ukraine will be smashed to bits and Ukrainians will have their lives ruined.

The rich elites are playing us.

Here's a disturbing thought - it is now well known that the global elites have been trying to create a New World Order over which they intend to rule supreme and that their efforts have started to fail thanks to Brexit, Trump and the rise of nationalism across the globe - consequently the NWO has been rebranded as 'Build Back Better' [BBB] and the 'Great Reset', could it be possible that the only thing that has been standing in their way is the dictatorships and the autocracies? Is this where the real resistance to the NWO really lies? If so it is a red pill blue pill moment...

Now for the real tin foil hat prediction:

I hope everyone has noticed that in 2019 the Pentagon more or less admitted that there are UFOs which have now been rebranded UAPs [Unidentified Aerial phenomena].

Now this raises an interesting question.

Do aliens really travel the billions of light years across the Universe in little saucer shaped spaceships to see what we're up to here on the planet Earth?

Unlikely; in fact highly improbable, if not actually impossible.

The distance is beyond imagining. I know that physicists like to speculate about bending time or using so called worm holes to travel across the Universe but this is all just science fiction mumbo jumbo. The truth is that it really is just too far besides which our galaxy is right out on the edge of the Universe - why would they come all the way out here to a backwater like this.

So that beggars the question - what are UFOs/UAPs and why has the Pentagon, along with other international agencies now decided to admit their existence?

Could it be that these craft are actually terrestrial and that we should prepare ourselves for the expressed threat of an alien invasion except it won't be an actual alien invasion - No it will be a hoax by the elites to keep us all in fear once again - and for them to earn more divs from the manufacture of interplanetary defence armaments against an imaginary foe.

They might even take the opportunity to cull the population of non productive serfs...I mean people and blame it on aliens.

Remember it was Brzezinski who said that, and I paraphrase: 'in the past it was easier to control a million people than to kill a million people' but that it was 'now easier to kill a million people than to control a million people'.

Well via the TV and massed propaganda through the government controlled media they have managed to solve that particular problem; so now if they wish they can fake an attack from aliens or if they wish they can launch an actual attack from space, kill millions and say it was aliens. Then demand massive tax rises to pay for armaments from which they will earn massive returns.

Remember, for the rich elites it's not about day to day living...it's about how much money they can get their hands on and how much power they can exercise over the masses.

Back to the Ukraine

The horrifying truth of it is that our rich elites are not only willing to allow what is happening in the Ukraine but that they also brought it on just so that they can earn a percentage...we know this is true because they haven't kicked up a stink about Saudi Arabia bombing Yemen because they already have that market sown up...it's an up and running money spinner...Ukraine is still in the set up stage...this is the truth and we the people are being deceived yet again and to be sure they will find another thing for us to fear going forwards...aliens or not.

Strong title considering the western media is pushing the line that he has virtually lost the war with Ukraine.

Let's consider the causes first:

Russia claims that NATO and the EU have been moving further East every year with the ultimate ambition of regime change in Russia.

Part of this statement is definitely true, if not all of it. In fact ever since the fall of the Berlin Wall NATO and the EU have incorporated almost every ex-Warsaw Pact, that is with the exception of Georgia and the Ukraine.

Russia has consistently made it clear that both countries are a red line - there is no way that the Kremlin will ever allow either to join NATO or the EU.

NATO and the EU know this yet they have kept pushing, why?

In 2008 Russia invaded Georgia to make its point.

In 2014, after the NATO lead coup in Kiev which ousted the democratically elected pro Russian President Viktor Yanukovych, Putin seized the Crimea. Since then he has been biding his time waiting for the opportunity to make Crimea's incorporation back into Russia official.

Meanwhile, US lead NATO has continued to push the Ukraine to join NATO and the EU even though there has been no real likelihood that it could ever actually happen simply because of the high levels of political corruption in the Ukraine, not to mention the presence of a strong Neo NAZI block in the country.

All of this, along with failed diplomatic pressure from Russia to persuade the West to give up on its ambitions, has just lead to a heightening in tensions in the region. Make no mistake this is a failure of Western diplomacy; the failure to see where things were heading.

Foolishly the Ukrainians believed that they were really being courted by the West when in reality all the West wanted was to destabilise Putin's regime.

Frustrated at Western intransigence and encouraged by the disastrous US lead withdrawal from Afghanistan Putin moved an army of 200k onto the Ukrainian border. This event signalled to the world that Putin believed the West was without strong and coordinated leadership.

This then was the West's first defeat at the hands of Putin; its diplomatic failure to recognise that he was serious. If the West had taken the warnings seriously and behaved with less arrogance then they would've backed off and Putin would've withdrawn his armies.

It is possible to argue that the West encouraged Putin to go out on a limb by invading Ukraine but this would suppose a level of clear thinking in the Whitehouse. If they thought that they could break Putin and force his downfall after imposing sanctions or if they thought he wouldn't actually invade then they have drastically misread the situation; another failure of Biden's team.

Putin has left the West with an incorrect impression of his strategic goals - before the invasion he let it be widely known that his troops could be in Kiev within 2 days and this has been the erroneous baseline of all western media analysis of the campaign.

Putin never intended to seize Kiev - he doesn't have the forces required to do it. He can destroy Kiev but not seize and hold it; he would need over a million men to achieve such an aim and he knows it.

His army of 200k had only limited tasks:-

Make contact with Ukrainian forces and wear them down in the field.

Seize and hold areas in the East that are loyal to Russia.

Destroy as much of Ukraine's infrastructure as he can get away with; basically return it to the Stone Age.

What then are Putin's geopolitical aims?

Reduce the effectiveness of Ukraine's armed forces going forwards.

Confirmation that the Ukraine will never join NATO and the EU.

Confirmation that the Ukraine will be neutral going forwards.

Crimea and other Eastern regions to be ceded to Russia.

Take as much of Ukraine as he can get away with.

Prove to the rest of the world that the West and the US are a leaderless and spent force

Ukraine will have to agree to these terms because at the end of the day the West dare not intervene militarily for fear of starting a nuclear war; if NATO and the US go to war with Russia then there is no way that Russia can win a conventional war so in the end it will have to utilise its nuclear arsenal and with its Mach 9 Zircon hypersonic missiles the destruction of the West is guaranteed, we can only hope that the ideologically driven Muppets in the Whitehouse understand this. If they have, which they should, then Putin really is in the driving seat.

How did he achieve this?

Although the West has been pushing the Ukraine to join NATO and the EU it did not sign any treaty of mutual assistance in the event of attack by a third party, therefore, the West has no treaty with the Ukraine giving Putin a free hand and the West cannot intervene.

Putin more or less told the West that if it tried to intervene he would launch a nuclear first strike. The West believes this to be likely because Putin has made it known that he sees the Ukraine as crucial to Russian survival and if there is any question of Russia ceasing to exist he will push the button. This has made NATO involvement impossible unless the West wants to face the consequences of WWIII.

America will never risk WWIII over the Ukraine.

In retaliation the West, fresh from its humiliation in Afghanistan, over reacted and issued instant sanctions and sent arms to Ukraine immediately declaring a partisan interest and ruling out any future involvement in peace talks. This has been particularly useful to Putin and China because it has revealed to the world that the Biden administration doesn't know how to deal with complex issues.

The same has to be said of the UK government, NATO and the EU.

This has left Putin with a free hand to destroy the Ukrainian armed forces and to bomb Ukrainian cities with impunity. Sure it has included Russian losses but the gains far out way the losses.

A further humiliation to the west has been the total futility of the sanctions; they have hurt the West more than Russia because Putin had already secured other markets for his oil and gas; China, India, Pakistan etc whereas the West has been left scrambling around in search of alternative sources. The vision of the Biden administration going cap in hand to Venezuela and Boris creeping around in Saudi Arabia just about sums it up.

Further Putin is now demanding Rubbles in payment for Russian oil and gas from hostile countries placing pressure on the petro-dollar and do not forget that Putin hasn't yet stopped sending gas and oil to the West - when he does expect a major economic crisis.

Saudi Arabia has recently offered to trade its oil in Yuan again threatening the petro-dollar.

China has doubled down in its support of Putin and Biden has recklessly allowed limited sanctions against China, admittedly in regards to the Uighurs but it has started the sanction process with the country that is the world's manufacturing base.

Importantly, going forwards, this will have permanent consequences for the West's global effectiveness and geopolitical presence.

Not only that, but the West has had to take a backseat whilst Russia negotiates the new Iranian nuclear deal for the world.

Now the final insult, Turkey is negotiating the peace treaty between Russia and the Ukraine sending the clear message to the world that America's day as the unipolar super power is over.

To summarise, Putin will get everything that he set out to achieve, the Ukraine will be reduced to an even poorer failed state and will be internationally recognised as a neutral power, the West will face ongoing economic decline due to the blow back from its sanctions, Russia and China will move ever closer together possibly including India, Iran and Pakistan.

The US global empire was in gradual decline, that decline has just speeded up and can only get faster. If the world turns its back on the petro-dollar then America will fall into the greatest recession the world has yet experienced and the West will follow suit.

Uprising (Corpalism #1) by Arun D. Ellis

Suddenly

A man may die, nations may rise and fall,
but an idea lives on.
John F. Kennedy

Cramming the last piece of toast into his mouth Terry Jones grabbed his jacket and left his apartment for the office.

He’d had the option of a high-rise within walking distance when he was first assigned to Relocations; his reasons for turning it down had seemed sound; cost = astronomical, space = minimal. Now, and not for the first time, he wished he’d taken it. That morning he’d set his alarm earlier than usual in the hopes of beating the rush hour traffic, problem was he never really managed to keep to his schedule (poor time management or lousy schedule?) and he found himself, yet again, bumper to bumper and yet again, late for work.

Brian Olsen made the final adjustments to his tie, jacket and hair before leaving the men’s room and heading to his desk; all the while diligently maintaining an erect 6ft 6in posture, a copy of today’s Times clamped under his right arm, his brief case gripped firmly in his right hand, and as he strode he repeated his mantra over and over in his head ‘today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations, today I will excel, today I will exceed all expectations….’

Rain Morgan, stared at the free drinks machine for a few moments before selecting a cappuccino with sugar. Her actual name was Rainbow Sunset, her mother having one her odd moments, but she preferred Rain. She was quickly joined by Debby Jenna and Phillippa Djukovic; just time for a quick debrief of Phillippa’s date with Simon Brookes from Finance.

Peter Illyffe, the divisional manager for Relocations 1, left his office and headed for the usual 8:30 briefing in meeting room 3, aka the cupboard due to its lack of size and windows. His staff fell in behind, a well-rehearsed troupe, that is everyone except Terry Jones who was still driving fruitlessly round and round the car park.

The room filled quickly; those lucky enough to get in the door first grabbed a seat at the table, Peter at their head.

“Morning everyone,” he said, to which there were the usual responses of “morning, morning Peter,” a few nods and coughs and a silky “morning, Boss” from Brian, tall even when sitting down. “No Terry, I see?”

This too was greeted by the usual responses, initial silence, then embarrassed coughs or ums…. followed by a clear and unequivocal “he’s not in yet, Boss” from Brian. Peter made a note in the top corner of his meeting notes, as usual.

“Ok, everyone got a copy of today’s agenda?” general nods everywhere, “good, ok – item one then – the recent merger with Alderson’s. As per our meeting yesterday morning I’ve checked up the line and can confirm that Alderson’s Relocations are being wound down and we will ‘inherit their workload’.”

“Relocations are being relocated.” Phillippa’s quip was not altogether unexpected; there were a few groans.

“Thank you Phillippa,” said Peter.

“How big a workload we talking?” asked Rain.

“Approx half again our existing workload,” replied Peter.

“Will we be getting more staff?” Rain again.

“No,” said Peter.

“But how are we meant to cope with that?” asked Debby, saying what the others were thinking.

“By ‘working smarter’,” Brian jumped in, borrowing one of Peter’s ‘phrases of the moment’, “and if some people spent less time at the coffee machine talking then we’d get a lot more done.”

“Who’re you on about?” demanded Debby, realising too late that by asking the question she had singled herself out. Peter made another note at the top of his meeting papers.

“Moving on” said Peter, sounding tired, “there will be a further meeting at 2pm today with the team from Alderson’s so we can ‘manage the handover’ smoothly. Rain and I will attend that. Another quick point, the company will no longer be providing free drinks.”

There was a collective gasp, then “Why’re they changing it?” asked Debby, “I mean we’ve had free coffee for years now.” For some reason her mouth seemed to be working overtime this morning, in the absence of Terry it could be deemed she had assumed his mantle.

“As you all know we’re facing ever ‘stiffer competition’ out there, which is one of the reasons we’ve been merged with Alderson’s. The Efficiency Department has identified that the company could save almost £100,000 a year by moving to a ‘pay for your own’ drinks environment.”

“Can we bring a kettle and make our own drinks?” asked Phillippa.

“No,” replied Peter, “that would mean providing kitchen facilities – an added expense.”

“What about a flask?” asked Brian.

“Flasks are OK,” said Peter, flashing him a grateful smile.

“If you can drink anything from a flask,” muttered Rain.

“Everyone, now, come to order, please.” Peter was becoming irritated and the strain of not showing it was telling on his stress levels. At that point Terry opened the door and slipped into the room, “Ah! Mr. Jones, glad you could join us.”

“Sorry I’m late,” said Terry “couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

“There were loads of spaces when I got here at 8:00,” said Brian.

“I got held up in traffic,” offered Terry, his expression hopeful.

“Then might I suggest you leave earlier,” replied Brian, “we all make the effort to be here on time, it’s only ever you who’s late.”

“Thank you, Brian,” Peter interceded. “OK the final point, we’ve had a report from C.I.T, the Counter Intelligence Team,” he elaborated, staring pointedly at Phillippa over whose head most things of import were known to sail, “that we have a ‘heightened terror threat’ as a result of our merger with Alderson’s.” He waited for the information to sink in then continued by way of explanation, “Apparently we’re now the 3rd largest provider of labour resource in the EU so it makes us an even bigger target.” Phillippa looked on the verge of tears, possibly at being singled out for the stare, the rest were demonstrating variously dismay or affected disinterest but no-one spoke. “So everybody please ‘stay alert, stay vigilant’ and re-watch the compulsory DVD ‘Terror and Counter Terrorism’. Remember, ‘we’re all in this together’ and it’s up to each and every one of us to …‘keep the workplace safe’.”

Terry winced; he was convinced that Peter’s insistence on speaking in inverted commas and quoting the company watchwords at every opportunity had a damaging effect on his psyche.

“Did anyone see the news this morning?” asked Rain, too brightly. “There was an explosion in the town centre.”

“Yeah,” chipped in Debby, “near Macheson’s.”

“They said something about 20 casualties,” Rain added, “it’s awful”.

“Did they say who it was?” asked Terry.

“It’s a bit early for that kind of info,” snapped Brian.

“I dunno,” defended Terry, “they sometimes give a warning.”

“That’s the Red Freedoms,” said Debby, “the Black Hands don’t give a warning.”

“Which could imply the Black Hands,” said Terry, settling in for a natter on the merits and demerits of one terrorist organisation’s way of doing business versus another.

“OK,” interrupted Peter, forestalling further chat, “Any questions?”

“Parking,” said Terry, opportunistic as ever, “when are they doing something about parking?”

“As we said yesterday and the day before and, oh yes, as we’ve been saying every day in all these months since you joined us, they aren’t going to do anything about the parking, thank you, Terry.” Peter stared round the table, lingering on Phillippa, as if daring any more utterances.

“When are they going to fix the tower clock?” she asked, making a sterling effort to fight back tears.

“And they aren’t going to fix the clock, either, Phillippa. As we’ve already said it will cost too much to repair. Any more questions?”

Silence.

“Good, back to work all of you, except you Terry, if you could just stay back a minute.”

The others filed out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“You were late again Terry.”

“I know but it was the traffic….”

“Traffic is not an excuse, Terry,” said Peter, “you should know to factor that in to your plans. Also, as I recall, Human Resources offered you an apartment close by when you joined us, a much sought after facility that had only come available due to the unfortunate demise of your predecessor.” He fell silent, possibly in recognition of human frailty and the fact that the previous occupant had thrown himself ungratefully off the 7th floor balcony of the much vaunted facility. “You are paid to be here between the hours of 8:30 and 5:00. It’s up to you to get yourself here on time.”

“Yes,” said Terry, for once recognising a time when the less words said might be the better.

“Everyone else manages to be here. I have to come from further away than you so I leave earlier. Brian always gets here at 8:00.”

“I know,” Terry murmured, humbly, while thinking 'yeah but Brian hasn’t got a life…'

“And he doesn’t leave his desk until 5.45 whereas you are packed and out the door by 5:10 if you can get away with it.”

Again, Brian hasn’t got a life …“I always do my hours…”

“Do you want to see your clocking in sheet?” asked Peter. Terry ducked his head; he knew what it would show. “The thing is Terry, it’s not working out for us; I think we need to move you on.”

Terry grimaced “I’m sorry Peter, I promise I will get here earlier in future.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Terry, Galaxy has already collated your data and raised it with Human Resources. They’ve spotlighted you and put in the transfer request.”

“You mean I’m already on the List?” asked Terry. “That was quick.”

Peter gave him a look; he was a strange one and no mistake, “Should come through in a few days. …Obviously you can’t be on site when it comes through, that would create a conflict of interest so your employment with Peter Brookes will be terminated this morning.”

Terry placed his head in his hands; his date with Cathy in Finance had just gone down the pan.

“I’m sorry, Terry but you knew your stats were in the system. It was only a matter of time before Galaxy highlighted you. You know the drill; it’s out of my hands.”

“I know, I know,” said Terry.

“I’m afraid I have to escort you off the premises.” Terry nodded. “Straight from this meeting.”

“Right now? Don’t I get to say goodbye to anyone?”

“Afraid not, you will be clocked out …” Peter flicked through his paperwork, “5 minutes from now. Sorry but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Terry, “I know how the system works.”

Cheers

Arun

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