A Helping Hand
By: DL
(Copyright 2007 by the Author)
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are
allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...
dl@tickiestories.us
Before going to bed that night I booked an alarm call on the 'work' phone and switched the answer-phone off [I was safe here: it was company policy never to call staff at home before 9 a.m., and I'd be at work by then]. I slept soundly and was up and about well before 6 a.m., so I cancelled the alarm call, switched the answer-phone back on and made a coffee, got some cereal and settled down at the dining table to put down my thoughts on the day's activities.
This occupied my mind quietly until the alarm on my wristwatch started to beep softly at 7.30 a.m. [it would never wake me, hence the alarm call, but was set to remind me of time so that I'd start to get ready for work]. I took my mug and dish, etc. through to the kitchen, rinsed them under the cold tap to remove the worst and then shoved them in the dishwasher. I quietly went down to the bathroom and performed my normal waking routine [à la the three Ss], putting the towel I'd used in the laundry basket.
Having tidied up the bathroom I cursed my lack of forethought: my clothes were all in my wardrobes in my bedroom. Having little choice, I stopped at my bedroom door and listened carefully; there were no discernible noises, so I knocked gently. Juan didn't take long to answer, "It's OK, Dave, I'm awake." Taking that as an invitation to enter I pushed the door open to find Juan awake, but still tucked up on his side in bed, facing the door. I smiled at him and said, "So, how do you feel this morning?"
He smiled as he replied, "Much better, thanks; I'm still sore, but it's just a dull ache mostly now. What time is it?" I glanced at my watch before replying, "Just turned ten to eight. I knocked because I didn't think to get my clothes out last night; I'll be off to work in about twenty-five minutes. What are you going to do today?" As I said this I moved over to the far wardrobe and extracted a clean pair of trousers, boxers, shirt and socks. Juan had thought about his answer while I did so, and as I finished he said, "I guess I'll just lay in bed and listen to my music, mostly."
Stopping by the door, I looked at him and said, "You're not going to try anything stupid while I'm gone are you?" He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face and I said, "Well, for example: lately you seem to be experiencing difficulty getting in and out of baths and beds" I grinned as I said it and carried on, "I don't want you doing anything that could come unstuck like getting in and out of the bath at the moment when there's no one here in case something goes wrong, OK? I'll happily let you do it yourself if you're up to it, but not for the next few days unless someone's here." He smiled and nodded. I said, "You've only got three CDs, but in the bedside cabinet is my CD collection; feel free to play any that you like. I don't have any problem with you using my stereo either as wearing headphones for a long period isn't a good idea."
I was turning to go when another thought crossed my mind, and I stopped and said, "Do you know how to use a computer?" He looked at me and I pointed across at my BBC Model B. "I only asked because if you want to, there are some games that you can play – I usually play PacMan after a bad day at work!" He looked at it and then back to me. "Are you sure?" I smiled, "Yeah; it's not like you can really break anything. Anyway, I guess you'd be better staying in here mostly as I suspect that you may get a few phone calls during the day!" I grinned and he blushed as I finished. "Just get whatever you want to eat and put the dishes in the dishwasher when you're done. I'll see you tonight just after 6:30 I'd guess – damn. Wait." I went down to the lounge, and got dressed properly and then, after tidying the room and drawing the curtains, I went back to the bedroom.
Juan was waiting patiently with a curious look on his face. "OK, I gave Julian that phone number" (I pointed to the phone by the bed) "last night; and while it's no good for you now, you may want it when you get out and about. But I just remembered something a few minutes ago that you really should have," and I pulled out the other piece of paper I'd written on last night and again added my work number, and gave it to Juan explaining what it was and to call me if he needed to for any reason. I told him I was off and that he should take care and relax and then I headed out.
As some of my readers of earlier chapters have lectured me on the redundancy of extraneous and unnecessary detail I habitually use, I shan't bore you with the details of how I used the remote to unlock the car as I tugged the house door closed or tell you that once I'd started the car I powered up the CD and turned up the volume on ELO's Discovery as I set off via the back roads to work at about 8:30 a.m. [LOL: its my story and I'll amuse myself any way I want to!]
* * *
Work was, as I'd expected it would be, 'interesting': people were trying very hard to avoid me, unsure of how I was likely to react, because most of them knew about my hasty exit – and the reason for it – two days before. As I'd also expected my desk was buried under a sea of crap that other people had 'passed the buck' onto me – something I hated: why couldn't people just make a decision for themselves?
I parked my briefcase [damn, I forgot to bore you with how I picked that up from the lounge on my way out the door, didn't I? LOL] beside my desk and grabbed the pile of accumulated material off my desk and dumped it on the floor over by the wall. I then went through to our staff kitchen and got myself a coffee and, purposely, firmly closed the door of my office on my return: it was something I rarely did and it was certain to ensure that I remained undisturbed until the boss got to work and had ruthlessly demolished his morning mail [I figured that would be about 11:30: he usually arrived between 10:00 and 10:30].
I reviewed the material that had actually been on my desk before I had left on Wednesday and time passed quickly. I noticed the time first about 10:45 as I consigned another boring piece of paperwork to my out-tray [my boss constantly bemoaned my cavalier attitude to paperwork – I usually resisted any fleeting urge to do it! – and whenever I wasn't busy on something too important to disturb me, he worked at getting me to comply with his policies. After Wednesday I was being a 'good boy' to make amends – it wouldn't last: my inner rebellious self would win through at some point.]
Still, noting the time, I retrieved my personal phonebook from my briefcase and called Dr. Derek. I got his receptionist, but as I had thought, he had completed his early surgery and hadn't set out on his first batch of house calls. He was mildly surprised that I should be calling him so soon and asked if everything was OK with Juan; I said he was making good progress and now only suffering from dull aches. Having exhausted the pleasantries I asked him if he could forward a detailed account of his examination to Juan care of my address and explained that Juan was contemplating involving the authorities and wanted the evidence of his condition should he decide to go down that route. I asked him if it were possible to get it sent via Registered Mail today and said I would, of course, pay for that and the report when I saw him next Thursday. He assured me that he would see it was done.
I carried on with the dreaded paperwork, and the next distraction came at nearly 11:45 when the phone rang [it had unusually – though not surprisingly, given the situation – remained stubbornly quiescent all morning]. I was not too amazed to find it was the boss, but was mildly surprised to be invited to join him in the boardroom. Fearing a dressing-down, I went and got myself a can of Regular Coke [I thought the extra caffeine might be needed] from the fridge in the kitchen and quietly made my way down to the executive area.
The boardroom doubled as our Chairman's office on the few days during the year that he put in an appearance, and consequently was well-appointed, with a large, long, boardroom table surrounded by a dozen chairs (five each side and one at each end) as well as the Chairman's executive desk and swivel chair. The reason this room was used for meetings of a 'delicate' nature was that it was the only truly soundproof room in the building [and I and several of my colleagues had been present during 'get togethers' when this fact had been sorely tested!]
I entered without knocking, having been summoned, and noted the boss was seated at the first seat on the far side of the boardroom table and I relaxed slightly: past experience had taught me that if he occupied one of the end seats I was in hot water, and that if he had used the Chairman's chair – putting the vast expanse of desk between us – I was in really deep shit! [It had only happened once: I hope he never reads this or I'm totally screwed! I should say here that I'm fairly safe: my boss doesn't even know how to switch a computer on, let alone use it!]
I took the seat opposite him and waited for him to begin. He asked if I was OK, and we chatted about this and that and he finally came to the point. He explained that the matter over which I and the Production Director had disagreed so heavily had been dealt with. He said that he had made sure that the point was duly noted, that it should not have gone that far and that the Production Director fully understood that, whilst responsible for producing the goods, he was not technically qualified to make an informed decision of the nature we had been discussing and thus it was outside his remit. He said that he had emphatically made the point to the Production Director that I was responsible for matters of a technical nature and that in his absence it would be my decision and my responsibility.
Whilst happy with how the conversation was proceeding I was still uneasy as I sipped my drink. I was sure that if this was all there was I would have been summoned to his office instead. I wasn't wrong. He then moved to, as our American friends say, 'tear me a new ass-hole'. He wasn't rude or abusive, but used words in such a way that I was left in absolutely no doubt just how disappointed he was with me, both for my failure to deal with the situation without it getting out of hand, and also with my subsequently absenting myself [even though he understood my motives]. He finished by saying that, as he'd already said to my colleague, he wasn't prepared to tolerate a repeat performance and that we should both understand that should a similar situation ever develop he'd better hear about it from at least one of us before it reached the endgame that had just transpired or there really would be trouble. I said nothing, feeling – as I have little doubt he'd intended – deeply ashamed of having let him down. [And to put this in context, I should say that as well as being my boss, he was also my closest friend. His words certainly hurt no less because of that.]
Having finished his admonition, and satisfied that he had clearly got the message across – he could read me like a book, mood-wise – he quietly steered things back to day-to-day matters and asked what I'd done so far today. I quietly replied that I'd been making inroads into my backlog of paperwork as I hadn't wanted to get too involved with anybody until things settled down. This brought a restrained smile and a comment that 'perhaps something worthwhile might have been achieved' as he rose, signifying that my ordeal was over.
I haven't bored you with a detailed word by word description of the meeting because I couldn't, even if I had felt so inclined: I can't remember the words – I guess that subconsciously I don't want to – but I can tell you that when I checked my watch once safely outside the executive corridor I saw that it was just gone 12:30, so it had lasted about 45 minutes. I dallied in the reception area between the executive corridor and the stairs leading to the production floor to compose myself prior to returning to my office. I was well aware that the office grapevine would have made certain everyone knew the boss was in the boardroom and that I was getting carpeted [nobody would want to interrupt that, both so I didn't escape and also because it was best to avoid the boss if he was in a strop, and everybody would want to make sure that I got the full force of it and not risk getting some deflected flak if they interrupted].
I also knew that people would be covertly watching for my reappearance to see how long my bollocking had lasted and how well I had taken it. I was damn sure that I wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing just how discomfited I was!
Once I had regained my composure, I thought just for the hell of it that I would throw everybody off; so, as I was entitled to, I re-entered the executive corridor and traversed it to the opposite end of the building and returned to the production floor via the back stairs. This meant that I had to cross the whole production floor to get to my office, which was adjacent to the door leading to the front desk; but I would have bet money that everyone was concentrating on the far door waiting for my reappearance. I was smugly amused to note that I was right, and consequently I'd got nearly two-thirds of the way to my office before I was spotted; and even then, everybody was facing the wrong way: thus I got to my office without anybody seeing my face! I was a happily amused little bunny [little things, little minds etc.] as I entered my office, smiling to myself and leaving the door open.
Once back behind my desk I tried calling Juan but the line was engaged. I wasn't totally surprised, guessing that it was probably Julian's lunch break. Someone finally dared to brave the ogre in his den about 1:30 and having politely and efficiently dealt with their query and avoided any resort to pleasantries that might have led uncomfortably into the past two days, I tried phoning Juan again. He answered fairly promptly and I had to wait while he turned the stereo down; I mentally congratulated myself on having bought an isolated place – no neighbours!
"Hi Dave!" Juan said as he returned. "What made you think it was me?" I retorted. Juan was unfazed by my reply. "I've not long finished talking to Julian, so I guessed it was you!" he replied. "OK, smartass, so how are you? Have you had something to eat?" I rejoined. "I'm OK, thanks; and yes, I got some cereal and juice just after you left and I've had some toast and juice a little while ago."
While he had been talking I had been concentrating intently on the background music; trying to work out what it was, and it suddenly clicked and I laughed. Juan heard my laugh and said, "What's funny?" and I replied, "I see you found at least one CD in my collection you liked! I'd forgotten all about it, to be honest." There was a pause while Juan assimilated what I'd said and then he cautiously replied, "Its OK my playing it, isn't it? You did say I could play any of yours I liked and that I could use the stereo."
I chuckled and said, "Yep; right on both counts. I was just surprised by the CD is all: I'd forgotten all about it. It was one of my dad's favourites. Anyway, now that I can hear you, how are things with you and Julian? Am I still expected tonight or am I persona non grata as far as he's concerned?" Juan laughed as he replied, "Why do you keep using words like that? If it's because you think I won't understand you're out of luck: I had to take Latin for two years before I could drop it. And no, Julian's fine as far as you're concerned; he asked me if you were still going to stop by for the furniture, and I said that you were and that I was expecting you to bring my boyfriend home as well."
Juan's finishing comment startled me and momentarily left me speechless – not too hard: the boss's reaming out, whilst not violent, had certainly had a profound effect on me – and there was a definite pause before I replied, "Juan, you haven't forgotten the last conversation we had last night, have you?"
He was unconcerned and laughed as he replied, "Nope, and I scored off Julian just as easily as you!" I was speechless, seeing a side of Juan that had not hitherto been exposed; then after it had sunk in I was both relieved and glad: if he was getting back to 'normal' – whatever that was for him – it could only be good. "You smug little so-and-so, perhaps we'll take turns at giving you a sore backside when we get home!" I replied in a humorous frame of mind. "Yeah, right, I don't think so. Neither of you would let the other touch me!" was his rejoinder.
I was pleased that he was feeling able to have a relaxed conversation with me, even if it seemed a little 'off the wall'; it was better than the hurt and uncommunicative youth I had first met. "OK, well, I'd better go; as it seems Julian's still expecting me we'll both see you later, then we'll see if your theory about the sanctity of your backside holds water!" I teased as I said goodbye.
To be continued …
Posted: 04/17/07