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eccles
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Joined: Oct 2010
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24-01-2020, 07:59 AM
1

Everybody Out! - Part 1

“Bastard. Bloody snidey bastard.” Adrian Forrester ground out the words bitterly as he pounded down the steps of McArthur Brothers and onto the wet pavement. One of his loafers smacked into a grey puddle of oily water, sending dark spots up his trouser leg; Adrian bent with a snarl of impotent rage to examine the damage and in the process dropped his briefcase into the same puddle.

“Who the hell do these jumped up little oiks think they are?” he enquired of nobody in particular, as he sipped moodily on a warm pint in the nearest pub. “Looking down their bloody noses at me, just because I’m a rep. I know more about engineering than the whole lot of them – five years at college, certificates to prove it, I can fix anything, me. I’ve got a gift, I have. Mum was right, I’m wasted doing this job. Repping! Trying to talk nobodies in posh suits up in their tower blocks into spending money they’re too damn mean to part with. Bastards.”

Adrian Forrester had much to be bitter about. He was pushing 50, grossly overweight, unmarried (although he tried kidding himself this was through choice) and had the sort of unfortunate personality that seemed to repel; this was undoubtedly a disadvantage in his line of work, although like many others with character defects he had a finely honed sense of his own importance and capability and very little self-awareness. Since leaving college with a so-so knowledge of all things mechanical and an unjustified optimism that employers would be fighting each other to procure his skills, he had gradually come to the conclusion that being sacked from job after job was proof – if any was needed – that the world was “out to get him” and that all the ex-bosses he’d locked horns with were, frankly, jealous.

He lumbered away from the pub, wiping his lips of beer and attempting to avoid any further puddles as he made his way back to his small flat. He stopped off at a news stand to buy the evening paper; tonight was job night, although in his present mood he doubted he would find much other than burger flipping. He ran his eyes over the columns of small print, his lips curling in supercilious amusement as he read aloud the weasel words. “Computer literate enthusiastic go-getter needed NOW!” “Ha bloody ha” he sneered. “A shop assistant with pimples and the IQ of a newt is what they mean.” “Are you a yes man? Then we don’t want you, we want a can-do man!” “God help us” Adrian intoned. “A can-do man? To do what, sell cans?” He slurped his instant coffee, lit a cigarette and leaned his plump elbows either side of the adverts, allowing the ash and the coffee drips to combine into a murky slurry at the top of the page. It’s so damn unfair, he thought as his bloodshot eyes trawled the columns. Here I am, all this potential, young, smart, more savvy than any of these yuppy kids who land prestigious careers in daddy’s business, and here I …..
Everybody out.”
 

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