Former.ly: Chapter Three (Second Draft) (Excerpt)
So that’s how I came to start my new job on four hours of sleep, nursing a hangover with a five o’clock shadow. Still, I got there at nine on the dot and was greeted by John, the young founder, who was wearing a pair of white Reebok Classics and a fluffy pink dressing gown, holding a steaming cup of coffee to ward off the autumnal chill. I noticed it was the same mug that Abhi had used, only now it had a chip in it.
“You’re early,” he said, stepping aside so I could enter the office. It looked cleaner than before, suspiciously so.
“You said to be here at nine,” I reminded him, pointing out the time on my iPhone.
“Yeah,” John said, with a shrug. “But I’m used to people running an hour late. We usually start around ten, and we finish when we’re finished. Come on in, though.” I stepped over the threshold and debated whether to take my shoes off. In the end, I followed John’s lead and left them on, then walked into the living room after a moment’s hesitation.
“What’s with the sudden cleanliness?” I asked.
John laughed, pausing slightly before replying. “We might be coming into some money,” he explained, carefully. “That’s why we’re hiring you. We decided to get a cleaner, too – god knows, this place needs a good scrubbing.”
“It looks like someone lives here,” I told him.
“They do,” he replied. “I live here, and so does Kerry. Peter does too, when he’s around – he’s got a mattress in the ‘board room’, which happens to look suspiciously like a living room. At times, you’ll feel like you live here, too.”
“I’ll make myself at home, then. Where do you want me?”
“Just sit yourself down there,” he said, directing me to a low sofa opposite a TV set; I recognised it as the sofa where Kerry lay comatose at the start of my first interview. It was vacant now, but it smelled like a locker room and sank down beneath me when I sat on it. Unperturbed, I logged on to the wireless with a password that Peter shouted through from the kitchen, and I nodded at Kerry as he filtered into the living room to get started on the morning’s work. From the hallway, I heard the muffled sound of someone letting themselves in through the front door – Abhi appeared shortly afterwards.
“Morning Dan,” he said, shaking my hand and pulling up beside me on the sofa. “I’m glad you’re here, we need you. Here, take this.” He handed me a yellow post-it note which was covered in a woman’s tidy, spidery handwriting. “It’s your Microsoft Exchange login – get online, check your e-mails and get to work. Let me know if you need help getting on to the server – Flick says she wrote everything down, but between you and me, she wouldn’t know a DNS from an ISP.”
“Thanks,” I replied, tapping away at my keyboard. “Looks like I’m in. Christ, 192 unread e-mails – not bad for my first day.”
“Sounds about right,” he replied, deadpan as always. “We assigned some bug-fixes to get you started – you’re in at the deep end. If you need me, come get me – I’ll be in the bedroom.”
“Like hell you will,” shouted Peter, who was still clattering away in the kitchen. “I’ve booked it today, Abhi. Sit your ass back down beside the newbie and show him the ropes. Someone has to.”
“Sure thing, boss,” he murmured, collapsing on to the sofa beside me.
“What’s the deal with the bedroom?” I asked.
“We don’t have private rooms, see,” he explained, muttering in a low, rebellious overtone. “The bedroom is the next best thing. It’s easier to work in there – you don’t have to put up with people breathing down your neck for scrappy favours which distract you from the database.”
I said nothing – I was busy working through a flood of e-mails, mostly for Viagra and dubious dating sites. Abhi didn’t care, he just booted up a machine of his own and started coding. I felt like I knew him already – he seemed like a natural-born pessimist, a complainer who never did anything to change things. I planned to change that.
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