I pull out our original crumpled, coffee-stained long list for the millionth time and flick through it gloomily. Names glitter off the page like shiny sweeties. Employed, bona fide talent. The marketing director of Woodhouse Retail. The European marketing head at Dartmouth Plastics. They can’t all be happy at their jobs, surely. There must be someone out there who would love to work for Leonidas Sports. But I’ve tried every single name and got nowhere. I glance up to see Kate standing on one foot, surveying me anxiously, the other leg wrapped around her calf.
“We have precisely three weeks to find a tough-thinking, hard-hitting marketing director for Leonidas Sports.” I’m trying desperately to stay positive. Natalie landed this deal. Natalie was going to woo all the starry candidates. Natalie knows how to do this. I don’t .
Anyway. No point dwelling on that now.
“OK.” I slap my hand on the desk. “I’m going to make some calls.”
“I’ll make you a fresh coffee.” Kate springs into action. “We’ll stay here all night if we have to.”
I love Kate. She acts like she’s in a film about some really thrusting multinational company, instead of two people in a ten-foot-square office with moldy carpet.
“Salary, salary, salary,” she says as she sits down.
“You snooze, you lose,” I respond.
Kate got into reading Natalie’s mantras too. Now we can’t stop quoting them at each other. The trouble is, they don’t actually tell you how to do the job. What I need is the mantra telling you how to get past the question “May I ask what it is in connection with?”
I swing my chair over to Natalie’s desk to get out all the Leonidas Sports paperwork. The cardboard file has fallen off its hangers inside her drawer, so with a muttered curse I gather all the papers together and pull them out. Then suddenly I stop, as I notice an old Post-it which has somehow attached itself to my hand. I’ve never seen this before. James Yates, mobile is written in faded purple felt-tip. And then a number.
A mobile number for James Yates. I don’t believe it! He’s marketing director at Feltons Breweries! He’s on the long list! He’d be perfect! Whenever I’ve tried his office, I’ve been told he’s “abroad.” But wherever he is, he’ll have his mobile, won’t he? Trembling with excitement, I push my chair back to my own desk and dial the number.
“James Yates.” The line is a little crackly but I can still hear him.
“Hi,” I say, trying to sound as confident as possible. “It’s Lara Lington here. Can you talk?” This is what Natalie always says on the phone; I’ve heard her.
“Who is this?” He sounds suspicious. “Did you say you’re from Lingtons?”
I give an inward sigh.
“No, I’m from L &N Executive Recruitment, and I was phoning to see if you’d be interested in a new position, heading up marketing in a dynamic, growing retail company. It’s a very exciting opportunity, so if you’d like to discuss it, perhaps over a discreet lunch at a restaurant of your choice…” I’m going to die if I don’t breathe, so I stop and gasp for air.
“L &N?” He sounds wary. “I don’t know you.”
“We’re a relatively new outfit, myself and Natalie Masser-”
“Not interested.” He cuts me off.
“It’s a marvelous opportunity,” I say quickly. “You’ll have a chance to expand your horizons; there’s a lot of exciting potential in Europe -”
“Sorry. Good-bye.”
“And a ten percent discount on sportswear!” I call desperately down the dead phone.
He’s gone. He didn’t even give me a chance.
“What did he say?” Kate approaches, her hands clutched hopefully around a coffee cup.
“He hung up.” I slump in my chair as Kate puts down the coffee. “We’re never going to get anyone good.”
“Yes, we will!” says Kate, just as the phone starts ringing. “Maybe this is some brilliant executive who’s longing for a new job…” She hurries back to her desk and picks up the phone with her best assistant’s manner. “L &N Executive Recruitment… Oh, Shireen! Great to hear from you! I’ll put you through to Lara.” She beams at me and I grin back. At least we’ve had one triumph.
I suppose strictly speaking it was Natalie’s triumph, since she made the placement, but I’ve been doing all the follow-up work. Anyway, it’s a company triumph.
“Hi, Shireen!” I say cheerfully. “All set for the new job? I just know it’s going to be a great position for you-”
“Lara.” Shireen interrupts tensely. “There’s a problem.”
My stomach plunges. No. No. Please no problems.
“Problem?” I force myself to sound relaxed. “What kind of problem?”
“It’s my dog.”
“Your dog?”
“I’m intending to take Flash into work every day. But I just phoned human resources about setting up a basket for him, and they said it was impossible. They said it wasn’t their policy to allow animals in the offices, can you believe it?”
She clearly expects me to be as outraged as she is. I stare at the phone in bewilderment. How has a dog suddenly entered the picture?
“Lara? Are you there?”
“Yes!” I come to. “Shireen, listen to me. I’m sure you’re really fond of Flash. But it’s not usual to take dogs into the workplace-”