Patrick Ness - Topics About Which I Know Nothing

‘Gotta go,’ says Tammy. ‘See you all tomorrow.’

‘I hope she doesn’t have any problem meeting her quota,’ says Percy, watching the back of Tammy move away from us.

‘She won’t,’ says Maryam from Africa. ‘Probably get the quota raised, her.’

‘And you’re married, Perce,’ I say.

‘It doesn’t mean my eye is wandering if I hope that someone doesn’t get sent to the end of the hall,’ he says.

‘Never gonna happen,’ says Maryam, before downing the rest of her pint. It’s even more beautiful when she does it this time.

‘I don’t mean to alarm you, madam,’ I say, ‘but it’s a fact that crime rates for Hove are through the roof this year.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘With our self-defence course, though, that fact doesn’t have to scare you.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘In fact, it’s not self-defence we’re selling. It’s peace of mind.’

‘You’ve said fact three times in a row.’

‘I believe in the product, madam.’

‘How much are you asking for it?’

‘Can you really put a price tag on peace of mind?’

‘You obviously have.’

Today Tammy’s nametag says ‘Tammy On Top.’ I hear her talking to a customer on the phone behind me.

‘Listen, Mrs Rosen,’ she says, ‘I got your phone number, didn’t I? Ex-directory is only a lie that keeps you from getting called by those too lazy to do further searching.’

We’re given a list of phone numbers to call every day generated by some marketing firm somewhere. It isn’t supposed to have any ex-directory numbers on it. Mine doesn’t.

‘And if I can get it, think how much more information the malevolent criminal mind is going to find out about you, Mrs Rosen. You. He’s going to come after you, and he’s going to know a lot more about you than your phone number, I can tell you that. He’s going to know when you’re alone; when you’re in your nightgown; when you make your evening cup of tea and sit down to The Times crossword. He’s going to break into your house silently. He’s going to take your phone off the hook. He’s going to come up behind you, and then he’s going to silence you. But he’s not going to knock you out, Mrs Rosen. Oh, no, he’s got better ideas than that. He’s going to keep you awake, because before he robs you, he’s … well, I hesitate to even suggest. I’d hate to give you nightmares.’

In less than another minute, she’s got Mrs Rosen, no doubt a widowed pensioner because that’s today’s target audience, to sign up for the top-of-the-line classes which include advanced jujitsu, proper use of a knife, and nighttime camouflage, all for more than what Mrs Rosen will spend on food in a year.

Jesus dammit.

There’s a sheet up on the wall that lists our quotas for the week and our progress towards them. We each write our daily sales numbers in a box beside our name and underneath the day. Tammy’s only been here since Wednesday. It’s Friday morning. She’s already outsold Percy and is only three behind me. The second-to-last sale I made yesterday made me reach weekly quota. Percy has to sell four more to make it, no problem really, but none of us can believe that Tammy will probably make a full week’s quota without even needing to. Tammy is in a meeting with the boss. A new employee thing, we all assume, probably accompanied by many smiles and laughs if Tammy’s performance on the quota sheet is anything to go by.

‘It’s because she’s new,’ says Maryam from Africa.

‘Aye,’ I say.

‘All that enthusiasm for the product in the first couple of days,’ says Percy.

‘It’ll wear off,’ says Maryam.

The company only gives Maryam from Africa the numbers of African women her own age, and her sales are so far beyond mine and Percy’s that her quota is higher. She passed it Wednesday morning, but she’ll only report passing it this afternoon. If they knew she’d passed it so easily, they’d raise it again, and it’s already twice the usual. She takes it easy the rest of the week, a sale here, a sale there. I’d do the same.

Tammy appears suddenly, in the way that we’re already trying to get used to, and I notice that the three of us act like guilty children getting caught doing nothing. Her nametag says ‘Tammy Triumphant’. She still has that stupid smile on her face, but she seems distracted by something.

‘There’s some kind of disturbance at the end of the hall,’ she says. She walks to her seat, almost talking to herself. ‘The boss ended the meeting to go handle it.’ We realise she’s angry. ‘He wouldn’t let me come down and see.’ She puts on her headset, already dialling the number at the top of the list. Percy, Maryam and I look at one another. We listen for sounds from the end of the hall but hear nothing. Maryam reaches over from her seat to shut the door.

Tammy’s phone picks up. ‘I know you’re alone, Mrs Wilson,’ she says.

Ten minutes later, the boss comes in.

‘Stay in your office,’ he says. His face is set, worried. ‘Don’t leave, no matter what you hear.’

‘What’s going on?’ says Percy.

‘Just stay here,’ he says. He looks over at Tammy. She holds his eye for a moment, then raises her eyebrows before looking back to her computer. The boss closes the door behind him. Percy looks at me.

‘What’s going on?’ he says again.

‘How should I know?’ I say.

‘Best to leave it,’ says Maryam from Africa.

‘What do you mean Best to leave it ?’ Tammy says, spinning round to face us.

Maryam’s posture straightens. It suddenly looks like she’s a whole lot bigger.

‘Exactly what I say, Little Madam,’ she says. ‘Best. To. Leave. It. Get back to work.’ She looks at Percy. ‘Some of us have quotas to meet.’ Percy turns back to his terminal and starts dialling the next number.

‘Aren’t any of you curious?’ says Tammy, looking at us, exasperated. ‘They tell you to avoid the end of the hall, and you just say, Fine by me?’

I look at Maryam, who still has her eyes locked on Tammy. I look back at Tammy.

‘It’s not quite like that,’ I say.

‘Then what is it like?’ Tammy says. ‘What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to know?’

‘Well,’ I say, ‘the reality of it is -’

‘Go look yourself if you’re so interested, Miss Missy,’ says Maryam.

‘Maryam!’ I say. Maryam looks at me.

‘The woman is not going to be satisfied until she has a look,’ Maryam says. ‘She is just gathering her courage. Well, I say leave us be with your courage-gathering and just go if you’re going to go.’

Tammy takes off her headset. She stands. ‘All right then,’ she says, ‘I will.’

‘Tammy,’ I say, ‘I really wouldn’t.’

‘And yet you can’t, or won’t, tell me why,’ she says.

Percy is also trying to mouth at Tammy not to go, but he’s on a call. It’s company policy that you never disconnect a call. Percy over-balances and hits the floor with a thud. ‘No, madam, I’m still here,’ he says, waving his hands at Tammy to stay put.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Tammy says. She looks at each one of us in turn, then opens the door and steps out.

‘I wish you wouldn’t have let her go,’ says Percy, finally through with his call. It was successful, leaving just three to go to make quota.

‘There is no letting involved,’ says Maryam. ‘A person chooses their own actions. We chose to stay here. She chose to go.’

‘She wouldn’t have listened to us, Perce,’ I say.