Keith Waterhouse - Office Life

Absolutely blooming typical, thought Gryce bitterly. Not only did the man give no credit whatsoever to the person who had furnished this all-important intelligence, but he had simply no idea how to project his material dramatically and in any case could not be heard by half the audience. Gryce now fervently wished that he had hugged the information to himself and presented it from the floor as Seeds had presented his the other night. It could have been his finest hour.

'… In view of these disclosures,' Grant-Peignton was doggedly resuming, after Ardagh had once more called for silence, 'your executive committee has been instructed to take certain steps…'

'Wossee ramblin on abaht, "bin instructed"? Oo by?' muttered Vaart.

'Heaven knows, I can hardly hear him,' grumbled Gryce, still smarting. 'Terrible chairman in my view.'

'… accordingly this will be the final, winding-up meeting of the British Albion Investigation Committee, or Albion Players. And now without further ado, and so that you will not be kept in the dark any longer than necessary, allow me to introduce…'

'Lars meetin, did e say?'

'I believe so, that's what it sounded like.'

'Wossee mean, lars meetin?'

Dealing with Vaart's tiresome interruptions, Gryce quite missed who it was that Grant-Peignton was introducing without further ado. He thought he heard the name 'Lucas' but it couldn't have been. It was only as Lucas of Personnel walked on to the platform that he realized that it must have been.

The noise from the floor swelled up and then subsided completely. One could, as Gryce expressed it to himself, have heard a pin drop. Lucas of Personnel bowed formally to Grant-Peignton and indicated courteously that he should seat himself. Then he walked forward to the edge of the platform where, in jocular fashion, he blew into a cupped hand as if testing a microphone. Several of those on the platform squirmed in embarrassment, clearly sharing Gryce's view that whatever he might be doing here, he was getting off on the wrong foot.

Lucas of Personnel spoke at last.

'Surprise surprise!' .

Nobody laughed. Nobody murmured. Lucas, however, did not seem to feel that his opening shaft had fallen flat. He was thoroughly relaxed, that would be Gryce's impression in retrospect when he was able to pull his confused thoughts together. Also very well used to handling an audience.

'Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen, a very famous author was asked by a young man for advice on how he should write a story. The celebrity appeared to give the question his consideration, and then he replied, "Start at the beginning. Say what you have to say. And then stop." I propose to take that excellent advice this evening. I would appreciate it, ladies and gentlemen, if you would hear me out to the end. Many of you will have questions but if you will be patient, you will find that most of them have been answered by the time we adjourn.'

'Turnup forrer book, ennit?' whispered Vaart, at last finding voice again. Gryce, for once, felt emboldened to round on him and hiss fiercely, 'Sssh!' He didn't want to miss a word of this.

'Ladies and gentlemen, why are you all here? What attribute do you possess in common? I've asked for the indulgence of your complete attention so I will hasten to answer my own rhetorical question. You possess in common, ladies and gentlemen, the attribute of curiosity. All of you were curious, are curious, about British Albion.

'Please don't misunderstand me when I say that curiosity is not a quality that your company seeks out when engaging staff. Most of you will recall that when you were interviewed by me I laid great stress on the absence of initiative required in the post you would be filling. You were deliberately chosen for your compliancy, let me say even your complacency. Nothing to be ashamed of there: the loyal, if you will acquiescent employee, the "company man" as he's sometimes dubbed, is among the most valuable assets that a healthy business concern can possess. Anyone who doubts that need look no further than some of the great corporations of the United States.

'But it was inevitable, without sophisticated personality tests, that some of you would turn out not to fit into that mould. The great majority of our personnel did fit into the mould — I shouldn't have retained my position for long if they hadn't — but you, ladies and gentlemen, you chosen few, did not. That's to your credit: it would be a dull world if we were all the same.'

Gryce thought he sensed a ripple of pride go through the audience. He certainly felt a ripple of pride go through himself. 'You chosen few.' That would be why he had been singled out by Norman Ferrier to join that band of outlaws across the river.

'You who are here this evening began asking questions. About British Albion's function, about the secrecy surrounding some of our departments, about such matters as why the internal telephone directory should be a classified document and indeed the absence of a telephone switchboard. I've heard many ingenious theories put forward about that, by the way! The real answer of course is that if we did have a switchboard it would be noticeable at once to the operators that nobody ever rings us up! I would have thought that some of you might have stumbled on that one by now.'

Vaart, who had maintained silence following Gryce's rebuke, now joined in the rhubarb chorus of mutterings. 'Tell us summink we don't know, cock!' Well: Gryce hadn't known, for one.

'Now there's no reason in a free country why you shouldn't ask questions, it would be a dull world as I say if everyone simply did as he was told. I think you'll agree, looking back, that we did our best to answer them. Heads of department and senior personnel, some of whom may well have been more senior than their nominal titles or positions suggested, were briefed to set your minds at rest as best they could. Where they succeeded, well and good. Where they did not, it was time for the Albion Players to step into the breach.'

Another chorus of murmurings, puzzled ones this time. 'Wossee drivin at?' asked Vaart in aggrieved tones.

'If we listen,' said Gryce sourly as Lucas held up a hand for silence, 'we might possibly learn!'

'Each of you will have been approached, adopted if you like, by a member of the executive committee, or by someone closely associated with that committee, who in effect will have tested you.' Yes, indeed: that first evening with Pam had been like sitting an examination; the subsequent evening with her and Seeds could be compared to the third-degree in a New York police station, if anyone asked Gryce. 'They will have formed a view about what you had already learned about the workings of British Albion, about your political connections or sympathies if any, about your desire or otherwise to get to the bottom of who was paying your salary and why. If in their judgement your shall we say thirst for knowledge presented any threat to the security of the company, then and only then were you taken safely under the wing of the Albion Players.'

'Jesus Chrise all-bleedin-mighty!' Gryce saw rather than heard what Vaart was mouthing, for the excited babble of voices was deafening. Several chairs clattered back as half a dozen members sprang to their feet. On the platform, Ardagh and Grant-Peignton responded by jumping to theirs. It was Ardagh, Gryce noted, who tried to do something constructive about getting a modicum of hush, while Grant-Peignton ineffectually flapped his arms.

'Gentlemen! No questions at this juncture! Please!'

'Mr Chairman!'

'I am not the chairman, sir, and you are out of order! I am asking you to sit down!'

'If you are not the chairman, you have no authority to ask me to sit down!' The speaker, or shouter, was the Fred Astaire-looking character who had tried to make difficulties at the last meeting. 'I am asking, through the chair, if Mr Lucas is telling us that your executive committee is no more than the tool of management?'