Coffee

His new BMW, in matte black and an unmistakably polished finish, was clearly cleaned on a daily basis. The brand new registration with its brand new personalisation and brand new yellow tint, reflected off the remarkably stunning sunshine. The sweat which had now reached my lower lip, was due to the searing heat and almost skin tight suit which my mother had insisted on buying for me, for what she had deemed a “great opportunity, Stephen”.

Coffee was an inappropriate drink in such weather.

“Pleasure to meet you” I said for the first time in my life, in a tone I didn’t recognize. “And I really do appreciate you giving me a lift to the big meet.”

“That’s ok Steve.” Martin replied. I had forgotten the tissues with which I would wipe the sweat from my forehead, which was now forming in little visible drops that Martin had definitely noticed. He had also probably noticed that the shirt I was wearing had a small crease at the front, and that my suit was new, and that my hair wasn’t as combed as it should be. And my god the shoes.

“So you’re all prepared for today then, Steve?”

“Oh yes, absolutely, I think” Just say yes, Steve. Don’t try and bullshit to the guy.

I readjusted my suit jacket so that it gave off the impression that I was a sharp professional. I didn’t even want the coffee; I wanted a bin in which to throw away the thing. The last thing I needed today was to have to worry about walking into the meeting with the coffee.

The car was as polished inside as outside. The black leather seats were pristine, the hi-fi system within the car of the very highest quality, everything was immaculate. My boss was quite clearly earning quite the handsome wage.

“What do you think to the car then?” He interrupted my musings with a polite tone that invited me to kiss his ass.

“Oh it’s beautiful”. I grovelled in a disguised tone. “Really like the paintwork and I’m a huge fan of leather interiors”. I hated leather interiors. “How long have you had it now?”

“Oh, only this week actually”

“You can tell, it looks stunning”. A therapist would have so much fun with me, I thought.

In the intermittent silence, I calmly reviewed my notes. Today was the day, I was standing in for my superior at the annual executives meeting, and I knew what it meant. I was being interviewed today. The new, northern branch of the company needed someone to head it, and let’s just say I fancied my chances, but today would be a very significant step in obtaining a salary that went beyond what my parents spent hours last night guessing at.

I took a sip of the coffee with the notes in my other hand. A spot dropped onto my trousers, which I rubbed away quickly and with ease. I breathed a huge sigh of relief that my boss mistook for nerves (which I was also experiencing). The sweat dribbled onto my tie and into the coffee. What an appetising cup of disappointment it now looked.

“I really wouldn’t worry about today, I don’t think you’ll need to say all that much to be honest with you Steve, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine. Not all of the executives are dragons you know, it’s just her.” I had heard about her. Even Mr. Tresserlan trembled as he thought of her.

I would simply avoid her when I went into the room, head down, shake hands and sit down.

The leather did smell amazing, I must admit. It was such a heavy and deep smell that was so much better than the new car smell you get in your casual man Ford.

I felt the heat seep into my trousers and into connection with my balls. The overly tight boxers I had chosen for today meant that the boiling liquid seeped right through these tight trousers and right to the core skin. I didn’t care about my own pain, I could endure that. The coffee was all over the seat and the trousers. The new trousers. I wanted to cry.

I am almost certain that Tresserlan didn’t notice the squeal I let out. Or the expletive I released under my breath.

“These meetings bore me to death, Steve, it’s just the executives’ way of reminding us who’s boss.” I smelt the coffee combine with the leather and let out a little cough at it. He would surely notice.

“Yeah sure, absolutely” I said unnaturally quickly, definitely arousing suspicion. He still hadn’t noticed.

I could tell Tresserlan right now, and I’m sure any normal person would, and it probably wouldn’t matter. But the longer I waited, the more inappropriate the timing became. He would start talking about his daughter and his wife, and squash and pool and tennis and about how ‘Mourinho really had it sorted now’ and I had to keep nodding along whilst cursing the lack of tissues in my jacket pocket. 

“Ahh” I let out. The coffee had now dribbled down my leg and it was somehow hotter than before, seeping through my leg hairs like a tsunami through a row of houses.

“You alright there?” Martin asked in that unmistakable Irish accent. We had been on the road for 40 minutes, but days in my mind.

“Yes, absolutely, fine, yes, nothing wrong”. Christ, Steve.

We arrived to the smell of industry, that hard smell of labour seeping into my nose and surrounding me, like a call to arms, rising in through the new windows of the matte black BMW. The building in which the meeting took place was tall and looming, and I immediately questioned why it was not at a nice, comfortable conference room in a hotel somewhere. The air felt thick and cold on my skin, and suddenly the sweat and heat I had so worried about earlier seemed as important as my chances of impressing the boss were likely.

I was now physically trembling, and the nerves had taken over. The wet patch from the coffee was huge, and it formed a giant circle around the front of my trousers, this is not to mention the fact that half was spilt all over the leather of the boss’ car seat. The pain was secondary to the appearance.

I had two options. I run. I tell the boss. He opened his car door and suddenly societal rules dictated I opened mine. It was time, decision time.

I told him. He laughed.

“I’ve got a spare pair of trousers in the back, Steve”. He was still laughing. “You owe me a pint for the car seat though”. The most reassuring tone imaginable.

I haven’t felt this relieved since that minor health scare in 2008. Long Story, trust me.

As we entered the brightly lit corridor, with the nicely furnished lobby and welcoming floral decorations, I felt like an executive. I was greeted by her, but I felt so strong I approached her with ease and shook her hand confidently.

“Now, would you like a coffee, Steve?”