Filling time - 1

William turned the smooth flat stone in his hand.  Its surface was grey and featureless, save for a thin white line a third of the way down.  It felt neither heavy nor light and was just slightly smaller than his palm. 

With a sudden explosive effort, he sent it skimming above the water and watched it glance off the larger ripples before skidding along the surface tension and sinking out of sight. 

He looked around for another.  The second looked less promising than the first.  He flung it anyway.  As he expected, the stone hit the water and disappeared in a small commotion.

A few metres to his right, Peter kept a steady eye on the orange tip of his float.

“Is something bothering you, Will?”

“I’m thinking of leaving my job.”

Peter lit a cigarette.  It was a vice he maintained solely for fishing.  It allowed him to enjoy the best of both worlds.

“Why?”

“I’m sick of it.  I’ve tried, but I can’t stand the frustration anymore.”

“But you’ve only been there a month.”

“Two.”

“Time flies.  Still, two months is nothing.  I hated my last job for the first year.”

“But you did leave.”

“After seven years, Will.” 

Peter watched the float dip.  He steadied his hand around the handle of the rod, ready to grasp it and lift it sideways.  The float didn’t move again.  Only a halo of concentric ripples confirmed that it hadn’t been a trick of water and light.  He took the cigarette from his mouth and looked at William.

“That’s a reasonable investment.  Why do you want to leave so soon?”

“The job’s impossible.  Nobody’s really interested.  I have to make it work, but no one really cares whether I do or not.  They’re just playing a game.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“They’ve moved all the staff management online, but none of the staff are computer literate.  Most have no connectivity where they work.  I’m supposed to increase client satisfaction and staff productivity.  There are practically no managers anymore, it’s all online tools and the staff’ve got every excuse for not using them.  It’s a mess.”

“Have you said all this to your boss?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“Let me know if you can’t cope.”

Peter laughed aloud.

“The Can’t Cope Strategy.  I’ve seen one that a few times.”

He gave a deep sigh.

“So you’ve got no support?”

“No.  I’ve documented the failings – all the constraints – and sent it all to my boss.  I spoke about it at a senior management meeting.   I mean, this is a multinational organisation.  A great brand.  I never dreamt it could be so awful.”

“No?”

William skimmed another rock.

“No.”

Peter drew in the float and inspected the hook-bait.  He unsnagged the two maggots, which looked as though they’d had the life sucked out of them, and attached two fresh ones, threading the hook through the tough anterior skin.  He swung the rod back between himself and William and cast wide of William’s aiming point.

“I don’t see why an organisation with a good brand should be different to any other.  The more I see and the more I think, the more I believe that everything’s a distortion.  As soon as money comes in as an incentive, everyone becomes dishonest.”

“Not everyone, surely?”

“Not all, but most.  It’s how we are around money.  Maybe some of the front-line staff are not so bad, but they’re usually the ones getting shafted anyway.  The one’s we’re hell-bent on shafting.”

He flicked the butt of his cigarette into the water and picked up the flask from beside his seat.

“We live in a world of games and pretence, Will.  I’d say it’s getting worse.  Image, perception – the games we play with each other on the inside.”

He poured coffee into a plastic cup and offered it to William.  William shook his head.

“Cynical greed or plain incompetence: whatever the motivation it’s the same end result.  I got tired of seeing it.  I could never work out why it’s so hard to get recruited into those jobs.  It just doesn’t fit.”

“That’s a pretty negative view of life, Pete.  Are you saying every organisation’s the same?”

“Well, you’ve held down a few jobs.  What do you think?”

“There’s good and bad.”

“Better or worse.”

“Come on.  Give me a break, I’m getting suicidal.”

“Try a hobby.  There’s always fishing, or whatever else takes your fancy.”

“Climbing or kite-surfing.  I prefer more action.”

William aimed a stone a Peter’s float.

“Hey!”

“You said it yourself.  Nothing’s perfect.  When did you last catch something?”

“I get a few scraps most times.  I’m not hunting big game.”

“You’re hiding.”

“Keeping out of the way.”

“I can’t believe everywhere else is as bad as where I’m working now.”

“Maybe not.  It could be better, it could be worse.  It’s the system screws it up.  All lies and falsehoods.  Everyone’s in it for what they can get.  Money.”

“It’s called incentive.  It’s the best way to motivate for the wider good.”

“All other things being equal.   Leave, then.  Try somewhere else.”

 

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