The Dating Detox (22 page)

I am going to ask for a raise today.

I am.

It’s Friday afternoon and yes, I’ve put it off all week. I’ve tried to measure Cooper’s mood every day, and decided it’s not quite amenable enough, and then decided to do it, and then he walks out to a meeting, or has a phone call, or I get peckish, or whatever. But enough is enough. It’s Friday, we’re going to Eddie’s houseparty tonight, and just between you and me, I’m nervous about seeing Jake this weekend, so adding asking-for-a-raise nerves to that won’t make a huge difference.

I also have a mild hangover from last night, which doesn’t help. Bloomie and I had a catch-up dinner at an infamous bar-that-pretends-to-be-a-restaurant Nam Long Le Shaker, on the Old Brompton Road. It was great. We had a proper heart-to-heart talk, the kind we haven’t had in months, maybe even years. She’s always busy and distracted, and I was—let’s be honest—a bit scatty and heartbroken. We have been approaching life from opposite directions. And after the post-Rick-vomit-fight on Saturday, we needed to properly make up. So over noodles, duck pancakes and Tiger beer, we did.

Bloomie told me more about her and Eugene, and how he thinks she’s using work to hold him at arm’s length. The fight isn’t entirely resolved, but she’s working through it.

‘Apparently I have to…’ she cleared her throat, as if the word was hard to get out, ‘compromise.’

I don’t think Bloomie has ever voluntarily compromised in her life.

She admitted she prefers work to men. Work has never let her down, and after almost as many bust relationships as me, that’s understandably important. ‘The thing is,’ she said, ‘Eugene could dump me tomorrow. There are no guarantees. But work is always work. Even when it’s shit, it’s work. I could lose my job, sure, but I’d get another one, and somehow it feels safer than…’ She trailed off.

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ I said, wishing I could argue with her. But she’s right. There are no guarantees with relationships. You just can’t trust them. I hate that.

‘He asked me the day after the Ziani’s fight if I’d ever realised that things probably wouldn’t work out with us if I didn’t make an effort and that might mean working less and putting my job, if not second, then at least equal with him…And I hadn’t. I thought I could just have it my way, which makes me sound like such a…a bastardo.’ She takes a long sip of her drink. ‘I hate being wrong.’

Eugene’s emotional maturity is impressive, isn’t it? He doesn’t seem to have lost his temper about it, or given her an ultimatum, or told her she was being an idiot—three things which would have tipped her over the edge. He just brought the subject up and let her think about it.

He didn’t even hold a grudge when she overreacted and stormed out of Ziani’s, as I pointed out to Bloomie. That’s pretty big of him to instantly overlook public humiliation.

‘I know,’ said Bloomie, looking a bit ashamed. ‘I’m such a twat. He’s so…not a twat.’

Things this week have been much better, apparently, as Bloomie has been out of work by 8 pm every night and available for emails and calls. I’m impressed and secretly surprised by this.

‘What happened at work last week, anyway?’ I ask.

She shrugs.‘It was just this deal that came in…I can’t explain how hard everyone has to work when it happens—I only had two all-nighters, I got off pretty lightly. Anyway, it’s fine now. This week has been positively boring in comparison. I’ve got nothing to do.’

‘Did it turn out OK?’

‘Yeah, we got there in the end…Let’s not talk about work. What about you, darling?’ she asked, letting out a teeny tiny Tiger burp, after we’d finished eating.

‘What about me what?’ I replied, letting out a teeny tiny Tiger burp of my own.

‘The Dating Sabbatical,’ she prompted. ‘It’s over and I think you should get back out there. I think you’re ready.’

‘“Get back out there”?’ I repeated incredulously. She smiled and swigged her beer again. ‘I’ve been thinking about this all week, and here’s the thing. My life has genuinely changed since I started it.’

‘Mmmm,’ said Bloomie.

‘At work, at home, with money, my writing, just…everything. It was only a small change, really, but it’s had this crazy knock-on effect, and now I feel so balanced and really truly happy…Dating, and guys, and all that—it took up all my time and energy before. And I was never that happy, not really…not like I am now.’ I’m tearing the label off my beer as I say all this.

‘No argument there,’ said Bloomie. ‘But now it’s taking up none of your time or energy. Apart from the Mahiki snog and Botanist blip, obviously…And that’s not balanced either.’

‘That’s exactly what I mean. See? After snogging Lukas and fighting with Rick, I went straight back to being my old crazy drunk self. I hate being like that.’

‘Dating and happiness are not mutually exclusive,’ said Bloomie. ‘It just takes the right guy. And every guy is the wrong guy until you meet the right one.’

Emboldened by the secrets-akimbo atmosphere of the evening, I decided to admit something I’d barely admitted to myself. ‘I do…wonder if…I mean…Jake…is interesting…But…’ I held a hand up, as Bloomie was grinning very excitedly. ‘I’m trying not to think about him too much, because I haven’t even seen him in like, months. And he’s a smartarse. And too funny, too confident, too alpha, and the sexual tension was just ridiculous…’

‘So?’ exclaimed Bloomie. ‘I thought you liked that kind of guy!’

‘I do!’ I exclaim. ‘That’s the problem, you know, I don’t trust my judgement. He’s almost certainly a bastardo underneath it all and would make me even more crazy and unhappy and I can’t go back there.’

‘I really don’t believe he’s like that,’ she said, finishing her beer and signalling the waitress for another. ‘Why are you being so negative? What makes you think that you couldn’t keep your new life changes and, you know, get some action at the same time?’

I shook my head. ‘It’s not negative, I’m just…I’m not willing to risk everything. Not when my life is going so well. I could fuck everything up again.’

‘Well, can you wait to see how you feel after this weekend? Just promise me that. Don’t just rule it out.’

I nodded. ‘I promise.’

She grinned gleefully. ‘Sass loves Jakeeey!’

‘Shut up, Susan,’ I said.

The bar was hitting its busy peak right about then, and a nearby table of guys were drinking the house cocktail: the Flaming Ferrari. (This is a cocktail the size of a puppy that looks and tastes like diesel fuel—oh, and yes: it’s lit on fire when you drink it. As you drink it, the bar plays the sound of a Ferrari revving over the loudspeaker.) Bloomie and I started chatting about the upcoming weekend, just as two
martinis arrived at our table—a present, apparently, from the guys.

We looked at each other. Even six months ago, we’d have downed them, joined their table, and at least one of us ended up snogging and/or dating at least one of them.

‘I’m not up for it,’ said Bloomie.

‘Me either,’ I said. I leaned over to call to the guys, who were drunkenly waving at us.

‘Thanks, but no, thanks…We’re leaving soon.’

They made some drunken protestations, but when we couldn’t be persuaded, they shrugged and turned back to their table. Soon afterwards we called it a night. It was a great Thursday: fiscally undemanding and emotionally rewarding.

Now I have a slight Tiger hangover mixing with the asking-for-a-raise nerves. God, a hangover from four beers. I must be getting old.

At 3 pm, I get up and walk slowly over to Cooper’s Chinese screen.

‘Um…’

Bad start. Never start negotiations with um.

‘Cooper?’

‘Yeah-llo?’

‘Got a minute?’ I poke my head round with a tentative smile.

‘Come on in.’

‘Can we go to the conference room?’

Cooper frowns. ‘Sure.’

We walk from his desk to the conference room in silence, and I can feel everyone in the office looking at us.

The second we get in, he turns to me.

‘Don’t worry, he’s going.’

This throws me.

‘What?’

‘Andy. Andy is leaving.’

‘That wasn’t what I…wait, Andy has resigned?’

‘I thought you knew…’ I shake my head. Cooper sighs.

‘I talked to Scott about it. Andy came to me on Monday and said either you go or he goes.’

I’m speechless.

‘It was after some email you sent, questioning his creative route. I saw the work, and the email, and backed up your right to ask those questions, though I thought the creative was strong enough to go over anyway…’ I nod my head. He’s talking about the 70s postcards.

‘So he told you to fire me?’

‘Not exactly,’ says Cooper. ‘He just said he couldn’t work with you. Said you were too inexperienced, too green.’ I feel the blood rush to my face, and the inevitable tears to my eyes—ah, yes, weepy-anger. Cooper leans back. ‘I told Andy that if he felt that way, he should take a week to consider it, and let me know if he still wants to leave. Because there is no way I’m getting rid of you.’

Now I really feel like crying. Be professional, goddamnit. You’re about to ask the man for more money. I clear my throat and smile at Cooper.

‘Thanks, Cooper. That’s just…so good to hear. He’s such a—’

‘I know,’ interrupts Cooper.

‘So—he’s leaving?’

Cooper nods. ‘He put a letter of resignation on my desk this morning. He misspelled resignation…anyway, I thought you’d like to know.’

I giggle at the spelling thing, but my mind is racing. What a roosterprick. I’m trying to remember if he’s been especially rude to me this week, but I’ve just done my usual thing and stayed out of his way.

‘Well, that’s very interesting. Who will we recruit?’

‘I’m having a drink with Chris tonight,’ he says.

‘Chris!’ I say excitedly. ‘Would he come?’ He’s my old art director, the one Coop and I worked with at the big agency.
He’s brilliant, easy to work with, and would fit in here perfectly.

‘He will if the money is right,’ says Cooper. ‘I called him last night. It’s almost a done deal.’

I cough. It’s now or never. Time for my speech.

‘Speaking of money, Cooper, I would like to talk about my remuneration. I know we’re in a difficult economic climate, but I’m sure you’ll agree that I’m being substantially underpaid for someone of my experience and position. The agency is financially very stable, and I am working on every single account, and I think you know the substantial contribution I made to the pitch last week.’ Phew.

Cooper is nodding, but saying nothing. I think he wants to see how long I’ll go on for before I peter out.

‘I’ve done some research, and the average copywriter with my experience is paid between…’ Here, I’m going to have to block your ears. You don’t mind, do you? Talking about money in public is so icky. ‘…and I know we’re in difficult economic times, but well, this company is doing very well indeed, and I think I’m a major factor in it doing well.’ Whoops, that was off script, I sort of repeated myself. Never mind. I take a deep breath and look at him.

‘I agree,’ says Cooper. What? I thought he’d argue. ‘I have been wondering if you’d ask me this. How much?’

Shocked, I tell him.

‘Done.’

‘And I want it backpaid to my last review, when it should have been given,’ I add. This is a semi-improvised bit. Kate suggested it the other day when she helped me write out my speech, but I scoffed at the time, as it seemed so outrageous.

‘Done.’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Wow. Thanks.’ I’m speechless for the second time in five minutes.

‘Now. When Chris arrives, we’re reorganising the company.
You two are in charge of creative.’ I open my mouth. ‘No official title change yet, but we’re about to double in terms of revenue and work, and since I’ll be travelling a lot more, I can’t be as hands-on as I’d like, so I want you to manage the creative department. We’ll be recruiting more copywriters and designers, and you’re in charge of that, too. You’ve really brought everyone together in the past few weeks, and the way you handled Andy the morning of the pitch was really great. I thought a bit of sink or swim would be good for you…I think you’ll be fantastic. Then, in three months, we’ll talk about official promotions.’

I am still speechless, and in fact, my mouth is slightly open. Cooper stands up, and we shake hands. I start to grin.

‘Wait,’ I say.

‘What?’

‘Why…why me over Andy?’ I’ve never wondered this before, but why has Cooper kept Andy around all this time?

Cooper sighs. ‘Andy joined this company on practically no pay, back when I first started it. I felt like I owed him. And he is a good, solid designer. He’s just…not much more than that.’

I follow him out of the meeting room and back into the office, still grinning. I look over and see Andy staring at me with open dislike. I smile back as broadly as I can.

I got a raise and a promotion. Kind of a promotion, anyway. And definitely, definitely a raise. I sigh with content. Now this is what I call inside-out happiness. I should have done this ages ago. Why didn’t I believe in myself enough to do this before?

I wonder what it’ll be like when I see Jake tonight.

Oooh, hello, random Jake thought.

I sit down at my desk, and am instantly hit by a full-stomach-jump of nerves.

Think about work, damn you.

I can’t, asking for a raise was the only thing that was distracting me—and now Jake and the weekend at Eddie’s is all I can focus on.

I try to deep breathe and summon the calm, contented feeling I achieved last Sunday. No good. I try to call Kate for comfort. No answer. I call Bloomie. Obviously the financial world is having a quiet day, because she answers straightaway.

‘Mushi mushi?’

‘I’m DYING with nerves about seeing Jake. I might vomit,’ I whisper.

‘WOO WOO!’ she crows, then clears her throat and says quietly, ‘Jeez, the looks I get in this place when I don’t act like a robot…’

‘Halp,’ I say. ‘Pleeeees halp.’

Bloomie is never impressed by my
The Fifth Element
impression.

‘You don’t sound anything like her. So have you changed your mind? Are you going to break the Sabbatical for Jake?’