The I.T. Girl (7 page)

‘Stern is going to need to isolate the blame,’ Sam warned, leaning
over the wall of my cube. He occasionally raised his head, keeping an eye on the
opposite end of the floor.

‘Meeting’s been scheduled for next week,’ I said.

‘No one should be surprised there were issues. Fucking idiots,’
Sam continued.

‘It's your turn next,’ Boris said to Sam.

‘I think you'll find that it's not,’ Sam snapped. ‘Look, if they
want me to do it, give me six months training and some sort of handover process
and, well, even then, I probably wouldn’t do it.’

 
‘Look, mate,’ Boris said.
‘They’re convinced this is the way forward and Stern expects everyone to be on board.
Either
give
a hundred per cent to the company or leave.’

‘It's not the merge I object to,’ I said. ‘It's the speed with
which they're trying to make it happen. I mean, if they expect people to step seamlessly
into other roles then they’re dreaming.’ I started to laugh. ‘You know Cameron is
really struggling with programming.’ I dropped my voice and pointed in the direction
of Cameron’s cubicle.

‘He couldn't programme his arse to take a shit,’ Sam said quietly.

‘He doesn’t want to,’ I defended. ‘But, I mean, we should have
some transitional plan. Some sort of buddy work between our teams or something.
Then we could learn each other’s ropes without jeopardising feeds.’ My voice rose.
‘I mean, can’t we do something about this, bring it to someone’s attention?’

‘No point,’ Sam said. ‘Boris is right. They’ll do whatever they
want.’

‘But I can’t do this without support.’ I leaned over the desk
I had been tidying, aware that Boris and Sam were watching me now instead of the
corners of the floor. Now that I had started work on
AsiaCap
,
the Business Analysis was overwhelming. I had to act as project manager as well
as write the specs for each team involved. People I didn’t know were already asking
me questions about their role.

‘Look. I see your point.’ Boris said. ‘But people can’t just
do half of one thing and half of another, and Cameron’s got his own feeds on now.
Remember we are looking at keeping one former analyst in a purely consultant role,
so you will get support. Anyway, guys,
it’s
Friday night.’
His voice lifted. ‘So that’s enough of that I say. Going to
The
Duke?’

‘Definitely.’
I didn’t need much persuasion.
Going drinking with the boys and venting over my past week was exactly what I needed.

A row of bars with restaurants upstairs looked over the river
from heated balconies. They were busy all week but on Thursday and Friday nights
they were packed with clientele spilling from one bar to the next. We went to our
usual: end of the row with the least noise and the best selection of beer.

Boris was recounting the latest management techniques he’d been
exposed to. ‘You are like a wall,
y’see
. And we push that
wall as much as possible and it’s your job to push back.’

‘That is such primitive... short-sighted ...’ I was spitting
the words to the floor when I noticed Felix Stern walk in.

‘Stern is here,’ Boris said. ‘You should talk to him. This is
your chance to do a bit of bonding.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start,’ I scoffed.

‘Nothing wrong with a little social networking.
He’s coming over.’

‘Plans for the weekend, Boris?’ I replied.

‘Going to buy a replacement fish, aren’t I.’

‘What happened to the first fish?’ Sam asked.

Boris hung his head.

‘Michelle was away.’ I explained.
‘Poor Frankie.’

‘What, did it starve to death?’ Sam laughed. ‘Has that poor girl
not given up on you yet?’

‘Mate,’ Boris said patiently. ‘Over-eating is the number one
cause of fish death in this country.’

‘You must be dynamite in the sack, mate,’ Sam said.

‘Alright, Felix?’
Boris’ voice changed
as the group of managers gathered next to us.

‘Briggs,’ Felix gave Boris a glance.

I flashed Sam a warning look. Running in to management was the
danger of going drinking near work.

‘How was the skiing?’ Boris asked Felix.
‘Plenty
of snow?’

‘I was in Chamonix in January,’ Felix replied.

‘You never know. I was in Austria last year, March mind you.
But there were actually green patches. At one point I think I skied over a bush.’

‘You went... when? There’s no snow in Austria in March. Who does
that?’ Felix’s circle chuckled over their pints.

‘In that case I’m suspicious about what all that white powder
was.’ Boris laughed. ‘Yeah I mean, if I was skilled, actually a skilled skier I’d
probably have been disappointed. But, how’s
your
skiing?’

‘I’m pretty fast,’ Felix said.

‘Right,’ Boris nodded.
‘Finished that People
Skills this week.’

‘What did you think?’ Felix asked him.

‘Yeah, pretty good. I could see how it works – finding the point
of optimisation.’

‘Good. Put it into practice,’ Felix said.

Boris had switched into management mode. I looked at Sam to see
if he was finding this as nauseating as I was.

‘Starting,’ Sam said. The men turned towards the wide-screen
T.V. in a high corner.

‘Sam’s team are playing,’ Boris explained. ‘For some reason he
can’t help supporting a team with a disposition for losing. It’s a shame really.’

‘Have you seen the table, mate?’ Sam said. ‘We’re three points
ahead of you.’

‘That’s different, mate. I’m supporting my home team.’

‘So, will they lose?’ Felix asked.

‘Probably,’ Sam muttered.
‘Only because we
can’t afford to
buy
decent players anymore.’

He said ‘buy’ like it was a dirty word. I had heard the argument
before.

‘I have to get going,’ I finished my glass of wine.

‘Thought you were out for the night,’ Boris said.

‘No, no. I have to be somewhere actually,’ I lied and squeezed
my way through the rows of men facing the T.V.

I could see light at the end of the tunnel in the form of a clean
spot I had made on the cooker. But, it was obvious from the layers of dirt that
the kitchen hadn’t been cleaned in years. There were even dark clouds of dirt creeping
up the windows.

Thoughts of work kept startling me like disturbing an insect.
I just wanted the meeting with Felix Stern to be over with. What would he say? Until
now I had a good reputation... Everyone makes mistakes... At least now they’d have
to pay attention to our lack of training. I went through the kitchen presses and
stuffed all the gaps at the back with cardboard. People said there were mice everywhere
in London but I hadn’t seen one yet. I found a hole in the floor of one cabinet
and put cardboard over it, sealing it with masking tape.

There was a small park at the end of my road. I crossed it at
least twice a day.
On week days over to the tube and on weekends
over to the main street into the market swarm.
The market continued to the
edge of the City and spilled onto small side-streets along the way. I found a DIY
store behind a row of suitcase stalls and under the heady influence of a DIY fantasy,
bought a drill, pliers, sandpaper and goggles.

When I got back to the flat I stood on a chair in the kitchen
and braced myself for what I would find on top of the cabinets. I was expecting
a thick layer of dust, maybe some discarded rubbish, at worse, a dead mouse. Picture
frames, scuffed and broken lay on top of each other. Careful of the nails sticking
out I lifted them down and laid them on the floor. They reminded me of wooden tennis
racket frames. I thought back to when I was a child screwing the corners tight so
my racket wouldn’t get warped. I could smell varnish but it was just my imagination.
The wood was rough, scratched. Faint streams of silver and gold ran through. I took
my hammer out of its packet and carefully tapped the nails back into place. These
would suit old-fashioned pictures, I thought. I could imagine family holidays with
women in modest swimwear and children in sailor outfits. I tried to remember what
family photos I had on my laptop. Maybe there were some holiday ones I could reprint
with a faded, rough-grain effect. I could easily get glass to fit at a frame store.

As dusk came I stood back and reviewed my progress. I could consider
eating here now, I thought with a nod. I returned to the living room where my laptop
had taken up residence on the floor and checked my messages.
Nothing
new.
I poured a glass of wine and began to explore my local take away options.
Hunger suddenly hit me and my mouth watered at the sight of a deep-pan pepperoni
pizza with spicy beef. I ordered it with extra cheese.

Waiting for the food to arrive, I walked about each room listening
to the creaks made by my bare feet and examining the windows, imagining curtains,
pictures. My bedroom was empty except for my bed and a pair of red, scented candles
sitting on the floor. In the market I’d seen wrought iron candlesticks that would
be nice. I tugged gently at the makeshift curtain; a sheet folded over the curtain
rail. Pale pink would be a good colour in here.

The door-phone buzzed and I clicked in the delivery guy. Our
short conversation lingered in the air as I sat down and pulled the rug over my
legs. I opened up my laptop to start a DVD.

On Monday morning I left the grey light on the steps down to
the tube with music blasting in my ears. Still wrapped in a cocoon of sleep, I listened
with my eyes closed as the tube shook me along to work.

At least the meeting with Felix was first thing, so I’d get it
over with. I walked around the R&D floor to his office feeling eyes on me, but
looked about to confirm I was just being paranoid. My hands were moist. I tried
clutching them to my skirt to keep them dry.

‘Take a seat,’ Felix said. Even calm his voice sounded like a
dog barking, as if it was
broken
from overuse.

I sat down opposite him trying not to sink into the easy-chair.

‘So what have you learned from METX? What do you think went wrong?’

‘Obviously I made some mistakes in my handling of the crises
but I think I’m a lot more aware of our crisis procedures now, which is a good thing,
in terms of my bug. I’m actually a big advocate of a more structured test phase.
Our steps are a bit casual and haphazard. I think we really need to look at overnight
auto-testing, for example. I think we should even be making this sort of thing priority.’

‘The problem I have with you is I don’t think you take your job
seriously.’

‘What?’ I stared at him. ‘I don’t understand. I worked really
long hours on METX. And my projects have all gone well up until now.’

‘You didn’t push for what your project needed. When there was
a problem, you didn’t react with urgency. You didn’t restart the feed until someone
else suggested it.’ He counted on fingers. ‘You didn’t even move the feed until
the afternoon even though you knew it could compromise the server.’ His face was
rigid. I could tell he was genuinely angry with me.

‘I was just so focused on finding the problem.’ I blushed.

‘A senior engineer tracks down the problem and handles risk at
the same time. A senior engineer doesn’t take risks.’

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t fully aware of all my options.’ I wondered
how long this humiliation would last. ‘Look, the things that went wrong were because
of a lack of experience. Next time I’ll know better.’

‘That’s why you’re being put on a revision programme.’

‘What? What’s that?’

‘It’s an official way for us to monitor your progress and make
sure you know everything you need to know.’

I looked about the office, blinking, trying to understand.

‘It’ll be run over a few months and supervised by your team leader,’
Felix continued. ‘At the end, he’ll sign off on your work. I’ll sign off on it and
so will HR.’

‘HR?
But, wait, Felix, the mistakes
I have made are due to a lack of experience in this particular area.
A lack of test facilities.
Look, to be honest, I don’t think
this merge is being handled well. Do you realise we’re being forced into roles that
we don’t want? It’s not just me.’

‘This merge is about what’s best for the company.’ He poked at
the desk. ‘We need to be on top of the new Asian markets and I expect a hundred
and ten per cent from everyone.’

How could he think I had a bad attitude? Wasn’t it obvious I
was committed to my job? I hadn’t been prepared for this kind of attack. My gaze
dropped to my hands, taking a break from his stare.

‘Did you know James in OTC once fixed eighteen bugs in one
day.
John in Derivatives once worked twenty
hours straight to see a rollout through.
The thing that pisses me off about
you is that you were given a good pay rise.’

I shrank down in the easy-chair and remembered my six month review.
It had been strong. They had given me six per cent.

‘Read this,’ Felix handed me an envelope.

I opened the envelope and glanced down the paragraphs.

Failed to follow procedure… did not alert manager to problems…
poor test practices… could result in disciplinary action.

‘What does that last bit mean?
About disciplinary
action?’

‘Disciplinary action would be either a verbal or written warning
if you fail the programme.’ Felix looked impatient behind his narrowing eyes. As
if the question was outside his concern. ‘Or you could be re-graded as a junior.’

 
‘A junior?’

‘You signed a contract as a
senior
systems analyst. We need to know you have the necessary skills
for that job.’

‘Is that all?’ I managed to say. ‘I’d like to be excused.’ I
winced inside at how childish I sounded.