We All Fall Down (31 page)

13

For a few days he allowed himself to sit at home and wallow in self-pity. He licked his wounds and hid from a world that had so soundly beaten him. It was a conscious decision. On one of those days, when he was feeling particularly low, his whole body racked by pain and bewilderment, he wept.

The first weekend wasn't too unbearable because he could see his fellow office workers around the locality, in their gardens, in the shops and cafes or down at the beach. For those two days he was almost fooled into thinking life was as it should be, despite the absence of his wife and son.

Some time during the following week he decided he couldn't afford to stay around the house and mope. The emptiness of the place depressed him too much. He was surrounded by a staid, tedious world of mothers with strollers and shopping bags, and old people from the home down the road. He knew that the fun, excitement and matters of importance,
life
– was all happening elsewhere. So, on his second Monday without work, he decided to make a real effort and start afresh. He forced himself to get up at his usual time – 5.30 – and shave, shower and breakfast as if everything was normal, as if he was about to set off for work. But, of course, nothing was normal. To start with, he didn't put on a suit. What was the point when he wasn't going to see anyone and wasn't going to attend any meetings? Nor did he walk to the railway station. What was the point when he had nowhere to go? Instead of those
normal
activities, he therefore made a second cup of coffee and stared out of the sitting room window. He sat and waited, even though there was nothing to wait for. There was little else to do; he didn't have a newspaper to read.

At ten o'clock he rang a couple of headhunters. He didn't call them at nine because that might have reeked of desperation. He made appointments to go and see them. One was encouraging, saying, ‘Oh yes, I've heard of you,' then discouraging, saying, ‘Sadly there are a lot of people like you on the market now, Hugh, so don't get your hopes up.' She effectively squashed any optimism he might have had. He guessed she was trying to make sure he was realistic about his chances of getting work, but wondered at her methods. He really had no idea there were others in the same situation as himself, never having paid any attention to the job market when he'd been employed. He filled in the rest of the morning by bringing his résumé up to date. He decided not to call any advertising agencies yet. He expected people would soon hear about him being ‘available', the advertising world being so small, and would call him. He felt it would be more acceptable if he was not seen to be actively seeking work.

That afternoon he sat and listened to the waves tumbling onto the beach, but he no longer found the sound soothing. Quite the opposite in fact; it made him restless and unsettled. It wore him down just as the waves wore down the beach, sucking away his spirit just as the waves sucked back the sand. The day dragged by.

During the rest of that week he received only one call from any of his ex-work colleagues. It wasn't Murray. It was from a man he'd barely known at The Alpha Agency who'd been requested by Russell to call him about the media schedule for Bauer. He asked why Russell hadn't called him, and was assured by the person on the other end of the line, who was seemingly wriggling with embarrassment and awkwardness, that he would have done so if he wasn't so very busy. ‘It's like a madhouse here, Hugh. Crazy.' And it struck him that the whole world was busy, apart from him. No one else called. He was enough of an amateur psychologist to know that people were embarrassed. That's how redundancies affect people. They persuade themselves that he's ashamed of losing his job, as they themselves would be, and he therefore won't want to talk to anyone. It was as if someone close to him had died, and people were doing everything possible to avoid the subject. It was no different. But Hugh was desperate to talk to people, to anyone, and tell them how he felt; tell his side of the story, and explain how unjust he considered his dismissal to have been. He was particularly hurt that Murray, world weary and sophisticated man that he purported to be, was too spineless to pick up the phone and offer his commiserations. It wouldn't have cost him anything.

In his third week without work he called Dieter. The marketing director had heard the news – yet he also had never bothered to call. ‘First Fiona, and now you. Are they all crazy at The Alpha Agency?'

‘I haven't killed myself yet, Dieter.' As he said this, he thought it was in bad taste, but his ex-client laughed loudly down the phone. ‘Ya, that is true. But my account is bad luck, it strikes me.'

They arranged to meet for lunch at a restaurant in King's Cross. Hugh was unexpectedly buoyant at the prospect of a ‘business lunch.' He shaved (which he tended to do now only if he was seeing someone), and dressed up in a suit and tie.
It‘s a charade
, he thought,
like I'm going to a client meeting
. Although he caught a later train – which was far less crowded than the one he used to catch – he felt like a genuine businessman. His briefcase supported him in this role. It wasn't full of reports now, and its lightness made it feel like a broken, useless limb hanging by his side, but there was still the reassurance of having it with him. He wondered if this was how Tim felt with his security blanket.

While they were considering the menu, Dieter said, ‘This one is on me, Hugh.'

He protested.

‘Ya, you have bought me many lunches over the years. Now it is my turn. It is only fair.'

Hugh was pleased by Dieter's display of concern, and by his awareness that he might not have as much money at his disposal now.

‘I am not saying this now because you are here with me, but I have always believed you are excellent at your job. I have said that to Murray many times, and also to Russell. I was telling it to Murray just last week. I met him for lunch also.'

‘You met him for lunch?' He couldn't hide his surprise.

‘Yes, he wanted to say goodbye to me, and no hard feelings – or that is what he said he wanted to see me for.'

That's more than he bothered to do for me,
went through Hugh's head.

‘But he also wanted to pick my brains about BMW. Or that is what I think now.'

‘And did he say anything about me?'

‘He said you are too backward at putting yourself forward. That was how he put it. He thinks that is your problem. He was saying that you must learn how to fight. It is necessary in this business. Anyway, that is his opinion. He was not being nasty, just stating the facts as he sees them. He has great respect for your abilities, but does not think you can fight dirty. I think Murray is one of those people who look out for number one first.'

‘I did my best Dieter, but obviously it wasn't enough.'

‘Maybe it is so, but that man Russell is an idiot. That I strongly believe. Now I can tell you what I think, now that I am no longer your client.' He leant forward for emphasis, resting his large upper body on the table. ‘That man could not – how do you say it in this country? – could not piss in someone's pocket in a brewery. I do not understand how he came to run a business.'

He brought up his night out at the Casino with the agency. Although they'd seen each other since that event, the subject hadn't been raised before.

‘That was typical of the man, that he thought he could buy me with a common prostitute. Who does he think I am? That everyone is like him? I do not blame the girl. It was not her fault, she was doing her job, but I told her where she could go.' He laughed, ‘But nicely, you know.'

Later on in the meal, during which Dieter surprised Hugh by drinking a couple of glasses of wine, they got round to talking about why Bauer had moved out of Alpha. Although it wasn't the reason Hugh had wanted to meet Dieter for lunch, he was definitely curious.

‘My account moved because my boss in Mannheim wanted it to move, that was the only reason, Hugh. I was happy to go along with what they told me because I did not like the new campaign by that Simon fellow. I did not understand it. Also, of course, I was happy to see the back of Russell.'

‘Did you like Fiona's campaign?'

‘That campaign I liked, yes. It is a better campaign than the one I have to run now, our international campaign. But who am I to argue? In Mannheim they know what is best for Australia, that is what they tell me. So I let them get on and do what they think is best. We live at a time when the multinational is king, but in my opinion he is like the king with no clothes. The world has gone crazy, but I refuse to lose sleep over such idiotic people.'

‘I don't blame you for that. It's understandable.'

‘Yes, but if Alpha had stuck with Fiona's campaign, and not insisted on presenting that new one by Simon, I believe my account would still be there. Maybe you also would be there?'

‘Yes.' But that didn't bear thinking about.

Although he hadn't intended to, Hugh raised the subject of how he and Fiona had talked about approaching Dieter for the Australian side of the business. His former client was noncommittal, but didn't laugh at the idea.

‘I do not think it is worth going there now,' he said. ‘It is too late to talk about such a thing. But it is an interesting idea, and I would have given it serious consideration.'

Over coffee and brandy, Hugh felt he'd drunk a sufficient amount of wine to feel confident enough to raise the topic that was of particular interest to him. He'd persuaded himself, possibly through desperation, that Dieter would receive his request positively, possibly even enthusiastically. He turned out to be disappointed. ‘I am certainly happy to put in a word for you at my new agency, but I believe they have the staff already in place. You appreciate there will be much less work required on my account now the work comes from Mannheim. They will not need the number of people Alpha required.'

Hugh knew he was right, and that, even if the suggestion was made by their new client, the agency would be reluctant to take on an ex-Bauer account director from The Alpha Agency. He was being naïve. Another door closed.

Dieter had a meeting to go to, but insisted on ordering another brandy for Hugh and settling the bill before he left. As they shook hands and Dieter made his way towards the front door, Hugh was aware of feeling like a spectator at some sports event, when the teams run out onto the field. He was left alone in the stands. He was no longer a player.

The other tables were emptying. People were returning to their offices, their desks, their jobs, their worthwhile employ. They all had something to do. They were all making a contribution, his was not considered to be of any value. He felt ashamed. He was no longer a bread winner. He was unemployed. He was beyond the pale. Of course, the Brasserie was scarcely the kind of place unemployed people could afford to hang out in, so it was unlikely the waiters would realise he had nowhere to go. They might think that he was so successful a businessman, such an entrepreneur – perhaps from interstate – that he could carry out his deals and negotiations from a restaurant table late on a Friday afternoon, either over the phone or on his laptop, before heading off to his weekender. But he didn't have his laptop with him. The answer was to speak to someone on his mobile. He tried Paul Skirrow, but there was no answer. Did that mean he was in a meeting and couldn't answer, or that he'd seen who was calling and decided not to? He left a message. If Paul called him back soon, that would surely, in the eyes of the waiters at least, be a more favourable sign than him making a call.

He scrolled down through the list of names on his mobile. There were acquaintances, colleagues, friends and a few business numbers. He could call Murray, but decided that it wasn't up to him to make the first move. He still felt betrayed by his old boss. So far as he knew, Murray had made no move to defend Hugh, to argue against him being made redundant, and he could have done so very easily. On the spur of the moment he decided to speak to Geoff Wickes. Unfortunately he had to go through Alpha's reception. It was Suzie. ‘Hugh, how's it going? Got a job yet? We all miss you. This place is such a dump.' In the brief time he spoke to her, she almost succeeded in making him grateful for having escaped. Maybe that was her intention. A minute later he was put through. ‘Thought you'd still be out to lunch, Geoff.'

‘Good to hear from you, Hughsy. Are you calling from the clubhouse? Did you have a good round?'

They exchanged banter. Geoff asked if Hugh spent his days at the beach, and Hugh asked if Geoff had pinched all of the furniture from his old office. The closest the agency gossip came to a serious comment was when he asked Hugh, ‘Is there much out there?' Hugh replied with the kind of cliché that Geoff would understand and be happy with, even though he probably guessed it was a lie: ‘Yes, got several irons in the fire. Won't mention any names to you quite yet, Wicksy' – and he groaned inwardly as he joined the ranks of the ‘Y' brigade. ‘I'm feeling pretty confident.'

‘That's the spirit, Hughsy.'

After an upbeat farewell a few minutes later, having made sure Geoff understood he was still at lunch in the Brasserie and on his second double brandy, as well as a hollow promise from both of them that they'd meet up soon for ‘a few jars,' Hugh decided there was no one else he could call from a restaurant on a Friday afternoon without having to explain that he was out of work and feeling self-piteous. But he tried Penny. He only got her voicemail. So he left the restaurant and walked along Victoria Street towards Central.

The following week he decided to take advantage of Alpha's offer to pay for a re-employment course with a specialist firm of redundancy advisors. He was aware that the agency wasn't being altruistic paying for him to attend such a course; it would be written off against tax. It wasn't costing them much, if anything at all, and it doubtless helped salve their conscience – if they had one. He called up and was given the last spot on a course that commenced in three days time. The lady who took down his details gave him the impression that courses for redundant professionals were a booming business.