The Curvy Girls Club. Michele Gorman
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watered.
‘That looks delicious!’ I said to my colleagues. ‘Have you tried any?’
Mark and Matt both nodded.
‘I’m having seconds!’ said Stacy, our HR bod. Everyone called her Racy Stacy behind her back, thanks to her talent for seducing most of the men in the office. She stuck her finger into the slice she’d just cut, licking the icing off while Mark and Matt tried to calm their erections. ‘Mmm, I could swallow the whole thing.’
I had no doubt about that.
‘Are you having any?’ she asked me.
‘Oh, no thanks. I’ve got my cappuccino here.’ I waved my unsatisfying-by-comparison drink, determined to practise what I preached since quitting Slimming Zone. ‘That’s my treat for the day.’ Moderate Katie, that was me.
‘You’re doing it right,’ she said. ‘My cousin lost thirty pounds just by cutting out carbs. They’re really bad for you.’ She forked in another bite.
‘Exercise helps too,’ said Matt. ‘I can eat anything as long as I run. You should try running, Katie.’
‘Swimming is better,’ Mark said. ‘There’s less strain on the joints, so anyone can do it, regardless of their siz— fitness.’
I smiled politely while my colleagues debated the best ways to slim me down, while shovelling in more cake. The fact that I hadn’t asked for their advice never occurred to them.
I tried to calm my nerves as I walked towards the conference room, where Cressida waited with my employee file. She was an okay manager (some might say Adequate), and generally a nice lady.
‘Hey, all right?’ she said, smiling through the bright red lipstick she always wore. She was a fit woman of a certain age who’d been with Nutritious since it was founded twenty years ago. She was always impeccably presented. Her makeup never wore off, her hair stayed where it was supposed to and her chin didn’t sport the stubborn hairs the rest of us worried about when the sun shone.
‘How was the meeting yesterday?’ Cressida asked.
Our company liked to keep us abreast of the latest ways to legally harass people. Everyone else had gone to the sales techniques meeting.
‘Tuesday is my day off, remember?’
‘Oh, that’s right,’ she said vaguely. ‘I’ve been so tied up with reviews that I’ve been a total scatterbrain. So, you know the drill by now.’ I nodded. ‘We talk about how you’ve done these past six months … but first, there’s something else.’
I waited.
‘As you know, the company has been doing everything it can to get through the downturn. Unfortunately our revenues have still fallen off, so we have to make some adjustments. I’m sure you can appreciate that these decisions aren’t easy, and I wish I was able to give you better news, but Katie, we need to ask you to go down to three days a week. But that does mean that you can have Fridays off!’
She said this like she’d just given me a free holiday, not an unpaid one. I did a quick calculation to see if I could live on three days a week. I could, just about.
‘Is this permanent?’
‘Hopefully not!’ Cressida said, sounding relieved that I hadn’t burst into tears. ‘We’ll assess in a few months and if business has improved, we’ll look to bring people back on board.’
Sure they would. That’s what they said after cutting our hours last time.
‘After all, productivity will be affected with the reduced hours, so we don’t want to make these cuts,’ she continued. ‘Don’t worry about that though, we’ll adjust your objectives accordingly. Do you have any questions?’
‘Yes, one. Does this affect all the staff like last time?’
She shook her head. ‘Luckily we didn’t have to be that drastic, so we’re only forced to make some cuts.’
In that case, actually I had two questions. ‘Why me?’
‘It’s nothing personal, Katie. We looked at everyone and had to make some difficult decisions. Now, if there are no more questions we can move on to your appraisal.’
She waited to see if I’d object further. There wasn’t any point. Asking more questions, or complaining about the decision, wouldn’t change her mind.
‘How many others have lost a day?’
‘Around twenty.’
That made me feel better. Misery did love a bit of company.
‘Is Ellie one of them?’
‘I can’t discuss other employees with you. But no, she’s not.’
I nodded, happy for her at least.
‘I’ve no more questions.’
‘All right then, let’s continue,’ she said, clearly relieved to be back on solid ground. ‘How do you feel you’ve done these past six months?
In the few moments before I answered I tried to calm my racing thoughts. In the lead was My Mortgage Payment, who always ran well in difficult conditions. Following closely behind came Why Me?, looking like a strong contender for the prize. But then on the inside rail, Day Off was making up ground, and Could Be Worse began passing the field on the outside. It was going to be a tight race.
All right, Katie, old girl, enough daydreaming (nightmaring), concentrate on the question. Now’s your chance. Ignore the fact that you’ve just lost a day. You can do this; remember you’ve got the meatballs. Mmm, meatballs. My tummy rumbled.
‘I’ve done well.’
Cressida’s face remained impassive.
‘I think I have. I mean, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to.’
‘You have.’ She nodded, speaking slowly. ‘Your performance is as good as it was last time round.’
‘No!’
She jumped in her chair.
‘I mean, it’s better than last time. Look.’ I pointed to my last appraisal. ‘See here? My goal was to renew five client contracts. I renewed six. And here, I signed up two new accounts.’
‘How’s Jenny?’ she asked.
I cringed at the thought of my nemesis. ‘No change,’ I admitted.
Most people just put the phone down on me when they didn’t want to listen to my spiel. And they didn’t take my calls when I tried again. Not Jenny. She always took my call. They usually went something like this:
Her (in her nasally Australian accent): Go ahead, I’ve got five minutes. What are you going to tell me that I haven’t heard before?
Invariably I rose to the bait, launching into the features and claims about our newest products. I always listened to our weekly product briefings with Jenny in mind, optimistic that one day I’d win her over.
Her, after listening in silence: And you claim this works? It sounds like another one of your gimmicks.
I’d explain that they weren’t my gimmicks, that we had an entire team of scientists who developed the products. Then I’d point to all the studies that proved their efficacy. Our company armed us well like that.
Her: You fund those studies. Of course they’re going to give you the results you want.
We didn’t fund the studies, I’d explain (every time). They were independent studies.
Her, changing tack: People today are just lazy. They’re happy to