Clapham Lights (11 page)

‘There is a taxi station at the front of the terminal.’

‘No, no. I’m expecting a driver. I’m Mark Hunter and I’m meeting a driver, for Mark Hunter. Mark Hunter,’ he says, patronisingly.

The PA system bongs again:

‘Could the driver Mark Hunter for Mark Hunter please come to the information desk opposite Café Rembrandt on the ground floor where
Mark Hunter is waiting for you. Thank you.’

Mark leans on the desk and brings both his hands up to his head in frustration. ‘
I
am Mark Hunter. My meeting is… Oh forget it. You’re bloody useless.’

He tries to turn his BlackBerry back on but it’s dead.

Mark is €255 down at the airport casino. He puts his last twenty on red 7 and watches the bored young croupier spin the wheel. The ball stops on black 8. He groans as his chips are gathered up.

‘I’m afraid it is seven thirty, sir. The casino is closing.’

Behind Mark are two vacant blackjack tables and over a hundred unused slot machines. He picks his jacket off his stool and leaves as a KLM aircraft takes off in the rain outside.

He withdraws €50 from an ATM, treats himself to a large Whopper meal at Burger King and spends some of the change playing a sit-down Formula One driving game in the children’s arcade. After coming seventeenth at Monaco he stays in his seat until well after the race has finished.

The airport’s plaza is quiet and all of the shops have closed so Mark wanders aimlessly until he reaches the Café Rembrandt. The information desk has its shutter pulled down.

Six pints of Amstel later it is time to check in.

Justin calls Mark into his office and tells him to sit down. Mark fiddles with his tie as Justin types an email.

‘What the fuck happened yesterday?’ Justin asks.

‘Justin please don’t get angry. I’d just arrived at the airport and-’

‘I am angry! Bloody angry. What a liberty. He can’t just cancel a meeting at an hour’s notice when you’ve flown over specially to meet him. Did you reply to his email?’

‘No.’

‘Good, I hoped that you hadn’t. Let me deal with it. What an excuse as well. It’s not our fault his son’s in trouble at school. Where’s his wife?’

‘Exactly what I thought,’ Mark says, relaxing. ‘Can I still charge him for the hours?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Justin clicks the top of his pen and starts grinning.
‘So I trust you managed to keep yourself entertained, shall we say.’ He winks.

‘Yes. That wasn’t a problem.’

‘Did you, did you go to the, um, I think you know what I’m getting at,’ he says, raising his eyebrows.

Mark doesn’t say anything.

‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Hunter. I know you too well. Your silence speaks volumes. Where did you go?’

‘Just out into town. Had a look around, few beers.’

‘See anything you liked?’

Mark smiles. ‘I don’t kiss and tell.’

‘They let you kiss?’ Justin says, ‘Since when has that been allowed?’

T
he reception of JSA Recruitment is a cramped, bare box room and Craig waits on a stained sofa next to a dusty plastic pot plant.

Through the glass door are the recruitment consultants’ desks, crammed into a scruffy office. A man with flat, shapeless hair is shouting down the phone. Next to him is a girl with braces who has a
purple-haired
troll on top of her computer screen. Piles of paper and Post-It notes are scattered on top of filing cabinets and over the floor, and an old grubby photocopier has been shoved into an opening next to the staff kitchen where mugs are piled high in the sink.

A wide-hipped woman wearing jeans and a striped shirt backs through the door holding a coffee in one hand and a buff-coloured file in the other. She has bulging eyes and long, lank hair.

‘Craig?’ she says in a cheery Scouse accent.

He stands up. ‘Hi.’

‘I’m Emma, nice to meet you. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Yes, can I have some water please?’

Emma puts her drink and file down on the ring-marked coffee table and makes her way back into the office. She reappears with a full cup barely bigger than a shot glass.

She takes Craig upstairs to a meeting room which is a tiny white cell with two beige bucket chairs and a view of a brick wall.

Emma skim reads a copy of Craig’s CV, places it on top of her file and crosses her legs.

Craig waits for her to say something.

‘Craig, I’ve had a look at your CV and got an idea of your experience, but I think the best thing for us to do is for me to ask you some questions. I’ll make some notes and then I’ll tell you if I think we have any positions that you would be suited to. Does that sound like a good idea?’

‘Yes, OK,’ he says.

‘Good. You currently work as a sales negotiator at Cinq Estates estate agents, is that right?’

‘Yes, I’ve been there since I moved down to London, in 2006.’

‘You’ve been there almost two years?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re a sales negotiator. You negotiate sales?’

‘I’m one of the team of estate agents. When people come into the office, or phone, they tell me what they’re looking for and I try to find them a house or a flat, or whatever it is they need. I then take them on viewings and try to convince them to buy or rent one of the places I’ve shown them.’

‘But now you want to leave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I don’t enjoy working there. I’ve been doing the same job since I started and there’s no prospect of promotion, even though I was told when I joined that I’d be up for promotion within eight months. I work
twelve-hour
days, and almost every Saturday and some Sundays. I feel like all I’m doing is working which is why I’m thinking of changing careers.’

Emma makes notes. ‘Is working long hours a problem for you?’

‘I don’t mind long hours, but I’m working nearly eighty hours most weeks. And because our salary is sales based, sometimes you can make literally nothing.’

‘So in any new role you would want to work less but for more money?’

‘Err… yes.’

‘How much money are you earning at the moment?’

‘It varies and it depends on if you get lucky and sell some houses. For the last three months I’ve earned about seventeen hundred pounds after tax.’

‘That’s a decent salary.’

‘That’s for the last three months in total.’

Emma writes the figure down. ‘Why did you join the company? Had you always wanted to be an estate agent?’

‘I’d just come down from Norwich and needed a job. I saw an advert and applied. I went on a training course with nine others and I got it. We’d apparently been selected from over a thousand graduates; that’s what they told us anyway.’

‘Prior to that you worked for,’ she checks his CV, ‘Tennant Haulage Limited in Norwich. What was your role there?’

‘I was an account manager, in the sales team. I dealt with new
business
. We’d transport goods and animals throughout the UK and Europe.’

‘How long did you work there for?’

‘From when I was sixteen until the year after I left university.’

‘So you left school at sixteen? It doesn’t say that on your CV.’

‘No, I worked there part-time when I was at school and university. It’s my parents’ business.’

‘So the estate agents is the only real job you’ve had when you haven’t been working for your mum and dad?’

‘I was a member of staff like anyone else.’

‘But you never had an interview?’

‘Not a formal one, no.’

‘I’d avoid talking about that when you go for interviews. Don’t mention that your parents own the company.’

‘But it’s called Tennant. Don’t you think people might guess?’

‘If anyone asks, just say it’s a coincidence. Why did you decide to leave and move to London?’

‘I wanted a new challenge and to move away from home. I’d been to university and then went to work for my parents again. It felt like a step back. Also I wanted to use my degree.’

‘You got a 2.1 in business and sociology from the University of Eastern England Cambridge.’

‘Yes.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Cambridge.’

‘Oh, right. I’ve never heard of it. Did it used to be a polytechnic?’

‘I’m not sure. Maybe. It’s usually in the top fifty in the rankings.’

‘I doubt it. A 2.1 from an unknown university is not going to open many doors unfortunately, Craig.’

‘Did you go to university?’ Craig asks, irritated.

‘Yes. I studied media at the University of Wakefield… for a term.’

Craig frowns whilst Emma makes more notes.

‘Have you got any other qualifications that you could perhaps put on your CV instead of your degree?’

‘No. Like what?’

‘What did you get at A-level?’

‘Three Bs. It says on my CV.’

‘Have you thought about doing an MA or any other qualifications? Further education impresses employers.’

‘I might consider it but I don’t have the time.’

‘You’ve not had a gap year either, have you?’

‘No.’

Emma taps her pen on her knee. ‘Your experience is only in sales. Do you enjoy sales?’

‘Some of the time.’

‘When?’

‘When people know what they want and want to buy it. I don’t like having to lie or pressurise people…’

‘So selling is a weakness of yours?’

‘No, I can sell. I do sell.’

‘But you have problem communicating with people?’

‘No.’

‘So you like selling, but you don’t like having to sell,’ she says to herself. ‘Would you say that you’re not target driven?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘That you’re not motivated by being set specific targets.’

‘No, I am.’

‘But you don’t like the idea of having to meet sales targets. That’s why you want to leave your current job?’

‘No. I want to leave because I want to do something different. I want to work for a different company.’

‘Can I just warn you that it does not reflect well on a candidate if you make negative comments about your current employer. You may come across as a problem employee. What
does
motivate you?’ she asks, giving Craig a stern look.

‘Umm, I’m not sure. I just want to do a decent job and get paid a reasonable salary.’

‘What would you consider a reasonable salary?’

‘Around twenty-five thousand.’

Emma writes the figure down on her pad with three exclamation marks after it. Craig watches her and grits his teeth.

‘Is money a key motivation for you?’ she asks.

‘No.’

‘You say “no”, but the impression I’m getting is that you’re looking to leave your current role because you don’t think you’re paid enough, but your salary is only a reflection of your inept sales skills. If you’re not hitting your targets, Craig, no employers, apart from your own
parents
, will ever offer you a job.’ Emma pauses. ‘What would you say your strengths and weaknesses are?’

‘I’m a hard worker.’

‘I think we’ve established that isn’t true.’

‘I am a hard worker,’ he insists. ‘I’m very conscientious, and well organised. I can build a good rapport with people. I work well under pressure.’

‘Craig, let me stop you there. It sounds as if you’re repeating this from memory. What are your weaknesses?’

‘I wouldn’t say that I have too many obvious weaknesses, but I think sometimes I don’t stand up for myself like I should. I’m more likely to keep quiet.’

‘You’re not assertive enough?’

‘Perhaps, yes.’

‘What you’re saying is you’d like to speak your mind more often, you’d like to be a troublemaker, but you don’t have the guts?’

‘No, that’s not what I mean.’

‘What
do
you mean? You say you don’t have a problem
communicating
and then you tell me that you do. Which is it?’

‘I don’t have a problem communicating.’

She pauses. ‘You said you work well under pressure, but you’re in a high-pressure job at the moment, you don’t enjoy it and you’re clearly not flourishing. What kind of relationship do you like to have with your boss? Do you need managing or are you a self-starter?’

‘What’s a self-starter?’

‘Someone that can just turn up and get on with the job.’

‘I can get on with my work. I don’t need to be told what to do. I can manage myself.’

‘So you don’t like taking orders?’

‘No, it doesn’t make any difference to me. If I’m given orders I’ll carry them out. If I’m left on my own, I’ll get on with the job.’

‘Which would you prefer?’

Craig takes a few seconds to reply. ‘I’d prefer to manage myself.’

‘How would you add value to a company?’

‘By working hard and trying hard.’

‘But how would you add value? What you’ve just said is doing your job.’

‘I’d add value by… umm… by…’

‘How have you added value in your current job?’

‘I’m not really sure.’

‘So you haven’t, is what you’re saying.’

‘No, I have, I just can’t explain.’

Emma writes something on her pad and underlines it, twice. ‘What are your personal goals and career aspirations?’

‘Umm, career aspirations? I’m not really sure. I was hoping to see what other jobs I could do.’

‘Where do you see yourself in five years’ time?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Craig, if you give employers these answers in an interview they’ll throw your CV straight in the bin the minute you leave the room. You should have your life and career mapped out. Most of the candidates I speak to tell me that in five years they want to be at director level or be a marketing manager or will have made over a million pounds of sales. If you don’t have these ambitions people won’t take you seriously.’

Craig scratches his chin with his thumb and looks out of the window at the wall. ‘Are there any jobs that you think I would be suitable for?’

Emma takes a deep breath and bites her pen. ‘When I saw your CV I thought you might be a candidate to move into a recruitment position, but even at the most junior level I don’t see that being an option. You just don’t have the drive or intellectual capacity.’ Emma flicks through a wad of A4 sheets from her file. ‘What do you know about mobile technology?’

‘What do you mean? Mobile phones?’

‘Yes.’

‘Quite a bit.’

‘Great, because IM-Mobile, the mobile communications company, are recruiting for members of their sales advisory team. Would that interest you?’

‘What would I be doing?’

‘You’d take incoming calls from customers and explain the benefits
of IM-Mobile’s products and services. They’re an excellent company to work for. I’ve placed a number of candidates there and they all love it. The office is based in Chelmsford, east London. Where do you live?’

‘Clapham.’

‘It’s about fifteen minutes from Clapham Junction on the train.’

‘Chelmsford’s in Essex isn’t it?’

‘It’s on the Essex/east London border. It’s a great place to work. Excellent benefits.’

‘I’d be taking phone calls and talking to customers all day?’

‘Yes. I know that you have communication issues, but they have an exceptional training programme which will help you develop.’

‘Is it a call centre?’

‘No, definitely not. It’s a customer support centre, it’s completely different.’

‘How?’

‘In a call centre you’d be making hundreds of outgoing calls. In a customer support centre you’d be taking calls. Do you make a lot of calls in your current job?’

‘Yes, we have to make over four hours of outgoing calls a day.’

‘Excellent. I’ll get onto my contact and we’ll see if we can arrange an interview.’

‘Hold on, I’m not sure about this. I want some time to think it over.’

‘Craig, you can’t afford to turn opportunities like this down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to work that far away. Aren’t there other jobs?’

Emma huffs and pulls another job spec from her pile. ‘Would you be willing to relocate?’ she asks, drawing a big question mark.

‘Where to?’

‘Inverness.’

‘What, Scotland? No.’

The tiny room is getting warm. Emma makes more suggestions: travelling pharmaceuticals salesman, Sky dish installer, driving
instructor
, IT manager, freelance fishmonger. Craig dismisses them all. He likes a ‘sports marketing’ position until it turns out to be another cold-calling role selling corporate hospitality.

Emma tucks her papers back into the file and drops them on the floor at her feet. ‘Let’s get this straight, Craig. You want me to help you find a job which pays a minimum of twenty-five thousand pounds,
where there’s no pressure, you won’t have to work long hours, you won’t have to meet targets, you won’t do sales, you won’t have to communicate with anyone, you’d be closely managed but would be your own boss, you wouldn’t need to add value and you wouldn’t need a good degree. You’d also need motivating on a daily basis, a generous bonus scheme and
prospects
of promotion.’

‘No, not exactly like that,’ he says. ‘I just want to do something
different
. Not sales.’

‘I’ve tried to explain that you don’t have very many options. You need to be realistic. Do you think you’re too good to work in a call centre? If you do, you’re wrong.’