Old Traders Never Die

Chapter 11

'Have you heard the news ?', Andy asked breathlessly, as he rushed up to my desk.

I shook my head, already fixated by the figures jumping across my screen.

'It's a fucking liberty!', he continued. 'They've only put the fucking prices up in the canteen!!'.

'And they're fucking rationing serviettes now, too', Tim chimed in.

'What', I said incredulously, all thoughts about the performance of the Hang Seng and Nikkei 225 instantly forgotten, 'They can't do that'.

'Well, they have', Andy replied, 'And there'll be a mutiny'.

'Not a mutiny', I replied, 'A fucking boycott, that's what'.

And such was the strength of feeling about this issue, that it also surfaced in that morning's team meeting.

'I've got to say', Michael laughed, 'I just don't get it. Why are you lot all worked up over the fucking canteen ? It's not as if you guys can't afford to pay a bit extra'.

'Don't you understand ?', Andy said, 'This is war'.

'If it's war you want', Trudie piped up, 'Join the fucking army and go to Afghanistan. This is just about the price of a cup of tea!'.

'And you shouldn't mess with the price of an Englishman's cup of tea!', one of the other traders shouted.

'But the tea tastes like cat's piss anyway', Trudie pointed out.

'Even more reason why they shouldn't put the fucking price up, then', Andy retorted, 'The firm can't be allowed to get away with it!'.

'But it's nothing to do with the firm', Michael said, 'The canteen's run by an independent firm. It's outsourced, you clowns'.

'That's not the point', Andy replied, 'We're not having anyone putting up prices and rationing serviettes. It's just not right'.

The campaign to roll back the canteen price rises began in earnest the following morning. For the first time anyone could remember, front, middle and back office were as one. All stood firmly together, determined to achieve their objective. And the campaign was officially launched at 7am, when the first group of staff arrived with bagels and coffee purchased from the sandwich shop up the road. The bemused canteen staff stood idly by, as the canteen started to fill up, but not one person went up to make a purchase.

It was just after 7.30am when the trouble first started. That was when the restaurant manager stormed in, demanding to know what was going on.

'You can't sit here if you aren't eating', he said as he approached the group of employees at the first table.

'We are eating', one of the women pointed out.

'Not our food you're not', the restaurant manager replied, 'I'm sorry, either buy something, or leave'.

'Piss off', one of the young guys in operations said, 'Leave us alone. Go terrorise someone else'.

'What did you say ?', the restaurant manager asked, as he faced up to the young staffer.

'You heard. Piss off!', he repeated.

I arrived on the scene just as the restaurant manager had grabbed hold of the guy from operations, and was about to throw him out.

'Take it easy', I said calmly, 'This is supposed to be a peaceful protest. There's no need for violence'.

'You'll just have to have your protest someone else', the manager replied. 'Fuck off out of here, the lot of you. Or I'll call the police'.

'I think you'll find you can't do that', I said.

'Try me', he replied. 'This is private property, and right now you lot are trespassing. This is your last chance. Get out, or I'll call the police'.

'The guy's bluffing', Tim said as he arrived by my side, 'He wouldn't dare'.

But he did. As soon as we marched back to the table and signalled that we had no intention of buying anything, or leaving, the restaurant guy called the police.

'You're a fucking idiot', I said when I realised that he had made good on his threat, 'You've just committed professional suicide. You'll be fired before the day's out'.

'We'll see about that', he shouted as he approached me, pointing his finger.

'Get your fucking finger out of my face', I screamed, feeling the anger rise up inside.

But the restaurant guy ignored me, and continued to mouth off, still pointing his finger at me. I wasn't even listening to what he was saying now, as I was so incensed that this guy was in my face.

'I told you to get your finger out of my face', I repeated, and forcefully pushed it away.

'Don't you touch me', he shouted, and then shoved me to one side.

Well, that's when I lost it. So much for a peaceful protest. We were on the ground, scrapping, in seconds.

And that's when the police arrived, along with our internal security staff and, predictably, folks from Human Resources.

He assaulted me, officer', the restaurant manager told the police, after they had prised us apart.

'Bollocks,' I replied, 'He started it'.

'It was just handbags at three paces, officer', Michael said as he, too, made his way over to where we were being interviewed, 'We'll take it from here. We don't want any more trouble'.

'I'm afraid it's a bit late for all that now, sir. It's a police matter now. These gentleman are accusing each other of assault. We're going to have to arrest them both, and then take down witness statements'.

And with that, we were bundled into separate police cars and taken down to the station to be booked.

Fortunately for me, the fracas happened first thing in the morning, so I didn't have to spend long in a cell. I was processed fairly quickly - examined by a doctor, photographed, finger-printed, and gave a statement. I was locked up for just over an hour, before my lawyer managed to bail me out. I had two weeks to either press charges against the restaurant guy (which, despite him being an arsehole, I didn't really want to do), or wait to see if he pressed charges against me.

As I was in the taxi returning home, I turned on my mobile (which had been given back, together with my other belongings, by the police). There was a message from Michael, so I returned his call.

'You'll have to come in tomorrow for the disciplinary', he said.

'What you on about ?', I laughed, 'I thought 'disciplinaries' were only for back and middle office staff!'.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'We'll sort it, but you're going have to accept getting a slap on the wrist by HR. And, by the way, you're banned from going to the fucking canteen!'.

Chapter 12

A few nights later, Tim, Peter and I went for a quick drink after work, which soon turned into a bit of a session. We all knew that Peter should keep off the drink, but he was big enough to know his own mind, and he had a few too. After a while, Peter suggested that we go for something to eat, and persuaded Tim and I to go to one of his favourite City restaurants.

Although Tim seemed to be in good spirits when we kicked off, the longer the evening went on (and the more he had to drink), the more morose he became. As we tucked into our food, he suddenly opened up.

'To be honest, I'm pretty pissed off with Jane', he blurted out. Jane was the lady in HR he had a brief affair with, and who had only recently told him that she was pregnant with his child.

'I don't know how she could do this to me', he continued, 'She's 10 years older than me, and married. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was just supposed to be a good shag, and now she lands this on me!'.

'Well I don't suppose she's too happy about it either', Peter pointed out.

'To be honest, I'm not sure how she's feeling. She's not to talking to me'.

'Well want exactly do you want ?', Peter asked.

'That's just it', Tim replied, 'I'm not sure. But I damn well want to know what her plans are! She just laid it on me that she was up the duff, and then has gone all silent, the selfish bitch. She doesn't seem to give a damn about my feelings'.

'Well I'm sure she got a lot on her plate, Tim', Peter laughed, 'After all, it will be her who's literally left holding the baby'.

'Or not, as the case may be', Tim retorted.

'You'll just have to have a grown-up conversation with her, then', I heard Peter say.

But I kept quiet all through this. In truth, I was a bit uncomfortable. I always was when the guys starting talking about women and shagging. Although my colleagues don't know it, I'm gay. I've limited experience with girls in the sexual sense (and what experience I have had didn't work out too well). And my sexuality is something that I find hard to deal with. For much of my life I've fought against it, but in recent years I have at least admitted to myself where my sexual preferences are, even if I dare not tell my family or anyone at work about it.

Work was especially tough. I saw more of my colleagues than I did of my family, and the trading floor is such a place for banter and macho behaviour. I felt obliged to join in, and be one of the lads, and I felt that I'd be treated differently if they knew I was a poof. So I am basically living a lie. Sure, we have all that stuff about diversity, but that's mostly lip-service (we don't have one openly gay man in an executive position at the firm). And, to be honest, I really couldn't stand the idea of being called 'Shirley' (or something similar) for the rest of my time there!

I'd actually lived in fear of being 'outed' since I joined the firm, and often wondered why the guys didn't pick up on the fact that I didn't have a girlfriend. During my first couple of years at the firm, I took to bringing a series of attractive women with me to social events and parties, but I found that I couldn't really enjoy myself, so, in the end, took to coming alone. I've never had a boyfriend either. I just can't deal with that. Maybe one day, but right now the thought leaves me petrified. And I'm ashamed to say that I satisfy my natural (some think unnatural) urges in seedy liaisons with gay or bisexual guys I meet via internet chat rooms and the like. I'm not proud that I'm not strong enough to 'come out', and am often disgusted that I engage in meaningless sexual activities with total strangers (I never meet the same person twice). But there it is, that's my life.

'You're right', Tim said, shaking me out of my train of thought, 'I'll go see her tomorrow. We just need to behave like adults'.

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'You've got a fucking cheek just barging into my office, Tim. What the fuck do you want?'

'Keep you voice down', Tim said as he closed the door, 'I don't want any trouble. I just want to know what's going on'.

'It's nothing to do with you what's going on, Tim. Just leave me alone, will you ? You've done enough damage already'.

'Look, Jane', Tim said, raising his voice, 'I'm not gonna just fade away. I have a right to know what's going on'.

'Fuck off! You don't have any rights. How dare you come in here talking about your 'rights' - after all you've put me through!'.

'I've put you through', Tim shouted, 'That's a good one! I don't remember you complaining when we were alone doing the business. In fact, you couldn't get enough of me then. It's not my fault you got yourself fucking pregnant!'.

'Yeah, you're right, Tim', Jane screamed, 'I did it all on my fucking own!'.

'Calm down, will you, Jane', Tim pleaded, 'I haven't said that I'm not responsible too. That's why I'm here. I just want to know what you're going to do, that's all'.

'Well, I'm having the baby, that's what', Jane replied defiantly.

'What the fuck for ?', Tim blurted out, quickly losing control. This was the last thing he wanted to hear, 'This was supposed to be about sex, not fucking babies!'.

'It's not about babies - at least not for you', Jane replied, 'I don't want you around this baby. And, don't worry, I don't want your fucking money either!'.

'What are you talking about ? How the hell you gonna manage ?', Tim asked, calming down a little.

'John and I are going to raise it', Jane replied, 'It will be ours. John's going to be the baby's father. I've told him everything. He hit the roof first off, but we're working it out now. This baby just might be the best thing that's ever happened to us'.

'Well fucking congratulations', Tim said sarcastically, 'So, you told your old man about me, then ?'

'No, Tim', she replied, 'So you don't have to worry about your pretty face being smashed in. I told him that I had a one-night stand with a loser who's now left the firm. It's all fixed, Tim. Please don't get involved', she urged, as the tears started to fall down her face, 'Please don't mess this up for me. Things are hard enough. Now, please, go away, will you. Just leave me alone'.

Tim felt deflated as he waited outside for the lift to take him back to the trading floor. He came to see Jane to get some clarity. And he thought that meant either that she was going to get rid of the baby (which he felt was most likely), or that he would in some way be involved in its upbringing. He hadn't expected to be given the cold shoulder, and effectively be told to butt out, and he didn't know how he felt about that. Despite what Jane wanted, Tim still thought they had a lot of unfinished business to attend to. She hadn't heard the last of this.

Source: Here Is The City (hitc.com)