RIP Big Cheese

I left Leonard’s Royal Penthouse Suite and walked back home, after having unveiled Demonious’ intentions of blackmailing and extorting Leonard. I definitely refused to partake in something so wicked.

On my way home, I was shocked to see in a news stand Big Cheese’s photograph under the captions of “The Sandwichian Chronicle”.

The headline read:

“TOP EXECUTIVE GETS FIRED FROM PHILANTROPIC CORPORATION"

I immediately bought it to read the surprising news.

“Corruption accusations against Harry Balls, general manager of the Dumbass Industries until yesterday, ended up in his devastating dismissal, demanded unanimously by the company Board of Directors. Balls has been indicted on corruption charges that have led to his professional ruin. The former top executive of the Dumbass Industries will face charges of fraud, obstruction of justice and lying to judge Handgun, who leads the investigations. Information from reliable sources state that Balls could face over ten years in prison for the above mentioned accusations, which he claims to be calumnies…”

Oh man… so Big Cheese was in Big Shit now, swelling unemployment ranks, just like me!

“The harder they come, the harder they fall” sang Jimmy Cliff.

When I realised his reign of terror was finally over, I danced like a monkey and clapped hands in the street. The Unions would be celebrating as well, to be sure. And yet, his loyals would continue to think that there was a black hand devising a secret plot against him.

I just couldn’t resist taking my cell phone and dialling his number in a fit of rage.

- Hey. Harry. –I said-
- Hey. Q. –he said-
- I’ve read the news. Did you like the taste of your own medicine?
- Q… what the fuck???
- Tell me, have you lost your virginity now? Go fuck yourself!!!

What a sad end to a story of loyalty and honesty that started ten years ago. It was the 28th of august 1999 and I had a job interview with him at the Dumbass Industries headquarters.

I was half an hour early. He was half an hour late, as usual. Unpunctuality was one of his outstanding characteristics, together with unpredictability, tyranny, arbitrariness and that invisible harmful dash of cruelty. But I didn’t know that yet.

I can still see myself sitting on a black leather sofa, in the waiting room, on the sixteenth floor of the Dumbass Industries’ main building. I had carefully chosen my best outfit: a white shirt, black designer’s miniskirt and high heeled red shoes. I carried my wallet and keys in the big Valentino handbag that I reserved for special occasions. During the long wait, I suddenly spotted a run down the front of my left stocking and panicked.

Half an hour later, an old secretary announced that Mr Balls had finished his meeting with the Chairman and would see me right away.

Bullshit. He hadn't met the Chairman. The sod had stood me up for half an hour, only to show me who was THE BOSS.

I entered his office and he kindly offered me a seat. He slowly read my curriculum vitae and asked me to tell him about my professional track record in detail.

I described my first job as a trainee at the Orsinian Telecomms Company; my second job, also as a trainee, at the Zantlander Engineering Corporation and then my last job at the Bank of Zeewland, where I was working as a financial analyst for the moment.

There I had a lazy boss who overworked me every morning with all the things he didn’t feel like doing, but I never complained about it. It was a nice job. I travelled, home and abroad. I had learned a lot. My colleagues were nice.

- So tell me… what’s the reason why you’re looking for a new job? –he asked me-
- I’d like to advance my career and have a better salary, sir. –I answered, naively-

He stared at me and his eyes glowed like a bright crimson red, as if he was about to shoot me with his laser beam eyes. He looked… demonish.

- Miss Qinan, your cv is excellent. Your academic background is impressive. And you’re fluent in four languages too.
- Thank you, sir. I’m Sandwichian by birth and of Italian descent. I learned English as my second language and attended a Zantlander school. That's why I'm quadrilingual. -I explained-

His eyes glowed again and he took a deep breath.

- We’re interviewing several candidates for this position, Miss Qinan. So don’t be discouraged if we don’t call you for a second interview: in all honesty, the competition is fierce. If you’re discarded, I’m sure you will find a good job real soon.

That strange comment sounded to me very much like ‘Don’t call us, we’ll call you’. So if you’d ask me, yes, I was totally discouraged and convinced that I had been definitely discarded. We shook hands and I left, thinking that I would never hear from him again.

But I was wrong: One month later, when I had lost all hope, the Human Resources Manager of the Dumbass Industries phoned me for that second interview and offered me the job. It was very well paid. I would have many responsibilities and a lot of power in the company. I would be promoted immediately if I proved I was worthy. Of course, I accepted.

That day I was not aware that my professional future would be an ordeal that would take my health away and make me fall to pieces a few times: Overtime. Rants. Being shouted at. Stress. Pressure. Fear.

Harry Balls knew very well how to scare the hell out of his employees to squeeze them dry. He never hesitated when it came to infamously sack a worker, whether it was a senior manager or a junior clerk.

He had a few enemies and everybody hated him, myself included.

He never worked, rather brilliantly mastered the fine arts of delegation as he played minesweeper, solitary and pinball in the three monitors on his computer desk.

“It’s not me who works for you, Q, but you who work for me”, he would go when I’d turn to him if I’d get into difficulty.

He paid well, but the price was too high.

I hunted for a new job several times, but none of the head hunters that interviewed me ever called me again when they knew that I was working for him. I was always eliminated from the list of candidates. So I had to accept that my professional fate was dead sure stuck to his.

So RIP Big Cheese. I wouldn't miss him. As the Union guy said,

What goes around comes around.
You have to sleep in the bed you make.
He who ives by the sword, dies by the sword.
You do the crime, you do the time.

It was time for me to make a radical change in my life. I couldn’t go on averting my gaze when I came across old colleagues, stealing food from the supermarket, tearing to pieces the eviction notices I had received, or giving the slip to the Tax Collector’s Office. My face would be soon well known among the most famous tax evaders in Sandwich and the rest of the southern hemisphere.

And suddenly I had this great idea: I would disappear and start a new life somewhere, seeking complete anonimity. I took my backpack, put some money and clothes inside and headed to the Grytviken harbour.

So there would be no more Hellgirls, Demonious Highs, Leonard Ellisons or Harry Balls. Too bad that there would be no more Ed Davies either. Or at least that was what I presumed.


Berlin ‘Barclay James Harvest’

Credibility and virginity

Getting fired, unfortunately, can happen to the best of us. It can even happen when it's not our fault. But that was not my case.

My case was actually going to be a fair devastating dismissal. I breathed deep, plucked up my courage and knocked on Big Cheese’s office door.

- Come in! –he said loudly-
- Good morning, sir –I said when I opened the door-
- Uh, oh, it’s Miss Q, at last! Nice to see you again. I thought you had been abducted by an alien spacecraft.

I sighed. He was so obnoxious.

- Very funny, indeed, sir. –I said, clenching my teeth-.
- Did you enjoy your holidays, dear? –he asked-
- There's no need to be ironic.
- I can be as ironic as I want, Q. You’re an excellent professional, but you’ve recently proved not to have the slightest sense of duty. I’m very disappointed. You just can’t do this in your position.
- I know I made a serious mistake, sir. I was under so much pressure that I did a very stupid thing. Please accept my apologies. –I whispered desperately, looking down-
- That’s right, Q. You did a very very stupid thing.

He opened the top drawer to his desk and took a file out of it. He handed me the file and lit up a cigarette.

- It was nice while it lasted, but I’m afraid that this is the end of our association. –he said, leaning back on his chair-. Here’s your severance payment and the settlement documents. Read them carefully. The company is offering you a very nice compensation.

I expected this. But I never thought it would have such a powerful effect on me. Suddenly I felt as if I had been hit by a truck. I got such a shock that my mind was unable to think straight.

- I beg you to reconsider your decision, sir. –I whispered with a low voice-
- I can’t, Q. Credibility is like virginity: you lose it only once. And once you lose it… you can never get it back. Capisce?

I nodded. The company offered me a one-year total compensation, which was very generous. So I signed the papers without objection, realising there was nothing I could do to avoid being fired.

- Excellent. Thank you for being so understanding and making it easy. It’s been a pleasure working with you, Q. Good luck.

And that was all the thankyous I got for my five years of service at the Dumbass Industries.

I left his office very disheartened. His cortège of sycophants and harem of female brown nosers would immediately knock on his door to butter him up. I would soon be forgotten.

Deep feelings of disappointment and uncertainty overwhelmed me. There was a cardboard box on my desk where someone had put my personal belongings: some books and cds and a small vanity bag.

The good side of having been fired was I wouldn’t have to stand his meteorism problems, hear his heavy swearing and cursing or bear his childish funny little ways. No more inconvenient phone calls at midnight; no more being shouted at or standing Monday morning faces.

And yes, if you asked me, he looked old, fat and ugly. In spite of his draconian diet, his exclusive Armani suits and myopia operation. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig.

When I left my office, I came across the secretary in the corridor.

- I know it’s unfair, Leni. Nobody ever worked as hard as you did in this office to change things for the better. But you shouldn’t have left your job for three weeks without telling the boss you were taking three weeks off. Why did you do that? –asked the secretary-
- I was sick and tired of everything. And I knew he wouldn’t allow me to take some holidays.

We kissed goodbye.

When I went outside, I saw the guy from the Unions. He was sitting on a bench in the sun, in front of building 1, smoking a big fat cigar. I tried to leave unnoticed, but his radar spotted me carrying the cardboard box.

- Aww… dear… Big Cheese kicked yer ass, right Q? –he asked-
- That’s right, dude. –I answered-
- Well, I told ya long ago. What goes around, comes around. You have to sleep in the bed you make. He who ives by the sword, dies by the sword. You do the crime, you do the time. Everyone gets their comeuppance, Q. Don’t take it personal, please. –he said, blowing smoke rings in the air-
- I bet you must be very happy now.
- No, Q. Your dismissal doesn’t make me happy. I’m not such an evil guy. You’re a very tough worker, and I would have defended you always. But your ex-boss is a fucking piece of shit and you were one of the loyals.
- It’s very funny, indeed to hear you say this after having sued me so many times for the most stupid things!!!
- Yeah, dear, and I’m now somehow sorry for that. But that’s just the way it is. Welcome to the class struggle. Unfortunately you were on the wrong side. I was just kicking your boss’s ass. But please, don’t take it personal.

Jeez, how could I possibly not take it personal???

My nice and cosy flat; my silver BMW Series 1; my lifestyle; my future. Everything would go up in smoke.

I walked –rather sleepwalked- like a zombie towards my car, two blocks away from the Dumbass house.

And this is how I lost credibility. Virginity was already lost a few years ago.




"Five years" (David Bowie)

Management's orders

I was totally stunned and horrified when Ed shouted at the ghosts and threw me out of the house.

- I can never reach you on the phone. You don’t answer my e-mails. I don’t even know whether you get them or not. All I ever heard from you lately was that you hated your birthday but would gladly accept a present. This is why I came here. Then, your butler told me that you were celebrating with Misty McGwire in Orsinia. To top it all, your ghost relatives tried to convince me that I would make a perfect third wife for you. How funny is this? –I said-
- Listen, honey: firstly, you are too demanding. And secondly, I don’t have to explain to you what I do or do not do. –he spat, upset-
- Of course you don’t have to. In fact, you’ve never done it. Why would you do it right now?

I knew that was nasty, but I couldn't help it. He didn’t utter a word. Just stared at me with a tired, but defiant look.

- You have no idea what I've gone through to be here. And now that I’ve found you, you’re kicking me out. –I said, sadly-.

He looked down, shamefaced and serious.

- Tell me… what’s so wrong with me? I really love you. More than my words can say. I gave you my heart, but when I dared ask for love, you thought I was demanding. You’re so selfish and arrogant! And yet I really love you, Ed. But I’ve just had it up to here with you. –I said, putting my hand way above my head-

He was quite shocked but kept stum.

- By the way, I almost forgot something. Here you go. Happy birthday –I said, throwing the birthday parcel on the table-

Then I removed the diamond ring from my finger and left it beside the parcel.

- And this, too. –I said-
- Leni, please don’t …
- Oh, now it turns out that you’ve decided to stop ignoring me. Sorry, but it’s too late. Goodbye.

I took my backpack and walked down the corridor with that sick feeling of sadness in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t stand the pain. I couldn’t even say goodbye.

As I left hurriedly among a myriad of scared ghosts, my cell phone went. Ed’s ancestors pricked up their ears to hear me talk from the crooked paintings hanging on the walls of the corridor where they lived.

- Q. –said Big Cheese-
- Yes, sir? –I said, wiping away the tears with my left hand-.
- What happens with you? When will you see fit to show up? You’ve got a lot to do here! –he shouted at me-

That was just what I needed: Big Cheese, angry as a bear with a sore foot, kicking up a fuss.

- I’m sorry sir, but I’m not in the South Sandwich Islands right now and I’ll need eight hours to fly back –I said-
- I know where you are and what you’ve been doing lately: the TV aired your pleasure trip to Mawi-Mawi and Burdishland on the last edition of the news. A bad case of chicken pox, eh? Lies have short legs, Q, and they won’t get you too far. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning. I expect you to be in my office. Or there will be consequences.

Bloody reporters. Since I had met Ed, I no longer had a private life.

Working for the Dumbass Industries Inc. never was a bed of roses. Big Cheese hired me five years ago as his chief of cabinet. He was an expert in the fine art of delegation and his performance soon became a blatant attempt to load my back with all the work, while he made the most of his golfing and sailing time or simply playing minesweeper and solitaire on the computer. It was hard enough for me, not to mention having to cope with his extreme rudeness, immoderate ambition and desire for power.

Everybody in the company predicted that I would be burnt-out soon and they guessed correctly. Why was I still with him after five years? The answer is easy: he paid me a nice salary package that allowed me to lead a very comfortable life. Everybody has their price. I’m not an exception.

But even though I’m a very long-suffering woman, there’s a limit to my patience. One day, after a hugely disproportionate amount of shouting, I said I had a bad case of chicken pox and took French leave from work. The truth was I couldn’t take any more pressure and stress.

But just as the world and his wife knew now –thanks to the invaluable research work done by the Sandwichian TV-, I actually had been on holidays in the Mawi-Mawi Islands and Burdishland for three weeks.

The day after I left Burdishland, I had to stand one of the worst humiliations of my life. I drove to work, like I did every morning, and while I was waiting for the arm gate to be lifted at the Dumbass Industries’ head office, Riley -the security guy at the main door- approached me and knocked on my car window. I rolled it down.

- Sorry, Miss Qinan, but I’m afraid you’re not authorised to park your car at the company's parking lot. – he said, blushing real red-
- What? How come?? I’ve been doing it for the last five years! Why not today? –I asked, outraged-

Riley looked down, visibly embarrassed and whispered, pointing at the sky:

- Management’s orders, Miss Qinan. I’m very sorry. You may want to check this with your office. I’ve been given instructions this morning…

That was unbelievable. It made my jaw drop. I let out a tremendous snort, took my cell phone and called Big Cheese’s secretary.

- Hello. It’s me. Why am I not allowed to park here today? What’s the matter? –I asked, imperatively-
- Oh, Leni. Big Cheese saw you on the telly yesterday and gave very precise instructions to the security staff. He thinks you played hooky and is pissed off about it. He’s waiting for you –she said-
- I’ll be right there in a minute.

I put the car into reverse and looked for a parking place outside, really furious. For those who have never been in the South Sandwich Islands, finding an empty spot to park in the streets of Grytviken can be an ordeal. I had to sweat blood.

I put my sun glasses on, so that the evil people from the Dumbas Industries wouldn’t recognize me as I walked to the company’s premises and entered building one, where my office was. To my surprise, the security guys at the ground floor asked me to hand them my identity card and put my handbag into the scanner machine. I removed my dark glasses, expecting they would change their mind and let me go as soon as they recognised me.

- Hey! It’s me! Leni Qinan, from the General Manager's Cabinet! I’ve been working here for five long years! You all know me!
- Sorry, Miss Qinan, this is just a security routine procedure… orders are orders.

Management's orders, I presumed.

When my handbag came through the scanner machine, they put a sticker on my suit lapel and noted down my name in the visitor’s book. My mind refused to understand what was going on. I was thunderstruck. Things were looking really bad.

I didn’t know what falling from favor felt like until that day.





"Thunderstruck" (AC/DC - 1991, Live at Donnington)
I’m not a huge heavy metal fan, but this song is great.

I love the guy in schoolboy outfit and his guitar. And have a look at the audience... impressive!

Pompous, thin skinned, fucking idiots

A thick carpet of snow soon covered the ground outside the airport and turned to ice. The snowploughs worked hectically to clear the runways, but most departures were delayed or cancelled. My flight to Orsinia was one of them. Ed’s jet was my last hope.

- Do you really know Leonard Ellison? –I asked Ed-
- Sure. We play golf sometimes. –he answered, playing down the importance of my question-

Small world, eh? I couldn’t believe my luck! I had to bring the dough back to Dumbass Industries and drag that Big Shot to the theatre gala. Ed didn’t know that yet, but he was going to help me.

- What kind of business are you doing with him? –he asked, very curious-
- He is the most important benefactor of Dumbass Industries. We’re opening the new theatre in two weeks. There will be a cocktail party and the Parisian Ballet will be performing a late night show. The box office revenue will be entirely donated to rare illnesses research programmes…
- I know, Leni. I’ve been invited too. –he said, interrupting me-. Sorry, go on.

Yes, Ed was a rich businessman and a plutocrat; he probably was at the top of the list, right after the King of Sandwich.

- The funny thing is somebody forgot to invite Leonard Ellison to the opening ceremony. He’s pissed off because they’ve put him in the waiting list and he decided to withdraw the funds that his corporation had agreed to give us to implement our community services projects.
- Whoa!!! What a blunder! –he exclaimed, shaking his head in disapproval-
- Yeah, Leonard Ellison took it to heart and didn’t accept Big Cheese’s apologies on the phone, so he decided to delegate this task to me and told me to make sure that Leonard Ellison accepts the best seats in the theatre, come hell or high water.
- Well, I hope that chicken boss of yours appreciates what you’re doing for him. And I hope you succeed.
- I hope so too. He said he would sack me if I didn’t –I said, looking down-.
- Sack you??? What will he do without you? Nah, he won’t sack you. –he said, shaking his head-.
- Oh yes, he will. –I said, pretending to cry- Or I’ll be demoted from my cabinet position twenty levels down and next week I may be cleaning the bathrooms!

Ed was right. Not in a million years would Big Cheese fire me. I was only putting some pressure on him. Whether he wanted it or not, he was already involved in the plotting. But he was not dumb.

- Hey sweety, I know you’re putting the screws on me, so stop being silly, ok? Now wipe away your crocodile tears and I’ll make a phone call to help you, but only if you stop the sobbing, ok?
- Oooh really? –I asked, and did as I was told on the spot-.
- Yes. But you have to do something for me.

Gosh, that sounded to me like that old Sandwichian joke about a lovely cutie tiny ant that wanted to cross a deep river in the middle of the jungle and asked Mr Elephant, the gentleman of the wild, to help her.
‘With pleasure’ -he answered, very politely-.
‘Chivalry hasn’t died yet’ –she thought, very happy-
So Miss Ant jumped on Mr. Elephant’s back and they crossed the river together, majestically. Mr. Elephant lowered his head and trunk so that Miss Ant could climb down safe and sound to the ground.
‘Thank you very much’ –she said, waving goodbye-
‘None of that: put your knickers down’. –said Mr. Elephant-

Life is hard in the urban jungle too and nothing in life is free.

- What is it you want me to do for you? –I asked, expecting the elephant answer-
- I received my invitation for the opening gala.
- Yes, you told me. And?
- Are you attending on your own or you already have a partner?
- I’ll go with you! –I answered hastily-

Actually, I would have done everything he’d ask me to do. EVERYTHING.

- What makes you think I want to go with you, silly? I was just asking.

Jeez, that was so embarrassing. He turned back immediately, dialed a number on his cellphone and walked away.

- Leo, Ed Davis here.

This was all I coud hear of the conversation. I knew very well it was neither Da Vinci nor di Caprio on the other side. Not even Cohen. But the very same Leonard Ellison the Great!

I had a look outside. It was heavy snowing. When Ed came back he just said:

- That’s settled. Let’s go to my place. Now.
- What? I need to fly to Orsinia.
- Leni, the airport will be closed in a few minutes and the roads are freezing. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be trapped in the snow storm.

I wrapped my warm scarf around my head and neck as a turban, just letting my eyes show. Then I put my gloves on, dragged my trolley and followed him to the parking lot. This time he had brought his Range Rover, one of the cars he drove when he travelled incognito.

- Why are we going to your place, Ed? –I asked-
- Given that you won’t be able to fly to Orsinia… I’m kidnapping you for a couple of days.
- Oh. It’s a good thing. It will be my second time kidnapped. Now I definitely know I will be queuing at the unemployment office on Monday.
- No you won’t, silly.
- How do you know?
- Leonard Ellison gave me his word of honor that he will send back the community services funds to your company.
- Will he attend the theatre gala?
- Send the invitation by e-mail to his Head of Cabinet and he will reply immediately. There’s no need to travel to Orsinia. But don’t tell your Big Cheese. Just pretend you’ve flown before it started snowing and stay with me, ok?
- With what purpose?
- Just because there’s a pending issue that we must solve, Leni. I can’t forget your sad eyes when we last met at Kynkybooks, after you visited the copyreader to show him your story. I need to make peace with you. So please, stay with me. How does that grab you?

I couldn’t forget that day either. This unworldly man really knew how to leave me speechless. I was not sure this was the expected outcome of my efforts, but how could I possibly say no?

- Ok Ed. I’ll stay with you.
- Excellent.

Before I even realised it, we were in his mansion. I hadn’t been there since last summer but things hadn’t changed a bit: the same ghost driver opening the car door; the same Romanian ghost butler giving me a warm welcome; the same Burdish ancestor shouting at me from the painting hanging on the wall of the corridor; the same angelic voices of his two dead wives and four dead children whispering “goodnight Leni” from the cellar.

We entered his studio and sat on the sofa. I opened my laptop and started writing that e-mail to my colleague at Leonard Ellison’s office, under Ed’s watchful eye.

“Dear Mr. Ashton,

Words cannot express how deeply sorry and embarrassed we are for the inconvenience that we have caused to Mr. Ellison, due to a very unfortunate and completely involuntary mistake. This is especially saddening because of the tight bonds of union existing between both companies.

We are committed to the Ellison Corporation, our valued partner, in so many projects undertaken together in the South Sandwich Islands, and are taking immediate corrective steps to regain your confidence in us.

Once again, we would like to extend our invitation to Mr Ellison to attend the inaugural ceremony and luncheon that will be held at the new Theatre of Grytviken on the 8th February.

We look forward to seeing you there.

Yours sincerely,

Leni Qinan
Head of Cabinet
Dumbass Industries plc.
Grytviken (South Sandwich Islands)


- Does it sound ok to you? –I asked-
- It sounds great to me, honey. Come on, send it. Ashton is waiting for your e-mail. -he said-

Ed prepared a delicious beverage with hot brandy, lemon and sugar and handed me a cup as I waited nervously for the answer, with my laptop on my thighs.

- Here's a ration of pirate’s grog to calm down a bit –he said, offering a mug of drink-

I took it and drank. He sat beside me, lifted his hand to my face and stroke my cheek, whispering:

- Everything will be ok, sweety.

A few minutes later, my inbox flashed and I eagerly opened the incoming message.

Dear Ms Qinan,

Mr Ellison regrets that he will be unable to attend due to absence from the city on that date and wishes Dumbass Industries every success on the event celebration.

Yours sincerely,
Peter Ashton
Head of Cabinet
Ellison Corporation


Here you have the living proof that those who call the shots never die at war action. They have their pawns to do that dirty work for them and wash their hands clean of the ‘not so nice stuff’.

Leonard Ellison could have excused himself saying he was unable to attend because he had to scrub his bath tiles instead. That would have sounded truer to me. And Big Cheese would certainly jump for joy upon arrival of the desired funds to the company’s bank account.

I closed my laptop and finished the drink.
What a pair of pompous, thin skinned, fucking idiots.

Learning how to stop a cold war

I’ve always thought that Big Cheese has been kind of a hyper guy since he was a baby. Most days he is so energetic that everybody except him seems to move in slow motion. But some other days he can be the antithesis of that, often falling into such a pathetic lethargic state that he can only sprawl on his chair and play endless minesweeper games, until his biorrythm clock struggles to cross the zero line.

It was one of these days. When he called me to his office, he looked like he had no more gas in him:

- Q. I’m afraid we have fucked up with Leonard Ellison. –he said-.

“We? Why we? I didn’t do anything!” –I thought to myself-

How come he always thinks he deserves a merit award when something goes right, but he just denies it, whistling in the dark, whining “WE fucked up” when something goes wrong?

Just FYI, Leonard Ellison is the wealthiest man in Orsinia –Sandwich’s rich and powerful neighbour to the north-. He owns a profitable huge corporation, which is Dumbass Industries’ oldest and most important benefactor.

It’s worth mentioning too that the loathsome, obnoxious, thin-skinned, narcissist, egocentrical, arrogant, proud and self-centered Leonard Ellison is a middle-aged Orsinian tycoon, well-known for his haughtiness and irritating mannerisms.

- What’s the problem with Leonard Ellison? –I asked-.
- Due to our sheer incompetence and unbelievable lack of foresight, somebody forgot to send him an invitation for the new theatre opening gala. His assistant called this morning to reserve four seats. Since there are none available, she was told that his name would be added to the waiting list and taken off as cancellations would come in. When Leonard knew this, he freaked out. Not only did he take offence; he also took action immediately: he phoned to tell me he’s cutting the funds allocated to our community services.

I can’t deny I felt some sadistic pleasure when I imagined the scene.

Dumbass Industries’ had sponsored the construction of the first theatre in the capital of the South Sandwich Islands. It was Big Cheese’s most ambitious project. The opening reception would be the event of the year and everybody wanted to be invited, but only the cream of society would. And Leonard Ellison was supposed to be at the top of the list.

- This is gonna be my downfall. He will slaughter me! –he said, tearing out his hair-.
- Hey, pull yourself together! Summon up courage, he won’t slaughter you for that!
- Oh yes he will, we’ve hurt his pride and he will be seeking revenge! I need some cigarettes. And bubble gum too.

He was asking for his pacifiers.

- Don’t overdo it! It was only an unfortunate mistake; we just have to offer him our most sincere apologies; stroke his ego by telling him how happy we are to be his partners in social programmes and compensate him for his “ordeal” by giving him the best seats in the theatre. You just have to give the boot to some b-list celebrities, that’s all! –I said, offering him a stick of chewing gum-.

He stopped some seconds and stared at me. Suddenly, his expression changed and he came up with this brilliant idea:

- Q. You convinced me. Your arguments are perfect. I need you to go to Orsinia, see him and apologize on behalf of the Company; of the Board of Directors; of the Executive Committee, of every single employee.


Gosh, what a skiver! What a shameful coward hiding his head in the sand! That was supposed to be his job, not mine!

- Why don’t you meet him yourself? –I asked-
- He hates me now.
- Why don’t you send the Institutional Relationships Manager? He’s more experienced than me! I’m just a junior chief of staff! Leonard Ellison will kick my ass just because I’m your closest collaborator.
- Wrong assumption, Q. You’re neutral and new in this old company. Everybody likes you and you know how to do these things.
- But Leonard Ellison is not one of the plebs from Dumbass Industries!
- Stop being chicken! I trust you completely.

So summarizing, I wasn’t really going on a pleasure trip, but on a desperate diplomatic mission to Orsinia to save the company’s community services funds and last but not least, to save Big Cheese’s ass. I had nothing to use as a bargaining chip but the four best seats at the theatre opening gala and what was termed "my good offices". So I had to grin and bear it.

After a hard negotiation on the phone, Big Cheese arranged personally my meeting with Leonard Ellison. He deigned to meet me the day after.

- Now leave ASAP and come back with good news, or you’re sacked.

That joke wasn’t fun at all, but Big Cheese isn’t a funny guy at all: when he's at the office and going full blast, we're all worn out by his energy. I followed his instructions and booked online a return air ticket on the first flight to Orsinia.

The weather was terribly cold in Sandwich. When I left Dumbass’ premises, a strong snow storm was hitting the island. The weather forecast hadn’t warned about it, so it was a funny surprise for everybody.

Giant snowflakes danced quietly their way to the ground. I watched them float in the air, mesmerised. The trees looked like white lace and the cars seemed big cakes topped with icing sugar.

I decided to put warm clothes in my luggage. I’m unable to take just the bare essentials, so I packed my suitcase to explosive capacity with everything necessary to be warm in the event of unexpected glaciations and drove my way to Mount Pleasant, South Sandwich International airport.

I parked near the elevator entrance door, right when it was closing. I had the feeling of having seen a familiar face. I pressed the elevator button, and when the door opened, guess who was inside.

He was staring at me, carrying a big trolley and a metal briefcase. I gave a start. I hadn’t seen him since our unfortunate Christmas lunch at my place, but the world is so small in Sandwich that you often come across people whom you love or hate most. I turned back to take another elevator, but it was too late: he caught me.

- Don’t pretend you didn’t see me. –said Ed-
- Don’t pretend to be the boogie man who caught me when I was mourning like the crows –I said, a bit upset-

We stopped arguing and tried to calm down. As we left the elevator, he said:

- May I ask you …where are you going?
- I’m flying to Orsinia for work. Just a couple of days, I hope.
- Excellent. I’m flying to Orsinia too.
- Oh really? I’m leaving on the 17.30 flight. Don’t tell me you’re booked in that flight too.
- I don’t think so. I’m flying my private jet. I would offer you a seat but I have recently decided not to travel with silly, childish and stubborn little Sandwichian ladies again. –he smirked-

I deliberately ignored his comment and asked:

- Ooooh, do you have a private jet, Ed?
- Yes. I know you think I’m ready for the glue factory, but I’m still young and I like these toys. Like my motorbike. I’ll feel the riding virus as soon as the good weather comes.
- Hey! You’re not ready for the glue factory yet. And… I do like these toys too! Won’t you show it to me?
- I’m not sure.
- Please…
- Only if you ask nicely.
- Please…
- I don’t think so.
- Oh, please…
- Jeez, you brought everything but the kitchen sink! –he said, pointing at my big trolley and bag- If you get on my jet with your luggage we will fall into the sea!
- Oh Ed, please please…
- Only if you tell me what city in Orsinia are you going to and what are you doing there.
- I’m going to Madhattan. Big Cheese got in trouble with a businessman who lives there. I need to see him and try to settle their differences.
- Who is it?
- Leonard Ellison.
- Leonard Ellison! I know him well. We've done some business together. We’re good friends.

I couldn’t believe my luck. I bet you can imagine what kind of contingency plan my cunning mind was already devising.

Of men, bitches and roast chicken

Bitches at work make me bitchy.

It was 6PM at Dumbass Street and I was having this nice conversation with my colleague from Big Shot’s Cabinet:

- When are you gonna fucking send me the draft I asked for this morning? –she asked-

Let me introduce you to the bitch from hell: Named Lizzie. Referred to as Big Shot’s Chief of Staff. Colleague lawyer. Tall. Looks a bit like the redhair at left. Absolute winner in the women’s lib struggle. Merciless professional executor of those who wouldn’t follow her, and therefore potential candidates to be professionally dead. Men predator. Favourite pastimes: cultivating obstinacy and deriving enjoyment from being difficult. Oh, and I almost forgot the most important thing: she's a master in the fine art of delegating.

I didn’t bat an eyelash when she shouted at me. She asked me to write a rough draft for Big Shot’s Tuesday’s speech at a businessmen and philantropists summit, including the most outstanding figures and achievements of the company. Still more than one week to go, but she wanted to cover her ass.

Speeches take some time. They need to be written very thoroughly; otherwise the speaker may sound like a real twat.

- If I don’t have the draft in my inbox in two hours, you’re sacked. –she said, with a threatening voice-
- You can’t sack me. –I chuckled, pretending to sound unperturbed-
- Oh yes, I can. And I can sack your Big Cheese as well.

She could very well hoodwink Big Shot to do that. The lady didn’t dare to kick Big Cheese’s ass, but she dared to take me on. Things were not looking good. I got pretty worked up but tried to keep my cool.

- Hey, chill out, ok? We’re double-checking everything. So no need to put more pressure on that. –I said-
- Don’t give me the details of your miserable life and tell your people to move their ass. I’m fucking sick and tired with you guys. It always takes you eons to do what you gotta do. And when you fuck up it’s the Chairman who has to take the blame for your mistakes.

And she hung up on me, leaving me dumbfounded. I needed to shout and let off steam.

“BITCH!!! JUST BECAUSE YOUR HEAD IS POINTED, THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE SHARP!!! EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO BE STUPID, BUT YOU’RE ABUSING THAT PRIVILEGE!!! PEOPLE LIKE YOU SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BREED!!!” -I shouted, as if she could hear me-

The door opened and Big Cheese popped in. I forgot he was there. I wished the earth would have swallowed me up on the spot.

- What happens? –he asked, coldly-
- Nothing. –I answered, red as a beetroot-
- I heard you shout. What happens?

He knew very well what happened. These rants were not new. I didn’t want to be a big headache, but that time she had gone too far. I told him about that last conversation, almost in tears. He laughed loud when he heard the story.

- I can't stand that anymore! I quit! –I cried-
- Don’t be silly. –he said-
- I quit! That stupid cow said I have to report to her, not to you! She’s been thrashing me every single day since you and the chairman were travelling in South Orsinia!

Big Cheese laughed again. In all honesty, I didn’t find it that funny.

- She said she would sack the two of us! What do you think? –I asked in desperation-

He laughed even louder.

- She needs a good shag; trouble is no man will go near her with her bad temper. -he said-.

Have I already said Big Cheese is coarse, offensive and very politically incorrect? And he swears a lot.

- Let her dream on. –he said, very calm-
- I won’t speak to her again. I quit! –I bursted out crying-
- No you won’t! –he shouted, thumping the table with his fist-

Big Cheese looked at me quietly. We had known each other for more than ten years and it was the first time he saw me crying. I had always been his right-hand person and stood up for him with extreme loyalty. I never complained when I had to take the hit for him, but this time it was immoderate.

- Q, go home. You worked enough today. –he said, calmly-
- No way! I’m almost done with the draft. I’ve been working on it for hours. If I don’t send it to her before I leave, that bitch will slit my throat and I will even have to apologise for getting blood on her shirt!
- Fuck the draft. She will have to wait until tomorrow. Go home. I’ll take care of this.
- I don’t want to give you more things to do.
- I’ll see you tomorrow, Q. Off you go. -he said, pointing at the door-

I’m well known for handling situations gently, firmly and immediately. But this time I failed. I took my handbag and walked to the toilet. I was washing my face in the sink when I saw Hellgirl appear on the other side of the mirror, smoking one of her long thin red cigarettes.

- Hi Leni! –she said, waving hello-
- Gosh, Hellgirl, you gave me the fright of my life! –I shouted-
- Hey hon… it’s just me! I heard the punch-up. Sorry for that. Hm… want me to give that bitch some Shiga toxin… better known as a bad case of the shits?

She made me laugh. I shook my head.

- Nah… she’s not worth the effort. Big Cheese must be talking to her right now and taking her down a peg or two. –I said, feeling a bit better-
- Let’s have some fun then. I heard there’s a hugely glamorous party at the Ritz tonight. Ed Davies is presenting Misty McGwire’s new book. The crème de la crème will be there.
- Is she good, that… Misty? –I asked, putting some lipstick on my lips-
- Yeah, a lot. Chin up! Let’s go!

She jumped off the mirror, pulled my sleeve and we got into my car.

- But I don’t have an invite. –I said-
- Hm… how come Ed hasn’t sent you one? -she asked, very surprised-
- Eew… I don’t know. But I won’t be gatecrashing.

My wild imagination immediately started creating all kinds of betrayals. Like Ed wouldn’t want me to be at the party next to Misty, his supposedly platonic girlfriend, as he confessed to me some days before.

- That won’t be a problem, Leni. –she said-.
- I’m not even dressed for the occasion… -I whined-

It was true. My make-up had disappeared long ago; my face was falling apart; my eye-liner had smudged. My body had recorded ten consecutive hours of work and they were very painful.

But Hellgirl snapped her fingers and a personal invite with my name written on it in golden capital letters appeared on the dashboard. My dark blue jacket and trousers were suddenly replaced with a stunning black silk cocktail mini-dress and beautiful bling high heels. My hairstyle and make-up looked perfect. I smiled, as I watched the metamorphosic process on the rear-view mirror.

The street was packed with limousines and expensive cars. The Ritz was busy with journalists and cameramen, like it had a celebrity magnet inside. The guests entered the lounge until full capacity was reached.

A zillion flash shots were fired when Ed and Misty walked arm in arm into the hall. They looked so good. He took the floor and presented the book; then, he asked her to join him up onto the platform. They held. Kissed. Long. On the lips. Publicly.

I gave a gasp of surprise. A zillion flash shots were fired again.

Ed spotted me from the platform and stared at me. My cell phone went.

- Hey Len! –said Bob, as if nothing had happened since last time we spoke-.

- Do I know you? -I said-

He laughed.

- I thought you had been abducted by the aliens last month. –I said-
- Nah, too much hassle… they know I’m a glutton and need to process some tons of food every day.
- Ok, what is it you want.
- It’s dinner time, baby. Do you wanna go grub, or stay at my place?
- I’d rather starve than eat at your place.
- Cool, bring some roast chicken and chips then. I’ll buy the beers and the ice-cream. We'll have dinner in the park, like hobos.
- Why are you paying no fucking attention to what I’m saying?
- Len, I’d love to meet up. I was just teasing you. Come to my place and I’ll show you some nice pics of my trip to Denmarkland. –he said, serious-.

I tried to sound a bit sweeter, but couldn't hide I was real cross: I hadn't heard from him for about two months.

- Ok but… why is the menu always the same? We always have roast chicken and chips... –I asked-
- Coz that’s my favourite food, Len. And the best ones are those from Gerasimo's BBQ. –he laughed-
- I’ll sms you to tell you what I do. -I said, shortly-

I put the cellphone down. Looked at Ed; he was sitting next to Misty; they laughed; she whispered into his ear and picked up with her fork some food from his dish!!! I went mad.

I immediately took my cellphone. Clickety-clicked. Texted Bob.

“Will b there in 20min”
"That was fast" -he answered some seconds after-

I got up.

- Where are you going, Leni? –asked Hellgirl-
- I’m leaving. –I answered-
- How so?
- I have seen enough.

I left her behind, talking fascinated to George Clowny, the famous actor.

I walked off to Gerasimo's BBQ in quest of the perfect roast chicken, asking myself why some men love bitches.

"You look so fine" (Garbage)

I don't like Mondays

It was Monday, the first day of September. My holidays were officially over at 9:00AM.

The alarm clock went at 7:00AM. I jumped on the bed and put it off. My heart was beating fast. The company doc explained it to me very well when I had my last check-up:

- Everything’s fine, Q, but your heart beats a little fast. –he said, giving me a tranquilizer-
- Thanks, but I don’t need one of those. I’m only a bit stressed. –I said-

Fear not; I will survive. This guy is picking his nose all day long and he needs to remind the world he actually works from time to time. Just like everyone else does at Dumbass Industries, the home of avid nose-pickers and the place where I’ve been working like a Trojan for the last four years.

I took a quick shower. I was soaping my belly when Bob Geldof and his Boomtown Rats started shouting into my ears they didn’t like Mondays. Oh boy, and who did?

I prepared breakfast in the kitchen: squeezed oranges; burnt my fingers struggling with the toaster’s manual ejector, removing two slices of bread from the inside. My Italian coffee pot gurgled and a cup of milk boiled in the microwave oven.

I turned the TV on: Same shit, different day. Some local jerk spoke about the government. Pretty big subject, but not for me. I quickly lost interest and turned it off.

I sipped my coffee as I remembered Ed’s words when we said goodbye at the Seashells airport the day before, on my way back to South Sandwich:

- Have a good start at work tomorrow. Get ready for a lot of trouble after such a long holiday and try not to get upset.

I brought my laptop to the kitchen, switched it on and checked my e-mails.

“Sweet princess: I’m still waiting to hear you say you-know-what. Ed”

Eew. Yeah, he was right: He still wanted to know if I had the guts to say I didn’t love him. Would he be assuming that I did? Probably, yes.

I was not particularly proud of myself for what I had done the night before and felt very strange: Shagging someone who was not my more-than-one-month-missing careless boyfriend. Nevertheless… I regretted nothing.

How could I possibly break all the rules with Ed is something I’m still unable to explain. There was a whole world of understated feelings hidden behind rethorical effects between us. And no, that was not platonic anymore.

Platonic. That word triggered a sudden flashback in my mind that struck me like lightning and brought back to my memory a short conversation we had the night before, right after we made love for the first time.

- Let's write together again, please –I begged, for the third time that day-
- I’m sorry. I can’t for the moment, honey. I need to work on the launching of Misty McGwire’s new book. –he said-
- Who’s Misty McGwire? –I asked, very intrigued-

He smiled and rolled his eyes.

- Misty is the most successful and brilliant writer publishing with Kynkybooks… and sort of platonic love of mine. We feel something special for each other since we met, some twenty years ago. The feeling is still there, probably because we never followed our desire… -he said-
- Why not? Why have you restrained your desire for twenty years? –I asked in amazement-

I suddenly realised I was snooping inadvertently into his private life and felt very awkward. So I quickly backtracked.

- Sorry Ed, that’s none of my business… please, forget the question.
- Oh, never mind, it’s harmless to talk about unfulfilled loves. We both had relationships at the time and were not free. But still nowadays we like to play with these feelings. Yet we’re always faithful. –he said, staring into my eyes-

Oh, faithfulness. The amazing art of cheating on our significant others only with our mind. Desire is to want something we don't have and everybody knows that the best dreams happen when we’re awake.

So I just broke down when I heard him say that. I vaguely remembered having heard about Misty McGwire before, and had seen some of her best-sellers at the bookstores. I was not surprised to hear he would be temporarily putting my book aside. I could understand it. After all, Misty McGwire was an acclaimed writer and Leni Qinan was an unpublished amateurish. It was easy to decide.

Good thing he couldn’t see the quiet tears stream down my face. I silently cried for no good reason, just like a spoiled child would. My primary mind and mental factors refused to understand. That didn’t match at all our recent overwhelming display of physical attraction and passionate feelings. But business is business. All I could do was stand the painful sting of jealousy and pretend it was only a bad dream. So yes, I got the blues there. And I hated myself for that.

But I had to pull myself together, forced my mind to go blank and scrolled down the page with the mouse to read the next e-mail.

“Hey Len! I’m back from a long journey to Denmarkland! Would love to seeya if you’re about, baby. Are you okay? Bob.”

This one made me smile. What nerve! So he had not been abducted by an alien spacecraft after all. Nice to hear from him again after one month! I hated that weirdo. I loved him too. But he exhausted me with simply taking and not giving.

So I was torn between two lovers. It had never happened to me before in my whole life. Why it always had to be either feast or famine?

Eventually, I had to go back to reality; I switched the laptop off; washed my teeth; put some gloss on my lips and left my flat. I said hello to the girl next door, who was waiting for the elevator at the staircase landing, with her two-year old twins sitting next to each other in their double stroller.

- Hi Leni, back to work? –she asked-
- Yeah… you too? And you kids, back to day care? - I answered-

They smiled and nodded ‘Yes’.

- Have a nice day –I said, waving goodbye-

I headed to my car; started the engine and listened to some random music. Cocteau Twins. John Cale. Elvis Costello.

I stopped at the red traffic lights. Benicio del Toro, in the shape of a modern Che, winked at me from the poster on the bus stop shelter. A bit farther, Giovanni Arnolfini and pregnant wife waved goodbye from the gates of the renaissance painting exhibition, at the Classic Art Museum. An endless crowd of Sandwichians left the train station in a hurry.

It was peak hour in Grytviken.

Twenty minutes later, I faced Dumbass Industries’ premises. The crossing-gate was lifted to let me in, as the security guys waved hello. I drove to the manager’s parking lot, where I had my own park space. Some people hated me for being allowed to park there and enjoy what they considered as 'certain undeserved privileges'. Envy and greed were common sins there. I was the first and easiest target to hit when it came to criticise Big Cheese or Big Shot. But strong enough to stand that and much more in my gilded cage.

That morning I even smiled at the union guys, who were spying on me from their windows, while taking a nose-picking break. So peace… until further notice.

I chilled out. Big Cheese and Big Shot were on a business trip for the whole week. I could take it easy. I walked down the marble corridor to my office. Said hello to the assistants. Saved a brief moment for kisses and welcome back greetings from colleagues and sycophants before reviewing the press summary; endless e-mails and phonecall lists; snail mail; signature folders; non-disclosure agreements; contracts; future events; invites; official trips; meetings.

I was having a cup of coffee on my own, in my office, totally absorbed in work, when an office boy knocked on my door and showed me a beautiful huge flower basket.

- The flower shop just delivered this for you, Miss Qinan –he said-
- Oh, thanks, put it there, please –I said, pointing at the small conference table in my office-

The card said: “Welcome back, sweety. Have a nice day. Ed”

That made me smile. In spite of Misty McGwire.

The hours passed unnoticed. My working day ended and nothing remarkable happened. That was cool.

At 7:00 PM I walked to my car carrying the flower basket, smelling the scent of Ed’s flowers. Daydreaming.

There was bird mess on the car hood and someone had painted on the windshield with white chalk: “Q = POSH”. Hello Dumbass Industries, and thanks for the warm welcome.

Yeah, there was life after the summer holidays, and it moved on.

"I don't like Mondays" (Tori Amos)