inadvertent question-and-answer session, with everyone trying to impress the new boss with their environmental knowledge. I have to think of something to say!
This is going to be quite difficult as, I must confess, I am to environmentalism what Ann Widdecombe is to bikini modelling.
Think, Cooke! Think!
‘Recycling companies,’ Joseph mutters.
Damn! Why didn’t I think of that?
‘Sustainably produced clothing,’ Peter remarks.
Oh, sod off, Peter! You’re leaving! I could have had that one!
‘Spot on!’ Nolan replies, with a broad grin.
‘Getting rid of single-use plastic bottles,’ Sarky Marky says, from where he’s sat next to Terry.
Bloody hell. Sarky Marky never contributes anything constructive to the conversation. He always just takes the piss, or has a moan. That’s why we call him Sarky Marky. And yet, here he is, contributing something valuable. The pressure really is on to impress this guy, and remain employed by him.
‘Absolutely!’ Nolan says, clearly enjoying the to and fro. ‘Plastic bottles are an absolute blight on our society. They’re one of the single worst things in terms of environmental damage. Any business that is trying to replace them with a biodegradable equivalent should be top of our list.’
‘Along with people trying to stop all that paper waste!’ Nadia adds. ‘I read the other day that we waste billions of tonnes of paper a year. It kills so many of the trees!’
‘Yes, it does!’ Nolan is super animated now. ‘That’s why I want this company to do all it can to increase the profile of businesses trying to combat climate change! We need to get rid of things like plastic bottles and paper waste . . . and the people that cause it.’
Everyone in the room goes silent as they digest this.
They don’t look at my mound of tissues and crumpled-up Evian bottle all at once, but slowly, inexorably, all eyes are dragged down to them over a period of a few seconds – like asteroids pulled into the gravitational well of a large planet.
Nolan Reece looks particularly perturbed, as he stares down at my mess.
I also look down at it, and consider my next move . . . to the job centre.
That’s probably where my next move is going to be, isn’t it?
I lean forward and gently pick up the wodge of sodden tissue, and the bottle. ‘I’ll just go and put these in the bin, shall I?’ I remark, in as calm a voice as possible, and stand up.
With all eyes upon me, I exit the conference room and walk over to where the nearest bin is, depositing the two offending items into it.
When I look back in, reassuringly things appear to have moved on, with Nolan and Peter now standing by the smartboard at the end of the conference room.
Is there any point in going back in?
Or should I just slope off and spend the rest of the day on Monster.com?
The thought of rewriting my CV and attending job interviews fills my head again, and I feel my legs go wobbly.
No. I can’t go through that!
Get back in there! It’s not too late!
Or is it?
Stratagem PR is apparently about to become a standard-bearer for all things environmental, according to its new Adam Driver–ish owner Nolan Reece. Do I have any place in a company like that?
After all, I drive a dreadfully polluting car, I order way too much fast fashion online, I can’t even be bothered to find a drink in a glass bottle at Boots, and I used to date a man who ran a property business that built on pretty much every available green space it could gobble up.
I’m the anti-Nolan.
But you can’t look for another job! It’s hell out there!
Yes, yes, I know!
Then forget all of that! Just get back in there and try, Ellie! For the love of God!
Alright, alright!
I do as I’m told, by scuttling back into the conference room and sitting in my seat just as Nolan unveils the new name and logo for our company.
‘Viridian PR,’ he tells us triumphantly, as the logo flicks up on to the smartboard. It’s a very nice logo. Simple, but elegant.
I quite like the name too.
Stratagem PR has always been a pain to both write and say. It’ll be nice to have something that trips off the tongue a little more easily.
Well . . . it’ll be nice for all the people still working here, anyway. I’ve managed to nearly run over the new boss, choke him to death with car fumes, and show him that I apparently couldn’t give two shits about plastic waste.