our imaginations lead us.” She makes a broad, sweeping gesture, nearly knocking a jug off the shelf behind her. “Let’s use Instagram. Let’s use mindfulness. Let’s make change. Let’s climb that mountain. Because we can do it. Together.”
She breaks off into an even more baffled silence. I can see Stacey mouthing What the fuck? to Greg, and I should reprimand her, I suppose, but the truth is I feel exactly the same. What is my sister on about?
“Right!” I say, as it becomes clear Nicole has finished. “Well, thanks, Nicole, for that…er…inspiration. I think that’s it for speeches,” I add, “but basically we’re looking at how to improve the store, so any ideas you have, please share them. Thank you!”
“Wait!” comes Uncle Ned’s voice, as the staff begin to disperse. “I may be an old buffer…” He laughs self-consciously. “But I have been asked to keep an eye on this outfit, and I have learned a few tricks along the way….” He gives another stagy chuckle.
“Absolutely, Uncle Ned,” I say politely. “Please go ahead. For those of you who don’t know Uncle Ned,” I add, “he was Dad’s brother and has a lot of experience in business. Uncle Ned, what are your ideas?”
“Well, I must echo Jake. It’s all about appearance. Appearance, d’you see?” He wags a roguish finger. “My first impression is this: You girls should be wearing more-attractive costumes. A pretty blouse and heels—that’s what customers want. Let’s see more lipstick, perfume…let’s see some flirting with the customers….”
My face feels paralyzed. He’s saying this? To the staff? Aloud?
“Sorry!” I gasp, finally finding my voice. “Let me clarify what my uncle is saying, to avoid any…uh…misinterpretation. By ‘heels’ he meant ‘any heel appropriate for your general foot health.’ And by ‘lipstick’ he meant ‘lipstick is optional for employees. Male or female,’ ” I add hurriedly. “And by ‘flirting with the customers,’ he meant…‘cordial relations with customers are advised.’ ”
Uncle Ned looks outraged by my interruption, but too bad. Family first is trumped by Don’t get sued.
“So, that’s it!” I conclude breathlessly. “Again, thank you, everyone! That’s all. Let’s open up.”
“You should wear lipstick,” I hear Stacey saying to Morag as they head to the main entrance to open up. “Or, like, lip gloss. Or, like, lip pencil. Or, like…”
“Uncle Ned, I’m sorry I interrupted you,” I say. “But you can’t tell the staff they have to flirt with the customers. We’ll get in trouble.”
“Oh, all this ‘health and safety’ nonsense,” says Uncle Ned impatiently. “I haven’t the time for it!”
“It isn’t health and safety,” I say, trying even harder to remain polite. “Telling a staff member they have to flirt with the customers is basically, you know, sexual harassment.”
Uncle Ned peers at me for an uncomprehending moment, then makes a harrumphing noise, turns away, and picks up a basket.
“Might as well pick up a few things while I’m here,” he says. “Now, where can I find an iron?”
Uncle Ned heads off in the direction of the laundry section, and Nicole produces a sheaf of papers from her bag.
“Here’s your psychological-profile questionnaire,” she says, handing one to Greg. “It’s scientifically based on, like, research, so…” She trails off.
“You are invited to a party,” Greg reads aloud. “Do you attend? Depends on the party,” he says after a moment’s thought. “If it’s a Dungeons and Dragons party, I’m there. If it’s a stag do, I’m there. If it’s a garden party with old ladies in fancy dresses, I’m not there. If it’s a—”
“It’s just a party,” Nicole cuts him off. “A great, fun party. The issue is, do you want to go? It’s a simple question. Party or no party?”
Morag and Stacey have returned to the group by now, and we all wait for Greg to answer. He thinks for a while longer, his brow deeply furrowed, then looks up. “Is there booze?”
“Yes!” says Nicole, clearly losing her patience. “There is. Look, don’t overthink it. Just write. I’m pretty sure you’re an Owl,” she says as she hands Morag a questionnaire. “And you’re probably a Lynx,” she adds to Greg. “Which means you need to work with a Fox.”
“D’you think I’m a Fox?” queries Stacey, taking her questionnaire.
“No,” says Nicole. “Definitely not. You’re more of an Albatross.”
“Then who’s Greg supposed to work with?” Stacey opens her eyes wide, with that faux-innocent look she has. “I’m only wondering, because it’s all so scientific and we haven’t got any Foxes,” she adds blithely. “Should we hire one?”