The sales staff at the Abercrombie and Fitch store on Oxford Street thought I was insane.
“Yes sir, we have plenty of different t-shirts with Abercrombie inked on”.
“No” I said, “I just want an Abercrombie”
“All our products have Abercrombie written somewhere sir, it is part of our brand” was the reply.
“I want an actual Abercrombie,” I shouted down the phone.
“But sir, everything is actually Abercrombie, we are the actual designer store!”
And
so it went on, all because my new boss had told me to buy something I'd never heard of.
It was extremely difficult to obtain the relevant insurance documents that Neville required, as I didn’t own the car. I had borrowed it from a friend when I arrived. However twenty-five years in Sales, Marketing and Bullshit eventually won the day. So I had my licence, insurance, and new black suit. Common sense finally won overand the light came on, I bought a medium length black coat; an Abercrombie apparently. I arrived back at Precision Cars office on time and suitably attired and substantially poorer!
Neville met me at the door of the office to check over my car. Although new in the industry, I had the foresight to clean the vehicle. He was happy and we went into the dinghy office to meet the controllers and other members of staff. The Gypsy Queen’s name was Daniella and she had been in the business for years. It seemed she new everything there was to know, and turned out to be my teacher and friend. The next person I met was Mitch; he looked like he had just gotten back from Woodstock. He had an earring and a flowery shirt, medium length greying hair and had a clipped English accent. He was also a controller (whatever that was) and was Danielle’s assistant. Next came a co coordinator, yeah I know! Job creation or what!! Then there was Albie, who was on his way home. Albie was the night manager and had just finished his shift. He was about fifty and balding, rotund with yellow nicotine stained fingers. He welcomed me with a vigorous handshake and a friendly grin saying “I’ll talk to you tonight”. Then he was gone.
What followed was a conversation about me as if I wasn’t there.
“Let him go to the BP garage at Hammersmith and wait.” Daniella said to Neville.
“No, it’s difficult to get to as it is on a dual carriageway.” He replied.
Yes but he’s got to work it out somehow, it’s a good holding area and it’s ideal for the gyratory and for Heathrow and Fulham.” She said
“Send him around the back of the hospital and he’ll find it.” Mitch piped up.
“Look” said Daniella “there’s a job here picking up from the Disney building going to Heathrow. He can do that and then help with that two car job at T4 later”
T4, gyratory, holding area, shit! What ‘am I doing here? I thought.
Neville handed me a name board and a receipt book and then scrawled a diagram on a piece of paper and muttered, “if you found your way here, you’ll find this place. It’s a large garage on the way out of London, near Hammersmith. Hang around there until we call you”.
“Ok” I said and headed for my car.
I found the garage quite easily, after a convoluted trip around the back of a hospital. Charing Cross hospital in Fulham! Yeah, go figure. This is one of the many confusing things about London; places weren’t where they should be. Just to make life difficult for me they put Hammersmith Hospital in Shepherds Bush and Chelsea Football Club on Fulham High Street.
The first job came in via my mobile phone, Mitch was chattering in my ear.
“Go to the Disney building and take a Mr. Smythe to terminal 3. Call us when you get there”.
“Ok, where is it and what time should I be there?” I asked.
“It’s the middle of the Hammersmith Gyratory, The building is shared with Coca Cola. Turn left out of the garage, down the slip round and you’re on the Gyratory, circle the building on your right and your there. Go now.” The phone went dead. More confusion.
I set of and quickly realised that the directions Mitch had given me were spot on. The building was in fact circular and incorporated a shopping centre and a tube station below ground. Above ground, the building was circular, half being Coke and the other half, Disney. There was a small waiting area, so I parked the car and went to reception to ask for my first passenger. He was waiting for me in the foyer; I led him out to the car, put his bag in the boot and opened the rear passenger door for him. I had already noticed signs for Heathrow on route, so at least I set off in the right direction. The way to the airport is well signposted so I dropped Mr. Smythe at terminal 3 without any problem and phoned the office.
I was in trouble as soon as the phone was picked up and I’d identified myself. Mitch’s voice was in my ear again.
“You didn’t call me p.o.b.” he said.
“What”
‘You must call p.o.b. Anyway go to terminal 4, you will see one of our drivers with a Precision Cars name board. You will be meeting 7 passengers between you. Take them to The Park Lane Hilton”.
The phone went dead again. I decided this guy must have been smoking something that killed the manners cells in his brain, and what was p.o.b?
In the massive Arrivals Hall at terminal 4, were probably 40 individuals in dark suits with name boards and mobile phones. They were standing alongside a barrier, which formed a walkway for arriving passengers. I started to read the various company names on the boards looking for one saying Precision Cars, and there it was, at the end of the line a few feet away from the rest.
The person holding the board was about 6’ tall with broad shoulders, goatee beard and moustache. He was wearing a black suit and wrapped around his head was a Lime Green Turban. He resembled a cross between Sadam Hussein and one of Ali Baba’s thieves. He was truly an awesome sight.
I walked up to him, offered my hand and said “Hello I’m Pete, just joined the company”.
“17” he replied.
“17 what?” I asked.
“It’s my number.”
So that’s how it’s going to be, we are just numbers, great, had I been given a number? I couldn’t recall; But I decided there and then I wouldn’t just be a number, I would not be stereotyped, I would be different! Yeah, right.
The passengers arrived and 4 of them were brave enough to get into Ali Baba 17’s car. The other three came with me. I only knew that the hotel was on one side of the Monopoly Board, so I stuck to the Turbanator like glue............
Paul this is good narrative Well done.
Posted by: Denis | 07/31/2010 at 06:53 PM