Office life

Essential gossip

Holly Budd

One reason for being a wage-slave is participation in that great stock exchange of humanity, office gossip.

I'm not particularly fond of it myself, of course. Besides, I'm too busy. But polite- ness demands some modest contribution to human intercourse without which life would be — well, boring.

Debbie, my secretary, takes a different view. She spends hours telephoning X about Y and is then usually called by Z to discuss X. I feel like a voyeur at an autop- sy as each character is laid across the desk and dissected. Debbie copes nobly with these demands upon her time but it is for- tunate that she is in the outer office because the doings of her many friend are so intriguing that occasionally I have to shut the door. I can't bring myself to ask if I heard right.

But 'Streaky' Bacon is our contender for the World Gossip Championship. Plump and given to red braces, Streaky is single-tongued proof that men gossip more than women. He could also be living disproof of the theory that nothing could survive an astronomical black hole: send in Streaky and you might never see the red braces again but from deepest space, years hence, would come surprising rumours about the Creator, probably half true.

Streaky tustled in yesterday, coinciding as usual with tea. 'What do you reckon to this business about Welling?'

There is a story that Welling, our caring Director of Human Resources, cares a lit- tle too well for his PA. No doubt Debbie has the details.

I wouldn't play. I was busy. Anyway, it's difficult with my new deputy, Nigel, shar- ing my office. He is very quiet and I fear his disapproval. Streaky was offended.

`Well, you're next,' he said, finishing his tea.

`What do you mean?'

`Inspections. They're getting more con- sultants in. Restructuring. Starting here.'

You can never wholly ignore what Streaky says. Having just established this department, the last thing I wanted was to be restructured at the whim of some over- paid smoothie.

It was true. Nigel was equally horrified. Fortunately, there are ways of dealing with these things. I went to he who styles himself my Line Manager. 'I hear the consultants are coming. I'm very keen that we should be assessed first. They're much more likely to recommend an increase in role and staff than if we're way down the list.'

My Line Manager's only real pleasure in life is in saying no. Also, he fears peo- ple and therefore hates increase. This morning I was sent a note — he loathes personal contact — saying he had with great reluctance removed us from the list. `There's no point in restructuring that which is still establishing its structure.' Quite.

I had a little chat with Debbie and dropped in on Streaky at tea time. `Welling finally told his wife, who was furious. Now his PA is going off on holi- day with an architect she met at the week- end. But Welling doesn't know that yet.'

Streaky and I are friends again. It's so nice to be able to give pleasure. And so useful.