Office life

Holiday with a gamble

Holly Budd

There were one or two sceptics and con- scientious objectors but I soon had 23 com- panions in hope and folly. The objector who most surprised me was Debbie, our secretary. Debbie is normally a happy hedonist and nice moral distinctions are not her most obvious characteristic as she chases her pleasures under full sail in all weathers. At least, they are not obvious to shore-based observers like me; perhaps I should use a telescope.

Debbie's reluctance was inconvenient because I had rather assumed that she would organise it (which may, in retro- spect, have been what she really objected to). 'It's not that I disapprove of gambling,' she said, before I could remind her of the casino she was taken to the previous week. `It's the huge amounts. I think they're a bit — well, obscene, really.'

`An obscenity you're extremely unlikely to be asked to participate in,' said Nigel. `And anyway you could share it with more lowly winners and even losers such as your deserving colleagues. Or you could give it to the Treasury to be wasted as they see fit, or you could give it to any good cause.'

`If I participate at all I'm encouraging something I disapprove of, except that it might be worth it just to spite my deserving colleagues.'

I suspect she was in fact persuadable but we didn't want to have to persuade anyone, especially not our organiser. Nigel said he'd do it.

`I might join in when I get back from Lagos,' Debbie regally conceded.

`Lagos?'

`Suzanne and I have booked our holiday.' `Your holiday?' queried Nigel.

`Unless you think I should donate that to the Treasury, too.'

`Transfer it to me.'

`I've gone off you.' , Before she left far Lagos I asked if her injections were up to date and started to say something about malaria but her blank look made me feel I was interfering. We got on with the lottery. Nigel set up a sys- tem whereby we would choose numbers and change them every four weeks. Any winnings not worth sharing would be rein- vested. We won nothing the first two weeks.

Debbie was later back than she should have been because of referrals to various specialists. She looked awful, poor girl. I wouldn't have thought it possible for her to lose weight but she had. 'You might have told me it was Lagos,' she said, sipping the weak tea we made her.

`Wasn't it?'

`I mean, Lagos, Nigeria. I thought it was Lagos, Portugal. No wonder it was so easy to get a flight.' .

`A common mistake, I am sure,' said Nigel, gravely.

`I mean, believe it or not —' she man- aged a smile — 'despite the robberies, the harassment, the non-existent bookings, the chaos, the climate and those wretched gut- bugs — we had a really good time, when we weren't desperate for a loo. After the second robbery when we lost our passports and everything we had to go to the British High Commission and they were really nice, they really looked after us, invited us to parties. They don't get many tourists.'

Last week, without telling her, we added her to the pool. Nigel, our statistician, said that her luck had to change. It changed ours with it: we won £174 each. This did wonders for office morale, not to mention Debbie's already considerable popularity. We broke the bad news to her gently but it soon appeared that experience of Nigeria had removed all scruples about acquisitive- ness. It actually encouraged an urge to self- improvement. 'I shall buy a large globe,' she said.