“I hate typing tests, the way they stand over you. Everything goes wrong. The result is so predictable.” she thought glumly.
“I don't think we will be able to place you.” the woman had said, “But you could try another agency, they may have more luck.” Not that she blamed them. She wouldn't be able to find work for anyone as incompetent as she had been in that blasted typing test.
It was then that the heavens opened, just to add the final touch to a dismal day.
“Typical,” she thought “I leave my coat behind, because it's a bit heavy for August, needs a good clean and a few buttons sewn on, if I can find them, and it rains, boy does it rain.”
She nipped into a door for shelter, but the wind drove the rain into the doorway to continue soaking her. She opened the door and found herself at the bottom of a flight of stairs.
“Well, the door was open, I shouldn't think anyone would mind me sheltering from the rain, but it might be an idea to ask,” she thought, and headed up the stairs in search of someone. Opening the first door she came to she found a small office, complete with desk, typewriter, filing cabinet, paper, but void of any people.
“Nobody here,” she thought, and was just about to leave when she heard a sound behind her, turning slowly round, trying to think of an explanation for her presence, she saw a middle aged man holding a pile of papers.
“Could you type these up before dinner,” he said “and could you put yesterdays date on this one, it should have gone out yesterday but I'm sure they'll understand.”
“Oh. Yes,” she said and he disappeared off, as quickly as he had appeared.
“Oh well,” she thought, “It isn't like I've anything better to do, it is hurling it down outside and it would be typing practice.” So she sat down at the typewriter and set to work on the documents he had handed her.
At half past ten she heard a sound at the door, and looked up to an amazing sight. A woman in her late fifties, grey permed hair, blue and white striped overall on an ample body, pushing a varnished wood trolley. On the trolley were two ancient yellow urns, on the shelf below were various cakes, scones and buns.
“Wow,” she thought, “I didn't think tea ladies really existed.
“Will it be tea or coffee Miss?” asked this strange apparition.
“Tea please,” she said stunned.
“With or without milk?”
“Milk please.”
The tea lady poured some milk from a bottle into a pale green cup. Then filled the cup with tea from the left hand urn.
“Do you take sugar?”
“Yes please, one teaspoon.”
The tea lady added one teaspoon, stirred and put the teaspoon in the saucer. A pale green saucer which matched the cup. She handed it over to Alice.
“Thank-you.”
“Which one of these would you like?” she asked, indicating the various cakes, buns and scones.
“That one please.” said Alice, pointing out a Viennese Slice, it had been a long time since she'd had one, they were a luxury she didn't normally dare indulge in. The tea lady took a pair of tongs and carefully manoeuvred the Viennese Slice onto the pale green plate which matched the cup and saucer.
“That's right. You could do with fattening up a bit. I don't hold with this fashion for being so thin, some folks you see they're all skin and bone. It can't be good for you, doesn't keep you warm when the cold winds blow,” she said handing over the plate.
“The wind can be very cold,” said Alice, thinking of her bedsit, it didn't do a good job of keeping the wind out.
“It can that,” said the Tea Lady backing the trolley out of the door.
At 11 o'clock he returned, the man who had given her the typing, she had it finished and it was stacked neatly waiting for him.
“The typing?” he asked hopefully
“It's here.” she said handing the pile of papers over to him, “And here are the originals.”
“Thank-you. Thank-you. Could you type these before two.” he said handing over another stack of sheets.
“Certainly,” she said to his disappearing back.
One o'clock brought the Tea Lady round again. The cakes and pastries replaced by sandwiches.
“Will it be tea or coffee Miss?”
“Tea please.”
“With or without milk?”
“Milk please.”
“It was one teaspoon of sugar wasn't it?”
“Yes please.”
“What kind of sandwiches would you like?”
“Oh! Ah! What is there?”
“Corned beef, Spam, cheese and tomato, egg and cress, egg and tomato, raspberry jam, salad, mashed potato and salad cream.”
“Oh. Egg and tomato please.”
“I think this ones egg and tomato.” she said peeling back a corner to reveal egg and tomato chopped up together. “There you are.” she finished handing over the pale green plate, slightly bigger than the morning plate, complete with two generous rounds of sandwiches.
“Thank-you.” said Alice eager to start eating, but not in front of the Tea Lady.
“What sort of biscuits would you like?”
“Biscuits?, what sort are there?”
“Chocolate digestives, shortbread or rich tea biscuits.” she recited
“Chocolate digestives please.”
“My favourite too. Plain or milk chocolate? There's a choice today.”
“Milk please.”
“I prefer plain myself. But everyone's different,” she added as she pushed the trolley out of the room into the depths of the building.
Alice ate her lunch and then continued with the typing. She was warm, well fed, busy. She would have been happy but for two things. One, the fact that she knew she shouldn't be there, and two, all those cups of tea. Her mind kept wandering to the question of where exactly the ladies toilet was. Asking someone meant admitting her ignorance of the buildings geography and admitting she didn't really work there.
Half-past one, he returned for his typing, and handed over another pile to be done by four. Five minutes later the Tea Lady retuned, collecting the cup saucer and plate for washing. Alice was getting desperate and realised she'd have to ask even if it did mean getting found out.
“I know this is a daft question, but, the toilet...”
“Yes, they've finally finished decorating the toilets at the end of the corridor. And a great relief it is I must say. I never did like walking up that fire escape and over that gangway thing. Personally I didn't think it was safe. And where that wind went was no ones business.”
“What's it like?”
“Tiled. They couldn't make up their minds on the colour pink or blue. That's why it's taken so long. Typical really, remove the tiles, toilets and basins, then stand round deciding on what colour the replacements should be. Whilst we have to use that draughty bog in that ancient prefab on the roof of the other building.”
“What colour did they choose?”
“Pale biscuit tiles, with brown flowers. Dark brown toilets and hand basins. Hilda says they'll be murder to clean, the muck fair glows on the toilet bowels, and you know those ammonia creams, they take a lot of rinsing to get the residue off. You think you've managed. Go back an hour later and you can see the white powder. With the white it didn't notice, but with dark brown it really looks terrible. She says it'll send her scatty, I've told her not to worry about it. No one could do the job better her. But you know Hilda, she'd worry if she didn't have anything to worry about.”
“Well I must get along to see these toilets. They sound quite something.”
“They are certainly. Oh, and if the doors don't shut, don't force them. They've taken to sticking. Badly. The joiners are coming tomorrow to sort it. Then we'll doubtless have the painters back and we won't be able to use the toilets whilst they work. I don't know, you wouldn't think men'd be that coy.
“They're only afraid of being caught not working.”
“True. Still I'd better go and get these washed or they wont be ready for tea. Mind, I don't think the pink toilet paper looks quite right, but is hard to say what would.”
“Yes, they don't so brown toilet paper.” said Alice thoughtfully.
The Tea Lady started laughing, deep uncontrollable belly laughs. For a moment Alice thought she might crash the tea trolley and smash all the pale green crockery. However, she pulled herself together just in time to prevent disaster.
“You'll be the death of me yet,” she chortled heading off down the corridor. When she was out of sight Alice hurried off in search of the toilets before she burst.
Five minutes later she returned to her room, well everyone was treating it as her room,
“I agree with the Tea Lady. Pink toilet paper looks decidedly odd, however, I'd say, it's going to look odd for some time to come,” she thought, remembering the large storage cupboard she had opened whilst looking for the toilet. It was a deep cupboard, packed with pink toilet rolls, so tightly packed it would not be possible to add a single roll to it, and taking one out might cause an avalanche. Though that wouldn't be a problem for a while as there were plenty of rolls in the three cubicles, and large cardboard boxes of them littered the floor. There were even some in the corridor. Alice knew, she'd nearly tripped up over them. Very embarrassing it could've been if anyone had seen, but fortunately there had been no one there. She could hear them working away in the other rooms, but hadn't gone to see them. She didn't dare, they might ask what she was doing there.
She stayed and worked the day out, she felt she owed them that for the food. Next morning at five to nine she found herself standing at the door. Her feet taking her to the desk at which she had worked the day before. She'd enjoyed her day. Felt as though she belonged. Was wanted. Anyway, it passed the time. Made her feel human.
The week went by. So quick. She had integrated herself more into the working of the office. She typed the stencils for the duplicator, because of her accuracy and her skill at getting clean copies out of the machine, everyone was pleased with her.
Friday came. Pay day. The day when she felt she would have to explain what she was doing there. A difficult thing. She couldn't explain it even to herself.
Alice was busy typing a large stack of legal papers for Mr. Stevenson. She was beginning to learn the names. When she heard someone walk into her office.
“Hello,” she said
“Pay day's here again,” said the lady.
“Oh. That's nice,” said Alice waiting to be thrown out.
“What is your name?” she said, putting a shoe box of computer produced pay slips on the desk. “I should know it, but my memory's not what it was, never has been really,” she laughed.
“Alice Howell.”
“Oh God. You're not here!”
“I can...”
“This is the third today. That blasted computer is useless. Worse. It keeps loosing people. I told them I didn't need it. I've been managing perfectly well for years. Never lost anyone. Or got anything wrong. But no. They won't listen to me. This is the twentieth century. Everyone's got computers. So we've got to have one. So they get the cheapest looking piece of junk, I'm sure Noah threw it and the printer out of the ark. The print out's abysmal. A chimp with a toy typewriter could do better. And to add insult to injury it keeps forgetting things and people. Its driving me round the bend.”
“Oh!” said Alice.
“Don't look so glum,” she said, “I'll get your wages. If you could just bring in your National Insurance Number in on Monday we'll write your records again. I'm going kill someone for today's cock-up though. They're not the ones who hand out the pay packets and have to explain to people were their pay is. If they're going to install a computer they may as well get one that works.”
“Yes. It helps if they work.”
“It certainly does. Anyway, I'll be back before dinner with your pay.”
“Thank-you.” said Alice sitting back happy.
“I've cracked it,” she thought. “I can sign off the dole. I've got a job. And I'd better get on with it.”
by J.M.Nye
The idea of this came when I heard about someone who when the management of the company he worked for asked him what his job was, said he didn't know, so he left. He had been working there for several years without anyone knowing what he was doing and presumably getting paid for it.
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