Brave New Worlds

like to talk?" said Jonathan, remembering: keep steady eye contact, or rather contact with the forehead or bridge of the nose, which is less threatening. Lean backwards so less aggression, but echo body language.
    Simon smiled slightly and started to pick his nose, very messily, and look at the result. He held the result up towards Jonathan as if to say echo this.
    Jonathan nodded as if in agreement. "It's only natural that you should feel some resentment, but it might be more constructive if you expressed it verbally. You know, say what you feel, blow off some steam. If not to me, then to someone, the Welfare Officer perhaps. "
    "I don't need to blow off steam," said Simon and stood up and walked to the door.
    Procedures were not being followed; discipline was important.
    "Simon, you haven't taken your letter. "
    Simon stood at the door for a moment. "It's not my letter. It's not written for me, it's addressed to Personnel so they can stop paying me. "
    Boy, thought Jonathan, if you were still being marked, you'd be in trouble, buddy.
    "You forget," said Simon his blue eyes gray and flinty, "I used to work in Accounts. " He picked up the letter, paused, and wiped his finger on it. Then he left the room.
    Jonathan sat at the table, trembling with rage. Fuck counseling, he wanted to haul off and slug the guy. He took a deep breath, just like in the handling stress course, then stood up and left the meeting room, remembering to change the sign on the door. VACANT it said.
    Back in his own office, he checked his score. It was bad form to check your scores too often; it showed insecurity, but Jonathan couldn't help himself. He verballed to the computer.
    "Performance feedback, Dayplan Item One. "
    His mark was higher than he had thought it would be: 7. 2, well over a five and edging towards a 7. 5 for a pretty tough situation. But it was not the high score the Team needed.
    It was 8:42. Three minutes ahead of schedule.
    "Dayplan complete," he verballed, and his day was laid out before him on the screen.

    8:30 Simon Hasley (actioned)
    8:45 Dayplan confirmed and in tray
    8:50 Sally meeting prep 9:00 Sally meeting
    9:30 Sales meeting William
    10:00 Dead space for the unexpected. . .

    It was important that work was seen to be prioritized, that nothing stayed on the desk, or queued up on the machine. It all had to be handled in the right order. The computer worked that out for you from the priority rating you gave each item, gave you optimum work times and the corporate cost, and if you did not object, those were your targets for the first half of the day.
    Right. In-tray. There was a management report on purchasing. Jonathan did not purchase, but he needed to know the new procedures his Finance Officer was supposed to follow. So make that a priority eight, book in a reading for it next week, and ask for the machine to prepare a performance. Next was a memo with spreadsheet from Admin. Admin acted as a kind of prophylactic against Accounts, giving early warning of what would strike Accounts as below par performance. Jonathan's heart sank. Late invoices. Holy shit, not again, an average of twelve days?
    Thanks a lot, George, thanks a fucking lot. Shit, piss, fuck, I'll cut off that god-damned asshole's head and stick it up his own greased asshole.
    Ho-boy, Jonathan, that's anger. Channel it, use it. Right, we got ourselves a priority one here, schedule it in Dead Space. Jonathan slammed his way into George's network terminal. Which at 8:47 in the morning was not switched on.

    PRIORITY 1
    George, we have a serious issue to discuss. Can you come to my office at 10:00 am today, Thursday 17th. Please come with figures on speed of invoicing.
    J Rosson, III 723, nc 11723JR.

    There goes our cash flow down the fucking tube. And interest payments to the Centre. Great.
    There was a fretful knocking at his door. Jonathan could guess who it was. Two minutes was all the time he had.
    In came Harriet, gray hair flying. What you might call an individual. Jonathan swiveled, knowing his body language showed no surprise or alarm. His greeting was warm, friendly, in control. So far, so good.
    "Hello, Harriet, good to see you, but I'm afraid I'm up against it this morning. I expect you've heard about Simon. "
    "Yes, I have actually," said Harriet, eyes bright, smile wide. She was preparing to sit down.
    No, my door is not always open. Don't mess with my time management, lady. "I'd love to talk to you about it when I can give you some time.