Confessions of a Reluctant Recessionista

flipped open my laptop and started to do a bit of research. I figured out that I could get a completely new set of passable – and matching – office furniture for a couple of thousand pounds and new blinds for a couple of hundred. If you tossed in a few nice desk lamps and pulled the carpets up the place would look pretty damn presentable. And it wouldn’t take long either. I really thought Rupert was being short-sighted about the whole thing.
    A sentiment I expressed when Ali rang me a moment or two later to tell me that she had discovered the meaning of life: peach yoghurt and sardine sandwiches.
    ‘Ugh,’ I replied.
    ‘Honestly,’ she mumbled, her mouth clearly full of the foul mixture, ‘I can’t stop eating them.’ She agreed with me about the whole office thing. ‘You’re totally right. Investors are going to be put off straight away if it looks like an unprofessional outfit. You should do something about it. Particularly if it’s only going to cost a few grand.’
    ‘If I had a few grand, I might just go ahead and do it anyway,’ I said, pulling down one of the filthy blinds. ‘I could do the work myself and I reckon it wouldn’t take longer than a weekend.’
    Ali laughed. ‘But you wouldn’t really do that,would you? Go against what the boss says?’
    ‘I would if I had the money,’ I said. ‘After all, what have I got to lose? It’s only a three-month stint anyway, and the way things are going round here, the company might well not be here in three months.’
    I could hear Ali chewing on the other end of the line.
    ‘Shall I call you back later?’ I asked. ‘You sound … busy.’
    ‘I’m thinking!’ she protested. ‘I’m just … thinking about it. How about if I lend you the cash, you do the makeover, and if they like it, they repay you and you repay me?’
    ‘No, Ali, you can’t do that – I can’t risk your money.’
    ‘Why not? I’m a trader. I like risk. You should go for it. Stick everything on one of my credit cards and then pay me back as and when …’
    ‘You may like risk, but you also like a return, Al. I know you.’
    ‘The return is your brilliant career,’ she said. ‘It’s an investment in you.’ She can be very sweet sometimes. ‘Anyway, I’ll lend you the money, but I won’t be coming in to do the DIY. You know that’s not my thing. Get Jude to help out with that – she’s good at that sort of crap. And that new boyfriend of yours …’
    ‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
    ‘Yet.’
    ‘Yet. You’re an angel, Al. I owe you one.’
    ‘I’ll remember that when it comes to drawing up the babysitting rota, I can promise you.’
    Armed with Ali’s credit card details I ordered sevenergonomic desks and chairs, a new meeting room table, two new filing cabinets and a set of chic red and white blinds which matched the Vintage Organics company logo perfectly. They would be delivered on Saturday afternoon, the furniture company assured me. The window cleaner could come on Saturday morning.
    At home, I told Jude about my plan. She listened in silence, fidgeting manically with her worry beads all the time.
    ‘This is either a brilliant idea or it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had,’ she said nervously. ‘I can’t make up my mind.’
    ‘Me neither. But I’ve done it now – the stuff’s all ordered so it’s too late to turn back. Can you help me?’
    ‘Course I will. Matt’s off on Thursday so I was just going to be spending the weekend moping around the flat anyway. Shall we rope Jake in, too?’
    ‘I think we should.’
    I left the office at six on Friday night as usual, but I didn’t return home. Instead, I rendezvoused with Jake and Jude in a bar around the corner. They were both dressed all in black. Jake had brought a balaclava.
    ‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘This is a covert op, after all.’
    After a quick sharpener or two we headed back to the office. As expected, there was no one there – the employees were all long gone and Rupert and Olly, who usually work until nine or ten, had both been given the three line whip to attend some family gathering, sothe were gone too. The door was locked, the lights were off. The three of us tiptoed into the office, locking the door behind us. I turned on the lights.
    ‘God, it is horrible,’ Jude whispered.
    ‘I know. When does the van get here?’ I whispered at Jake.
    ‘Eight,’ he replied, in a completely normal voice.
    ‘Shhhhh,’ Jude and I both hissed at him.
    ‘Why?