The medical analogy could also have been maintained that morning by saying that the knives were out. Sue Fisher knew full well the kind of journalistic carve-up that was going to be attempted, and she relished the prospect. The light of battle gleamed in her eyes.
It gleamed in Ellie Fenchurch’s eyes too. These were two tough women, squaring up to each other. Neither would offer any mercy, or expect any.
Mrs Pargeter relished the confrontation, almost regretting that she could not just sit back to enjoy it as a spectator. She had to remember that she was there to further her investigation.
‘Coffee?’ asked Sue Fisher, once functional introductions had been completed.
Both her guests said yes, that would be very nice.
‘We only serve one kind of coffee here. It’s decaffeinated and made of beans from more than one country, all of whose regimes respect human and animal rights. It’s made with water containing an amalgam of natural salts and minerals. It’s the only one we serve because all other coffees are actually harmful.’
This was a typically uncompromising Sue Fisher sales pitch.
‘This coffee wouldn’t by any chance be a Mind Over Fatty Matter product, would it?’ asked Ellie Fenchurch.
‘Yes.’
‘And the water — is that one of your products too?’ asked Mrs Pargeter.
‘Yes.’
Now that really was marketing — to sell not only the coffee, but also the water to make it with.
‘And I suppose it should only be drunk out of Mind Over Fatty Matter mugs…?’
Sue Fisher was either deliberately or genuinely unaware of any irony in Ellie’s tone. ‘It does taste better out of them, yes. The mugs are made from a particular kind of clay I came across when I was on a fact-finding mission in the Gambia.’
‘Fancy,’ said Mrs Pargeter.
‘And they’re fired by a slow method which approximates very closely to sun-drying.’
‘Well, well,’ said Mrs Pargeter.
Sue Fisher turned to a device whose chromium frame, bulbous glass and interwoven tubing continued the medical image, and threw a switch. ‘I had this specially designed in Italy. It’s based on a model I saw out there, but adapted to work on less electricity… you know, for the environment,’ she added piously. ‘It’s the best — and most environment-friendly — coffee machine currently on the market.’
‘And that wouldn’t by any chance be another Mind Over Fatty Matter product, would it?’
‘Yes, Ellie. As a general rule, if something’s the best on the market, then it is a Mind Over Fatty Matter product.’
There was something very unEnglish about Sue Fisher’s certitude, Mrs Pargeter reflected. No diffidence, none of that fatal English mock-modesty. Nor, of course, any leavening of English humour.
Sue Fisher continued. She was evidently prepared to maintain a monologue on the virtues of herself and her company until interrupted. ‘The coffee machine also saves staff time. Everyone here at headquarters has one in their office, whatever their level in the company. Not only is that a convenience, it also avoids all kinds of problems over hierarchy. You’d be surprised how much resentment builds up in the workplace over the simple issue of who is delegated to make the coffee.’
‘So here at Mind Over Fatty Matter everyone makes their own?’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t think,’ suggested Ellie, gently poisonous, ‘that that encourages selfishness and lack of community spirit among your staff..?’
Sue Fisher fielded this one expertly. ‘No. The point is that everyone has the right to make their own coffee, and also the right to make coffee for anyone else. You’d be surprised at the level of spontaneous coffee-making for others which goes on within the company.’ She smiled an invulnerable smile. ‘And, incidentally, here at Mind Over Fatty Matter, we don’t use the word “staff”.’
‘Oh, what word do you use instead?’ asked Ellie Fenchurch sweetly. ‘Underlings? Minions? Slaves? Serfs?’
Sue Fisher conceded a humourless laugh. ‘No, we’re all co-workers.’
Mrs Pargeter, who was enjoying this preliminary sparring, waited keenly for Ellie’s response.
‘ Co-workers, eh?’ the journalist echoed. ‘That sounds very impressive. Very… one might almost use the word “idealistic”, Sue.’
‘Ideals are not something I shy away from, Ellie.’
‘Good, good. How refreshing that is to hear in these materialistic times. So… here at Mind Over Fatty Matter, everyone works for everyone else, is that it?’
‘Everyone works for themselves and for everyone else. They all feel part of the same process. The goals of personal fulfilment and the company’s success become indistinguishable.’
‘That’s a very clever idea. You mean,’ Ellie Fenchurch asked innocently, ‘that everyone in the company is on a percentage of the profits?’
For the first time in the interview Sue Fisher coloured. ‘No, I don’t mean that. That would be impractical.’
‘Why?’
‘I can assure you we have investigated the possibilities of such an arrangement and I’m afraid it would just be an administrative nightmare.’
‘Oh dear. How distressing.’
‘But there are plenty of incentive schemes and promotion prospects to make all co-workers feel that they can become part of the company’s success.’
‘That is a relief.’ Ellie Fenchurch smiled guilelessly. ‘So, in this sublimely ordered community, all the co — workers beaver away together for the greater good of Mind Over Fatty Matter…?’
‘If you like,’ Sue Fisher replied cautiously.
‘Like bees in a hive, maybe…? All buzzing about, thinking of each other, seeing where they can help out the other bees…?’ Sue Fisher did not argue with this analogy. ‘All producing as much honey as possible so that they can benefit from the hive’s incentive schemes and promotion prospects…?’
‘Yes.’
Then came the attack. ‘And all of them totally subservient to the queen bee?’
Sue Fisher looked — rather appropriately — stung.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Before the guru of Mind Over Fatty Matter had time to respond, Ellie Fenchurch pressed on with her offensive. ‘But I’m not really here this morning to talk about your management of this company. The fact that you present the place as the ultimate worker’s co-operative, whereas in fact it’s a despotism — and not even a benign one — is-’
‘Just a minute.’ The wind had returned to Sue Fisher’s sails. ‘You print any of that stuff and you’ll have my lawyers down on you before your paper hits the streets. Mind Over Fatty Matter is run as a co-operative. Every co-worker has the opportunity to fulfil his or her potential-’
‘Unless they show too much potential.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean there’s a great list of talented people who used to work with you and who got elbowed out when they started to threaten your dominance of the company. You feel more secure surrounded by yes-men and gofers and actually running the whole show yourself.’
‘Look, I thought up Mind Over Fatty Matter. It is my concept.’
‘Exactly. And you’re very happy to keep it that way, doing all the strategy yourself and having the nuts and bolts work done by others.’
‘The art of management is the art of delegation, Ellie.’
‘Sure. I’ve nothing against the way you run this place. It’s efficient and it’s successful. All I do object to is the fact that you present what is undoubtedly a dictatorship as some kind of benevolent workers’ co-operative. I’m not against commercialism, Sue, just hypocrisy.’
‘Calling me a hypocrite in print wouldn’t do you a lot of good from the legal point of view,’ said Sue Fisher coldly.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I’m not stupid. My interviews always get my point across without breaking the libel laws.’
Given Ellie Fenchurch’s track-record in character-assassination, this was a chilling promise, but it didn’t slow down Sue Fisher. ‘My basic assertion remains that everyone in this company has equal chances to-’
‘Equal chances to rise to the level of a glorified secretary, yes. Those who show the talent to go any higher than that pretty soon get cut down to size.’