You did your best.
. .
. .
Still silence. Had he finished? What did he mean ‘you did your best’. Edward was almost scared to look up from the carpet. But he managed it, and found the invalid staring straight at him. It was such a strong stare. You would like to have looked at this stare but it would have been a stare-out contest if you had and he would have lost. He was no good at that kind of thing. It reminded him of these facetious mock-ups they had to play out at the monthly inter-district meetings. Awful, so awful. You felt so self-conscious and not just for yourself but for them as well, all the other sales-persons. He was the only one seemed to have that kind of response. Then there was that funny sadistic aspect about it. He just wasnt into it, and not the humiliation side either. It wasnt something he enjoyed at all. These games were just a kind of psychology. That’s all they were. And he didnt have the mentality needed if you were ever to excel at them. It was a certain kind you required. And he didnt have it. The other blokes did have, they had the right sort of make-up, they were the right mettle, it was him that wasnt, that was how he had to get out from it.
Plus he couldnt reach a closure anymore. That was the real truth, he couldnt close a sale, he just couldnt close a sale. And that meant he was a goner because if there was one thing you needed in the selling game it was the closure knack, how to close a sale, how to stop talking and point the customer’s pen at the dotted line. He had been great for the first few weeks. He seemed able to sell anything to anybody. No now. He was rubbish now. A dumpling. That’s the truth, he was a dumpling.
But he could train others. He could definitely train others. He knew what the correct procedure was; and his product knowledge was good — all of that side of things.
But talking to potential customers, he couldnt bloody manage that either, the theory yeh, but not in actuality, when face to face with them, as individual human beings. What was that poem by William Wordsworth?
Jeanette had just happened to flash her breasts at him and he was a goner — then also her stockings, he knew she wore stockings and not tights when she was bending.
The invalid was looking at him.
What is it?
I was just saying to you when the old woman comes back we’ve got to speak about other things, maybe the facilities in this place.
Pardon?
I’m meaning when Catherine comes back, she’s a habit of sneaking up on you. If she does then just you should start talking about the facilities here — I mean what you’re supposed to do for grub and so forth because you’re no allowed to cook in your room as far as I hear. That right?
Edward nodded.
Start talking about that then. Because it’s a hell of an irritation, especially to her. No me so much cause I’m no what you’d call an eater, but she gets all het up about it and you cant blame her, poor auld sowel, she’s used to an oven and a cooker and what have you. So if you start talking about the facilities you see I dont want her knowing what I’m going to tell you. I want that to be a secret between me and you. The invalid gazed at Edward then sighed. And he sighed again.
But it was like there was something underhand going on and Edward couldnt put his finger on it. Was it like a form of sarcasm against him? It was. It was actually like a form of sarcasm. Just the way all this was happening, like it was all falling into place. And he was a culprit.
A lot of different things, nothing you could just put your finger on.
Such an incredible cheek really. You had to just sit there with your mouth hanging agape. Then you felt like getting up and letting him see you knew what was going on. Edward smiled to himself, shaking his head. But imagine his dad hearing about it! What would he do! It was like a slur being cast on him, not just him, his entire family.
He glanced sideways at the invalid who was now gazing round the four walls in a very intentional and deliberate way. He gazed at the window in particular — as if expecting a snooper to be hanging outside on a painter’s platform. And then he started talking but it was so difficult to hear him properly with all his wavering and his gesticulating plus as well the terrible terrible fuisty pong that came from him. He seemed to be speaking about a horrendous and wicked horrible incident in a factory, something bad and evil he had been involved in that drove somebody out their mind and destroyed them, and killed somebody else, an accident or something, and related groups and even families as well as different industrial stresses were involved, and it was turning to centre on one of these wee boyish kind of apprentice lads that everybody’s supposed to like — naughty and full of devilment etc. etc. It was just so awful and impossible to hear. In fact Edward was going to leave right now. His head was spinning. It was too much. How was he supposed to cope with it, it just wasnt bloody feasible when he was supposed to be studying because either one thing or the other but not both; that was too much, too bloody much, just too damn bloody much. Damn and bloody blast. Edward stared at the invalid.
What happened you see I was working in this place where a spanner had just been tossed.
A spanner had just been tossed. He stared at the wide lapels on the invalid’s jacket; there was a stain down one of them.
a very big spanner, one of the biggest seen in this country for quite a number of years — me and a couple of blokes working the gether for it, a team effort — and I reckon it must have cost maybe one point seven five million for final rectification see young fellow because we had it worked so the bigwigs never found out it was deliberate — no even that it was an accident.
If it was an accident. .?
No, said the invalid, that’s that I’m saying. I’ll tell you something you’ll maybe no quite understand except maybe you might: you see they never found out that it happened at all. You get it? They just thought there was something wrong with the entire works, and I’m no talking about safety measures because safety measures dont make that much difference as well you’ll know, but just that a general improvement would need doing, right the way through all their factories — and I’m here meaning across the whole of what you call the ‘free world’;
It’s a hoax!
That’s how it cost so much to put right you see because you’re talking Thailand, Indonesia, India, Zambia, Kenya, Korea, Vietnam, Scotland,
It’s a hoax!
Denmark, the Irish Free State, Wales, Pakistan, Australia, Iceland, Sweden — wherever GNP Plc used to exist it no existing now of course because it was taken over by a big conglomerate back in the time of the conspiracy trials. Then it went itself in the Throgmorton Crash if you mind, and you had the Makgas Consortium stepping in, government funding and CNI money, headed by a noted patriot — though you understand young fellow that the patriot’s real name is something different to anything I might tell you so what’s the point of me telling you anything at all. Unless you rather you heard everything, but that sort of information isnt classified I mean it’s freely available elsewhere and if you would rather hear than no hear then you should go and check it out, you’ll find most of it down the Advocate’s Library.
Edward looked up from the floor. He looked the invalid in the eye. As much as you could tell he was the real mccoy. You would never know for sure of course. But how could you know anything for sure in this world since it was full of illusion. His dad used to tell him as a wee boy that if ever he found himself in dark trouble it would pay to tell the truth and if God really was there — and we knew that He was — then everything would turn out fine. Because He would look after you.