B00BCLBHSA EBOK Read Free Page A

layer of skin and drape it over them.” He had the attention of the room now. Wendy Chen shuddered.
    Nik bit his fingers anxiously. He hated this job. No! He loved it. It would settle down. They’d come to respect him. He’d do well here. The big bosses—the management of the hotel chain—would see it and promote him to another hotel, where he’d never have to see any of these idiots again. A settling-in period was inevitable. It would be worth it, if he could just deal with the stress of the next few weeks, and keep it together, and make sure nothing went wrong.
    He decided to explain about his proposed austerity measures, which he hoped would earn him the attention of senior management.
    “There’s too much waste. Let’s squash the waste! I’m going to make it my personal responsibility to check all the waste.”
    Nik suspected that staff took the odd steak home, leftover fruit, maybe. That was fine. It was the stuff that wasn’t really leftover, the stuff that got pinched, that Nik was worried about. If they knew he was watching them and measuring what got thrown away, they wouldn’t be so quick to smuggle food out of the hotel that was unaccounted for.
    “We’re going to do this across every department of the hotel. I’ll be checking the wastage of everything from cabbages to toilet paper to printer paper. It doesn’t just save money. It helps the environment. The Coram’s going green! Look, I know this isn’t going to be easy at first. At the end of each month we’ll name a Rubbish Champion. That Rubbish Champion’s photograph will appear on the staff noticeboard in my office, and they will get a Marks & Spencer voucher worth twenty-five pounds.”
    Everyone looked unimpressed. Never mind. As Nik prepared to close the meeting, he had a brilliant idea. He would turn the insubordination of the chef to his advantage. When you are a senior manager, it doesn’t matter if something goes wrong—things always go wrong. What’s important is how you deal with that situation. Nik would show that he was the master of it. He clenched his fist again, now pretending to shoulder a work tool, and he sang, “Heigh-ho!” This would be a rallying call; a fun way to end all their briefing meetings, with everyone joining in and…But, sensing it was over and the meeting was breaking up, everyone rushed for the door, anxious to get to work and meet their targets, and stop being told how to do a job they knew how to do. No one joined in singing.
    When the last person had left, Nik closed the door and got out the work sheets for the next week, to familiarize himself with them and anticipate any potential “situations.” It looked as though it would be rather a sedate week: the usual tourists, restaurant bookings and midweek business guests, and—of course—there was the conference of romance novelists. Very refined. Nothing to worry about there.
*
    TO: [email protected]
    FROM: [email protected]
    SUBJECT: Next weekend
    Muriel,
    Can you let me know the title of the ethics in literature session you’re doing for us at the conference next weekend? I think you said it would be something along the lines of “Why Does It Matter if I’m Making It Up?” I need to get it right for the program.
    I’m so glad you’re joining us. Your ideas are always so stimulating and clever, and amusing too, which is very important because we’ll be cloistered in a series of windowless rooms all day. Do come for the gala dinner on Saturday night, won’t you? I’ve got Lex coming, and you two always amuse each other. Publishing people have a terrible habit of talking shop, and Lex has been doing that for nearly forty years, and it bores him. So if you’ll come to dinner, I’ll put you next to him if you don’t mind.
    I’m going to need some support on the admin side. Do you know anyone who might be free to help out? We can pay reasonably well, and we’ll put them up in the hotel and feed them (you too, of course,