How to Get Ahead Without Murdering your Boss (2 page)

His new companion glanced at him, took one look at the leather bomber jacket and rucksack and deliberately turned away. Paul ignored this slight. "My flight's another couple of hours away. How about you mate? Where you off to?"

"Sydney."

The reply was crisp and polite and had "do not disturb" written all over it, but Paul wasn't so easily put off.

"You coming from New York?"

"Yes." The head was permitted a bob and there was a slight, superficial smile, but the young man's focus was quickly back to the pages in front of him.

Paul leaned back and put his hands behind his head, staring up at the fluoro lights that were unrelenting in their starkness. "Yeah, the wife and I are just coming back from the States too. Interesting place to visit. Wouldn't want to live there. Too many weirdos running around. And some yanks don't seem to have much of a sense of humour."

"Hmmmmm."

Paul looked around the transit lounge at the other stranded passengers, contorted into various reclining positions on their seats, struggling to try and get comfortable, like some purgatorial karma sutra.

He bent forward and took a moment or two to make sure he caught the eye of his neighbour, who was rapidly regretting his choice of seat. "I thought you business guys did everything on a computer the size of a matchbox. You know, paperless world and all that." Leaning even further forward, Paul was making himself impossible to ignore. "Don't get me wrong, I don't know much about business — that's the missus' department. I'm a sparky myself. She's the one who's written the business book and been on Oprah."

Finally a spark of interest. The well-gelled hair turned towards him. "Your wife has written a business book?"

Paul nodded. "Yep, that's why we were in the States. A few of those big publishers were fighting over it — and the sequel. Like a pack of buzzards on a carcass they were. Crazy what money you can get."

Paul had his neighbour's full attention now.

"So it's been published in the U.S?"

"Yeah, and first run has already nearly sold out." Paul sat back, confident he now had someone to chat to. "Fancy a beer?"

"What?" The young man fumbled. "No… Well yes, maybe a soft drink."

"Not if I'm buying mate." Paul signaled to the attendant hovering nearby. "We should get something for our business lounge membership, shouldn't we?"

The young man nodded assent, looked down at his paperwork, weighed up the next couple of hours, and shut the lid of his laptop.

Paul noticed. "Good man. Now, what'll you have?"

By the time they were on their second round, Paul had discovered that the young man, David Young, was a sales executive for a telecommunications company that covered the globe and that he last had a holiday five years ago. David had finally loosened his tie a little and was leaning back into the leather cushions like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Paul guessed he was only in his early thirties, but he looked closer to forty. He waited until David had sipped his way down the third bottle before piecing the facts together.

"So you're a very little fish in a very big pond?"

David opened his mouth to protest and then decided he didn't have the energy to deny the truth. He stared down the mouth of his bottle. "A very big pond. A global pond. And in New York they make polite noises about taking Sydney into consideration when they make their decisions, but it's all…, "

He took another gulp. "So the reality is if I want to get ahead I'm going to have to either move to the US or one of the other overseas offices, or work even more hours in Sydney to get noticed and, well" he glanced at Paul, "I'm already on tablets for stress and not sleeping and my girlfriend is complaining that she never sees me. Well, did complain. I think she dumped me last night." He took another gulp. "By text."

Paul let out a low whistle. "Christ mate you are in a bad way. Sounds like you're better off without her anyway. Text, eh?" Paul smiled and shook his head. "Hazards of working in telecommunications."

David started to laugh a bit too loudly. Paul threw him a cautious look. Having a drink was one thing but he hadn't meant to open a can of worms. He looked around and checked that no one was staring. "Hey mate, listen. I have a story to tell you that might make you feel better."

David didn't respond. "No, really mate, it's what my wife's book is about." Paul kept talking. "She's written this self-help book for people just like you."

"What? People who don't have any say in their career decisions and don't have the guts to do anything about it?" His voice was full of bitterness.

Paul paused and was on the cusp of agreeing and then reconsidered. "No, mate. Just people who need a push in the right direction, to show them how to take control back."

"What's it called?"

"
How to Get Ahead Without Murdering Your Boss
." Paul deadpanned.

David rubbed his face before sitting back and taking a long gulp of his beer. He stared at Paul for a moment. "I think we need another round then." He signaled to the waiter. "With a whiskey chaser."

Paul thought for a fraction of an instant how much trouble he was already likely to be in, calculated the risks, and was just about to say no to a drink for the first time in his life when he glanced up at the departures screen.

He nodded to David. "Right then. You're on."

2

He settled back into the chair and scratched his chin. "Well, it's probably worth starting with me," he explained. "The book's got an acronym, you know, a word where every letter represents a word…"

"Yeah, I do know what an acronym is…"

"Oh, right. So the theme of the book is SEEFAR. Clever, isn't it?"

David looked unconvinced.

"My wife's point is that after you've read the book you will 'see far', as in you'll be clearer on where you're heading. Anyway," he hurried on, "S stands for Self understanding and Identity. It's about how you see yourself. See, I'm the kind of person who's pretty happy with their lot in life. I'll never be the sharpest tool in the shed, or the richest man I know, but that's just fine with me. I'm pretty contented, which apparently makes me almost unique.

There's a lot of people out there who don't really know who they are — their strengths, weaknesses, and how to use them to get what they want in life. I wonder about that. How can you be true to yourself, if you don't know what's important to you in life?"

"Tell me about it!"

Paul shook his head. "Me, I've got my own little handyman business. Do a few odd jobs, can turn my hand to most things but I know my limits. It's a pretty good little business and I enjoy what I do. You got me?"

David nodded. He was staring over Paul's shoulder at the wall. "Sorry, I was just thinking of something my boss said to me a couple of weeks ago. About how he didn't feel as if he could recommend me for certain projects because he wasn't sure what I could do. I didn't," David was finding this difficult to say, "stand out enough. I faded into the background."

He sighed and looked directly at Paul. "I'm invisible. I'm working my guts out for this company and I'm invisible."

"Well that's not good mate, but I think that we're getting into the second letter, E. You need to have SELF UNDERSTANDING but then the next step is your EXTERNAL IMAGE. How others see you. For me, I've never had to advertise. Got all my jobs through word-of-mouth because I never take on anything I can't do bloody well and I always do my best."

David's eyes were starting to glaze a little.

Before he could lose him, Paul continued, "I tell you what, mate. Let me tell you a story that will make the whole thing clear. About how I met my wife. About how we spent a weekend trapped on an island with a murderer."

He had David's full attention now. Paul sat back and drained his glass. "So, as I was saying, let's start with me." He pointed to his glass and caught the waiter's eye. "I was on this ferry off the coast of north Queensland, near Cairns…."

3

"Choppy enough for you?"

Paul shifted his eyes from the dark seas that were pounding the side of the ferry and turned his attention to the captain.

He nodded. "Looks like it'll be your last trip of the day."

"Haven't I seen you around town?" The captain joined Paul near the bow and gazed out to the horizon.

"Yeah I do some work for Bob Sandbourne in Cairns every now and again, fixing bits and pieces. But I haven't been out this way before."

"You chose a hell of a day to have a look."

"Me and a few other fools," said Paul nodding to the handful of passengers inside.

The captain followed his glance through the glassed-in cabin to the passengers sitting in various stages of discomfort on the benches. "They don't look like they've done a real day's work amongst them."

"No but I bet they earn a hell of a lot more than we do, mate," said Paul with a wry smile.

"Yes you can be sure of that, but then who'd want to be shut up in an office on a day like today?" The captain turned back to the railing and looked out into the purple skies and churning green of the sea. "I wouldn't trade this for quids, would you?"

"No I reckon you're right mate. But it looks like today could test your mettle." Paul looked up at the threatening sky. "What's the story with the cyclone?"

"Oh they reckon its changed course and is heading out to the Pacific. Someone will get some trouble but not us."

"Don't speak too soon. Someone's not too happy with you I think," Paul looked pointedly over the captain's shoulder as a red-faced bull of a man stormed towards them.

"Are you the captain of this vessel?" The question was fired at the captain by someone who was used to asking questions and giving orders.

"Yes sir I am," the captain stood to attention.

"Well I'm not happy with this rough passage. Some of my team are turning green. Can't you do anything about it?"

The captain kept a straight face. "Well sir there is a cyclone about."

"Yes I know I know, but can't you steer in calmer waters?"

The pause before the captain's answer was just a fraction too long to be respectful.

"Not if there aren't any calm waters to be had sir."

The passenger looked thrown for a moment, but he recovered in a second and tried a different tack. "Perhaps you don't know who I am. Arnold Strong. CEO of Medivalue Incorporated."

The captain and Paul stared back blankly.

"The fastest growing medical research company in the southern hemisphere," growled the explanation.

"Sorry sir, I've never heard of it. But I can assure you that I have a perfect safety record and even though the trip may not be as smooth as you would like, I will get you to your destination safely." The captain stood firmly and met Arnold Strong's gaze.

Arnold finally looked away briefly. "Well I'm not happy. Perhaps if you were steering the boat instead of gossiping with the crew we might get somewhere," glancing at Paul and evaluating him in an instant.

Paul leaned back against the rail with his arms crossed.

"Don't let my lack of a suit and tie fool you mate. I'm not help. I don't work for anyone except myself."

"Really… Well," for an instant Strong looked unsure of himself, "Just see to it will you?" With that he turned and stalked away. The boat pitched at that moment and he stumbled and was forced to grab for the rail before disappearing inside.

Paul grinned. "Always amazes me when someone says the biggest or best in the southern hemisphere. What's the bloody competition? South Africa? Tonga?"

The captain smiled and, shaking his head, turned and ducked into the wheelhouse.

As the boat continued to pitch dramatically Paul turned his attention to the other passengers in the cabin, keen to see who was turning green.

A tall man with trendy glasses sat in the corner, trying to ignore the movement of the boat and balancing a laptop on his knees. He didn't look like he spent much time out of doors. Paul dismissed him as a lightweight and turned his attention elsewhere. An attractive blonde woman was trying to read a romance novel but was struggling to concentrate. She looked like her hair colour and her tan came out of a bottle. Arnold Strong had spread his legs across the benches and was trying to catch her eye. The cabin door opened and a dark-haired woman in her thirties went to the rail with a handkerchief to her mouth. Paul imagined she was trying to avoid vomiting on what looked to be a very expensive suit. She was soon joined at the rail by a white haired gentleman who looked as if he had been a fit young man but one too many business lunches had taken their toll. He was having trouble with his sea-legs but was striving to hang on to his dignity. He tried to have a conversation with the brunette but she shook her head and waved him away. He looked angry at being dismissed and stalked off towards the stern. He looks a bit like my dad thought Paul as he turned back to the boat's bow, more interested in studying the coastline than the passengers.

4

The peninsula was coming into view and Paul wondered again why he had agreed to come so far out of his way — and on a weekend. He was making a good living contracting out as a handyman after a hard two year slog and he could afford to say no to jobs now. Perhaps it was the female voice on the other end of the phone earlier in the day which had sounded so intriguing.

"Hello is this Sandy's Handyman services?"

"Yes it is." Paul was sifting paperwork on his desk and was distracted by the piles slipping off the edge and into the wastepaper basket.

"I am calling from The Edge resort on the Briney Peninsula, do you know it?"

"Yes vaguely. What's wrong?"