Jeff Hopkirk's Late Lunch
Jeff looked at the corner of his monitor for the time. It read 13.01. Just a few more minutes he mused. Technically lunchtime had started but he was aware that he had arrived late this morning, a decision to sneak into the bathroom away from his still snoozing girlfriend in order to reply to a text had been more costly that he could have imagined. Although small in itself, it had set in motion a chain of further minute delays which combined were just enough for him to see the doors to his train beep and close meters in front of him, even as he huffed and puffed his way along the platform
More importantly, however, was that his boss had also noted his late arrival to the office, again, and was far from pleased at what he viewed as the beginning of late trend presenting itself. His boss, a straight-laced balding weasel of a man, was a fastidious timekeeper and made no bones about his disdain for the creative souls who were his colleagues and subordinates. Hippies, layabouts, and loafers, the lot of them, he had often decried when they came flouncing into meetings late and headed directly to the coffee machine. His candor had not won him many friends, in or out of work, much to the dismay of Jeff whose role now, among others, also included the dubious honour of being his lunchtime constitutional walking buddy
Jeff disliked walking with his boss and was always hopeful of an overcast midday or a long finance meeting that might grant him a reprieve. A shoulder bruising thirty minute round trip through much of London’s most congested streets, along with his boss’s monologue of his home life plus his diatribe on politics, religion, immigration and humanity in general, though for taxi drivers and cyclists especially, always left a bitter taste in Jeff’s mouth
He privately regretted that he had ever agreed to go that first time, but so far had not managed to fashion the ideal way of delicately un-volunteering for all future walks. This was no simple task as he desired to do so without widening the gap of amicability and respect between the two of them, and he knew he could not simply tell his boss that he hates his company and found him to be a gloomy, henpecked pariah without expecting serious repercussions and possibly a P45 in the days thereafter
Today offered him no easy get-out-of-jail-free card as the weather forecast was meant to be beautiful and sunny with a gentle cool breeze, and as far as he was aware his boss’s calendar was empty. Having already got on his bosses bad side by arrival late he felt dreadfully obligated to go along with him today if for no other reason than to try and get back on his good side for the long afternoon ahead, however today he felt an even more pressing desire to re-join the illicit text conversation he had been having earlier, so much so that the only thing that had been on his mind all morning was picking the right moment to deliver his prepared excuse in order to return to it away from prying eyes.