Page 13 of The Typo

‘Can we have a little chat, please?’

Without letting me respond, he turned on his heel and marched towards his office. I didn’t need to be an expert in body language to realise that this conversation was not going to be a pleasant one.

I’d never expected Ian to jump in the air and declare I’d single-handedly saved the theatre with my proposal to re-open the Cellar Bar. But I had hoped for a more positive reception than not even being invited to sit down, and instead having to stand awkwardly dripping in his office doorway while he delivered his scathing verdict.

‘Amy, don’t misunderstand this, I welcome your enthusiasm, but I think we need to channel it in more productive areas, don’t you?’ Ian said in his most condescending tone of voice, settling behind his desk and looking over his glasses at me. ‘I can see that you’ve put a lot of effort into this idea, but perhaps it’s better to play to your strengths such as sending out lovely press releases, and leave the complexities of strategising to those who understand it.’

Sending out lovely press releases? Could he not even give me the credit for writing the things?

‘I … uh…’ I knew I’d probably wake up in the middle of the night with the perfect response to his patronising treatment, but for now I couldn’t even get my words out.

‘Now don’t get me wrong,’ he continued, ‘I appreciate that you’ve done some blue-sky thinking. And perhaps, somewhere among this,’ he waved his arm vaguely in the direction of the computer screen, ‘there might be a nugget of something we could work on. But I need you to stay in your lane, especially during this consultation period. It’s not the time for big changes.’

‘But I really think…’ I wanted to argue that it should be.

‘We’ve discussed this enough,’ said Ian. ‘But as you’re so insistent, I’ll ask Colin to take a look at your little document in his capacity as box office manager, and if there’s an element within it which could work, he will have my blessing to explore it further.’

Marvellous. There was zero chance that Creepy Colin, the world’s least proactive employee, would even read my carefully prepared plan. The boss seemed to take my continued silence as agreement.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Now why don’t you head off and start work on the brochure for the autumn season?’

I bit back the question which immediately sprang to my mind. Was there any point? At this rate, it was highly unlikely that the Variety would still be open. I knew I should get mad, speak up, make him realise that I had something to offer, and that my voice was worth listening to, but the words got stuck in my throat. I seemed to have exhausted my quota of courage. I’d tried, and I’d failed. Again. I accepted my dismissal and slunk to the staff toilets so I could make a private phone call to the two people I knew I could rely on.

‘I don’t understand why he wouldn’t even listen to me,’ I said plaintively to my parents. I’d taken the precaution of putting my rucksack against the door so if anyone tried to come in, I’d get a warning. ‘All he did was spout meaningless corporate speak. I know my plan could work. It wouldn’t cost anything beyond the cleaning products to get the place spick and span. And yes, there would be a bit of paperwork to fill out for the council, but nothing too taxing or complicated. I could easily take care of that. But he basically rejected my idea out of hand. Sure, he said Colin could follow it up, but frankly Cass’s baby is more likely to do that than Mr Can’t-Be-Arsed.’

Mum sighed. ‘I’m sorry Ian was so dismissive of you. He’s a fool to overlook your talent. But perhaps the problem isn’t with the idea itself. Maybe the issue is that he wasn’t the one who came up with it.’

‘That would be plain stupid. He said himself that we’ve only got four months left to save the Variety. Surely the priority is that, rather than who comes up with what plan.’

‘The male ego can be a fragile thing,’ said Mum. I heard a throat being cleared. ‘Let me correct myself. It can be a fragile thing for some men, as your father points out. Hashtag not all men and all that. As you know, your father’s very happy for me to take the credit for all the good ideas in our marriage.’

‘That’s because you’re the one responsible for them. I merely provide the decorative aspect of our partnership,’ I heard my dad saying. I could picture him playfully nudging Mum as they sat side by side, listening to me on loudspeaker.

‘Whatever you like to think, pet,’ replied my mum. I could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Now Amy, don’t take it to heart. I am a great believer in things working out the way they’re meant to. I know it probably doesn’t help to hear it now, but if your idea’s meant to come to fruition, it will do in spite of Ian’s terrible attitude. And if it doesn’t happen, that’s because there’s another opportunity waiting around the corner for you. Don’t write yourself off. You’re young. You have many exciting adventures ahead of you.’

‘People keep on saying that to me, but “exciting adventures” sound terrifying.’

Mum thankfully ignored my pessimistic viewpoint.

‘Give yourself this evening to lick your wounds, then tomorrow will be a brighter day. Don’t underestimate yourself. You can achieve whatever you want to, if you put your mind to it.’

She made it sound so easy, but it felt like anything but.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 23 Jan, 19:14

Subject: Busking!

Hey Cameron,

Just a brief message to say I haven’t forgotten about you and I promise I’ll send you a proper email soon but my fingers are like blocks of ice at the mo so I’m struggling to type properly. I’ve been out busking to raise money for a local charity and it being Edinburgh and winter and all, I got chilled to the bone. I managed to keep playing, but as soon as I stopped my hands turned blue in some kind of delayed reaction. I was going to borrow Eliza and Fraser to see if they’d do the honours of snuggling up and thawing me out, but wisely they were conspicuous in their absence when I got back home. Anyway, the important thing is that I’ve done my bit for the charity, plus it was great fun to play ceilidh tunes again – got to cater to the tourists who can’t get enough of the traditional folk stuff. Mind you, neither can I. Right, I’m off to run myself a hot bath!

Amy x

PS: here I am wittering on about being cold and you’re in Antarctica. Sorry, that’s very tone deaf of me. Where did you get your long johns from?! I could probably do with some for my next busking foray.

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