Page 18 of Don't Point at the Moon

His boss appeared to have been expecting the question because she began nodding even before Helen had finished asking her question.

“Clearly, we’re no longer going to need such a large team. Along with other professionals, you will be given a choice wherever possible. For those willing to relocate, we will try to find you similar positions in Singapore or other offices around the network. If you prefer to take a redundancy package, then that will also be made available.”

Pauline had not said those exact words to him, but suddenly, the depressing reality hit home. Undoubtedly, he would be invited to apply for a job back in the bank’s head office in London—which would unquestionably entail a demotion—or he would be offered a payout.

“After everything we’ve done to make this bank an employer of choice?” said Helen. “What kind of message is this sending? Not only to investors, but to those considering a career with us?”

“I understand how you feel, Helen,” said Pauline. “And believe me when I tell you that I’ve done my level best to argue our corner. But the decision has been made.”

Mitchell could almost touch the negative energy in the room. Although he understood Helen’s pain, he felt more for the local staff who had silently absorbed the news. And because of the NDA, they wouldn’t even be able to confide in their close family members.

“What’s important during these times,” said Mitchell, dragging up memories from past experience, “is for us to keep things professional. Some people will welcome the payout, those who may have already been thinking about moving on. For others, our more institutional employees, those who have only ever worked for us, this will be a bombshell. And with that shock often comes inertia and the inability to see a way forward. If we’re going to do our jobs properly, then we’ll need to provide all we can in terms of counselling, talking to recruitment agencies on their behalf and assisting them with their interviewing skills. A part of our responsibility is to help them discover a way forward and visualise a new future.”

Even Helen nodded her agreement.

“In the meantime,” said Pauline, “’it’s business as usual. I called this meeting to ensure you’re all aware of what’s coming down the line. When I return from London, I will have all the headcount and financial information we need to begin planning our approach. In the meantime, Mitchell and Helen will set up brainstorming meetings for us to decide how we will run retrenchment meetings. Remember, this development is strictly confidential. You are legally bound by the agreement you signed not to disclose anything with anybody. Do I make myself clear?”

Pauline waited until everyone in the room had nodded their understanding.

“What do we do about ongoing recruitments?” asked one of the managers.

“There shouldn’t be any. We have a hiring freeze at the moment. But for any business-critical roles, let them continuefor now. We must do everything we can to avoid rumour and speculation.”

At the end of the meeting, Pauline asked Mitchell to remain behind for a brief chat, but before they could speak, Helen cornered her. Mitchell stood by the window at the far end of the conference room, giving them relative privacy while looking out over the calming Victoria Harbour nightscape. Even though they lowered their voices, Mitchell could discern the barely restrained anger in Helen’s tone. When she finally left, Pauline beckoned him over before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Anybody would think I enjoy being the bearer of bad tidings,” she said, using her back to push the conference room door closed. “This decision affects me, too.”

Mitchell said nothing. Pauline would land on her feet. She always did.

“Look, a quick heads-up. When the announcement is made publicly, Helen will be one of the first to be laid off. You and I will manage that particular meeting. And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how important it is that this particular piece of information remains strictly between the two of us.”

Another bombshell. Not only did he consider Helen a friend, but they worked well together. Sharing the burden of the retrenchment interviews with her would have helped keep him sane.

“You’re letting her go when we need her most?”

“I don’t trust her to remain impartial. And if I’m going to be perfectly honest, I don’t trust her not to leak this information to employees or the press. Whereas I am confident you will remain professional throughout. We’re going to need people like you to see us through this rocky time and to provide continuity once we’ve moved to the next phase of operations here.”

* * * *

Mitchell eventually left the office at eight-thirty but didn't feel like returning to his empty home. Pauline’s pointed comment about providing continuity kept nagging at him. Did she mean he was being considered to head up the downsized operation in Hong Kong? Or had the comment simply been an observation? After any late-in-the-day meetings, Helen would usually drag him for coffee or a drink to decompress. Tonight he didn’t want to sit and try to make nice with her, knowing what Pauline had just told him. Instead, Mitchell phoned Kate, but the call went straight to voicemail. He was about to scroll down to Harold’s number when a message appeared on his screen.

Tommy:Play run-through this Thu. Want me to snap photos for ur nephew?

He considered ignoring the message. After all, he had seen Tommy the day before and still didn’t feel entirely comfortable around him. Tommy taking the initiative to apologise had felt both gracious and genuine, but would they ever be friends? Doubtful. They were, after all, total opposites. But Tommy was following through on his offer to help get Zane into the theatre scene. Maybe Mitchell needed to be the better man this time. Before he could talk himself out of the idea, he texted back.

Mitchell:Sounds excellent. Don’t suppose you’re up for a coffee or a glass of wine right now?

Almost instantly, a message popped up on his screen.

Tommy:Brief Encounter. Half an hour.

Mitchell checked the time. Maybe an innocent chat with someone unconnected with his work was just what he needed. One of the many things he loved about working on the island was that a person could get to most places quickly at night, eitheron foot or in one of the plentiful, air-conditioned public taxis. Brief Encounter was a bar off the network of escalators that rose from the Central business district up to the dizzy heights of Conduit Road. Moreover, the bar was on his walk home.

Mitchell:Perfect. See you there.

* * * *

The nighttime air had turned pleasantly balmy as Mitchell neared the familiar watering hole. Hidden in a small courtyard down a narrow lane, Brief Encounter—once an exclusively gay bar—had become a popular haunt with locals and expats of all persuasions and somewhere only tourists in the know would find.

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