Page 2 of Alice Carver Manifests Her Perfect Life
Nudge 2: The Viral Video (Saturday 24 December, 9.37am)
I woke up on Christmas Eve with a horrific hangover and a text from Astrid asking if that was me on the Apple News feed. She said if it was, she hoped I didn’t give consent, because she’d love to take on that legal battle. I clicked on the link, which tookme to the headline ‘Woman’s Christmas Party Post Hilariously Backfires’ and… to a clip of the video I recorded last night. Which turned out to haveincrediblyunflattering lighting.
The first thing I did was panic and call Drunk Stephen, but he didn’t answer so I sent him a voice note. Then I saw an email from Harry Piles (total twat Children’s Deputy MD) to the entire team saying ‘this should cheer you up – at least you’re not this woman’ with a link to my video. It was almost immediately recalled, but goodness knows who else saw it. Then a further email arrived from Harry Piles apologising for any offence caused by the previous email which was sent in error to the whole team, and a reminder that Carsons are an equal opportunities publishing company.
I didn’t know whether to vomit or run away to sea or both, so I tried Drunk Stephen again, and this time he answered.
‘Why the fuck do you keep bothering me this early?’
‘Why the fuck did you let me post it?’ I screeched at him. ‘It’s gone fucking viral!’
‘No one realises it’s you.’
‘But Harry Piles sent it to everyone!’
‘He’s a twat. And he hasn’t twigged who it is in the video.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Honestly,Ibarely recognise you in it and I filmed it – you said your own sister didn’t know for sure it was you.’
That was true. If Astridhadknown it was me, she’d have dived straight in – I mean this was literally a gift from the mockery gods.
‘Just delete it and move on. Although maybe invest in a ring light? If you’re planning future videos… Now I’m hanging up becauseItake my skincare seriously and skin needs sleep.’
I opened the clip again. I was wearing a paper crown (we’d pulled crackers) which had slipped over one eye, and my make-up had run from the crying, and Drunk Stephen kept zooming in on my chin: it actuallywasquite hard to make out any identifying features.
So I deleted the video and messaged Astrid to tell her that of course it wasn’t me and how could she eventhinkthat?
And she texted immediately to say, ‘Phew: thank goodness I’m not related to that disaster!’
Never has the crying-with-laughter emoji I sent back been more appropriate.
Nudge 3: The Work Email (Saturday 24 December, 9.58am)
My phone buzzed: it was a text from Mum asking if I was sure it was a good idea to come to the wedding and to remember to empty the fridge and turn the heating off before I caught the train, and had I seen the email from Aunty Margaret?
I opened my emails but before I could find one from Aunty Margaret, I saw that one had appeared from Guy Carmichael marked ‘high importance’. It was to everyone in our division telling us that Carsons are merging with Montague Place and that whilst they will be looking at head count this is unlikely to impact the majority, so not to worry and have a good Christmas.
What. The. Fuck?
I immediately messaged Drunk Stephen but he’d switched his phone off. And then I stupidly checked Charlotte’s feed and she’d posted a picture of a swirled heart in her morning cappuccino and there, in the background, were Guy’s hairyknuckles. I’d know them anywhere – I’ve spent a lot of time looking at his hands. All of us have. It’s his tell: everyone knows when our MD is getting irritated in meetings because he drums those hairy-knuckled fingers lightly on the table, and you should see how much it makes people panic. So sexy. I’d love to command people like that. I’d love to be commanded like that. Who wouldn’t? No wonder bloody Charlotte’s showing off about it.
Then I remembered the email again and realised that now, most likely the only time I was going to experience Guy Carmichael commanding me was when he fired me. And however sexy he is (and if I’m honest, I wasn’t finding this email very sexy), I’d rather keep my job.
Nudge 4: The House Email (Saturday 24 December, 10.04am)
Unsurprisingly, and as indicated by my mother, there was further misery in my inbox – that’s why I don’t check it that often. Rodentinators had finally got back to me saying they were short staffed and unable to change my rat boxes until 1 January (hardly rapid response, is it?) but reminding me that a slight odour is normal, to follow their pest-control guidelines and the situation would remain under control, and wishing me a very happy Christmas. I mean? If you’ve got decaying rats in your flat (well, strictly speaking, Aunty Margaret’s flat), it’s not going to be a very happy Christmas, is it? They told me the bait boxes were humane, but I can tell you, the smell coming from the one in the kitchen isn’t humane at all, to me, as a human. Imagine if I were having people over inthese circumstances? (I’m not having people over. I’m going home to Mum and Dad’s like I have done every year, but maybe I would be inviting people over here for a grown-up Christmas if Rodentinators had got their act together.)
And directly underneaththatwas Aunty Margaret’s email, telling me wonderful news – she’d finally found a new tenant for the flat and, on the proviso that they could move in quickly, they had paid three-months full rent on top of the deposit, which was very useful because she and Uncle Ted had an imminent tax bill. So I needed to make sure that I’d moved my stuff out by 2 January.
Second of January?
Unbelievable.
I mean I know she wastechnicallydoing me a favour letting me stay pretty much rent-free and that it was only ever temporary, etc., and meant to be a few weeks in between tenants, but as the months ticked by, I’d been hoping she’d sort of decided she liked having a family member in here. Clearly Aunty Margaret is more of a hard-nosed businesswoman than the family woman I’d assumed she was. Mind you, given that (a) we never actually see her and (b) she is Mum’s sister, I should have known better.
I’ve been evicted a number of times, and lost a fair few jobs too, but never both together. On Christmas bloody Eve.
