Short Story: Next Stop Moorgate
Geoff was growing ever so tired of the office politics. He worked for an Advertising agency and today he decided to get the tube. He had no choice after last night’s fiasco. He had gone for a night out with the lads - unfortunately for him - only to find he'd left his motorcycle outside the office building. Today he was rushing, with thick, slightly unkempt bed hair. I dare say he didn’t even care, or wouldn’t have even noticed his attire. He had a mission – get to work. He never had a shave; dressed in a plaid, blue and white shirt with slightly faded, navy-blue chinos and brown-suede shoes. His right foot must have been a distant memory as his laces were undone, or undone from the start of the day. His helmet sat next to his right foot as he tried to wake, overly exaggerating his eyes, like a zombie trying to wake from a deep sleep or feast.
Geoff was well and truly knackered, frustrated and disliked his job. The thought of resigning seemed to be a toy that he played with for weeks. The Hertfordshire born, farmer’s boy seemed to be his greater call and one he once refused, but now became a real reality. It was that or nothing now, he thought. It plagued his mind endlessly, as the tube conductor’s voice spoke.
'Next Stop - Moorgate.' Mind the gap.
Geoff leapt up and sprinted for the doors, as they were just about to close. It was a good thing - he was alert - he might have missed the stop and been late.
The early morning greetings from the newly appointed receptionist with peroxide blonde hair, swept back with the aid of spray to keep it together. It's evidence was left in the air, as Laura - a Coventry girl from the Midlands - gave her routine greeting every morning garnished with a smile, as Geoff dragged himself into the office to prepare for an early morning meeting.
Justin, whom everyone dreaded, was the sales maniac. He was what I call the ‘Sales Marketing Guru’, an evangelist of sorts. Justin was over-zealous with far too much energy first thing in the morning. Everyone first thought, when he'd been appointed Line Manager for the Sales Teams, it was a joke - sadly, it was true. Every opportunity he relished in, as he gave yet another motivational and slightly condescending speech about selling. It was all about the numbers; how many sales, verbatums, and I had to deal with the guy everyday.
As I pressed the button, the numbers descended as I took a deep breath to motivate myself, hoping I can travel alone in the elevator. The doors open and I'm wishing, hoping and praying just as the doors begin to close…
'Can you hold that, Geoff?' It was him.