Got in late due to wrong kind of attitude to work. Discovered a little demonstration outside reception demanding union recognition at Smokehouse.
Sir Marcus recognises unions only as a pack of chippy working-class spongers who, left uncrushed, would return the country to the stone ages. Damien Norris was sitting behind a desk collecting signatures He's a nasty little activist whose sole purpose in life is to impede the free flow of capital from consumers to my share options. I chatted to him about how important his work was while I wrote in capitals in his book: 'Anyone signing this will be sacked.' In my opinion, anybody who's still working class obviously has a genetic aversion to actually working.
Sir Marcus has driven his Ferrari to work. He always does this when he has to fire people to reassure them that the company's doing fine, it's they who are in trouble. He called an emergency board meeting for a special announcement. We all laid bets on what this would be. I wagered he was going to come out of the closet and insist on being called Sir Marky Mark.
In fact, he announced solemnly that yesterday's tomorrow is today. We all politely waited for the punchline but there wasn't one, so we assumed it must be our new strategy. He then asked whose department Damien Norris worked in. No-one knew, so he asked Giles Renton-Willets, weirdo HR director, to find out. Finally, a use for HR!
Surprise, surprise, Damien Norris works for Bill Peters in Chemicals.
To be honest, it would probably surprise Bill that Bill himself works in Chemicals. Sir Marcus invited me out to lunch and over a couple of bottles of very well chosen reds made it very clear that in times of recession the lunching culture had to end. On the way back he asked me whether I'd got the message about yesterday's tomorrows - ie, that Bill was going to have to go and I was going to have to tell him. Bill can't be sacked!
We need men like him to establish Smokehouse cultural norms, otherwise we'll end up like the Co-op. I'd rally support from the board, but there isn't one of them who Bill hasn't verbally, physically or sexually abused.
Started the day still in a state of shock. I called Bill but his secretary said he was out walking the talk. That meant walking down to Mr Bojangles, where I found Bill telling the barmaid (useful charlies) that if he had all the money he'd ever spent on drink, he would probably spend it on drink. Bill didn't seem the least bit worried that Sir Marcus had marked his card. He told me that the best way to keep a wolf from the door is to leave a sheep in the garden. That really worried me. I could only imagine Sir Marcus was about to find some messy-arsed sheep on his front lawn.
After work, went to the gym with Howard for some weightlifting, which we rapidly downgraded to elbow lifting shortly after sampling the first weight, which was welded to the floor.
At the board meeting to get rid of him, Bill suddenly announced that Smokehouse was infringing his human rights. He knew some top human rights lawyers from his divorce case who he was getting on the job. If there's one thing Sir Marcus hates more than unions (and HR/PR/IT) it's lawyers. Bill then produced his sheep. He said he was making everyone in Chemicals reapply for their own job. Sadly, Damien Norris was the only person who wouldn't be successful. Sir Marcus kept quiet and Bill kept his job. On the way out I asked Bill whether he'd be applying for his own job. He said he wouldn't give himself a first interview. We snarked off to Bojangles and after a couple of big red ones the world looked rosier again. But then we never forget that yesterday's tomorrow is tomorrow's yesterday.