Working Wonders Read Online Free

ambition seeker? The joiner-inner or the workaholic? What was more important – the good name of the company or getting every detail finished? Working yourself into an early grave or keeping up the good name of the company? Arthur groaned and let his head sink forward onto his arms, then pulled it up again in his ongoing hidden camera paranoia. He stared at the paper, distraught. This was meaningless. Useless. And if he didn’t pass … well, he was a town planner without much of a life and absolutely sod all he cared about. His body boiled with fury and he was very close to crumpling up the papers and storming out when the last question caught his eye.
    I was made to gallop through the trees
    I miss my sword
    This is not my time
    He stared at it, then swirled round in confusion as the door opened behind him. A tall, elegant-looking woman walked in.
    ‘Are you finished?’
    He looked at her. She was a very pale blonde, slender without being skinny, and had a high forehead and quite a long nose. Not exactly beautiful, but undeniably striking.
    ‘Um … Just about …’
    She swept the papers away from in front of him. ‘I’m afraid we have a strict time limit.’
    ‘Can I just see the last page …’
    ‘Sorry.’ She didn’t smile. ‘I’m Gwyneth Morgan. CFC consultancy.’
    ‘Ah, the Crazy Frightening Company,’ said Arthur, and immediately wished he hadn’t. ‘I’m joking. You know, I’m sure our excellent chief executive Sir Eglamore would agree that humour in the workplace and …’ He was starting to stammer.
    She stared at him coldly. ‘Yes, I take your point, except of course that humour is normally funny.’
    Arthur was stung. ‘Well, very little is funny when you’ve been chained to a desk in a windowless room for ninety minutes.’
    She raised her eyebrow. ‘Perhaps you’d rather be excluded from the process.’
    Arthur stood there for a minute, feeling the adrenalin rush through him. Suddenly, he felt furious. What the hell was he doing here and why was she treating him like this? Shaking, he pushed back his chair and stood up. She was offering to sack him and he was swallowing it like chocolate. He hated himself.
    ‘Am I done?’
    ‘For now.’
    He almost pushed past her into the corridor.
    Open-plan offices don’t have anywhere to hide. Well, the solitary cubicle in the men’s toilets, but that isn’t a pleasant place to be at the best of times and this was emphatically not the best of times. Unconsciously loosening his tie and wiping his forehead – Jesus, why couldn’t that bitch have given him two fucking minutes to read the last fucking question – he strode back to his rat hole, hot and furious.
    ‘How was it?’ asked Cathy anxiously.
    ‘It’s fine,’ he said, almost spitting the words out. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
    ‘Why are you such a funny colour, then?’ Sven said, picking his nose behind a magazine.
    ‘I am not.’
    Sven looked over pointedly, still exploring with his finger. ‘Nah, you’re right. You look incredibly casual and relaxed.’
    Cathy stroked him on the sleeve. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’
    Her pitying kindness was worse than Sven’s predictable indifference, and left Arthur shaking off her arm, half wanting to scream and half wanting to cry.
    ‘It’s okay .’
    Ross stopped past. ‘Hey guys!’ He smiled unconvincingly. ‘You know, just because it’s a special day doesn’t mean there isn’t work to be done, hey?’
    Arthur briefly closed his eyes, as Sven’s phone started ringing. Sven ignored it for the eighteenth time that morning and Ross made himself scarce.
    ‘Sven, answer the phone.’
    ‘I can’t , I’m engaged in an important creative mission.’
    ‘ANSWER THE PHONE!’
    ‘You answer it! It’s two feet away.’
    This was true. Didn’t prisoners get ten feet by twelve?
    Ross may have moved on, but the other office monkeys looked up, sensing something interesting.
    ‘I am NOT answering