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kidding—that was last year.’
    ‘But there must be a reason.’
    ‘The reason is simple. We have to examine promotions extremely carefully in the current economic climate, and having considered all the evidence from the appraisal process, we couldn’t justify your case.’
    ‘Bullshit. I don’t believe you.’
    ‘What—that we have to examine promotions carefully or the case couldn’t be justified?’
    ‘I’ve pulled my socks up in the last twelve months—you said so yourself. I did a grand job on the hotel client spotting all those unclaimed allowances, didn’t I? And on Project Rocket.’
    ‘You did,’ I agreed. ‘But your appraisal grading was “meets expectations”. You did what we would expect someone of your grade to do.’
    ‘Which means there’s no reason not to move me up.’
    ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It means quite the opposite.’
    ‘But usually if you get meets, you automatically…’
    ‘It’s never been automatic,’ I put in quickly. ‘But you’re right—we have been tougher with the promotions this year. And we told everyone all this beforehand.’
    ‘I don’t recall being told. If I’d known it’d be such a struggle to get moved up I’d have challenged my grading.’
    ‘But you were very happy with it. Now let me see.’
    I pulled up a copy of his appraisal form on screen and read.
    ‘This was a fair grading and I’m keen to build on the progress I’ve made in the upcoming year.’
    Checkmate.
    ‘
What a lousy piece of shit you’ve become,’
came the little voice. ‘
I hate you.’
    I guessed I was lucky she’d kept quiet up till now. Who the hell was she, and what was her problem?
    ‘You tricked me into accepting that appraisal,’ said Ryan, with contempt. ‘Greg always said you were cold, and he was spot-on.’
    ‘Let’s talk Monday when you’ve calmed down,’ I replied, trying not to rise to the bait.
    ‘Let’s fucking well not.’
    He walked out, disgusted at the idea, and leaving me to deal with my conscience.
    But by Monday, Ryan’s promotion would be the least of his problems.

6
    The monthly group drinks was a Smithies innovation.
    ‘You must do more to bond the team together,’ he’d chided, having swiftly identified this as a “weakness” in my management skills.
    In my view, we were close knit enough without any enforced jollities. But Smithies always put on an elaborate show of caring about his people and expected others to follow his lead. Reluctant to fight over such a trivial difference so early in our working relationship, I’d fallen in line.
    Most of the team had now assembled in the tatty Fleet Street pub, where we’d hired the upstairs room. They’d laid on a plentiful supply of weary samosas and chicken drumsticks to soak up the unlimited free celebratory wine and beer.
    It ought to have been a fun get-together, but for one small hitch. Few had cause to celebrate tonight.
    ‘Damned if you do and damned if you don’t,’ Smithies had said unsupportively when I’d pointed out the poor timing. I was certain he’d known the party would clash with our pay review when I’d set the date. But instead of alerting me, he’d let me go blindly ahead. These sneaky, destructive little ploys were, I was rapidly learning, typical of the man.
    He insisted on attending himself “to get a feel for the mood”. That his mere presence might alter the dynamic had not occurred to him, but people were wary for sure. Smithies drank little alcohol, but often feigned intoxication to encourage others to shed their inhibitions. He then viewed their antics from a position of complete sobriety, while logging down the details to undermine them later. Sometimes he would even take pictures, to be exhibited (accompanied by jokey banter) at away days. But folks were quickly wising up to his techniques and besides, the low team spirits made high jinx unlikely tonight. In fact, it promised to be a depressing evening all round.
    Mercifully, Ryan