The Job

THE JOB

Christmas Eve was treacherous with black ice and the newscaster on the radio said, “The police have advised people to travel only if absolutely necessary”.
“Only if necessary?” he thought to himself, “I wish I had a bloody choice!”
He knew he had to go out tonight and that there was nothing on earth that could stop him.
He’d been planning this job for ages and he couldn’t let a little thing like black ice stop him. His wife was very worried about the weather but she knew as well as he did that he had to go. Too many people had invested in this project and it was vital that it didn’t fail.
He looked around him. Business was great and the future looked good but it could all go wrong tonight. His throat tightened at the thought of failure. What would it mean to him? What would it mean to the others? He knew just what it meant. Disaster, shame, ruin and ridicule that’s what it meant. As they say in the modern parlance, “failure is just not an option.”
“Easier said than done” he thought to himself, “It’s my neck that’s on the line out there, not theirs, sitting at home in their warm, comfy homes. It’s me that’s got to face the dangers, not them.”
How had he got himself into this position? It’s not as though he asked for the job. He was getting far too old to be working during the cold months. He’d got a nice little nest egg tucked away and a summer job, somewhere hot and within reach of a golden beach that’s what he wanted. He’d been promising his wife this life style for as long as he could remember.
She never complained, bless her. Side by side she worked with him. She was the brains of the team he was just the muscle. All the accounts, the wage sheets, bonus and holiday forms, stock sheets, delivery notes and order forms, she handled them all. If there was a problem she was the one that sorted it out, not him. She was no spring chicken herself but put her in front of that damn computer and she was just the same as when he met her all those years ago.
She was an office clerk then and he fell head over heels in love with her. She was a beauty! Long red hair and the deepest brown eyes you could ever see. She’d run that office like clockwork even though she was only a clerk and when computers came along she took to them like a duck to water. Not like him! He hated progress. He loved the old days. Days when the pace of life was slower and there were no computers. Things were made by hand then and made to last. People worked together and enjoyed themselves at the same time. People talked to each other then. Laughed and joked as they worked. Not now! They had their noses buried in computer screens with headphones on listening to anything but each other. How he longed for the old days.

Christmas’s were better then. The true spirit of Christmas was in the air and everyone looked forward to being together with his or her family for a few days. To eat, drink and be merry without having to worry about work. Nowadays, when families got together they couldn’t wait for the holidays to finish so they could return to their sad, humdrum lives. Family fights were more common now than family fun. The children wanted to play on their Play stations and computers, solitary figures hunched over their screens like little old men. Where were the toys and games for the family? Board games where everyone played together, party games like blind man’s bluff and sardines and charades? Now it was karaoke, television and computer games.
“I mustn’t get depressed”, he said to himself. “I’ll keep Christmas my way and bugger the others. If only I didn’t have to go out tonight”.
His wife would be making the stuffing for the turkey soon and preparing all the veg. He could almost taste it. Roast potatoes, crisp and honey golden. Sprouts and chestnuts huddled together in the serving dish with a knob of best butter drizzling down amongst them. There’d be sausage and bacon rolls, plump and juicy and roast parsnips covered with bacon. Carrots and peas clashing brightly in the bowl and in the middle of the table the piece de resistance, the bird! A huge, fat, full breasted turkey so big that it took two people to carry it to the table. The skin cooked to a golden brown, the juices flowing from the first cut. The meat, white as a lady’s handkerchief and so tender that it melted in the mouth.
It was his job to slice the turkey and everyone always clapped as he did it but it was his wife that deserved all the applause. Such a sumptuous feast was fit for a king. “If I don’t get a move on, I’ll never get back in time”, he thought.
He pulled on his coat and gloves and opened the back door.
“Damn! It’s bloody cold”, he said to himself. The forecast said it was too cold for snow but looking at the night sky he saw snow clouds building up.
He walked across the yard to the outbuildings and almost slipped on the black ice. “Careful”, he thought.” No time for an accident now,” He reached the largest of the outbuildings and pulled on the large oak doors. They were stiff with frost and groaned agonisingly. He thought again of that sun drenched beach with golden sands and said to himself, “I’m definitely going to do something about that holiday next year. Yes sir, most definitely”.
He looked around the huge barn and his mind immediately returned to tonight’s job. He walked down the centre and smiled to himself. He always loved this place. It had been standing here for years and years and was still as solid now as the day it was built. The ceiling was so high that in the dusk you couldn’t make out any of the intricate detail he knew was there. The carvings on the walls and ceilings and the ornately shaped roof beams. It was warm in here; the old wooden walls fitted together so well that no draught ever got through.
Then there was the smell. Warm and musky, reminiscent of old stables and stored fruit. His footsteps were muffled on the sawdust-strewn floor as he moved toward the centre of the barn. Faint movements in the gloom brought him back from his reverie. He switched on the bright overhead lights and in the sudden brilliance his face beamed. “Maybe this job’s not so bad after all”, he said. “Come on Dancer, come on Prancer. Come on Donner and Blitzen. Shake the lead out of your feet; we’ve got work to do”!

THE END