The Bank Manager

The Bank Manager

Part 1

He could hear the chatter and laughter of his staff through the thick oak door which separated his office from the work room. The sound irritated him – what were those clowns doing out there?  They certainly couldn’t be attending to their work.  He thought he might go out there to see – that would quieten them down.  He half raised himself from his comfy leather chair but then sat back down.  He would leave it to Carter to sort them out.  That was his job anyway.  It certainly wasn’t his – he had far more important things to do.  He had files to attend to, documents to sign, phone calls to make.  It was Carter’s responsibility to monitor the staff and the workflow.

He glanced back down at his desk.  Which file to work on first? It was an important choice.  His promotion to Branch Manager had been sudden and unexpected.  He was far younger than the average age for such a promotion and it was imperative he make the right impression in his new role.  He knew his sudden elevation up the ranks had been viewed very suspiciously by other Assistant Managers.  It was whispered it was due to his family connections but that was complete nonsense as far as he was concerned.  He knew he was good at his job and had deserved the recognition.

He nudged his spectacles further up his nose, patted down his thinning hair and reached across the desk to the intercom.

‘Miss Fortune’ he almost shouted in his first attempt to show his authority ‘Please come in for some dictation’.  He cleared his throat and smiled at his secretary as she entered the room.  She settled herself on the chair opposite his desk and smiled back, her pen poised above her notepad.

Silence

‘Sir?’ she queried

‘Ah, yes’ he responded ‘Er, yes’

Shuffling the files on his desk, he grabbed the bulkiest one and opened it. Oh God, it was the Macready file – a real hot potato.  He had absolutely no idea where things stood in relation to the financial situation of the company but he did know that John Macready was incredibly influential in the town and he couldn’t afford to antagonise him.  Sheila would never forgive him for upsetting her favourite uncle.  He felt himself beginning to grow hot under the collar.  How on earth was he going to handle Uncle John?

He pushed the file to one side, smiled nervously at Miss Fortune and said ‘Sorry, wrong file’  He pulled a thin orange folder towards him confident he could handle the matter of a small overdraft. He personally had instigated the system of colour coding the business files so was fully aware that orange indicated a minor matter.  The Macready file was red – the highest level.  He would need time to read that one in depth.

Part 2

As usual all was quiet as Harold turned into the drive.  He could never tell if Sheila was home. She parked in the garage leaving a clear space for him.  He never heard music or chatter from the radio.  Sheila was invariably in the sun room at the back of the house.  It irritated Harold sometimes that he had to call her name for her to appear but she always looked so graceful and appealing when she drifted into the hall that he instantly forgave her and berated himself.

There was no indication that dinner was cooking which was a shame as Harold’s stomach was feeling decidedly empty – that hurried cheese sandwich at lunchtime was a memory now.  He called her and heard her light footsteps crossing the kitchen and she appeared in the doorway, smiling a vague smile and reached across to kiss his cheek.  She looked absolutely stunning in a silken kaftan and her favourite oriental style slippers which her father had brought back from one of his business trips to Hong Kong.  Harold had a sudden memory of his mother dressed in a flowery apron and carpet slippers, standing over a hot stove, stirring a delicious smelling stew and reaching across to kiss his father. He suddenly yearned for the smell of cottage pie, the sight of slippers and a cup of tea waiting on the side.  He wanted a quiet evening indoors with his wife, listening to the radio and browsing through “Birds of Great Britain”.

He knew he wasn’t going to get that when Sheila reminded him about the meeting with her father and Uncle John.  He was sure the meeting had been scheduled for the following week and he had deliberately put off reading the Macready file until nearer the time.  He needed to be completely au fait with the financial picture.  George and John were always able to confound him with their business projections and he needed a clear picture of any possible repercussions to the company’s cash flow.  It was imperative that he was able to justify any decisions made on loan requests to Macready & Co to his senior colleagues at the Bank.

Pulling up at the Golf Club, Harold saw that both George and John had arrived. Their cars were parked in a prime position close to the entrance.  Harold knew they would both be sat in the lounge with glasses of whisky watching the door for him to arrive.  He always had the impression that they were just going through the motions, that they knew he would agree to their business proposals and this meeting was purely to save face. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat.  He was determined to exert his new found authority this evening.

At midnight, Harold sat in his car parked on his drive and stared at the front door. He could taste the whisky and smell the rich scent of expensive cigars.  He smiled to himself.  It hadn’t gone exactly as he planned but he felt a good compromise had been reached. Now he had to convince Sheila.