December 23, 2014 by helenwaldron
In which Harald says that a bad boss is better than no boss at all.
There was a rush of cold wind as the door opened and a man entered to sell a magazine for the homeless. You could almost hear the country and western music whining around the prairies as Harald suddenly turned melancholy after his outburst.
“I’m probably unemployable now,” he shouted over the fado music, because they weren’t in the wilderness, they were sitting in a tapas bar in Hamburg, and Harald was drunk.
“I’ll never get a proper job. I’ve got gaps in my resume, you know,” he turned to Writewell and spoke as if it were a medical condition. “I shouldn’t have gone off doing my road trip in the US of A.”
“What’s your flaw, Maren?”
And Maren went from pink to red.
Speakeasy smiled encouragingly at cool Maren Malden. Discovering her Achilles heel would put them on a new level of intimacy.
Writewell felt sorry for Maren and decided to intervene.
“Ever thought about going freelance like us?” she put in tactfully. “Be your own boss. I mean, Happlon, he must have been awful.”
But to her surprise, no agreement came.
“Happlon the man is awful,” said Maren at last. “But the company is actually a good place to work. We were treated quite well there. You see, Happlon Group doesn’t really do contract workers. They have employees who’ve been working there for half their lives. It’s as stiff as hell, but Happlon expects total or near total loyalty and he knows you don’t get that from contract workers or careerists. Happlon was old school.”
Harald was nodding.
“Better a bad boss than no boss at all. “