Charlie Pitts went into the pub and made his way to the bar. The place was busy with people, like him, celebrating the fact it was Thursday evening, and wishing the weekend was already here. Maybe if they drank enough they would skip Friday and come straight out at Saturday morning.

Charlie took a sip of the cold lager and sighed, that hit the spot. He found his mate Steve at their usual table. Charlie slid onto the stool facing his friend and nodded in greeting.

‘Alright, mate?’

Charlie and Steve clinked glasses.

Charlie had known Steve Linton since primary school. The confident Steve had taken Charlie under his wing and the pair had been inseparable all through their school days. Even now, as they approached their late twenties, they still saw each other every week and messaged each other all the time.

This evening, however, Steve didn’t seem his usual chipper self. Out of the two of them, Charlie was the more sullen, the deep thinker, whereas Steve was the comedian, the joker, the class clown. He was a real character and his easy confidence made him popular in a lot of circles.

‘You okay, Steve?’

‘Yeah, it’s just been a long week at work.’

‘I hear you. Everyone hates their jobs these days, don’t they? If it was that much fun, they wouldn’t pay you for doing it.’ said Charlie.

Steve laughed and asked if Charlie had watched the game last night.

When they met for a pint the following week, Steve still seemed quiet and pensive. Again Charlie asked him if all was okay. They were typical northern lads. They didn’t go in for deep chats, preferring to keep things nice and light. They didn’t want to dwell on their problems, didn’t want to talk things through. For them the laughs, the banter, that was what helped. Their friendship was based on forgetting about their troubles not raking over them. They got together to take their mind of things for a while.

‘It’s just work, mate.’ admitted Steve. ‘The clowns that run the place, they haven’t got a clue. I keep trying to explain what needs fixing but they just don’t listen.’

‘Grim, mate. What are you gonna do?’

‘I dunno, Chas. Might be time to look for something else.’

Charlie nodded in agreement. Steve didn’t want your advice or opinion. He knew his own mind and never sought Charlie’s input. Charlie was the opposite. He would chew things over and run things by his friends and family, before making a big decision. He would gather all the data, and like some government group, would weigh everything up, before deciding how to proceed. Steve would mull things over himself, make a decision, and then charge head first, going with his gut instinct.

‘Another pint?’ Charlie asked.

‘Defo.’

Charlie knew things would quickly come to a head with Steve and his employers. If they refused to hear him out, it wouldn’t end well. One morning, Charlie pulled into the office car park as usual. Wishing it was Friday already, he dragged his feet across the tarmac for the office. As he entered the reception, he was surprised to see four people in the waiting area. The office didn’t have a lot of visitors, just the occasional smarmy sales rep. Those waiting this morning were full of nervous energy. They looked like they were auditioning for a business reality TV show. Charlie smiled at Helen, the receptionist.

‘Who are this lot?’ he whispered.

‘We’re interviewing,’ she said. ‘part of the new restructuring.’

This restructuring had been the subject of office gossip for weeks. The clucking chickens in the office had been banging on about how their jobs might be at risk. These were the same people who previously spent all day saying how much they hated their jobs and would leave the first chance they got. Charlie recalled a conversation he’d overheard one lunchtime in the office canteen.

‘I’m done with this place, I can’t take it anymore. I’ve typed my C.V. up.’ Duncan had declared.

‘Really? Have you sent it off anywhere?’

‘Well, no, not yet, but I’ve typed it up.’

This same person was now beside himself over the rumours of redundancies.

Charlie had just got back to his desk with his eleven o’clock cup of tea, when his mobile phone pinged. He took a sip of tea and read his text message from Steve.

I’ve jacked, mate. Told them to shove it.

Charlie knew exactly what had happened. Steve had lost his temper and thrown his hand in, storming out of work.

What are you gonna do now? Charlie replied.

Goodness knows.

Charlie shook his head. This was typical of Steve. Where Charlie often overthought things, he wondered if Steve actually thought about things at all. He tossed his mobile phone on the desk and carried on with his work. Steve would have to sort things out for himself. He would find another job, soon enough. Steve had this uncanny knack of landing on his feet, just when things looked hopeless.

When Charlie had asked Steve how the job-hunting was going, his friend had shrugged, mumbled that there was nothing out there. He was either over or under qualified for the vacancies he applied for. Something would turn up, though.

One morning the following week, the reception area was once again filled with interviewees. Charlie raised an eyebrow to Helen and kept walking. As he got to his desk something occurred to him. Maybe Steve would want to apply for a job here. Should he mention the vacancies, and ask if his friend wanted to send over his C.V? Of course, he should. He was a mate. You looked out for your mates. Charlie typed a mail to Steve on his work computer. He explained that the company was restructuring and that there were vacancies. Want to send your C.V over and I’ll put in a good word for you?

It took just over fifteen minutes for Steve to reply. It would be mega if Charlie would pass on the CV and put in a word for him. Charlie did as he’d agreed, and forwarded the C.V. to the HR manager, a woman with all the warmth, compassion and understanding of a 1980s football hooligan. Charlie explained that the applicant concerned was a close, personal friend of his and how he knew him to be, loyal, trustworthy and extremely hard-working.

Charlie had almost forgotten about Steve’s application when, two weeks later, he saw his friend walking across the office. Steve was wearing a pinstripe suit and waving his hands as he talked animatedly to the HR woman and the managing director. Charlie watched as they swept into the director’s office.

When the meeting was over, Steve shook their hands, grinning broadly as though he was the latest signing for Manchester United. He strode away confidently, heading for the exit. Charlie was completely bewildered. He quickly tapped out a text message.

You been for interview, then?

Yeah, mate.

Charlie was tempted to reply that it would have been nice to have mentioned it, but simply replied wishing him good luck.

Charlie didn’t hear much from Steve over the next few days. Charlie was just baffled. If he had applied for a position at the firm Steve worked at, then Charlie would have been in constant contact with him. He would have tapped him up for interview tips, the history of the company, any snippet of information that would help create the right impression, and stand him a better chance of securing the position. As it was, Charlie was completely in the dark as to how it had gone and what would happen next. Maybe, he decided eventually, he and Steve were just different types of people. Perhaps that’s all there was to it.

Charlie called Steve that Saturday afternoon. He kept things nice and light. Steve liked his privacy and so Charlie didn’t mention the interview. He left it for Steve to raise the subject. And he didn’t . Of course, had there been good news, then Charlie was sure Steve would have told him. They chatted about what they’d been up to., the United game during the week, and laughed about the latest politician to be discovered to be corrupt and the feeble excuses they came up with for their behaviour. They should, Charlie suggested, just report which politician is honest and not on the take, and we’ll assume the rest of them are dodgy.

As they were wrapping up the conversation, Charlie playing the old anyway, I’ll let you go line, Steve said that there was one more thing.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I got the job at your place. I start tomorrow.’

‘What? I mean, wow, that’s great news. Congratulations, mate.’

‘Cheers, Charlie. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Before Charlie could ask his friend about his new role, how he felt about it, how the interview had gone, which department he’d be working on, Steve hung up.

Despite his reservations, and the fact his old friend was being rather secretive, even though it had been Charlie who had secured him the position, he was delighted that his best mate would be working at the firm with him.

Later that evening a random thought popped in his head. Steve hadn’t actually thanked him for suggesting he apply and the good word he’d put in. Was Steve taking him for granted? Maybe they were such good friends, maybe they were so close, that they didn’t actually have to gush with gratitude when they did each other a favour. Yes, he told himself that must have been the case. He nodded to himself, despite knowing deep down that, had the situation been in reverse, Charlie wold have treated Steve to an evening of free beer, followed by a meal in the curry-house of his choice.

On Monday morning the office was settling down to the working week, still full of chatter about the weekend, talk of nights out and of trips to buy furniture, and of Saturday’s football results. Charlie heard a familiar voice and turned to see Steve walking through the office in deep conversation with the managing director. Charlie had never seen Steve looking so smart. His dark suit almost glimmered in the office lights and he carried a briefcase and a confident swagger. If he hadn’t known the two of them, he would have though Steve was the director and the other guy was the new starter.

Later that morning, Charlie spotted Steve and the director, Mike. Mike was escorting Steve around the office and introducing him. There was the usual bad jokes and lame banter. Someone joked that he should get out while he still could. Another person simply said welcome to Strangeways. When Steve and Mike neared Charlie’s desk, he looked up grinning.

‘Alright, mate?’ Charlie said.

‘Charlie, this is Steven. I believe you two know each other.’

‘You could say that.’ laughed Charlie.

‘Good morning.’ said Steve.

Charlie wasn’t sure what he was more shocked by, that his old friend was now calling himself Steven, when everyone apart from his mother called his Steve, or the cool tone of his greeting. There was no familiarity there, no warmth.

‘Steven is the new Forwarding Manager.’

Completely stunned, Charlie simply nodded. Mike and Steve continued with the tour of the office.

Charlie was reeling. His friend was calling himself by his full name and been given a senior position at the company that hadn’t existed until his appointment. Forwarding Manager? What on earth was that? There were clerks, team leaders, and managers on the export and import side, but nothing as vague as a forwarding manager. Indeed, Steve had always joked that if you couldn’t tell what someone did for a living from their job title, then it suggested that they were getting paid a lot of money for doing very little. And now, it seemed, that Steve had blagged himself one of those roles.

Thankfully it turned out that the new Forwarding Manager’s desk was on the floor above Charlie. He was glad about that. There would be no awkward conversations at the water cooler. Charlie’s cheeks reddened even at the thought. Charlie would try and make small talk while Steve played it cool, trying to make a good impression with his new colleagues.

Charlie shook his head. When had things between them cooled? Had things always been this way and Charlie been too naïve and gullible to see it? Maybe they had never been as close as he’d thought they were. Or was he overthinking things, as he sometimes did? Had Steve actually snubbed him? Was he being deliberately vague and cool and aloof with him? Who knew? Charlie decided he would wait for Steve to get in touch with him from now on.

By the end of Steve’s first week, Charlie hadn’t heard anything from his friend. When the impulse to drop him a text or send him a joke, he stopped himself. No, he can come to me now. If anything Steve should be the one to message Charlie telling him how the new job at the company was going. Charlie had worked there for years and yet it felt as though Steve had done the long service and that Charlie was the new starter. He often overheard people talking about the new Forwarding Manager. They were all praising and complimenting the new member of staff. The word around the office was that Steven would go far.

He started spotting Steve in the office canteen at lunchtimes. He was always in a group with other senior management. They would be engrossed in conversation, either about the business, this month’s figures, or even the England rugby union game that weekend. Steve would enthuse and talk like a television pundit, about the game and the latest injuries to the squad. Steve had always been more interested in football not rugby yet here he was banging on about rugby. The others seemed to be hanging on his every word, listening intently and nodding in agreement.

One lunchtime Charlie said hello to the group, to Steve in particular, but was completely ignored. Instead of responding, Steve continued telling the group about an Italian restaurant that had opened recently in Monton Village. Charlie took the hint and busied himself making a cup of tea. He left the canteen without another word, doubting that they’d even noticed him at all.

Charlie noticed that Steve was always having meetings in the director’s office. One evening Charlie found himself leaving at the same time as Steve. As they went through the doors, the director was climbing in his BMW.

‘Good night, Steven.’ he called.

Steve gave a wave and headed for his car, without looking in Charlie’s direction.

Charlie heard snippets here and there at the office. Stefan Michaels, the London-based owner of the company, was apparently very impressed with Steve. The forwarding manager had even been down to visit him at head office. All of this was news to Charlie. While he was a grafter, putting a shift in to get the job done, it seemed his old friend had more lofty ambitions within the firm.

One Monday morning was even more horrid than the usual horror-show that started the week. Charlie arrived at work to find the warehouse foreman hovering around his desk, waiting for him to arrive. Charlie had dropped a clanger and booked a 20ft container instead of the required 40ft high cube box. Charlie sighed and took his coat off. He told the foreman to load as much as he could in the smaller container, making sure the most urgent cargo was loaded.

Later that morning, Charlie was surprised to see Steve crossing the office, heading his way.

‘Hey, man, how’s it going?’ said Charlie.

For a second Charlie actually thought his friend had stopped by for an impromptu catch-up. The stern expression on his face soon made it clear that that was not the case. Standing there in his expensive suit, silk tie held in place with a silver tie-pin, he suddenly seemed like a total stranger.

‘What happened this morning?’ Steve asked.

‘With what? I don’t-’

‘The 20ft box that should have been a 40ft?’ he snapped.

‘Right, yeah, it must have been my mistake. The online booking went through as a 20ft.’

Steve shook his head in disgust.

‘Just think about what you’re doing, will you?’

Leaving Charlie reeling from the dressing down from his friend, Steve turned and marched away across the office. Charlie noticed all eyes were on him following the altercation. Charlie felt his cheeks burn red and tried to focus on his work, sinking a little lower in his chair.

All that evening Charlie had one sentence going around and around in his head. Just think about what you are doing, will you? He had known Steve for years and had never heard him speak to anyone like that. Charlie had, out of loyalty and friendship, put his friend’s name forward to the company and bigged him up with the management, and how had he been repaid? Following the silence, the snubs, the coolness, the aloofness, the sense of superiority, despite having only been there five minutes, and finally a telling off for a genuine mistake. Some friend! When he had started at the firm, Charlie had naively hoped he would have an ally in the firm, someone he could rely on in the sometimes murky world of office politics. And that hopeful ally had only spoken to him to berate him.

Maybe Steve would ring him that evening to apologise, to explain. Sorry, mate, lost my rag, didn’t mean anything by it. Charlie would accept his apology and would agree to put the matter behind them. Maybe he’d suggest a night out on the ale, just the two of them. Maybe this was the hurdle they needed to bring them back on track. It was always going to be a stretch, the two of them working for the same company.

All that evening Charlie kept an eye on his mobile phone. No phone call. No missed calls. No new text message. By ten o’clock that evening, Charlie knew no call was coming. And he was fuming. It was then he knew they were done. Charlie deserved an explanation, an apology, a phone call at least. But, no, clearly Steve thought he could speak to good ole Charlie like that, he was the Forwarding Manager, after all.

One lunchtime later that week, Charlie uploaded his own C.V. to a jobs website. Things with Steve and with the company had run their course.

When Charlie handed his notice in to the director he was shocked.

‘I’ve got to say, Charlie, that is a real shame.’

Charlie simply shrugged.

‘Does Steven know?’

Charlie shook his head. As usual, everything was about his friend. What about Charlie? What about his feelings? What about why he was leaving? Why was everyone so obsessed with Steve and his view of things?

Before Charlie could say another word, the director dialled Steve and summing him down to his office. Minutes later Steve swaggered into the office.

‘Afternoon, gents.’

‘Charlie has decided to leave.’

Steve looked at Charlie, making eye contact with him for the first time in ages.

‘Really, Chas? That is such a shame. You’ve been a real asset to the company.’

Charlie’s heart pounded and raged in his chest. How dare he? Charlie had got Steve the position at the firm, not the other way round. Charlie was the one who had been there for years. And now Steve was gushing with all the fake warmth of a sales rep. Charlie just nodded.

‘My mind is made up.’ He said at last, and headed back to his desk.

On his last day at the office, Charlie heard that Steve was down in Dartford in meetings with the management. The director presented Charlie with a large card filled with signatures, messages and well-wishes. Everyone gathered around his desk while Charlie blushed and stammered his gratitude. And that was that. Charlie sensed he was finished with Steve as well as the firm.

As the following weeks passed and Charlie settled into his new company, when the inclination to contact Steve came to him, he would remind himself that these things worked both ways. Steve could just as easily drop him a text to see how his new job was going. If he saw Steve again, then he would be polite, friendly, and would even ask how things at the old place were going, but the warmth, the connection was gone, if indeed, it had ever actually been there in the first place. Maybe Steve had always been out for himself and been playing the game all along.

Just after eleven o’clock one weekday morning, Charlie’s mobile phone rang. He glanced down at the phone on his desk. Steve’s name flashed on screen. Wondering if his one-time friend was ringing to build a few bridges, offer the olive branch, and to suggest a midweek pint, Charlie picked up.

‘Hi, mate, how’s it going?’ Charlie asked.

‘Not good, mate. I think I’ve gone as far as I can with the company. They won’t listen to my ideas about the firm. If they would just hear me out, I could take the business to the next level.’

‘Really?’ Charlie managed.

‘I think it’s time for me to leave. A new start, that’s what I need. Do you know if there’s anything going at your new place?’

Charlie looked over at the noticeboard on the wall. It was crammed with details of vacancies. Due to people leaving and a few departments extending and developing, there were a lot of vacancies.

‘No, sorry,’ Charlie said. ‘They’re not hiring right now.’

Charlie promised to give Steve a shout if he heard of anything and hung up. Still smiling to himself, Charlie went back to work.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom