Occasionally, I post some creative writing. Here is a snippet from my latest project. I would really welcome any feedback, thoughts and observations.
Once in the building, the two security dudes stand talking, trying to look intimidating. I can’t help but notice that the smaller one has a jacket that’s far to big for him. Only the top half of his fingers make it out of the navy sleeve. The taller one has obviously stolen the smaller mans jacket as it looks like it will rip, Incredible Hulk style, over his shoulders and back if he decided to take an overly large stretch.
‘Security card please guv,’ says the smaller one.
I stop dead in my tracks and look at him, ‘I don’t have one yet.’
‘Can’t let you through then guv.’
‘I only started yesterday. They haven’t given them out yet.’
‘You are supposed to get one on your first day.’ The smaller man straightens his back and smiles, ‘I can’t let you in.’
The taller one chips in, ‘call your supervisor and get them to come let you in.’
‘I don’t have their number.’
I point to the reception desk behind them, ‘is that not reception there? Can’t I just ask them to call up for me?’
I look around for some game show host sniggering behind an overgrown indoor plant, ‘seriously?’ I keep pointing to the reception desk sitting a few metres behind them.
‘Can’t let you past this point mate.’ The smaller one again straightens his back trying to make himself taller.
‘For fuck sake.’
‘We don’t need that kind of language here,’ says the taller guard.
I start to pull out my iPhone, ‘will you at least give me the number?’
The taller guard starts to laugh, ‘why would we need the number?’ He looks down on the smaller guard who is also laughing with his shoulders rising with each inhale, ‘mate, we work right next to the reception desk … why would we need to phone it?’
Are they taking the piss?
I open my Safari browser and Google search the main reception number for Rayner Allen, hitting the ‘call’ button. I look over at the desk as the phone rings. The receptionist looks at the handset as it rings and just stares at it. She then slowly sips her mug of tea or coffee before picking it up. Jesus, what a service. She is not that far away that she can’t hear what’s going on.
In a extremely posh professional tone, ‘Good morning, Rayner Allen, how can I help?’ Her voice rises impressively at the end.
‘Hi, yes, I’m standing in your reception area, next to the guards. They won’t let me through as I don’t have a pass yet.’ I wave my free hand in her general direction, like I need to identify myself.
I can see her mouth moving, but she doesn’t look up at me, ‘yes, I’m afraid they can’t let you through.’
‘Well, can you let me through or call someone who can?’
‘Oh, I can’t sir. No … no … I can’t. I’ll call someone upstairs. Who would be best Sir?’
Fuck. It will have to be Victor.
‘Call Victor … ’
Before I’ve finished my sentence, I watch her hang up and dial Victor’s number. She starts talking instantly. Then she is laughing. Then she is touching her hair. What is it with this guy?
She puts the phone down and returns to her computer screen.
I stand waiting to see if she’ll look over and give me any kind of update. For fuck sake. This is ridiculous.
‘Excuse me,’ I shout towards the reception desk. Before I’ve even managed to finish the word ‘me’ the guards have circled me, ‘I hope you aren’t thinking of trying to go upstairs without a pass Sir?’ They stand with the pose of pro wrestlers. They want to tackle me. I can see it in their eyes. This is like Fort bloody Knox.
‘Uh, no … of course I wasn’t going to try. I just wanted to know what the outcome of the conversation was?’
‘Can’t let you through without a pass mate,’ the shorter guard repeats.
I fucking know that. I stare over at the reception desk. I don’t think she has once looked over at me.
Maybe I could run past them. I’m way younger than them. I’m probably fitter. They both look like they eat horses for breakfast. I’m taller, well taller than the shorter one and stealthier than the larger one. They wouldn’t catch me. Just as I’m weighing up my options, my phone goes.
I swipe it out of my pocket, ‘hello.’
‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘Uh, trying to get into the building. I don’t have my pass.’
‘I can see that. It’s lying on your desk. Did you forget to take it home?’
I swear it wasn’t there when I left yesterday. ‘Well, I don’t have it on me, so they won’t let me in.’
‘Pass the phone over to Harry.’
‘Which one is Har …’
‘The bigger one.’
I turn to Harry and pass him the phone. ‘He wants to talk to you.’
Harry takes the phone and listens. He says nothing and then starts laughing. He looks like he’s about to cry as he then passes the phone over to the smaller one. The smaller one then starts to double over with wailing laughter. What the fuck? What the hell did Victor say to them. The smaller one half holds out his arm with the phone in it, almost dropping it as I grab it from him and put it to my ear. Victor has gone.
Needless to say, with the guards bent over laughing themselves to death, I decide to make my move. They don’t even bother to look.
As I get to my floor, the lift doors slide open.
‘You’re fuckin late.’
‘Technically I was in the building twenty minutes ago, but thanks to your mate Harry, I’ve been standing downstairs like a tool.’
‘Next time don’t forget your pass. You fuckin muppet.’