Patti was at her desk when I arrived at the office for the last time. She was alone – the company had been liquidated and we had been retrenched.
I was simply collecting a cheque for the closing balance of a cash trust account I had held as an employee. We had been retrenched two weeks ago and I was unemployed, as were most of my dozen or so colleagues.
Patti was dressed in her usual simple but stylish way: she wore a black pleated skirt and a cream satin blouse, black shoes and white socks. It was her posture that hinted of what would ensue over the next hour.
Sliding her office chair away from her workstation, Patti spread her legs wide apart, leaving her skirt draped between her knees. She also wore a coquettish smile; we liked each other but were too shy to admit it – or act upon it until this point.
It only took a few minutes for Patti to print off a cheque and close my account; the entire cash fund would be closing soon. I realised this would probably be the last time we would be together; certainly alone and with such an opportunity to fulfill our hidden desires.
"Let's go into Ed's office," I suggested, thinking fast. "We should check the whole office before we leave," I added unconvincingly.
Ed was the boss – State Manager Victoria was his official title. But like the other 11 of us in the Melbourne Office, a small outpost of a Sydney-based finance company, Ed was also out of a job.
"Okay Matt," Patti replied.
Patti knew this was a pretext to get us alone but readily agreed. I just didn't know what we would do first once we were into the boss's spacious office with its bar, upholstered couch and large, leather covered desk.
It was only mid-morning and too early to suggest a drink – even for me. I soon realised I needed another excuse for us to spend time in the office.
I was not ready to start talking about our time at the company: the insular nature of the small office, the stress of the unit trust collapse that the company had presided over, and which killed it, the phone calls from distressed and angry investors, and finally the stress of losing our jobs. It was time for some fun and I sensed Patti felt the same way.
It was then that a strange idea occurred to me. "I know, let's play bosses and job applicants," I said. "What on earth are you talking about," Patti replied sceptically.
"Well, I'll sit behind Eddy's desk and interview you for your job," I said. "It'll be fun."
A smile widened across Patti's face, "OK Matt, but I need to freshen up first."
As Patti went out to the bathroom, I reflected on the three years I had worked for the company and the final 18 months when Patti had been there. She had brightened up a tough time when the unit trust meltdown occurred, and I wanted to thank her.
We hadn't done anything together except go out for a few drinks occasionally with some of the others, but she was fun to be around, and an antidote to the office politics of the place and the viperish nature of some of her colleagues.
While I was alone in the office, I rearranged the furniture, placing one of the two upright chairs in front of the desk with its back to the desk and to one side; Patti would find out why soon enough. I also checked the bar, deciding that it was close enough to the weak October sun being over the yard arm for a drink.
As luck would have it, there was a half-full bottle of Tequila left in the bar cabinet – "Yes!" I thought: it was Patti's drink of choice, although she usually drank it with milk.
I found two tumblers and poured us a finger each. It was not my drink but it would do. Apparently, Ed had taken the Scotch but someone else could have the Tequila. I then remembered to lock the office door: we didn't want any unexpected visitors.
I then carried the glasses back to the desk and slid into Eddy's luxurious high-backed chair. Apparently, Eddy's lavish office was the envy of even the managing director, whose Sydney office was not as well-appointed, but I had not seen it or even been to the Sydney corporate headquarters.
I went by the title "trust manager" but had not been to head office where all the expertise was based.
Like a lot of things about the company, it was anomalous and misleading. One final preparation was to close the vertical blinds opposite the desk so we couldn't be seen from the building opposite. We were on the 12th floor, but I was still a little self-conscious about what was unfolding.
I was thinking about my "interview" questions for Patti when she entered the room. She had undone a button and I also caught a whiff of perfume that I hadn't noticed before.
"Sit down," I said indicating the chair. "Guess what? I found some Tequila left."
"I don't usually have it straight," Patti said.
"I don't usually have it at all," I replied. "Why don't we just skol?"
With that, we emptied our tumblers. Patti grimaced but drank every drop and licked her lips in appreciation of the fiery Mexican liqueur. It was a bit sweet for me.
"Sorry I can't find a mixer for it," I said. I then got the ball rolling. "So why do you want to work for this company?"
"Because the job was advertised and I want a bloody job," Patti said before bursting into laughter. The freedom to be honest in a job interview was strangely liberating and was relaxing us as much as the Tequila. I laughed too.
Patti's job was mainly data entry, there was also some reception work and general office duties, like filing. Such entry level jobs got very scarce in the next two decades.
"So what do you want to do," I continued. "Earn some money to have some holidays and move out of home," Patti replied coolly. I decided the interview needed to change tack.
Patti was probably looking to become independent enough to enjoy her single life and then get married, but career was probably not a priority.
"By the way, you can smoke in this interview," I said passing an ashtray to the other side of the desk. "Thanks", said Patti, relieved. She lit up and gave me an encouraging smile.
"Go on, I find this entertaining," she teased me.
"Okay, so do you have any special skills," I ventured.
"I can do some great things with my tongue," Patti replied, rolling her tongue into a groove. "And I'm not bad at the Lambada."
That was the Latin dance craze then sweeping the world.
We then slipped out of interview mode and chatted about what we would do next with our lives, our recent holidays and whether we had any "significant others" in our lives – a clear negative in my case.
Patti had been to Bali in the past year and I thought there was a boyfriend, but she gave me the "he's just a friend" line. Whatever. We were alone now and I was not about to start a significant relationship when I had no idea what I was doing with my life.
