However, in that, he had considerably underestimated both my tenacity and my own capacity for nastiness. The end of the month was approaching, and I was still his secretary. And do you know what that meant?
Well, I knew what it bloody meant, because I had been counting down to the end of the month by crossing out the days on my calendar at home. One after the other, the days passed, until finally, at last, the day of days had arrived! The day more important than a king’s coronation! The day more important than Judgement Day itself!
Pay day!
That morning, I arrived at Mr Ambrose’s inner sanctum ten minutes early. The broad grin on my face was probably not very wise, but I just couldn’t wipe it off. Marching right past Mr Stone with a cheerful ‘Good Morning’, I knocked at Mr Ambrose’s door.
‘Good Morning, Sir,’ I chirped. ‘May I come in?’
‘No!’
My hand froze on the way to the doorknob. When next I spoke, my voice wasn’t quite so chirpy. ‘I may not come in?’
‘You’re ten minutes early. Go away!’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘I am not going anywhere! Today is the last day of the month, and you have to pay me, Sir!’
‘Not yet, Mr Linton.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘As far as working hours are concerned, the last day of the month does not begin for another nine minutes and thirty-four seconds. Go, and return only when this time has elapsed.’
‘You… you can’t be serious!’
‘Do I sound like I am joking?’
‘You never sound like you’re joking, you son of a bachelor!’
‘How observant of you, Mr Linton.’
‘Let me in!’
‘Respect, Mr Linton. Remember to show respect.’
‘Please, let me in, Sir!’
‘No. Go.’
‘I won’t go!’
‘Then remain standing outside my door. I don’t much care, provided you cease to disturb me.’
‘Do you honestly mean I have to stand here for another nine and a half minutes to suit your perverted sense of punctuality?’
‘Nine minutes and three seconds now, actually.’
The truth hit me like a freight train. ‘You just don’t want to let me in there because you don’t want to give wages to a woma- to me!’
‘Still quite observant, I see.’
‘This is ridiculous!’
‘No, Mr Linton, it is not. Eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds…’
‘You’re right - it’s not just ridiculous! It’s unbelievably, bloody ridiculous! If I arrived early on any other day, you’d jump at the chance to drag me in there and make me slave for you!’
‘You’re not a slave,’ the cool voice from beyond the door told me.