ONE
SARGO Holidays, Rhodes area office
121 years later – Sunday

Andy Slipe pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and shook his head. The combination of the three actions was intended to belittle the member of staff standing before him and he was confident that it had worked. Just to be sure however, and before he opened his eyes to stare at the holiday rep who stood sweating on the other side of the desk, he put on his best I don’t believe you voice and said, ‘Jason, this is the third time this season that your grandfather has died.’

From behind his closed lids he could picture the lad trying hard to think up a way out of the trouble he was in. He could see him sweating with desperation, trying to come up with another lie to save his career. He could almost feel Jason squirming, preparing himself to beg to keep his job. And Slipe enjoyed it when his staff begged. He sat back in his chair, let go of his nose and swung his glasses back onto his face. With all the self confidence of a man who knows that he is the boss, he put his hands behind his head and said, ‘well?’ before finally opening his eyes.

Jason had turned away from him and was looking into a mirror, flicking strands of his fringe back into place. Not what Slipe expected to see.
‘Oi,’ he bellowed, lurching forward and banging his knee against the desk. ‘Damn!’
‘I can’t do a thing with it these days,’ Jason tutted, apparently oblivious to the final warning Slipe was trying to give him.
‘Did you hear what I said?’

Jason turned back to the desk and smiled.
‘Sorry?’
‘I said this is the third time this season that your grandfather has died,’ Slipe repeated, rubbing his knee and wincing at the pain. ‘What do you say about that?’
‘This time it’s true,’ Jason replied innocently. He noticed that the letters in Slipe’s nameplate were crooked and took a moment to straighten them up. He wondered how many other words he could make out of the letters, “A Slipe Area Manager.”
‘So you admit that the previous times you used the excuse to cover your poor performance you were lying to me?’ Slipe could not believe the insolence.

Jason thought for a moment, shifting his weight onto one leg and tapping a finger against his cheek. ‘Well, he has been very unwell…’
‘Shut it. I don’t want to know.’ Slipe opened a folder and pushed some papers to one side, sighing heavily. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
‘No idea boss, but whatever it is do it soon, I’ve got a plane landing in half an hour.’

Slipe glared at Jason, Jason smiled back at him and winked. ‘Piles,’ he thought silently to himself. ‘My boss’ name could be Andy Piles.’
‘You think this is funny?’ Slipe said incredulously when Jason’s smooth features wrinkled into a smile. ‘Your sales are down to an all time low and you think it’s a joke?’
‘So fire me.’

It was bravado. Jason knew that the man on the other side of the desk had the authority to change his life. With nothing more than a few words he could send him back to England and end Jason’s dream. But it would not be as simple as that. There was a history between the two of them and Slipe was not going to let Jason off that easily.

Jason had only been a SARGO rep for a month when his original boss, a pleasant woman called Toni, had resigned. Toni had been with the company for several years, managing the Rhodes/Symi/Leros team quite successfully until Andy Slipe joined it. Within the first week of the season Slipe had made it clear that he wanted the manager’s job. After two weeks Toni was suffering from stress as Slipe began undermining her and putting in false grievances about her to head office back in England. At the end of week three, the general manger for SARGO-Greece had to pay an emergency visit to Rhodes and, after the fourth week, Toni was sent home in pieces while Slipe gloated and prepared to move into her place.

A round of quick interviews followed and all three of the SARGO island reps applied for the area manager job. Christine from Leros came in third; Jason, who was based on Symi, came second and Slipe, due to some very unsportsmanlike tactics, came in first. A Kiwi girl, Kate, was drafted in from Spain to cover Slipe’s old post and the team was complete again.

But things were not the same. Slipe hated Jason, Jason hated Slipe and both knew that Jason should have been promoted. For a start he actually liked the country they were working in, Slipe only liked the authority and would have been happy anywhere as long as he could order people around. Jason could speak three languages, Slipe just shouted at the Greeks in English until they were battered into understanding.

But even Jason had to admit that Slipe had one advantage over him when it came to being a SARGO manager.

SARGO catered for the over sixties and Jason didn’t like old people very much.

Originally he had applied to be a Club Med rep, a Panorama Go-Party in Falaraki rep, a Respect Gay Holidays rep in Gran Canaria and a Man-around tour guide in either Stiges or Tenerife. SARGO had been his last choice but they snapped up his youthful enthusiasm, language skills and dashing, though slightly effeminate charm, eagerly. And much to his dismay. The customers were not the partying, young gay set that he had hoped to spend his summer with, but at least he was living abroad and getting a sun tan. And he had fallen in love with the island he was now based on. He enjoyed exploring it on his day off when he could swim and sunbathe, get to know the people and feel part of a community. And he lived in hope that Slipe would be struck down with Lassa fever and die so that he could have another go at promotion to the job he should have had.

‘I said what am I going to do with you?’ Slipe was still mumbling away to himself.
‘You’re going to make me late for my transfer,’ Jason challenged. ‘That’s what you’re going to do with me.’ He rubbed one foot against the back of his other leg to scratch a mosquito bite with his sandal as he examined a broken fingernail.

Slipe looked over the edge of the desk, raised his eyes to heaven and closed the folder. He sat back in his executive chair and swung it around to face out of the window.

‘This is what we are going to do,’ he said in his most patronising voice. ‘I am going to give you a challenge to prove your worth. Succeed and you may see out the end of the season.’ He tapped his fingertips together as he set out the impossible task. ‘Over the next seven days you are going to bring in one hundred percent commission on a new excursion; an excursion that you will organise, promote and run. Something new and exciting, something that will have the old dears champing at the bit to sign up to, and something cost effective. And, at the end of the week, you are going to show me that the word “excellent” has been ticked on all your feed-back forms, by all of your guests. If you can manage those two, simple tasks then I may allow you to keep your job.’

Slipe span back just in time to see Jason take a step backwards, away from his desk. ‘Good,’ he thought, ‘that’s shocked him.’
‘Am I clear Jason?’
‘Whatever,’ Jason replied belligerently, but quickly changed his tone and added, ‘you say. Whatever you say, boss.’
‘Last chance saloon, Jason, last chance saloon.’
‘Absolutely.’ Jason tried hard not to snigger at the cliché.
‘I know that you think you should be in this chair and that it’s not fair that I was promoted over you. But life is unfair, Jason, and those are the breaks.’ Slipe thought he sounded quite reasonable, almost caring. He checked himself. ‘Now get out before I change my mind.’

Jason hoisted his flight bag onto his shoulder and turned to leave.

‘One last thing,’ Slipe stopped him. ‘I will be keeping in touch with you all week. Keep your mobile turned on at all times and call me every day. Got that?’
‘Yes.’ Jason let the word out very slowly.
‘Don’t put a foot wrong.’
‘No.’

As Jason moved to the door his sandal caught on a corner of ragged carpet and the toe-strap broke. He stumbled slightly, swore and hopped around to retrieve it.

‘And for god’s sake get a new pair of shoes,’ Slipe tutted again. ‘Remember you are a SARGO rep; quality, dignity and professionalism. Now piss off.’

Jason left the room. As he closed the door behind him he stole a glance back at the desk and the nameplate and grinned. Slipe's title was now: A Piles, A rear Manage.