Part 1: Called to Account
I got to read the text shortly after we'd arrived for our first night of the 5 day conference. I was tired and irritable, wondering what the hell I was doing there. This wasn't my usual work function. I was used to the anonimity of the office desk and monitor. But for some reason the boss, Jim, thought I needed to "widen my horizons" and a free five days expenses-paid trip in a good hotel was a horizon I was happy to view. I suppose too I was eager to ingratiate myself with him, partly because I saw it as a way I might work my way up his small company's ladder, but also due in a great part to the fact that I'd been stealing from him.
It wasn't a collossall sum of money. At least the sums weren't that big. I'd just eked a little this way and that in the accounts that went across my desk - fifty pounds here and fifty pounds there. Nothing that I thought might arouse undue suspicion, and indeed so it had seemed. I'd been with the company almost two years and in that time I'd perhaps relieved Jim of almost £3000. The small sums had added up to a hefty amount, and the guilt gnawed at me.
I hadn't joined the company as a thief. But I had joined it as an addict, with an addiction that was already costing too much. My fondness for the finest available skunk marajuana had hit my cashflow hard, and the ready money ran out before the grass supply did, and I owed a dealer a considerable sum. I took a gamble and 'borrowed from the till', fully expecting to pay it back. When it wasn't noticed I had continued to steal, hiding from my shame and guilt behind a haze of joint smoke.
After we'd arrived at the hotel that evening I'd had to endure an hour or so in the bar with Jim and his co-director, as well as a few other people from accounts, when all I wanted to do was get to my room, have a shower, and enjoy a long smoke, perhaps while I toyed with myself in front of some porn. I was just wandering to my room after bidding my colleagues goodnight, thinking about whether porn would show up itemised on the company bill, when my phone buzzed and there was the message from Jim, asking me to call by his room to collect a schedule for the next day and have a look at some figures.
I wondered why the hell it couldn't wait until breakfast, but as I said, I was wanting to be the boss's golden boy, so got the lift to another floor and followed various signs until I found the right numbers. As I approached his door I could smell that I was obviously in the smoking section, and I made a note to make sure I got a room here in future, which would save me having to hang out of the window.
I arrived at his door, and after straightening my tie and making sure my shirt was tucked and my trousers zipped, I knocked.
*
"It's open!" I heard the familiar sound of Jim's voice from within. I pushed open the door and found myself in a suite that was almost disappointing for its modesty, considering Jim's wealth and business clout. Admittedly it was better than my standard double room, but not what I would have gone for if I'd owned a company. There again it was my expensive tastes that had always got my into trouble.
Jim was sitting behind the desk across the room. He was a tall, imposing man. In his mid-fifties but still fit and strong-looking. His angular features and shaved scalp projected an image of a man who didn't suffer fools gladly. I always felt younger when in his vicinity, almost naive. I respected him hugely, which made my theft from him even more despicable.
"Thanks for coming Jamie. Close the door and take a seat."
I sat down noticing the ash tray on the desk with a cigar lying in it as yet unlit. A started to crave the joint that was waiting for me in my room and hoped that this wouldn't take too long.
Jim rummaged through some papers and then produced a sheet and handed it to me.
"That's the schedule for tomorrow. It's a 9.30am start so not too early. We'll all meet at breakfast and take it from there."
I nooded and glanced at the dull-looking timetable of talks about accounting, seminars on accounting, lunches with accountants, as Jim rummaged again in his paperwork.
"I'd also like you to have a look over these figures too" he said, passing me a couple of sheets stapled together.
It took perhaps a full ten seconds or so of staring at the list of figures before I realised what they were, my heart hammering in my chest and my blood starting to turn cold. I felt light-headed and my sight turned to tunnel-vision as I looked at an itemised listing of my theft over the course of two years. Pages of lists of numbers, with my own secret transfers glaring in yellow highlighter.
I looked up at Jim. He was just sitting there, looking at me over steepled fingers. It was several seconds before he spoke.
"Now, firstly I don't want you to insult my intelligence by pretending that either you don't know what that document refers to, or that it wasn't you that was responsible. I've taken a considerable time to check and double-check, and I'm a thorough man. You've been stealing from me almost the entire time that you've been employed by me. Who the fuck do you think you are, boy? No-one steals from me!" I could hear the edge of anger seething through him, and wondered for a moment if he was going to launch himself across the desk at me, but then he took a deep breath and seemed to regain control.
"Secondly" he continued "you'll understand that I can't let this stand with just a dismissal, but I thought I'd give you a choice, and a chance. A choice about how you want things to proceed about this massive betrayal of trust, and a chance to make up for it. Your choice is whether you want me to pick up that phone and get the police down here immediately, or whether you want the matter to be handled internally. But then that isn't really a choice is it? You're going to chose the second option, because the first ends with you going to prison where a soft little office boy like you is only going to end up one way - as some black guy's bitch - not to mention being an embarrassment to your family, wrecking your job hopes and basically ruining your life."
It was true, but he wasn't waiting for any confirmation from me and continued
"So we deal with the matter internally, which means you have another choice, either that we go through the normal disciplinary channels or you have me handle the matter personally. Again that's not much of a choice. Any normal route will still see the police involved sooner or later and you're back to having a ruined life and a ruined ass." He laughed cruelly as he reached for his cigar and started to prepare it for smoking.
