Wedding Night(21)
Author: Sophie Kinsella

I’m with my colleague Steve, in the “backstage” room to the side of the auditorium, and he’s sitting hunched over his coffee, looking about as perky as I feel. We do a lot of these recruitment talks together, Steve and I, in fact we’re quite the double act. He does the science side; I do the general stuff. The idea is, he blows away all the students with how cutting edge our research-and-development department is. And I reassure them that they’ll get looked after and their career will be an exciting one and they’re not selling out.

“Biscuit?” Steve offers me a chocolate bourbon.

“No, thanks.” I shudder. I’ve already crammed enough trans fats and food additives into my body.

Maybe I should go to some hard-core boot camp. Everyone says running changes their life and gives them a new outlook. I should go to some retreat where all you do is run and drink isotonic drinks. In the mountains. Or the desert. Something really tough and challenging.

Or do Iron Woman. Yes.

I reach for my BlackBerry and am about to Google hard-core running camp iron woman when the careers officer appears round the door. We haven’t been to this particular college before, so I hadn’t met Deborah before today. Quite frankly, she’s weird. I’ve never met anyone so tense and jumpy.

“All OK? We’ll start in about ten minutes. Keep it quite brief, I would.” She’s nodding nervously. “Quite brief. Nice and brief.”

“We’re happy to chat to the students afterward,” I say, hefting a pile of “Why Work at Blay Pharmaceuticals?” brochures out of my canvas bag.

“Right.” Her eyes are darting about. “Well … as I say, I’d keep it nice and brief.”

I feel tempted to snap at her, We’ve come all the way from London for this! For God’s sake. Most careers officers are delighted we’ll take questions.

“So, normal pattern?” I say to Steve. “Me, you, clip one, me, you, clip two, questions?” He nods, and I hand the DVD to Deborah. “I’ll cue you. It’ll be pretty obvious.”

The recruitment DVD is the worst bit about our presentation. It was shot like a 1980s music video, with bad lighting and bad electronic music and people with bad haircuts looking awkward as they pretend to have a meeting. But it cost a hundred grand, so we have to use it.

Deborah disappears to set up the DVD and I lean back in my chair, trying to relax. But my hands keep twisting together. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything feels so crap. Where am I going in life? Where am I heading? What am I doing?

And this is not about Richard, by the way. It’s absolutely unrelated. It’s simply my life. I need … I don’t know. A new direction. A different energy.

There’s a book lying on a nearby chair and I reach for it. It’s called The Reverse Principle: Change Your Business Strategy Forever, and 10 million copies sold!! is stamped across the cover.

I feel a stab of frustration at myself. Why don’t I read more business books? This is where my life has gone wrong. I haven’t put enough effort into my career. I flip through, trying to absorb the information as quickly as I can. There are lots of diagrams with arrows traveling one way, then flipping over and going the opposite way. Clearly the message is: reverse the arrow. Well, I got that in about two seconds. I must be a natural.

Maybe I should read all these books and become an expert. Maybe I should go to Harvard Business School. I have a sudden image of myself in a library, cramming my brain full of business principles. Coming back to England to run a FTSE 100 company. My world would be one of ideas and strategy. Cerebral, high-level thought.

I’m just Googling Harvard overseas students when Deborah reappears.

“So, the students should be assembled by now,” she gulps, sounding desperate.

“Oh, OK.” I drag my attention back to her. What on earth is her problem? Maybe she’s new. Maybe this is her first-ever recruitment presentation and that’s why she’s so twitchy.

I refresh my lip gloss, trying to avoid the sight of my bloodshot eyes. Looking suicidal, Deborah disappears through the double doors onto the stage. I can hear her indistinct voice rising above the hubbub. After a few moments there’s a round of applause, and I nudge Steve, who’s just bitten into a croissant. Typical.

“Come on! We’re on!”

As I stride onto the little stage and see our audience, I can’t help doing a double take.

Recruiting for a science company, you get used to students who shamble in, hair unwashed, unshaved, with bags under their eyes. But this lot are stunning. There’s a whole cluster of immaculate girls at the front, with long shiny hair, manicured nails, and full makeup. Behind them is a group of super-fit guys, their T-shirts bulging with muscles. I can’t speak for astonishment. What kind of labs do they have here? Ones with treadmills incorporated?