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The
Other side – Promotion Prospects…
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Now he was
on his way back to Head Office and Toby was about to experience his first
real selection process. He had been warned by colleagues, that he was a
candidate for promotion and all the way to Liverpool on the train he had been
conjuring up a smart slogan in case he was asked how to increase business.
‘Surreptitious infiltration’ came to mind. He deliberated for quite some
time. Those were the words,
surreptitious infiltration. He thought them over and over again. His mind
raced. I know what I think it means but what if they ask me, could I explain
it? They won’t, but what if they do, what shall I say? He kept saying to
himself; don’t use them but what else was there. They will have heard it all
before, the masons, golf club, church, knocking on doors! No, I’ll definitely
use surreptitious infiltration. |
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He was
early for the appointment next day and as he sat there on the tan leather
settee in the chief officer’s annexe, his mind drifted to that other bank bit
of surreptitious infiltration he had read about in a banking journal. Apparently some old guy, who didn’t have a banking
account, had won a football pool prize of £25,000, a considerable sum. The
pools company did everything to ensure that they did not incur any adverse
publicity. They went to great lengths to insure that
their client received the best advice and to that end had a direct link to
the Bank senior officers. When a
large win occurred, they would phone the manager of a local branch to arrange
an appointment. In this particular case, the nearest branch was the Head
office of the Bank. On the Tuesday following the win, the pools people and
the old guy arrived. As they went through the rotating teak doors a flunky
dressed in a red, three-quarter length jacket, black top hat, royal blue
trousers and black patent shoes and buckles, ushered them past a large
horseshoe-shaped tellers counter. |
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In a
private annexe beyond this, the old man was introduced to the deputy bank
manager. There it was explained that the Bank would look after his money and
that he could have access to it at any time. The account was duly opened and
on the very next Saturday, the old man presented himself and asked to count
his money. After much commotion, twenty five
thousand pounds was produced and he was taken to an annexe where he counted
the money. He then
returned it to the cash desk and made a deposit once again. This procedure
continued, like clockwork, every Saturday, although he didn’t always go to
the same cashier. For their part the cashiers anticipated his call and each
made sure they had the money readily available. One Saturday he collected his
money as normal, from one cashier and then a few minutes later went to the
other side of the horseshoe and did it again. This time he never returned,
just disappeared with all of the cash. Toby chuckled to himself. Surreptitious infiltration, indeed! |
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By now,
he was aware that three more colleagues had joined him in the waiting room. It
was clear he was not the only one to be interviewed. It was going to be
tough, he thought. Nothing was said as he eyed up the opposition. Bloody
hell, they all look brighter than me. A secretary appeared, “follow me
gentlemen” she said with pompous formality. Inside another beautifully
furnished room, a large highly polished table occupied centre position. The walls
were adorned with oil paintings of former Chief General Managers. A card had
been placed adjacent to four seats. “Sit at your card and await the chief
officers who will be attending”. She left the room and after what seemed to
be an eternity, a smaller door at the side opened and out walked four poker
faced men. Instantly, Toby recognised the Deputy Chief General Manager, the
Chief Superintendent of Branches and the Principal Staff Manager. The other
man he did not know. |
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Bollocks!
he thought as he remembered a previous incident, when he had exchanged words
with the Chief Superintendent of Branches. At the time, Toby was on
inspection duties in Gloucester, checking guarantee documents. This big noise
was visiting the branch and had talked with all the members of staff. Now his
tour finished, he placed one foot on the low desk where Toby was sitting.
“What on earth are we going to do with you, Gerard? You are an enigma. It
might also seem that you have very little respect for anyone”. Toby stood and
looking him straight in the eye, said; “With respect Sir, sometime in the
past, I was taught that respect had to be earned, not demanded. I take great
pride in my appearance, especially my shirt cuffs. Kindly take your foot from
my clean blotting pad”. There was silence. If a pin had been dropped, it
would have sounded like a church bell. The man turned on his heel, sucked in
his breath and left the area. Victor, his old colleague from junior clerk
days, sitting alongside, said, “Toby, you are a flaming idiot; you’ve just
cut your own bloody throat”. Toby felt
particularly uncomfortable: Now all the men were introduced, to each
candidate in turn. Toby thought there may have been a hint of a smile from
the man whom had been put down in Gloucester. At first there was friendly
banter. Not wishing to draw to himself too much attention, Toby kept silence.
Before long this chatter became serious as questions
were thrown at the candidates, across the table. Toby offered nothing to
this, preferring to remain silent. In turn the inevitable question of how to
increase or create business came up. |
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The
other three candidates offered the usual stock answers in the same garrulous
manner as previously demonstrated and then came Toby’s turn. “Surreptitious
infiltration”, he blurted out. There was silence and then the man whom Toby
did not know said “please explain in detail”. Damn, thought Toby.
As he
opened his mouth to speak, the door opened. A ladies
bottom appeared followed by a tea trolley laden with buns, biscuits, plates,
beverage containers and napkins. “Gentlemen, may I please serve this now”.
Toby decided to remain silent and the question was never raised again. A
month later he received a letter requesting him to report to his District
General Manager. He had been appointed to a new branch to be built on the
South Coast, as Clerk in charge, with automatic upgrade to Manager within
twelve months. Surreptitious
Infiltration indeed! Extract
from “The Other Side” by (Anton Rowley) a novel by Rowland {Toby} Gerard Martins/Barclays 1953-1970.
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