Thomas Mullet considered 1960 as the year he devoted to suction.
Electrolux’s ‘Luxomatic’ was the first of a new generation of vacuum cleaners, boasting a dust-indicator light that demonstrated when the bag was full, a cord winder and self-sealing bags. There was much to be excited about with this extraordinary range of modern household appliance, and his enthusiasm for sucking was contagious amongst colleagues and customers alike. He knew that – and that’s why he was so damn good at his job.
Escorted to his boss’s office by his boss’s secretary, Thomas sat now and considered the Luxomatic poster on the wall as he waited for Bagnoli. He also appreciated that his boss’s office was the best location in the building to avoid the stink from the fertiliser factory half a mile away: a heady, noxious smell that permeated the rest of the building whenever the breeze came in from the south-east. As it was today.
The door smacked open against the wall. ‘Thomas,’ Bagnoli said. ‘You’ve topped the sales charts this month. Again.’ Mr Bagnoli’s chin remained almost indiscernible within the clutches of his jowls. Biceps like watermelons strained against rolled-up shirt sleeves. He bestowed upon Thomas a handshake and clap on the shoulder that left Thomas’s entire arm aching.
‘I see big things in your future.’ Mr Bagnoli migrated into his chair like a whale to warmer seas, and the chair let out a shriek. ‘Much to Watson’s consternation,’ he added.
The mention of Thomas’s colleague brought a prickle of irritation, but his polite smile stayed painted on as Bagnoli’s secretary, Sophie, rushed in and dropped a sheaf of papers on the desk. The chair whined again as Bagnoli leaned sideways to linger over the hourglass of Sophie’s retreating figure. ‘As a result,’ he went on, straightening up, ‘and with your obvious qualities as a decent family man, I’m happy to say that head of sales is yours if you want it.’
Thomas beamed. ‘I’m honoured, sir.’ Take that, Watson, he thought. It didn’t take a fancy motorcar and two figurative fingers inserted rectally into one’s boss in order to progress one’s career. Hard work, integrity and a fine reputation could produce admirable numbers, too.
‘So, the big day tomorrow, huh?’
Nerves kicked his stomach as he nodded.
‘Make your honeymoon count, won’t you?’ Bagnoli gave him a wink. ‘I want you back here raring to go in a week – so get it all out of your system, eh?’
Much laughter, shoulder clapping and more flesh jiggling ensued, before Thomas was set free for his first week of holidays in almost three years.