Another Year by Susie Field

 

Another year – another AGM.  Here they all are, shuffling in with little or no interest.  Why they bother coming at all I have no idea.  Arthur looks as though he’s had a few.  No change there.  I watch in dismay as he sways towards the buffet, which I might add is not officially open, and slides his grubby hand beneath the cling film, shoving a whole sandwich into his mouth.  His eyes suddenly light up and I follow his gaze.  Might have known, he’s spotted Veronica in her barely there skirt.  She giggles as he passes a plate of cake towards her. 

  “No thank you,” she whimpers.  “A moment on the lips is a lifetime on the hips.” This I might add is one of her favourite expressions and it absolutely makes me sick.  I feel like shoving a whole cake down my throat just to spite her.  Arthur leers and slaps her on the bottom.  She looks quite alarmed, like a rabbit caught in the headlights.  He doesn’t realise his actions are no longer acceptable.  Why should I care. They’re adults after all, even though they behave like naughty children.

   A few more members arrive and take the seats nearest the buffet ready to make a quick dash the minute the meeting ends.  Three or four stragglers appear and sit near the back so they can chat away without getting too involved.  Heaven forbid they might be asked to contribute something.

   Ah, here comes Sylvia, my Secretary, carrying a bunch of files and efficiently handing out copies of the Agenda.  Someone I can rely on at last.  She takes the seat to my left and opens her laptop with a flourish.  I’ve no idea what she’s been doing but it looks good. 

   Margaret the Treasurer is next, another valued member of the committee.  She also hands out copies of the accounts to everyone present.  They stare at them, a blank expression on their faces.  What a bunch of morons.

   Where the hell is Carolyn, my Vice President?  Always late, not sure why as she is a lady who lunches.  I doubt she’s done any real work in her whole life.  Her contribution to our group over the past year has been absolutely zero. She loves the title of course, but not any of the duties.  I’ve only asked her to cover twice when I was on holiday, but of course she was busy do nothing at all, and Sylvia stepped in as usual.  Oh, I spoke too soon, here she comes, dressed up to the eyes in her designer gear, bought by her wonderful rich husband.  She’s always singing his praises, but everyone knows he’s having it off with Tilly, his Personal Assistant.  I use the term lightly.  Oh God, she’s gone to sit next to Tilly.  How embarrassing.  The room has suddenly fallen silent, everyone knows of course, except Carolyn.  I beckon her over, she should really be sitting with us as a fellow Committee member, but as expected she declines.  God forbid I might give her a simple job to complete. 

   It’s getting very noisy in here.  Lots of banter and shrieking laughter.  Arthur has managed to slip into a recently vacated seat next to Veronica.  He looks as though he’s died and gone to heaven, all that exposed thigh, not to mention the surgically enhanced breasts.  I swear he’s foaming at the mouth, or maybe it’s just the cream from the piece of cake he’s just pinched when he thought no one was looking.

   Finally, my technical wizard Ryan arrives.  Very geeky but in an attractive way.  Sylvia moves up to allow Ryan to sit between us.  We agreed to do this a while ago. Suits us both if you know what I mean. Share and share alike.  He turns bright red and pushes his thick framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose, something he always does when he’s nervous. He thinks we’re a couple of cougars, and he’s right of course. Sylvia engages him in some technical jargon.  She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but Ryan will discuss computers with anyone who is willing to listen, and trust me, Sylvia is more than willing.  He also shows me a lot of spreadsheets and graphs he’s been working on, and I paste an intelligent look on my face, I don’t understand a word so admire his dirty blonde hair and watch it flop over his face.  I just want to reach out and stroke it, but I don’t of course, I am the President after all, and must restrain myself and act accordingly.  

   It’s getting very noisy now, and as I can’t think of anyone else who might be coming, they never let me know anyway, just ignore all my emails, and as Arthur is telling filthy jokes, I feel I must quickly start this fiasco of a meeting.

   I tap the side of my glass with a pencil, but no one seems to hear, so I bang my gavel on the table with unnecessary force, but to no avail.  Arthur shouts, “Order, order.”  I know he’s only trying to help, but this is not in the House of Commons for goodness sake, and everyone ignores him anyway.

   Well, needs must.  I bang my fist on the table and yell, “Shut the f**k up and let’s get this show on the road.”  Seems to do the trick.  Silence at last.