Leave Me Alone Read Online Free PDF Page B

dirty subterranean disco, I thought, was it me? Was it the city? Or was it just life?
    When the disco hall began to empty, I gave her 1000 yuan. She refused emotionally. I said, ‘OK, let me drive you home.’
    She laughed. ‘No need. I live with my boyfriend so it’s not that convenient.’
    I asked her what her boyfriend did.
    ‘He works on a construction site.’
    After a pause, she seemed to read the question in my heart. ‘He knows where I am…’
    I got in the taxi, and then heard her call my name. I turned my head to see a glimmer of tears in her eyes. She leaned down to the window and said brokenly, ‘If you ever think of me, text me. OK?’

CHAPTER SIX
    In our regular Monday morning managers’ meeting, Fatty Dong went on this riff about ‘professionalism’. ‘Dress professionally, speak professionally, adopt a professional mentality,’ he said. As he worked himself into a rhetorical frenzy he almost seemed to dance; his trotters skipped, his lardy body quivered.
    I was sat beside him wondering why as soon as someone was made an executive they became so hypocritical. A few months before, Fatty and I had entertained clients in a nightclub and he’d called in a few girls. His expression after the girls arrived had been terrifying, and I suddenly understood the true meaning of the word ‘ravage’. His girl started off smiling but soon was obviously trying to evade him, then she openly pushed him away. Finally she gave this terrifying cry. As well as molesting his own girl, he also subjected mine toverbal harassment, asking everyone whether her breasts were genuine or fake, what colour underwear was she wearing? — he wanted to inspect. When his girl finally decided she’d had enough and asked for her fee, the jerk summoned her into the corridor and haggled over the price.
    ‘You’re not just doing this for the money,’ he told her. ‘We were getting on well.’
    A moment later, we heard him say righteously, ‘How can you say that? You’re depraved! Here’s 100 yuan, do you want it or not? Hey, get your hands off my wallet!’
    At this point, our client, Zhou Dajiang, could take no more. Opening his wallet, he said, ‘Miss, please give back the 100 yuan. Please accept this money.’
    Fatty Dong didn’t see this intervention as shameful, he saw it as an honour. The next day he told me proudly, ‘When you go out it’s best to spend as little money as you can and scrounge off others as much as possible. Chen Zhong, you can learn a lot from me.’
    I replied, ‘You are too wise for me.’ What I was really thinking though was something quite different.
    The day after our visit to the club Zhou Dajiang called me and really laid into Fatty Dong: ‘I’ve never seen such scum.’
    Zhou Dajiang is a north-easterner and his manner is very frank and open.
    At the Monday meeting, once Fatty Dong had finished blustering, he waved his hand imperiously and asked me, ‘Manager Chen, is there anything you would like to say?’
    I thought, yes, I’ll say a few words. I stood up and clearedmy throat, then said that Boss Dong’s suggestions were right on the mark.
    ‘The question of professionalism is basically about doing your job right,’ I continued. ‘Professional dress and professional language are external factors, but the most important thing is your achievements. If you can’t meet your targets (here I looked meaningfully at the sales team) it doesn’t matter if you wear smart suits every day, you’re still unprofessional.’
    When I looked at Fatty Dong, I saw with satisfaction that his face had turned as purple as a rotten eggplant.

    The reckoning was swift — at the end of the day, our accountant came looking for me. He said there was a problem with the expenses form I’d submitted the previous week for a large promotion with some petrol stations. Because there was no confirmation letter from the stations, they were unable to pay up.
    This promotion was one I’d arranged jointly with