hated him, they hated everyone who tried to help them. And James did try to help – it was what he had just spent the whole day doing. It was what he did every day.
Well, maybe it was time for that to change. Maybe he needed to start helping himself a bit more. He should go to Nottingham, and not because Graham Oakley wanted him or the people of Nottingham needed him, but because it was a better job, he would earn more money and he wouldn’t have to live in Crystal Palace. Was there anything more to it than that?
3
1 February
London’s cultural and creative sectors are central to the city’s economic and social success.
– The London Plan , Section 4.32
It had taken James most of the week to write a reply to Graham Oakley – a long, friendly email that exaggerated all the things he was doing in Southwark, cautiously welcomed his offer and, while making it clear that he was very happy and not likely to consider leaving, made some off-hand enquiries about the role. Graham had replied almost immediately.
Hi James,
Great to hear from you, and thanks for getting back. Good to hear that everything is still going so well down in London – I always knew you’d make a success of it.
Yes, the title would be Deputy Director, with full pay + conditions – I don’t think I could lure you back here with anything less! The job’s not completely in my gift (as ever, there’s an open and competitive process!!) But I could get you in on an acting basis for six months without any bother, and assuming it all works ok it would be relatively easy for you to then apply for the permanent role. Judith Davies has retired and HR are being a bit more cooperative these days.
Anyway, let me know. As I said, Guy isn’t meant to be leaving for almost 3 months, so you’ve got time to think about it.
And there it was: an informative and sincere email, without any of the guile and ambiguity that James had become accustomed to. That was, James remembered, what Graham was like. He wasn’t like Lionel: he hadn’t kept his job through cunning, but by working hard and being good at it. There again, Nottingham wasn’t like South London. People and planners there were straightforward and tended to speak the truth. They were, he supposed, nicer.
There was another mail in his inbox. It was from Felix Selwood, and it was much shorter. The message itself was blank and the subject title was just two words: ‘Drink tonight?’
Eight hours later and James was in the Red Lion, around the corner from work. Nothing very unusual about that – it was, after all, a Friday night. But the big difference, the important innovation, was that he wasn’t with anyone from the office and nor, thankfully, was he with any friends from university. He was with Felix.
Any wariness, and there had been plenty, had disappeared and James was almost starting to enjoy himself. They had had three pints of beer, that had helped, but there was more to it than that: they had formed a connection. They were allies and, as far as James could tell, it wasn’t based on loneliness, a mutual enemy or shared feelings of inadequacy.
They had some significant things in common. They were both thirty-two years old, single, and yes – Felix was a planner too! It even said so on his business card. But he was a brand planner, an occupation that James had never previously known to exist but, as Felix explained to him, was central to how modern advertising, and therefore modern business, worked. There were some parallels: one of them made plans for consumers and one of them made plans for citizens. They both convened focus groups, and studied forecasts, and then had to write and implement strategies, which only rarely led to anything happening in the way they hoped.
Of course, there were some important differences. As Felix said, it was his job to understand what people thought they wanted, while James’s job was more difficult – he had to understand what they
Well, maybe it was time for that to change. Maybe he needed to start helping himself a bit more. He should go to Nottingham, and not because Graham Oakley wanted him or the people of Nottingham needed him, but because it was a better job, he would earn more money and he wouldn’t have to live in Crystal Palace. Was there anything more to it than that?
3
1 February
London’s cultural and creative sectors are central to the city’s economic and social success.
– The London Plan , Section 4.32
It had taken James most of the week to write a reply to Graham Oakley – a long, friendly email that exaggerated all the things he was doing in Southwark, cautiously welcomed his offer and, while making it clear that he was very happy and not likely to consider leaving, made some off-hand enquiries about the role. Graham had replied almost immediately.
Hi James,
Great to hear from you, and thanks for getting back. Good to hear that everything is still going so well down in London – I always knew you’d make a success of it.
Yes, the title would be Deputy Director, with full pay + conditions – I don’t think I could lure you back here with anything less! The job’s not completely in my gift (as ever, there’s an open and competitive process!!) But I could get you in on an acting basis for six months without any bother, and assuming it all works ok it would be relatively easy for you to then apply for the permanent role. Judith Davies has retired and HR are being a bit more cooperative these days.
Anyway, let me know. As I said, Guy isn’t meant to be leaving for almost 3 months, so you’ve got time to think about it.
And there it was: an informative and sincere email, without any of the guile and ambiguity that James had become accustomed to. That was, James remembered, what Graham was like. He wasn’t like Lionel: he hadn’t kept his job through cunning, but by working hard and being good at it. There again, Nottingham wasn’t like South London. People and planners there were straightforward and tended to speak the truth. They were, he supposed, nicer.
There was another mail in his inbox. It was from Felix Selwood, and it was much shorter. The message itself was blank and the subject title was just two words: ‘Drink tonight?’
Eight hours later and James was in the Red Lion, around the corner from work. Nothing very unusual about that – it was, after all, a Friday night. But the big difference, the important innovation, was that he wasn’t with anyone from the office and nor, thankfully, was he with any friends from university. He was with Felix.
Any wariness, and there had been plenty, had disappeared and James was almost starting to enjoy himself. They had had three pints of beer, that had helped, but there was more to it than that: they had formed a connection. They were allies and, as far as James could tell, it wasn’t based on loneliness, a mutual enemy or shared feelings of inadequacy.
They had some significant things in common. They were both thirty-two years old, single, and yes – Felix was a planner too! It even said so on his business card. But he was a brand planner, an occupation that James had never previously known to exist but, as Felix explained to him, was central to how modern advertising, and therefore modern business, worked. There were some parallels: one of them made plans for consumers and one of them made plans for citizens. They both convened focus groups, and studied forecasts, and then had to write and implement strategies, which only rarely led to anything happening in the way they hoped.
Of course, there were some important differences. As Felix said, it was his job to understand what people thought they wanted, while James’s job was more difficult – he had to understand what they
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