High Society: Dalton

Dalton was in a foul mood. His leisurely breakfast ritual had been ruined by his housekeeper stocking the incorrect cupboards. As he searched his stylishly minimalist kitchen for his breakfast he received an irritatingly informal email from his irritatingly informal PA. His mood cheered as he planned the severity with which he would chastise him.

Dalton didn’t like people. The more he tried to convey his misanthropy the more people seemed to be drawn to him. His recent promotion didn’t help as he now was the go to guy for his incompetent underlings. He also had to be seen to be working as hard, if not harder, than everyone else, hence why he was going into work on a Saturday.

He wasn’t fond of animals either. Particularly pampered, domesticated ones like that flat faced, idiotic cat that he had nearly killed. He glowered over his steering wheel at it, particularly irritated to see it wore an idiotic harness and was being walked by its owner. “It’s been getting away with it for too long”, mused Dalton. He wouldn’t kill a cat deliberately but he was annoyed he’d so narrowly missed his chance to accidentally rid the world of this beast. He turned his focus onto the cat’s owner, who looked equally absurd in her red kimono. The cat turned, returned Dalton’s glare and hissed at him. As the cat’s owner looked at his car suspiciously he skidded away recklessly, narrowly missing a parked car.

Dalton was called a “bastard” as he leaned on the water cooler outside his office. Dalton had done very well for himself, especially considering he seemed to lack any apparent knowledge or skills for anything. In fact, his one true skill was a mastery of the powers of persuasion and the ability to be in the right place at the right time. Perhaps this was why he’d been called a “bastard” so many times in his life. It mattered not to Dalton, and he’d grown to enjoy this reputation he’d carved out. He turned to see his accuser, who could have been anyone of a number of people, was Racy Tracy, as he called her. He’d had a fling with her when she was new to the company and this seemed to give her the right to shout at him whenever she saw fit. He didn’t give it a second thought as he had a very important meeting he hadn’t prepared for and needed to convince someone to do it for him.

As he tried to memorise the stats he’d tricked the admin fellow into finding for him, his mind kept moving back to the kimono clad owner of that fat, Persian cat. Her dress sense excused she was definitely attractive and for some reason she intrigued Dalton. He’d briefly met her once but hadn’t bothered to remember her name. He’d have to find that out.

Dalton presented the admin chap’s work to the board with his usual mixture of charisma, charm and casual indifference. “Good question,” stated Dalton, as he masterfully avoided answering the question as he’d done so many times throughout his career. Like usual they lapped him up and loudly praised his work. He jokily told them that he’d got the admin chap to do it for him. The idea that Dalton could be that unprofessional reduced them to fits of laughter.

Amidst much back-slapping, Dalton walked past the incensed admin worker, who muttered to himself. Dalton chuckled heartily as he returned to doing what he did best, leaning on the water cooler and doing nothing in particular.

Written by Martin Stocks | @Stocks1986

Check out his comedic blog ‘How to Man Manage your Manager in a job you hate’ for workplace survival tips.

Next Wednesday: Charlie

Chapter One

Part 1: Charlie Malbery

Part 2: Albert

Part 3: Ernest Malbery

Part 4: Ingrid

Part 5: Dalton

Part 6: Melody

Part 7: Marion

 

Chapter Two

Part 1: Albert

Part 2: Melody

Part 3: Marion

Part 4: Ingrid