Re-training (tweeted Nov 1st 2013)

The instructions had been clear. Arrive at the hall at ten and grab a drink. The new manager will be running late but there will be other fundraisers to chat to in the meantime.

Jo had been pounding the streets on behalf of cats and dogs for a couple of years now. She could care less about the animals themselves. Like any salesperson she did it for the chase. She instinctively read body language and knew within seconds if someone would sign over five of their hard earned pounds to help little Tiddles come to terms with feline obesity or Max recover from a nasty encounter with a badger. She had a number of routines to turn to, ranging from “I’m so sorry to trouble you” to outright flirtation, and could quickly gauge the best.

She pulled into the gravelly car park, the first to arrive. She knocked on the door and then pushed it open. The room was empty except for a small table with refreshments and a large blue banner hung above the kitchen at the back.

It read “Be all that you can be…and more”.

“Oh god, one of those types of training” she thought to herself.

She poured a nasty smelling coffee and looked around. Strange that no-one else was here yet as she had been cutting it fine. In fact the whole arrangement had been a bit odd. Usually the bi-annual training was held in the swanky HQ in London, not some dusty building out in the countryside.

She went to see if anyone else had turned up but found that the door had been locked behind her. All of a sudden a voice boomed out from behind the banner.

“Hello Joanne, welcome to your re-training,” followed by a piercing laugh she couldn’t mistake.

Terror poured into every vein in her body and she sank slowly to the ground in disbelief, curling herself into a tight ball.

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