Cooking up - Daniel 3

[For back story see lower numbers in archive]

Daniel was used to reinventing himself. Over the past few years he had given up on many older versions of himself, secure in the knowledge that he was bound for better things, heading for a new, improved, shinier Daniel who would easily better the staid old one he had been touting around the place. Yes, the new Daniel was the one to watch and he’d deliver success after success for his new employer, whoever that might be.

The thing was he was thinking of exacting change this year, as the season switched from winter to spring, as new life infiltrated his part of the world and the markets lifted with the promise of a fabulous summer. All that promise had gone now. It wasn’t even a memory, but the memory of a memory – something that was foreshadowed but never actually arrived: a good time that just wasn’t a time. And definitely not good.

So, having left his wife, his former employer, his former house, his former colleagues and more, he found himself in a new flat with a new employer, new girlfriend and new opportunities. Except it hadn’t entirely lived up to the dream. The flat was too small, his employer too bureaucratic, his girlfriend? Just too far away.

“Help!” came a cry from the kitchen.

Daniel deserted his laptop for the fifth time between 5am and 7am as his daughter’s voice rang out. He’d tried getting up early in the morning to get a head start on his work without her around, but the waking senses were strong in this one (or his flat really was too damn small) and every move he made disturbed Daisy sufficiently for her to be on her feet before he was in his slippers.

In the kitchen he found Daisy, hands inexplicably covered in chocolate spread (he didn’t have any chocolate spread) and a piece of toast right-side-down on the floor. Daisy was in floods of tears.

“It fell and my hands went off,” she said, explaining everything and nothing at all.

“OK, it’s OK, let me get a cloth,” said Daniel.

As he wiped at the chocolate he realised this was not chocolate but dirt. Mud to be precise, which didn’t stack up as much as the chocolate spread didn’t stack up. More questioning revealed nothing more rational, and aware of a pre-arranged conference call coming in at 7.30, Daniel concentrated on righting the wrongs and getting Daisy in front of YouTube or iPlayer – “It’s entirely your choice!” he said, just about not shouting – and settled on time.

His disappointing boss, Malcolm, drizzled onto a shared screen with Tosh and Shaz. Malc was making an effort to be bright today – you could tell from the palm trees backdrop and his dark glasses.

“So, the metrics I have here aren’t great I gotta say,” said Malcolm, betraying the intention of the upbeat backdrop. “Who wants to comment?”

Silence reigned over the airwaves so Daniel weighed in.

“It’s been a pretty tough time,” he began.

“I think we all know that,” said Malcolm, “But I’m looking at the basic level, Dan, I’m looking at initial contacts, calls, emails, you know the drill. If we’re not in their faces how the hell do we get to their wallets?”

It was phrases like this, along with calling him Dan and not Daniel that made Daniel realise he was really in the wrong place for any time, let alone this time.

“I was looking at this online webinar yesterday afternoon and this guru, this actual sales guru, has put this up for free and he’s showing you exactly what you need to do to get noticed. I’ll send you a link,” said Malcolm.

“Honestly, Malc,” said Daniel, “There’s so much out there at the moment I don’t see why something someone says should be…”

“I hear you Dan, but believe me, this guy’s good, take a look and learn, OK?”

There was a scream from in front of the TV. Daniel looked sideways twice before making his excuse.

“I – I’m sorry – it’s my daughter, I…”

Shaz made a few noises of sympathy and Tosh had only got half way through asking if Daisy was OK before Malcolm sighed something about keeping the kids locked in another room while conference calls were on – because can you imagine what a potential lead might think? Daniel had already gone, although without logging out, and not all his comrades silenced his channel, so not all of them missed his attempt to get YouTube to reload with the appropriate sparkly programme.

It was only that evening, with Daisy in bed and Daniel reflecting on another day interrupted that he realised there was a plant missing from his bathroom window’s shelf. And following the occasional dropping of soil – a trail of bacteria-laden breadcrumbs – he was able to trace it to the kitchen where, beneath the sink, he found the plant and it’s pot, separate, and the soil from the pot in a mixing bowl with water. 

The world’s most perfect mud pie, done to a turn in an imaginary oven.