The World According To Gary

Gary was a squat Asian guy who used to work for the same charity organisation as me in Bristol. He started life, as most did in that job, as a telephone fundraiser. I doubt he was the most successful, but I can guarantee he gave it his best shot every day that he came in to work.

Over time he got promoted to what was referred to as a call room assistant. That was the natural pathway for anyone that stayed long enough within the organisation. A call room assistant was someone who helped out those making the calls. They would be responsible for a whole group of callers – available if someone needed assistance during a call, helping to keep track of stats during a shift so that a campaign manager would know how the shift was going, who was doing well and who was struggling. They might take orders from callers, so that they’d have tea or coffee waiting for them when it came to a break.

People like Gary were the heart of the organisation, but they weren’t making the calls and they weren’t managing the campaigns. When it came to cutting back the business, these were the easiest people to get rid of and so that’s what happened.

There was no front to Gary. Or it was all front. It was in his face, you could tell he was a sweet guy. He wasn’t angling for anything. He came in each day, did the job to the absolute best of his ability and then he went home to his wife and kids. I loved Gary and people like Gary, but sadly I could never be him. Neither can most of us.

Most of us have an angle. We’re looking to leverage something out of our job or our everyday interactions. A way to get some extra security. A way to leave the office five or ten minutes earlier than we officially should. Fixing it for someone we work with or want to work with, if we can. I’m not talking about abuses of power or people who literally get away with doing no work. I’m not condemning the majority of us for the small hustles or occasional advantages we take – but I do admire those who I’m tempted to classify as ‘holy innocents’, even though I hold no religious beliefs and it sounds an odd turn of phrase. It’s just something that comes to my mind for the Garys of this world.

At one point Gary was awarded employee of the month. This was a spurious award that management had dreamt up, while simultaneously selling the organisation and all the good things it used to stand for slowly down the river for their own vanity. But that’s by the by. Everyone loved Gary and we fixed it however we could that he should win this award. And he did win. And his picture was proudly up on the walls of the office and he was chuffed to have been given this honour.

Gary sometimes came to me for advice – not because I was a wise man, simply because I’d been there longer than him and I’d learnt more of the ways of how stuff worked. I was always happy to help him out if I could. Anyone would’ve done. It was Gary, after all.

The story ends at the point the business ended – or entered its great restructuring. All those call room assistants were made redundant. There was a single day in November 2000 where they were called up in batches to speak with someone from human resources who was delegated to tell them their fate. Only a few of us escaped that cull and it was a dark day to be one of the spared who hadn’t been summoned to be told their contract was over. I didn’t really know what to say to Gary that day. Most of the people losing their jobs were young, single, arty types or students. They weren’t going to be anywhere like this long term. It was sad, but it wasn’t critical. But Gary was older, different stock and he had a family to support.

What I didn’t know that day was that myself and my friend Robin – both of whom hadn’t been summoned upstairs – hadn’t actually been spared the cull. It was simply that as long term employees we’d ended up in slightly niche positions. When the restructuring was agreed and carefully plotted on to a professional looking Gant chart, we were simply overlooked. Once someone pointed this out and asked what was happening to us, our fate was sealed. They just paid us off in lieu of notice and we left employment on the same day (Christmas eve) as Gary and the rest.

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I don’t know what happened to Gary – I left Bristol shortly after redundancy to relocate in Cornwall. I hope he found a better job, one that respected its workers rather than just meeting out platitudinous employee of the month awards that amounted to nothing more than an empty ceremony and pasting your picture to a notice board for 4 weeks. He deserved to have a happy life. He was one of the good guys.

The reason I thought about Gary today was simple – I was in my local supermarket stocking up on supplies and there was a new guy on the tills. I’d not seen him before. And he reminded me of Gary – looks wise. He had that same open face. All surface.

Be more Gary, I often tell myself, but it’s not that easy.

Funnily enough this jogged another memory. When I left my job in Southend, working in the tax office, I kept in touch with one of the women I used to work with. We’d exchange letters from time to time. In one letter she passed on an observation from someone else in our section of the building, who said they missed my calm presence in the office.

This floored me almost as much as the comment about me being married with 14 children. I could not imagine projecting a calm presence to anyone. Maybe it’s like the swan, moving smoothly on the surface but paddling frantically underneath. But I don’t think I ever even had that going for me. I’m too nervous, too scared of messing up. If I have a problem I try my best to find my own solution because I’m too introverted and shy to seek help from other people, unless I’m desperate.

I never took the tax job seriously, that much is true. I still gave it my best shot every day, Gary style, although I’m sure I occasionally clocked in 5 minutes late after lunch if I was trying to catch the latest cricket score or had gone to the chippy on a Friday and been dawdling on the route back to the office. I was no saint. But I’m not sure where a sense of calm came from.

It’s interesting how other people sometimes perceive you. Often they’re spot on, even if that’s quite cruel like the guy at uni who sensed I wouldn’t amount to anything, but you occasionally  get these random observations that genuinely surprise you and you think – who is *that* guy and I wonder if I could ever get to meet him. The fictional me. Out there somewhere, raising a big family and spreading calm amongst his friends and colleagues.

If you come across him, please say hi from me. He probably goes under a different name. He wouldn’t be a Simon … maybe more like a, I don’t know, Gary.

The world needs more Garys.