The drone of the hoover was audible somewhere along the corridor. The woman in the office stuffed a gargantuan slice of gateaux into her mouth and an even bigger slice into the bin. She surfed the net scattering chocolate crumbs and leaving sticky finger marks. She chatted to friends and sought out a new dress that she wanted to buy for the summer ball.

The cleaner in faded stained jeans and a white plastic apron entered the room and asked if she minded while she hovered and emptied the bins .

‘No of course not,’ said the woman politely. Foreign twat she thought to herself. The drone of the vacuum was irritating and she couldn’t concentrate with someone fannying a duster about.

‘Speak English?’ asked the clerk, making gestures as though communicating with a deaf person.

The woman didn’t say anything.

‘You must wipe desk,’ she pointed to the chocolate smears. ‘Dir-ty. No-clean.’

The cleaner obediently wiped down the surface and emptied the rubbish, of which there was rather a large amount. Half a cake, a polystyrene box which had contained chips, two coke cans, several skittle packets and the remains of twenty Marlborough Lights.

AS the cleaner began to hoover around the clerk, the woman became annoyed. She couldn’t bear to be parted from concentrating on Facebook in order to lift up her legs.

The office manager came in and the clerk immediately minimised her screen.

‘Everything alright Margaret?’

‘Yes thanks,’ she said wiping the chocolate smear from her lips.

‘Have you got the reports for me?’

‘I’m just doing them now,’ she said.

‘Are these the latest shipment from Poland,’ she said motioning towards the housekeeper. ‘Nicking all the bloody jobs from under our noses. We need British workers for British jobs.’

‘It’s the way the government’s running things unfortunately,’ said the manager sitting down at his desk.

‘Wherever you go it’s bloody Polish, Albanian, Paki bastards taking over what used to be family run  English shops.’ The clerk began printing out the reports.

‘Send them all back home I say’ said the manager.’ Tell ‘em to get jobs in their own bloody countries stead of choking up the job market over here.’ He spat his chewing gum into the bin which the cleaner had just emptied.

Just then the Big Cheese walked into the room and the two staff went quiet. He had a letter for the clerk and placed it onto her desk. She ripped it open.

‘Hope it’s me Christmas bonus.’

Her face fell.

Dear Margaret,

It has been brought to our attention that you have been exploiting the internet for personal use. It is company policy that the internet is for business use only and misuse of the facility is a serious breach of conduct. I therefor regret to inform you that you are dismissed from employment. Please attend a termination of employment meeting at 11am on the 24th of June in the seminar room. We request that you vacate your desk by close of business today.

Yours Sincerely,

Magnus Ousby

Computech Area Manager

***

‘Alright Margaret?’ Asked the manager.

‘Oh yes perfectly fine. ‘

She went up to the staff room and began to cry. She had not been there long when she saw the cleaner looking at the noticeboard where job vacancies were pinned. Margaret read the advertisement.

‘Full time office clerk required. £21,000, sickness benefit and holiday pay. The candidate must have a degree or equivalent, an interest in computer technology and be fluent in English.’

Drying her eyes she scoffed. No chance love. Do you even know what it says?’

The cleaner took out a pen and paper and copied down the details into her notebook in perfect handwriting, then turning to walk out of the building she said( with only the slightest touch of Polish in her voice) ‘Have a nice evening Miss.’