Ten years ago I was a graduate working for a bank. One of the main aspects of my role brought me into regular contact with a senior manager called Mr. Scoffield – a man who perpetually ate and was so large that he was more commonly known as ‘Scoffer.’
Scoffer had no time for graduates and would mock me and the other ‘lambs’ at every available opportunity. On our infamous final meeting he said ‘You are useless, but then that’s what you get for sending a boy to do a man’s job,’ to which I replied ‘As opposed to you – sending two men to do a man’s job. Manage a project? You can’t even manage your waist-line.’
During the ensuing bollocking my boss attempted to keep a straight face whilst telling me that my comments were inappropriate.
Anyway…years later I bumped into an old colleague. We started reminiscing and Scoffer came up in conversation.
‘How’s he getting on?’ I enquired.
‘Sadly he passed away.’
‘My God, what happened?’
‘A vending machine fell on him.’