Ps and Qs

Cliff hated work dinners for three reasons, one, they always went to posh restaurants where the food was all pomp and circumstance, about how impressive it sounded in the menu, how good it looked on the plate and not about how good it tasted or how filling it was. He looked at the menu now, arms of Octopus on a swede puree with a carrot jus, quadrille steak with Vandyked vegetables and a pepper reduction. What the fuck?

The second reason was that the bosses always ordered expensive wine which the waiters poured each person a trickle of and then kept at arm’s length. This meant that Cliff couldn’t drink, he could only sip and he spent half the evening waiting for the waiter to refill his glass.

The third reason was because there was fifteen of them it always took an age to get served, they’d already been here 20 minutes and the wine hadn’t even arrived yet, and they hadn’t come close to taking th food orders. To top if off tonight the restaurant was packed, so the likelihood of getting anything substantial to eat in the next 90 minutes was zero.

Cliff closed the menu and put it on the table.

‘What're you having?’ Ali asked him. That was number 4 on the list of work do hates who you sat next to. But tonight that was no problem. Ali was Cliff’s mate and they were the other end of the table from the bosses so they could gossip and have fun and not mind their Ps and Qs.

‘I don’t think I’ll bother.’ Cliff said. ‘It’s just too poncey for me.’

‘Really’ Ali looked shocked, he’d never seen Cliff turn down a free feed in his life.

‘Yeah, You?’ Cliff said.

‘I’m going for the octopus arm I think.’

‘Good luck.’ said Cliff smiling and fiddling with his phone.

‘Texting Lucy?’ Ali teased Cliff. Cliff always had to give his girlfriend updates on his whereabouts.

‘Something like that.’ Cliff said, and put the phone facedown on the table, smiling.

It took the waiter 5 minutes to just gather the orders from the assembled mass; god knows how long it would take to cook it all. Cliff was hungry but he didn’t regret not ordering, he just couldn’t be bothered with it.

20 minutes passed and still no food had arrived but then the restaurant door swung open and in walked a man in a motorcycle helmet.

Cliff grabbed his jacket and went to meet the newcomer, chatting to him for a moment before coming back smiling at his astonished colleagues and carrying a box with a pepperoni pizza steaming inside.