Tom Jones said that it’s not unusual to have people taking trolleys of sandwich around offices at lunch time. And according to my experiences today, he is right.
I was in a different office to where I normally spend my days, I was still working there – I don’t spend my days off sneaking into other offices around London – I just don’t.
Anyway, in this office I saw a big man, he was a big black man with a trolley. The trolley was full of sandwiches – in this new investment banking world I find myself working in I guessed that these important investment bankers importantly doing whatever they do importantly and with important aplomb probably don’t have time to go out to the street and buy a sandwich, they need them brought to them.
And they have employed a man to do such a thing.
Though, even after five months there, I’m still not entirely sure what investment bankers do, I think they may be employed to get stomach ulcers – maybe the investment banking world is just a front for a shady mafia led medical research empire.
Either way, there is enough spare cash to employ me to make presentations look pretty and for a big black man to cart around some sandwiches.
The first thing I thought was that I hadn’t really seen any other black/afro-american/whichever term fits with least offence in the offices. Almost as if there was some kind of preference – I wouldn’t like to say.
Then the man shouts out “food trolley”, but his accent chooses to miss off the d. Even I’m tempted by a Foo Trolley. Then he rings a bell – like shouting Foo Trolley in an office normally filled with ulcers doesn’t immediately grab your attention.
And in this second I knew slavery was alive and well in London – a black man ringing a bell.
I felt ashamed. Though in fairness, he didn’t seem to mind.