Cold hard cash

To be frank, it wasn't a great time to be a financial adviser. To be utterly, ruthlessly, totally honest, it was a shit time to be a financial adviser.

Having said that, it was even worse being the unofficial gofer for a bunch of financial advisers. The sooner I could get back on the phone and get back out talking to clients again, the better.

The effects of getting some decent sleep again had felt like a complete transformation. Sleep seemed to come instantly, like someone switching off the light at night, and I'd wake refreshed in the mornings. Without the clock proving that time had passed, it would have felt like the blink of an eye - and it felt fantastic.

But now I needed to get back into the game. Which is exactly what I told Steve the following week, when I asked if we could have a chat.

"You sure you're ready, Al?" he asked after hearing me out. "Seems pretty soon after getting out the hospital. What's the big rush?"

He knew as well as I did why I was so keen, but if he wanted me to spell it out, I was happy enough to do it.

"Please don't think I'm not grateful for the extra on my salary, Steve - but without the commission, things'll get pretty tight for me soon. I mean very soon. You know how it is."

"Fair enough, Al. But surely another week or so won't be the end of the world, will it?"

"We both know that it takes time to get sales coming through. And another week seems like a long time from where I'm standing. Plus, there's sod-all for me to do if I'm not selling - there's only so much tea I can make."

"OK, OK. I hear what you're saying. You can start on some leads this afternoon - but I'm warning you: if you screw up, it won't be me that's in the shit over it. Understand?"

I did, and I told him so. It's always worth knowing where you stand. And that's the thing with Steve: he might be a bit of an arse, and he might say "I hear what you're saying" with a straight face - but underneath, he's all right.



Story begins here.