Herbie has a feast

-Come on Herbie, hurry up,but careful you don’t cut yourself…you’re looking especially sharp today!

There was laughter, as usual. Good humored, but still directed at me. 

What must I look like? Trying to impress at our company's annual conference in the swanky Olympus Hotel. Our new range of coffee fizzy drinks was being launched and we had each been given a small sample at the entrance.The pilot batch was selling well and I vaguely recalled once joking to my boss about making carbonated coffee. She had rolled her eyes, but six months later ‘full of beans: the frothy coffee in a can’, was decorating the shelves with its punchy strapline. In reality, what do I know? Not much about the Latte Caramel Coffee Fizz or the Luscious Cherry Coffee Dream. I like tea best, but I keep quiet about that.

Also it would appear I have a lot to learn about the dress etiquette for these corporate events. I thought my light grey suit and shiny black brogues were good form. Obviously I didn’t get the office memo to dress casually like everyone else who is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. At 27 I am younger than many of the guys at the office, so why do I feel like an aged uncle next to them?  I tell myself to ‘chillax’ and enjoy the day.  

The hotel foyer is large and tastefully decorated with white Grecian columns interspersed with blue and cream tiles in a meander motif. There is even a small fountain in the lobby burbling its restful refrain. I follow the signs and head straight to the conference room which is the alter ego of the calm entrance. It is swathed in a crazy carpet designed from red, blue and violet zigzags: a migraine in pattern form.   

Rows of wire framed foldable chairs with red cushions are placed in equidistant lines, like little warning flags across the eye dazzling expanse. A stage at one end is set for the show with a cinema screen and podium, ready to go.

I opt for a seat at the end of the central aisle, about half way between the stage and the exit. It is at that point I stumble and grab the first chair, which folds flat and knocks six others over. I haul them all upright, one by one and hear the tittering of my peers: 

-Same old Herb.  

-Knock em dead Herbie!

-He’s the chairperson ..ha, ha!

I am their mascot of clumsiness and my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Pulling a handkerchief from my pocket, I wipe my sweaty brow, then I notice the girl across the aisle.  She is one of the few not staring at me, instead her gaze is set on the empty podium. Her focus is so great, it hints at a determination not to interact with anything other than the forthcoming lecture, as if willing herself invisible.

She is young: a pale face and no glasses, but she squints as if she needs spectacles. The frown lines on her forehead are entrenched, and her thin mousy brown hair drifts into her eyes as people waft past. She looks uncomfortable with her outfit, her pencil skirt making her wriggle as she is obviously conscious it has ridden up above her knees. It is then she catches me looking at her legs and visibly recoils. She defensively crosses her ankles with such alacrity that one of her court shoes flies off and clatters with a loud thunk between the chairs in front of me. The noise is so staccato many of the people still filing in look round. I drop down to one knee, pick up the shoe and scoot across the aisle,

“Yours I believe, fairytale princess?”

She looks at me, the frown lines deepening. “How dare you mock me!”

“I’m not mocking…” But before I can finish my spluttering sentence, the lights dim and the presentation starts, so I have to hurry back to my place.

All the way through I can see her taking notes, scribbling on a clipboard with diligence. Perhaps I should have done the same as, after the first hour, I feel my eyelids drooping with boredom. Images flash on the screen adjacent to the beaming compère: photographs of happy people downing gallons of brown sparkling coffee drink, all with a backing track of the fizzing noise it makes.

- Listen to this soundscape! We are told,   

The static buzz is supposed to refresh us, however it’s a white noise that lulls me into a deep slumber and makes me slide to the floor. The subsequent crash is painful and jolts me back to reality: I’m eyeballing the ferocious carpet and my flailing arms have ensured my unique domino effect works again. Many chairs tumble, bringing cries from several members of the audience as I drag them down.

The host is slick. He raises his manicured hand and points at me, flashing a brilliant smile.

“That man definitely needs our ‘Full of Beans!’, therefore I will take this natural hiatus as our break for lunch. Refreshments are in the dining area. Enjoy yourselves, and get there before this guy destroys it all!”

He strides off to tumultuous applause.

I fuss with the chairs and my shoelaces, waiting until everyone has trooped out. Even Miss Frown has bustled away, terrified probably of catching my inherent clumsiness.

My stomach starts to rumble, I definitely needed something to eat but then the thought of the gloomy buffet that awaits rises like a spectre in my brain.

Last year’s offerings were shiny sausage rolls that I swore were made of plastic with a  sticky grey filling that could have been animal, vegetable or mineral. Arranged at the edges were strips of raw carrot, dried and curling like a shoal of decaying goldfish and the tomatoes in a bowl had the taste of metal and popped in my mouth like evil bubble tea. There would also be cheesy snacks, curling in spirals like question marks, perhaps framing their own existential crisis:  potato or corn based? They would be coated in an orange dust that glowed with an intensity only paralleled by nuclear fallout, and any grains would leave marks that would stain clothing for the next millennia.

Desert would be some chocolate whip that had never seen cocoa powder or milk and was raised from a test tube into a gloopy flurry of air and saccharine delight. To wash it all down this time however, I would have the coffee in a can.

All these thoughts made me dawdle, coupled with the notion that my colleagues may be in the hall outside waiting to berate me. 

Then I noticed the green halo of an exit sign at the side of the stage. Perfect!  I grinned, imagining the look of surprise as my colleagues wondered where the hell I was. Unfortunately my smile slid away as the door opened onto a rain drenched car park in which I was trapped as the exit snapped shut behind. Rushing for cover, I raced to the front of the building, but saw a sign ‘Hotel Olympus Ambrosial Dining Suite’ set above two fancy gilded doors carved with vine leaves.

I rushed out of the deluge and into something that took my breath away as all my senses were struck with wonder. The room was a symphony in shades of white: cream curtains draped the walls, moving slightly as if a lazy zephyr played about. The tables and floor were gleaming pale marble and the chairs were designed as white curved scallop shells, shimmering with a mother of pearl brightness as if lit from within. Next to me rows of tables were laden with food that stretched away, seemingly into infinity thanks to the large mirrors placed each side. There was a head table, as if a wedding may be taking place, and other seats were arranged nearby, all full with people talking and laughing. That was when I realised the lunch was fancy dress and I was the odd one out as they were all wearing togas.  I looked about for a sheet I could sling over my shoulders to join in, but at once I became mesmerized by the fabulous banquet that was laid out. The aromas made my throat ache in anticipatory pleasure. There were piles of apples, plums and  nectarines, all with a richness of colour and ripe dewy plumpness that would make our advertising department wet themselves with delight. The serving platters were golden and reflected the glorious fare as the dishes appeared countless, each vying for my attention. Steaming bowls of stews fragranced the air with scents that made my nostrils dance in an olfactory tarantella. Golden crusted pies puffed their gloriousness into the air, promising rich textures of delicious vegetables, cheeses or meats. Mountains of delicate boiled rice formed a landscape speckled with the most exotic spices that made my mouth drool, next to which were pillows of mashed potato, stacked like fluffy clouds and dripping with butter that meandered down in lazy rich streams.

The vegetables were a  rainbow of goodness: some raw, some cooked and all fanned out on separate platters. They pulsed with an energy as if the vitamins and flavours were visible to the naked eye.

Then there were the countless deserts: trifles studded with candy fruits that glittered like ruby and sapphire jewels; rich chocolate cakes that were dark, warm and as soft as my favourite blanket. Next to them were delicate pastry fancies so light they appeared to hover just above the plate and jugs and tureens held creams and sauces in every hue. I simply had to try it all.

 Picking up a bronze coloured spoon (and not waiting to be seated), I started to shovel the food into my ravenous maw. At the first connection, my tastebuds were in ecstasy. I groaned in delight and licked my lips to savour the delicate flavours making love to my tongue. It was as if sunshine warmly coated my mouth, and then afterwards the sweet and salty were perfectly harmonious, the yin and yang of oral earthly delights. I chewed, gasped and perhaps I did speak with my mouth full, but only to whisper the words Yes, Yes, YES!…over and over again. I darted from one platter to the next in an orgy of consumption that I hoped would never end: it was all too divine. My eyes were shut, and my mood was euphoric, but then a metallic rasping noise signaled my spoon was scraping over an empty plate. I sighed and opened my eyes. Coming back from my reverie I saw a table stacked with crystal goblets, each brimful of liquid that shone like diamond.  I picked up a glass, marveling at how light it was, and then tipped the clear fluid into my mouth in one slug. A pure waterfall washed into me as I was filled with the most wonderful sensations. I was not drunk, but I was light headed and felt completely at ease :  an utter contentment with myself and the universe, which I had not sensed since I was a child playing marbles and watching them roll towards me, glassy and true, like small planets in my sweaty palm.

The ecstasy of my palette had satiated every fibre of my being and peterated my very soul with its balm. Ahhh!

Then I looked around the room and I felt myself shift from balm to BAM!

 I was being scrutinized by everyone and everything, and they were a bewildering crowd. This was definitely not a toga fancy dress hosted by my company. Nowhere to be seen were the white collar workers who delighted in putting me down, instead something registered within me and I knew with certainty where I was. I had gatecrashed a party by the living embodiment of immortal souls: here were gods and goddesses shining with a radiance that made my eyes water and my fragile human skin sag. I recognised each eternal, their names springing from my subconscious,  as if they had always slumbered,  obscured in the darkness of my ignorance until today they were awakened, and with it my understanding rising etiolated and puny, mirroring my soul. The silence was terrible, punctuated only by an occasional hiss from Medusa who sat in the corner watching the proceedings through a gilded mirror while white snakes with red eyes writhed and contorted on her head.

There was Hermes, wings fluttering at his ankles, gazing at me with the aloof amusement of an emperor surveying a bloodsport, before yawning and turning away with boredom at the kill.  I had seen that look before on my colleagues' faces, a weary willingness for me to fail. Next to him was a woman so beautiful that she shimmered like a heat haze, it was Aphrodite. At that moment she morphed into the pencil skirted girl from earlier and winked at me. 

“Why can’t I eat like that guy? “ Whined a small bald headed man standing to my right. He shuffled forward in defeated sadness and as he moved the food and drink hopped out of the way. 

“Shut up Tantulus you old fool!” Aphrodite snapped.

I gaped in amazement, but my eyes were drawn to the top table where I could make out only vague outlines of bodies, so potent was their force, they could not be contained by one form, but seemed to bulge and flex. I spotted Athena in full armour sliding in and out of view and then a dark cloud coalesced next to me and I heard the voice of Zeus. Even though it was a whisper the thunder almost cracked my bones.

“You must pay for this mortal. You dare to eat the food of the gods without invite, without grace, without dignity! It shall leave you without your body but in a world of pain!”

My lips quivered, but the only words that stuttered out were “No..no…no.”

“He’s very binary isn’t he? It’s all just yes and no with him!”

Athena had appeared by the side of Zeus. She had shed the armour and was wearing a glittery pinstripe suit and a silver top hat.

“Does the yes no creature say anything else?”

She turned to me and raised a perfect eyebrow in question. 

“Yes.” I replied

Zeus bellowed a laugh that knocked me off my feet. I landed on my knees as Athena continued,

“He is hardly worth the trouble, it would be like harming a gnat. Why don’t you let the binary boy go?” 

I realised they were speaking about me as if I was a naughty pup. Zeus looked down and I did actually sit up and beg, perhaps I gave a slight whine.

“Hmm, well there has to be some punishment!” 

“Surely his life and job are punishment enough, my love?” Athena purred.

I liked her …up to that point when I suddenly felt the great weight of truth she spoke and saw myself as the hapless idiot at work, the butt of so many jokes and the scapegoat for others.

“What do you do?” Zeus looked directly at me and I felt my face melting as if made from wax, so I bowed my head low and spoke as humbly as possible.

“I work for people who make bubbly drinks out of coffee ..would you like to try some?”

The god nodded and it was as if a thousand bells chimed ‘wait and see’, I held my breath. 

Reaching into my pocket I took out the  sample ‘Full of Beans’ can, and carefully opened and poured it into a hovering goblet that had magically appeared. 

Zeus took a swig, his eyes sparkled, his mouth curled upwards and we all watched and waited  as he seemed to smile and stroke his beard. I began to let out a sigh but suddenly, with a roar like a tsunami breaking, he spat the contents into my face and I was thrown to the ground, soaked by the awful stickiness and with a sensation I had been struck by lead weights.

“Diabolical!” He roared. “ I may be immortal, but if I imbibed that it would corrode my very being!” 

The air grew static with lightning, dark clouds seemed to roll about his head and he uttered the most terrifying words I have ever heard: 

“Your punishment shall be to drink this vileness for the rest of your days: every day, all day.”

Tantalus started to laugh and my mouth grew tinder dry.

I ran from the room through a door that opened before me and found myself in the foyer with the gentle tinkling fountain.

I must have had my food spiked, I reasoned. Surely this was some elaborate plot by my demented co-workers, but at that moment the chief CEO marched up to me and shook my hand.

“Herbert, it’s great to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you, are we good?”

“Yes.” I stammered.

“Now I know this will be a great surprise, but we are not taking ‘No’ for an answer. You have been voted to be our chief drinks tester, working day and night while we perfect our products. You will always be the first, last and sometimes only person to taste some of our most exclusive fizzy coffee beverages! I know I can rely on you.”

He pumped my hand with such enthusiasm I thought it would drop off, but what did I care? I saw a vision of myself throughout the years : teeth worn, heart worn, careworn  and still glugging back the crappy stuff.

“Yes.” I sighed, feeling choked, binary boy was here to stay. There was no fighting fate.