Whilst I understand and accept that your expertise and experience in these matters are more than welcome, I am left feeling that the input and requirements of me — the customer — have been completely and utterly ignored.

I’m sure you will recall that the partners intend to open six X1 galleries across London within the next two years, and that we have some extremely high-profile and high-wealth backers. We had certainly intended to use your company to handle the launches of each of the galleries in our future portfolio, but this is now in serious jeopardy. A final decision has been put on hold whilst we await your comments on this matter.

Yours,

Matilda Dewitt.

P.S. Was there some confusion over the colour scheme? It was expected that you would be changing the colours from purple to white, as agreed in our emails on the 23^rd of the month.

I sit and stare at the laptop screen, my jaw hanging as I try to comprehend what I’m reading. I go through it again, sure I must have misunderstood something somewhere along the line. But no, Matilda Dewitt actually is a complete and utter mental case.

I know at this point I should pause, make a cup of tea, jot down a few notes as to aspects that need to be addressed in a response and compose a calm, collected reply which covers the points she made in a professional and polite manner.

But — quite frankly — fuck that.

I compose a new email to Susan, my boss. Thankfully, we have a good relationship and can talk frankly and openly to each other. She’s always got my back.

Hi Sue,

I’m guessing by now you’ll have read the email from Matilda @ X1. What a cow! I’m sure you know all the details by now, but anyway…

The bit about her suggesting staggering the times of arrival is an outright LIE. This was MY suggestion but she turned it down because she didn’t want her snooty Z-list arse-lickers to get butthurt by being demoted to the second or third round of admissions. She even made some sort of snarky comment about them being ‘dignitaries, not shift workers’. Snotty bitch.

When it comes to the weather, there was a LIGHT DRIZZLE, which makes no difference anyway, because they were standing outside (for ten minutes at most) under a massive bloody awning! As for the wind, you’ll note her husband’s dodgy toupee managed to stay stuck to his head, so it can’t have been that windy!

The celeb thing you already know about. I don’t know what we can do about that, and I know you’ll probably say we should just swallow the £500, but that doesn’t sit right with me. She had HUNDREDS of chances to give me just SOME information on the sort of celeb she expected to open her shitty gallery, and she ignored me every time. If all of her friends are more famous, why didn’t she ask one of them to get their bloody scissors out and cut the ribbon?