We listed our favourite colours in a routine way; we were careful to choose from the brighter end of the rainbow. We did not want to hint at brown, black or horrible grey deficiencies that may have resulted in termination, or some other unknown fate.

‘You know what?’ Management said, ‘I don’t have a favourite colour. I like them all. And you know what I like best?’

We made our most inquiring faces as if on the brink of revelation.

‘When all the colours work together as a team.’

This was particularly popular with Lynn, our secretary of sorts from the office, who smiled effusively.

‘Yes, I treat all the colours equally,’ Management said, as if this were the final word on the subject.

‘That’s very Christian of you,’ I said. Religion made me chirpy. It was so sweet and old-fashioned, like dinner and a movie.

‘I don’t hold any other religious beliefs,’ Management blushed. ‘Except I do believe in sin.’

‘In that case,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure you are going to like what’s coming next … ’

There were so many words for the things I had done that it was hard to know where to start. There wasn’t a single person in that backroom prepared for my shameful moments. I tried to fit as much degradation as possible into each sentence so as not to waste time. I truly wanted everyone to get their turn. I was considerate in that way. I felt, having disclosed all this information, I hadn’t given myself a fair, decent start at the job, a clean slate. But, like I said, it wasn’t important.

Lynn spoke about her ex-husband. The whole romance right from the get-go. I couldn’t care less about whatever basement she had found the dud in, and that it had got gloomy and how they had muddled through for a while. There was a fat child born somewhere in the middle of all this, maybe? A diabetic child? I didn’t know. I drifted in and out. What caught my attention was when she admitted that, during their time together, she kept a detailed record of everything her husband ate. Now, he was out there eating – at other dinner tables, at restaurants with new women – without restraint, his meals undocumented, and she was terrified. This disgusted me.

‘That’s not right, Lynn,’ I said. ‘People should be allowed to eat whatever they want without you interfering.’

Lynn really made me sick. She stormed out of the room, flying down the hall in her flat shoes. Came back a few minutes later with a puffy face. There were so many Lynns in the world, each one expecting hand-holding, mollycoddling. What to do with all of them?

Henry was here because he had limply tried to rob a post office but it was actually monstrously difficult, much more than the five-minute task he had expected. He gave up midway.

‘Give ‘em hell, Henry!’ I commanded. I applauded any display of rebellion or wildness.