ZED was doing his absolute best not to eavesdrop on the one-sided phone conversation happening in the office behind him. The effort was mostly in vain, he thought, seeing as how his boss was screaming his side of it.

'And how exactly is that my fault!? No! I don't! Yes, you do! Look, Ally— Oh, you wouldn't! Don't you dare! You— I swear if you— What do you want from me?! What the bloody hell do you want from me?!? Fine! See if I give a flying fart what you do! Just do it then!' With an angry growl, MacIntire threw the mobile full force into the wall, shattering it.

After a heavy sigh, Zed reached into the top drawer and withdrew one of the temporary mobiles he kept on hand for such an occasion. He punched a few keys then walked to the office door, the newly activated device in his hand. The knock on the door didn't stop his employer from pacing angrily across his office, mumbling to himself. Zed finally had to clear his throat to gain some attention.

'What?! What do you want?'

'I— I have a— a new mobile.'

With a grunt, he grabbed it, continuing to pace. 'Bloody bollocks. The shite I've made for myself. Why? Why do I do this to myself? Every bloody time! I'm not wrong, am I, Higgins? Am I in the wrong?'

Zed's head swam with confusion. 'I— I don't know, Sir. I don't know the situation, you see.'

The enraged man really wasn't paying much attention at all, seemingly lost in replaying the conversation in his mind. 'There's nothing I could be doing differently! I'm a very high-ranking member of one of the most powerful companies in England! In the entire bloody UK! I'm busy! I don't have time to drop everything at a moment's notice to placate someone's every whim!'

Zed rolled his eyes and spoke under his breath before he realised he had. 'But you have time to scream and complain about it.'

His employer whipped around like a shot. 'Sorry? What was that, Higgins!?'

Zed felt his heart jump into his throat as he realised how loudly he had actually spoken. 'No— Nothing! I didn't say—'

'No, I heard you say something, what was it?'

He gulped hard. 'I'm sorry, it's not my place—'

'Higgins,’ he said with an eerie calm.

The assistant felt as though his mouth had gone completely dry. 'Yes, Sir?'

'Close the door.'

With his heart in his feet, he did so, trying not to bolt out before it shut. 'Sir— Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—'

'Sit, Higgins.'

MacIntire sat down as Zed did, then spoke quietly. 'Mr Higgins, I admit that, at times, I am out of touch with most people around me.'

Understatement of the century.

'And it has been suggested that I would greatly benefit from the advice of others on such matters. Namely, you, Mr Higgins.'

'M—me, Sir?'

'Yes. You. Now, you have exactly—' He looked at his watch. 'Six minutes to speak completely candidly about what I should do in this current situation.'

Zed felt as though all of the oxygen had left the room. 'S—Sir, I don't think that's— that's such a wise decision, I mean—'

'Please.'

The word cut through Zed's like a knife. It was a word he'd never heard from his employer before—and one that he wasn’t hopeful enough to believe he’d ever hear again. With a deep breath, he spoke. 'All right. May I know the situation first? To better advise you, I mean.'

MacIntire took a long moment to consider, apparently deciding that being vague was better than nothing. 'I've forgotten an important date. Again. It's been made clear that this is an unforgivable offence and that, if I do not correct the situation... the status quo will change.'

'And... you do not wish the status quo to change?'

'No, I do not.'

'And you can't just apologise?'

'I think that ship has sailed.'

'Right.' Zed was still feeling more than uncomfortable in his own skin as his employer stared at him. He fidgeted nervously with his glasses as he considered the likelihood of running away and still keeping his job.

MacIntire’s impatience finally won out. 'Well? I'm waiting!'

'I— Sir, I'm just not sure—'

'Ugh! What! Do you want it in writing? Fine!' Angrily, he grabbed a piece of paper, speaking as he wrote. ''I, Augustus James MacIntire V, promise not to fire”— what's your first name?'

'Ze— Zachary, Sir.'

‘''—promise not to fire Zachary Higgins for comments spoken on this day—''’ He looked at Zed.

'The— ninth of July.'

He nodded, finishing the note and signing with a flourish. 'Now you have four minutes. Go.'

Zed stared at the note, summoning all of his courage to speak around his increasingly drying tongue. 'It’s just— it always strikes me as odd that you can remember things related to business— even the birthdays of employees you don't care about— over important events of those in your personal life.'

'Business is important! I'm a high-ranking—'

'Yes, but—' He gulped hard as his boss shot him a look. 'Don't you see? By saying business is important enough to remember those things— is like saying those in your life— aren't as important.'

'But, that's just not true. They're more important.'

'Then, Sir, you need to show it. Put them first, once in a while. The company won't crumble just because you go to a birthday or a party. That's why you have staff— it's why you have me. To make sure the world keeps spinning while you're away.' MacIntire leaned back in his chair, a contemplative look on his face. Zed took this as a sign of encouragement, continuing: 'How is it that you remember things for work that you don't remember in your personal life?'

'Well, I have lists, reminders in my computer, my mobile... and, as you said, I have you.'

'You are taking the time to make those lists, to set those reminders, to tell me important dates. So, why is it, exactly, that you haven't taken the same care and attention in your personal life as you do in business?' MacIntire sat quietly, a furrow creasing his brow, making him even more frightening to Zed. Clearing his throat loudly, the assistant stood. 'I think my time is up, Sir.' His face on fire, Zed made his way out of the office, only to be stopped by his employer's voice.

'Higgins! If you would, send one— no, two dozen— long stemmed red roses to this address...' He jotted it down as Zed slowly crossed the room to retrieve it. 'And a note. Simply, “I'm sorry. -Augie”. File the address under “Ally”. You may need it in the future. And clear my evening. I have some— damage to repair.'

'Just to remind you, Sir, you do have a meeting with the board at six.'

This gave MacIntire a long moment’s pause before he finally shook his head. 'No, this is more important. Send them my apologies and reschedule for tomorrow morning.'

Zed nodded, leaving hurriedly to complete the tasks and to recover from what had just happened.

WITHOUT warning, a sharp cry cut the air, causing Zed to drop his mug of tea onto the desk. ‘Higgins! A word!'

Zed stood and rushed into his boss’s office, completely ignoring the sopping mess that was now his workstation.'Yes, Sir?'

'Come in, shut the door. Higgins, you said something yesterday that really stuck with me.'

His eyes widened with panic, remembering the previous afternoon's conversation. Having such an intimate discussion about his boss's personal life hadn’t been a picnic, and now he was bringing it up again? He took quick mental stock of where he had stashed the paper agreement that he could not be fired for his comments. 'Sir?’

'I need to take more care in my daily life, specifically outside of this office. And, it's fairly obvious that I can't be trusted in that area, so I need— help.' His boss looked as though that word tasted foul in his mouth. Shaking his head slightly, he handed Zed a folder. 'I need a personal assistant, not just a business assistant. And I believe you are the man for the job. That folder contains the full list of duties I would expect of you, plus a new proposal in salary. Compliance is not required, but I strongly encourage you to accept, as is evident by the generous raise.'

Zed felt his eyes bulge from his head as he realised that it was nearly double his current salary. 'Sir, I can't possibly do all this, plus my current workload.'

'Yes, I'm aware. Which is why you would be getting your own assistant. Think of it as becoming the— manager of my personal offices. You would be the boss of the person who takes the bulk of your current duties, seeing to it that they do adequate work in your stead. And, you'd be taking the office next to mine— two floors up.'

'Two— two floors up, Sir?'

'Yes. I got promoted this morning. It was actually the meeting that you cancelled so that I could take care of my— personal affairs. Thankfully, the board seemed unconcerned with the change. All that being said–’ He cleared his throat, looking just the least bit uncomfortable. ‘If you choose not to accept the offer, your employment will continue, but you will be transferred to my replacement, and remain with this department. The choice is yours to make.’

'I'll— I'll have to think about it. It'll take some— consideration.'

MacIntire nodded. 'Of course. Take the weekend. I'll expect an answer on Monday. But, before then, I need you to send one dozen white roses to Ally.'

'Any message, Sir?'

There was a long beat of silence as the man seemed to choose his words carefully. 'Yes. It should read: “Just not yet. -Augie.” Trust me, the message will be understood.’

With a shooing wave from his boss, Zed left the office, more than a little bewildered.

HOURS later, Zed arrived home, loosening his tie and kicking his shoes off before promptly climbing into bed. He was so distracted that he didn’t even bother to pull the covers back and merely lay atop them. It didn’t take long for his cat to bound into the room and lay himself across his stomach. Letting go of a breath that he was sure he’d been holding for most of the day, Zed scratched behind the feline’s ears, absentmindedly.

'What do you think I should do, Dex? Do you think I should take it?'

The cat didn’t make a sound, but rather pushed his head against his owner’s hand for the sole purpose of getting his attention.

Zed hummed softly in satisfaction and offered a smile to his furry friend. 'Really? Good to know. I’m going to take that as a solid “maybe”. '

Business was something that Zed could handle. Though it could be intimate and interactive at times, often it was entirely detached from individuals. One could do business with strangers one day and never speak to them again for the rest of one’s life. In fact, he did so every day, and it was glorious.

Being a personal assistant, however… That was an entirely different ball game; one that he wasn’t entirely certain that he was prepared to play. Instead of calling associates of MacIntire’s, he would be calling his personal contacts. Instead of keeping a calendar of all of his conference calls and meetings, he would be in charge of remembering personal events like birthdays and anniversaries. He would get to know his boss better, perhaps, than anyone on the planet, and he couldn’t be sure whether that petrified or intrigued him.

By the end of the weekend, it was quite clear which of the two states of curiosity had prevailed. So, Monday morning, he lugged a large cardboard box onto the Underground, much to the annoyance of his fellow passengers.

ON Monday morning, Zed had started the slow and slightly maddening process of clearing out his desk, loading the contents into a box. How had he collected so much stuff over such a short span of time? It was truly mind boggling how many chip wrappers and crumpled pieces of paper had made their way behind his drawers or under his desk.
He was reaching for a particularly wiley scrap at the far back when a cheerful voice rang out behind him with 'Good morning, Higgins.' 

Zed moved to stand, quickly, not relishing the idea of being on his hands and knees in front of MacItire, only to find a very solid wooden desk directly above his head. 'Coc y gath!' he yelped. Rubbing his head, he stood finally, ignoring the very real pain blooming throughout his skull.

'Are you quite alright?' his boss said, clearly repressing his amusement.

'That hurt like a—' the final word in the sentence died in the air as Zed remembered where he was and to whom he was speaking. Instead, he cleared his throat, saying 'Yes, I’m fine.'

'Excellent. Now, shall we start again? Good morning, Higgins,' he said once more in the same chipper tone, wearing a small smile that looked somewhat strange to him.

'G—Good morning, Sir,’ he said, uneasily.

'I see you’ve decided to accept my terribly gracious offer, then,’ he inquired, gesturing to the box on the desk.

'Oh— Yes! I have. Thank you, again, for the opportunity, Sir.'

Mac waved his hand dismissively. 'It’s a win-win. Don’t thank me. We should be up in the new offices by the end of the day. And tomorrow you can start interviewing your potential assistants; I’ve already picked out the most viable candidates. How does that sound?'

'Surreal, Sir.' But he instantly regretted his candour. 'I mean, great. That sounds great.'

'No, no,' his boss’s odd smile grew slightly wider. 'I like a man who’s honest. I can imagine that I’d feel much the same if I were in your position. Now, what say you get to work tidying up my office? Just for old time’s sake.'

'Yes, Sir. Of course,' he said, sighing silently. With a small nod, MacIntire turned and headed down the hall, leaving Zed with an aching head and a mountain of work.