Another hotel lobby, my ID badge is heavy on my neck and I
have an impending headache. No-one
notices me, just another grey official.
You learn to read body language in this job and the person coming
through the rotating door has a mild startled look when confronted by the
pristine hotel reception. I move
immediately to welcome.
“Derek? Hi, I’m Gill.” As we travel in the lift I explain; “thank
you for coming, we’re looking for people like you to help us with our
research. I can’t go too much into what
today’s research is about or I’ll bias you, but this is for you,” I hand him
his thank you payment, “just ensure what you expect is in there.”
Derek is relaxing, he takes the envelope, counts the cash
and nods.
I open the door of the conference room and watch him take it
all in, two bottles of water in the middle of the table, one still and one
sparkling, the upside down tumblers next to them, the blood on the mahogany,
the body slumped on the chair, throat cut.
Messy.
I shut the door behind us and hand him a cloth; “So, to get
started, can you clean the table?”
He looks at me, mouth slack in a square shape, like an
outraged infant; “Shouldn’t we – c-call the Police?”
I frown; “Why would we do that?”
“Because of the-the body.”
“Is that what you think that is?” I ask expressionlessly.
“It looks like – like …”
“Take your time.”
“Real,” he says.
“Everyone says that,” I counter reassuringly.
His shoulders sag with relief and he gamely takes the cloth
and begins mopping up the blood. I ready
the tarpaulin bag that I’d brought down earlier; “As you work,” I request,
“just say whatever comes into your mind, think aloud if you will.”
“It’s very sticky, the blood – is it blood?”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know,” he gives me an embarrassed half smile.
“You’ve done a great job there,” I say, “can you grab the
legs? I’ll get the shoulders. Again, just talk me through your thoughts as
we do this.”
“Um, she’s wearing heels, Louboutin’s,” he says, as we
placed Carla’s lifeless body onto the tarpaulin, “her skin is warm. Is she still alive?”
“What do you think?” I ask.
“She feels very real, this is very authentic.”
“What is?” I place
the cleaning cloths in with Carla and zip up the bag neatly and efficiently.
“This experience,” he half laughs again, “you’d think I’d
taken part in disposing of a body.”
“What did you expect to take part in?”
“It said a test.”
I smile.
“Oh!” he says sounding even more relieved, “it’s all a
research test thingy.”
We place the tarpaulin bag containing Carla onto a trolley.
I smile and shake his hand; “Thank you very much for your
time, Derek. The restroom is on the left
if you want to wash your hands. You’ve
got my e-mail address if you have questions.”
“Thank you,” he says, cheerful now that it’s over and he can
go into his Friday evening.
I show him
out and return. I wheel the trolley with
the tarpaulin bag on it out into the car park where I tip the bag into the boot
of my car for disposal later. I sigh
with relief. Carla really shouldn’t have
kept insisting that we do things differently.
We’ve done things the same way for so long and we’re not going to change
now. All this talk of innovation! Thank goodness for Derek, originally
recruited to test a prototype website.
However, I couldn’t lift Carla’s body up by myself and we always have
and always will value the help of members of the public.
