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‘Exactly. I’ve been here for eight years and it’s the third for me. It’s always the same. Each new CEO kicks out the old guard and brings a load of their own cronies with them. Then they bang on about how they’re the answer to all our problems at events like this. They show us lots of pretty diagrams with the seven pillars of this and three principles of that, but nothing actually changes on the ground. Eventually, the shareholders realise they’re not worth their overinflated salaries, kick them out in favour of another new bunch and the whole charade begins again. So, this guy may think he’s the bees’ knees, but he won’t last long. Meanwhile, the worker bees – that’s you and me – quietly get on with their day jobs as normal.’

Claude smiles again. ‘I thought we were sheep?’

I grin back. ‘Sheep, bees, whatever.’

Our whispered conversation is interrupted by Marie, a no-nonsense fifty-something woman sitting on the other side of me. I know she works in admin, but I’m not sure exactly what she does.

‘Tell me something,’ she mutters. ‘Is it me, or is it hotter than the black hole of Calcutta in here?’

‘Zero out of ten for political correctness,’ I murmur back, ‘but it is hot in here, yes.’

‘Thank fuck for that. I thought maybe I was having a menopausal incident. I’d take my jacket off, but the damp patches under my arms would probably be visible from space. Why can’t they turn the heating down? I swear I can feel a migraine coming on.’

Claude glances at his copy of the programme. ‘Now would be a good time to have a migraine,’ he observes. ‘It’s the head of technology on next, and he is the most boring person I’ve ever heard. Sadly, I won’t be able to make it.’

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘I, ehm, have a conference call scheduled with one of my clients during that slot. It was the only time they could make.’

I raise an eyebrow sceptically. ‘How very convenient for you.’

Claude shrugs nonchalantly and grins. ‘What can I tell you? The customer always comes first. Call it Claude’s first rule of corporate life.’

Before I can reply, a ripple of applause indicates that the current presentation has come to an end.

‘Halle-bloody-lujah,’ Marie breathes. ‘I don’t care if it’s minus forty and snowing out there; I need some fresh air.’

There’s a crackle from the PA system as Yvonne, the executive assistant who’s put this conference together, grabs a microphone.

‘Excuse me, everyone,’ she calls over the scraping of chairs as people get to their feet, eager to escape the stuffy room and grab a welcome caffeine hit. ‘I know the programme says we’ve got half an hour for coffee, but we’re running quite a long way behind schedule, so can you make sure you’re all back here in ten minutes, please?’

‘Typical,’ Marie snorts as we start heading for the door. ‘We pay the price because the overinflated windbags on stage can’t keep to time. If I was in charge, I’d wire them all up to the mains and start electrocuting them when they went over. That would focus their minds, I think.’

‘A little unorthodox, but I get where you’re coming from,’ I agree. ‘It’s a shame, because the breaks are one of my favourite bits of get-togethers like this.’

Marie looks confused. ‘How so?’

‘There are five people in Europe, including Claude and me, who do my particular role,’ I explain. ‘But we’re all spread across different projects, so the only time we ever really get to see each other and catch up is at things like this. I learn much more in the breaks than I do from the sessions.’

‘I’m going to be honest,’ she tells me. ‘I’ve been here for ten years and I still have no idea what you consultants do. I see your expense claims, but that’s it.’

I grin at her. ‘Are you saying that our new head of sales hasn’t got his stradigy through to you, Marie?’

‘I can’t say I was listening, but there was something about your fridge talking to your phone about your woeful lack of healthy foodstuffs, and your phone prompting you to call into some dystopian future-world supermarket where it will basically force you to buy ingredients to make something you don’t actually like because it’s good for you. Is that really the future?’

‘For the dreamers, yes. In the meantime, Claude and I will carry on doing what we always do.’

‘Which is?’

‘Try to understand the vagaries of the way people shop in our customers’ stores, and give them the tools to help them stay one step ahead. Don’t try to sell big bags of economy pasta, or imitation versions of premium products, to people in affluent areas. That kind of thing.’

‘It hardly sounds like rocket science.’

‘It isn’t, but you still get some interesting behaviours when you try to automate it, and automation is the big buzzword right now. People just want the system to give them the answer, but that isn’t simple when you have to factor in human behaviour. So, on the surface, it may look like we’re just tweaking how many tins of baked beans to put on a shelf, but underneath, there’s some serious dark magic going on, Marie. Retail is a surprisingly cut-throat world.’

She shudders. ‘I think I’ll stick to your expense claims. At least you’ll have the party tonight,’ she observes. ‘What are you going as?’

‘Mirage, from The Incredibles,’ I tell her with a smile. ‘You?’