THE RISE OF BRYCE PHILLIPS
There is no greater joy in life, then smearing a fourteen inch, black dildo with cooking chocolate and plotting the demise of an ugly, bald, Scottish cunt.
Bryce was a man that had stirred so much anger and hatred inside me. I was always ready to become my most devious and savage.
Bryce was the branch manager at Diamonds in Watford. Bryce was the reason I finally left Diamonds. I had enough of working for utter arseholes and Bryce summarised everything I despised about the company. Bryce had had been employed at a top electronics manufacturer, but had ended up losing his job through redundancy. It seems clear to me that he had blotted his copy book within the industry and he was casted out. Bryce was always cagey about how he ended up working in retail. It’s not like I gave a fuck to be honest.
He was about fifty odd, short and bald. He was from Edinburgh in Scotland and spoke the Queen’s English. From the minute I joined his branch Diamonds, he was aloof and condescending. He had glasses that hung on a string.
On my first day in the branch, he was cold towards me. Before I had even spoken my first word he had passed judgement. As he gave me a tour of the building, he stared straight ahead.
'There is a shelter for anybody who wishes to smoke. Anybody caught smoking on the premises will be severely disciplined and dealt with accordingly.'
'I don't smoke Bryce.' I said trying to sound chipper.
'I didn't ask you weather you smoked or not. I'm merely stating company policy,' he snapped back, not making eye contact. The cheek of this man! I had worked for the company for ten years. I was fully aware of the company policy.
I had to measure every word I said in his presence. He was constantly picking holes in what you said. He would correct your grammar and pronunciation in front of others. He would chastise you for saying a minor swearword like 'sod' and would ask you to leave the office or dining area. This fucking man was so full of himself.
He was nasty piece of work. His sidekick Alice was even worse. She was his 'personal assistant' and she believed that they were both above everyone. She dressed like a nineteen seventies school teacher; a long skirt and matching blazer, pens in her top pocket. She had a top lip that would blunt the sharpest cut throat razor. She had dull grey hair down to her shoulders. She owned and wore the ugliest shoes known to man. I had seen the shoes worn by very old people and people with severe disabilities. They were grey and I always thought she looked like a fucking idiot. When she wore her Prince of Wales check blazer and skirt, she was a true vision of dull ugliness.
I believe that she and Bryce felt threatened by an outsider from another branch and did their best to bully me. Whether it was making me look small or making me feel unwelcome, it was very clear to everybody that my face simply didn't fit. Bryce was a douche bag and I truly believe my other colleagues felt the same way I did. He was oblivious or he didn't care.
There was only one good thing about Bryce, his daughter, Samantha. She was great. She worked on the weekends and was rebuilding her life after divorcing. She had studied in Manchester and had decided to live there after graduating. When her marriage hit the skids, she located back the nation’s capital. She and I got on like a house on fire. Bryce didn't like this and that’s where my problems with him truly began.
Bryce was a widower and from what I could tell, he had nobody else in his life. It was understandable he was protective of his daughter, but there was nothing romantic happening between us at that point.
I would meet Samantha after work and on weekends. Often we go walking on Hampstead heath or meet up and have a meal somewhere. I enjoyed talking to her. She, I think, liked talking to me. Samantha was devastated about her marriage break up and would talk at length about lost opportunities, relationship break downs and human nature. I felt bad for her. I got the impression that Bryce was a cold man at home, which was exactly how he was at work. I really believe I was the only person she felt she could open up to. All her friends were back in Manchester and her friends in London she had lost contact with or they had moved the suburbs.
Michael, her ex-husband had caused her a lot of pain. From what I could tell, he was a wealthy man. He must have also been an incredible cunt. He dumped her for another woman, six months after Samantha had suffered a miscarriage.
I would miss a night at the pub with Jamie, just to take a walk with her and listen to her problems. Jamie thought she was a 'miserable bitch' and urged me to lose her and pick up a girl who was capable of smiling. Jamie didn’t know what I knew, so I could understand why he had that impression of her. If a sad song came on the radio or was played at the pub, Jamie would remark about somebody putting on 'Suicide FM'. When I was seeing Samantha, he would refer to sad songs as 'Samantha FM'. One night in Jamie’s car, Jimmy Brooks was playing with his radio trying to find an indie rock station when he found a station playing 10cc 'I'm not in love'. Jamie didn't miss a beat. 'Samantha FM!!' he shouted, pretending to slash his wrists and tilting his head sideways, like Samantha did when she was listening to somebody speaking. Jimmy Brooks cackled like a demon. I said nothing.
Samantha had asked me to accompany her and her dad to an event at a local community centre. I couldn't think of anything worse, but I wanted to keep her happy. So I agreed.
Bryce couldn't have made it clearer he HATED me hanging around with Samantha. His face was dour and mean when I turned up to the house on the night of the community event.
'Oh.. Hello,' Bryce mumbled as he opened his front door. Walking inside, I saw Alice and her nervous looking husband Miles. Alice, as always, greeted me coldly. She was wearing her horrible man shoes. They were like something from hell. To top it off, she was