Frowzy (aka ‘Causing A Stink’)

Ruth wasn’t sure which she hated most: the daily commute into the city or the servitude of being a corporate whore? But what could she do? She was young and ambitious and determined to prove herself within the male dominated world of hedge fund investments. One day she hoped she would make enough so that she no longer had to do either.

So she was surprised when that morning she found an empty seat next to a scruffy old man. It wasn’t until she had sat down next to him did she realise the real reason for her fellow commuter’s unusual generosity.

The old guy stank; really stank.

He was wearing a threadbare, frowzy suit, which had string tied around the waist to keep his trousers held up, and kept stroking at an unkempt white beard that looked as if wildlife would emerge from it at any moment.

As she sat down he turned and smile warmly, exposing a mouth of yellowing twisted stumps that might have once been teeth.

“People normally don’t sit next to me,” he said, his breath smelling of stale whisky. “So it must be my lucky day to get such a pretty thing sat here.”

Ruth nodded, whilst trying to hold her breath, and took her Blackberry out of her bag. Hopefully if she pretended to be busy he would shut up and go back to grooming his matted facial hair.

“What do you do then, young lady?” he continued.

“I’m a hedge fund manager,” she replied, matter-of-factly, whilst pretending to read an email. If she was short and sharp enough he might get the message.

He laughed, or rather smiled and burped. “I sometimes sleep in hedges.”

“That’s nice,” she said, feeling the amused glances of other commuters, relieved it was her rather than them. She made a mental never to take a seat on the morning commute again.

“Are you taking the piss?” said the old man, suddenly getting angry.

“Sorry?”

“You think it’s nice having to sleep rough, do you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” started Ruth.

But the old guy wasn’t listening.

“All the same, the lot of you! Think just ‘cause I sleep rough and have a drink problem you can all look down your noses at me, that I have no feelings.”

“No, not at all…”

“I was like you all once,” he said, his voice rising so the whole of the carriage could hear. “Job in the city, nice home in the suburbs, a beautiful wife. Then Black Wednesday hit in the 80s and I lost it all. So fuck the lot of you! I curse you all for your inhumanity.”

Ruth was relieved when they pulled into London Bridge station. She quickly hurried from the train and made for the Jubilee Line. She would have to think about moving closer to the office. It would be more expensive sure, but she could afford it now.

Now she had landed a job with Lehman Brothers.