Just a fortnight after taking a suite in our client Divoc’s flex office building and Sophie and I have got to go back to WFH. Our client has “generously” given us a rent holiday but on the quid pro quo that we don’t charge him PR fees.
6pm, 18 September, The Tank: Why GBH staff call the spit-and-sawdust wine bar north of Oxford Street ‘The Tank’ is lost in time. Didn’t getting ‘tanked up’ used to be a thing? Not tonight, place is a morgue.
8.30am, Friday 4 September, Teutonic Room: “Say hello to Charlie Boy.” I gesture to Team P’s newest recruit, the embarrassed 54-year-old third son of a minor hereditary peer who left Savills under a weeny cloud a few months ago.
Well, that’s our run of post-lockdown luck over then. Up till last Friday, Sophie and I had not lost a single client or had any of them ask for a fee holiday. Then our biggest client went and sacked us.