Webmaster

Friday finally arrived. I'd meticulously ironed my coolest shirt and applied the perfect amount of aftershave. I'd practiced stock answers to stock questions and felt in control of my destiny for the first time in weeks. The way things had worked out was great. I didn't really want the Leatherhead job now, so this was merely a practice match. A chance to test things out and a handy fall back position if the interview on Monday failed.

I really had no need to worry. The interview was a walk in the park. More a chat than an interview if I'm honest. My stock answer practice had proved invaluable. I sipped tea and spoke with the authority of a master. A webmaster.

Now correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that title just reek of self-importance. I'm guessing it was made up by someone with a little bit of an inferiority complex. Like for example, hmmm, let me think, I know, your stereotypical computer programmer. There's always been this strong correlation between Cola consumption, social ineptitude, role playing games and computer aptitude. Am I right? Now I realise I'm going out on a bit of a limb here, but I'm thinking that the first webmaster had just been doing some freaky, caffeine spurred board-gaming with a group of bespectacled mates when he decided on that name. He'd probably just slain the Valley of Zelda Dragon with his glove of missile dexterity, or defeated the Wizard of Trong with a single poison tipped arrow, when it came to him. On top of the world after a magical throw of the dice that popped up four sixes. 'I've got it, 'Webmaster', beautiful. 'You guys just wait, this Internet thing is going to be bigger than the new Tandy TRS 80.'
'Fuck up Eugene and roll the dice. Bigger than the TRS 80, yeah right!'

Leatherhead had felt strangely familiar ever since I'd stepped off the train, but I didn't know why. It took me a pint and a half of Caffreys and a pack of cheese and onion at a local after my interview before the realisation hit me. Leatherhead as a setting, was the epitome of every country based British detective series ever to appear on the small screen. You know the genre.

I began there and then using the various characters in the pub as the cast of my own fictional detective series. I carefully unfolded a napkin, took a pen from my briefcase and began setting things out. I already had a title; Jack Meorf - The Leatherhead Job.