The Housing Officer
All the banks have had to close because of the economic crisis in 2014. Society ahd been completely reordered. Money no longer exists. There is a work ethic, but what one does, where one lives or goes on holiday is determined by a group of officials who are supposed to be above reproach and thoroughly ethical.
Trevor is a Housing Officer and actually has some housing needs of his own.
Nigel Post-FS Walk (Photo credit: moria)
“Is that all there is today?” asked Trevor Holmes, looking at the three cream folders and one orange one on his desk.
“Yes, a four-bedroomed detatched. Small garden. Twenty-five years old,” Nigel Spencer, his assistant replied.
So, built just before the Changes. “And the candidates?”
“Three couples,” replied Nigel.
“And they’re all coming in today?”
“Yes. 10.30, 11.30 and 2.30.”
Well, that wasn’t too bad. He’d be able to make a decision and let the lucky new inhabitants of 53 Cherry Tree Drive know by the end of the day. Then part of tomorrow’s work would be reassigning whichever property became available because of his decision.
As he sipped the black coffee Nigel had given him, he started looking through the files. The house wasn’t bad. The couples seemed decent enough. He still wondered why this had to be done by a personal meeting. Surely with modern technology there ought to be no need to keep physical records or ask people to personal meets.
“It’s good to get people out of their spaces for a while,” his boss had said. “It’s good for them to meet other real people.”
He was right of course. Trevor was fed up of rattling around his own mansion of a place. It was so lonely since he’d lost Julia and the since the kids had left home. There were still the dogs, of course. He’d gone on the list for a two bed unit but he’d insisted that it should be near the sea or the countryside. For the dogs.
His visit to this office two or three times a week kept him going, htouhg. He was glad of his work.
“We’re so sorry we’re late,” said the pasty-faced woman. The Robinsons, had arrived late. They brought with them three boisterous boys aged, Trevor guessed, between seven and eleven.