By Fiona Czerniawska.
Midnight. Outside it’s dark, but in the neon-bright office, Joshua, a junior consultant, runs his hand across his two-day-old beard. “Remind me,” he says to Sophie, slumped opposite him, “what I’m doing here.”
“Because we have to finish this report before 9am tomorrow,” she mumbles, while what little remains of her social life flashes in front of her eyes. “It’s why I delayed my wedding.”
“No, no, that’s not it”—Joshua scans the room for inspiration—“I’m sure there was something else.”
“Because we want to sell more work?”
“No… Ah.” Joshua scrabbles in his laptop bag, and triumphantly pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s here, our purpose as a consulting firm. We’re here to make a difference. We should say that tomorrow.”