Hurricane stopped spinning around in her chair for a moment and focused on a thought. “What to do with the 50,000 kroner worth of vouchers from Himmelsk Mat?” Himmelsk Mat was a notoriously pricey gourmet food market. One of their deli sandwiches could cost more than a civil servant’s weekly lunch budget. The vouchers, equivalent to one month’s take home pay, were sitting in an app on Hurricane’s phone.
During Kai’s presentation the previous morning, Hurricane had a flashback to the day when, out of the blue, Tilly Jorgensen banished her to the basement. A few minutes after Hurricane arrived at work, Tilly handed her a box filled with correspondence and asked her to shred them. Downstairs.
Tilly, as Hurricane would later realise, had wanted all eyes on herself that morning. There was a delegation of Thai business people scheduled to visit the Minister and Permanent Secretary, and Tilly was their chaperone. She told Hurricane that the shredding had to be done downstairs in case the guests thought something untoward was happening. Hurricane did her best to suppress an eye roll as she retrieved a letter opener from a drawer in her desk.
Tilly was a graduate of the University of Oxford’s Institute of Actuarial Sciences, and she specialised in risk assessment for sustainable energy systems. On paper, she was perfect for the job. In reality, junior staff and a few senior programmers did all of the work. If she had to do anything substantial, like carry an empty box, she usually made an announcement that she was making an effort to be hands on. Tilly lived by the motto that ‘a good manager delegates’. It was an outdated shibboleth to which she clung for dear life.
Moreover, she often reminded people that she went to ‘that school’ and not ‘the other one’. The ‘other one’ was at Cambridge. This was gratingly obnoxious behaviour, but Tilly didn’t seem to understand that.
She also loved to tell people that she did her grocery shopping at Himmelsk Mat. At lunch time, her daily ‘Nordic Delight’ open sandwich was delivered warm from their deli. Everyone in the office endured their own miserable meals as the aroma of Tilly’s posh life overwhelmed them.
The first layer of the Nordic Delight was a thick slice of toasted brioche. It was drizzled with clarified butter and topped with:
- Crème fraîche infused with black truffle oil
- Thinly sliced wild-caught Arctic char
- Pickled chanterelle mushrooms
- Fresh watercress
- Shaved white asparagus
- Swedish Västerbotten cheese
The cost? An eye watering 740 kroner. Most of the staff didn’t like Tilly and she knew that. Perhaps, to be petty, she had kept the Thai delegation’s visit a secret so she could take all the credit for coordinating it.
In the basement, Hurricane opened each envelope and checked the contents before tossing them in the shredder. Most were messages related to finalised projects at the Ministry. Near the bottom of the box, Hurricane saw a logo which would later become quite familiar. The navy blue sun logo belonged to Nordic Energy Solutions. It was a Suomi company that built the solar panels and the wind turbine for the habitat.
The letter announced that Nordic Energy Solutions was happy to have met the Ministry’s compliance standards for their hardware. They expressed their gratitude with gift vouchers for Himmelsk Mat. A marketing flyer in the envelope announced that the food market was leasing their renewable energy system.
Hurricane remembered taking a sharp breath when she checked the vouchers: 50,000 kroner. She scanned their matrix codes into her phone’s voucher app and shredded the originals.
Today, Hurricane made a list of people Tilly would never think about during the Yule season. At the top of the list was a women’s shelter in Oslo called ‘NO 8763’. The shelter was managed by a group of ex-military women volunteers. The shelter had no street address or contact number and could only be reached by live video call on Chatter. Many of the women escaping their abusive partners had young children with them.
On Chatter, Hurricane shared her work credentials, and one of the managers, a beautiful brunette named Grethe, agreed to a video call. When asked about the number of residents at the shelter, Grethe replied, “We have sixteen women and children with us right now. And four staff who handle administrative work and security. The holiday season really brings out the monsters.”
Grethe hesitated before accepting Hurricane’s offer. She explained that a delivery dinner could help a determined spouse to pin down the shelter’s location.
“So sorry to hear that,” Hurricane replied. “I know we have met only today, but if there are any problems, you can report me to the police.”
Grethe asked Hurricane to make the reservation in her own name. And she suggested that the best day for pickup would be December 23.
“The women won’t feel like celebrating for themselves but they’ll do something for the children,” Grethe explained. “It’s a painful time for them, and the children will miss their family and friends, so we want to respect their space.”
When the call ended, Hurricane went online to the deli section at Himmelsk Mat. There, she placed an order for some traditional Norwegian Yule meals. One order could serve four, so she paid for six, to cover any newcomers. The bill came to 26,000 kroner. Totally worth it.
The confirmation page and receipt reminded Hurricane that the last date for cancellation was December 20. She sent those along to Grethe. Finally, after much spinning around, Hurricane sat still and smiled. She felt better knowing that the residents at the shelter could have a Yule meal worthy of their dignity and courage.
***
Thank you for reading this excerpt from my third novel, How to be rich by Hurricane Nisto.
Saint Joan 
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