Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 2

Welcome to the city, its just the beginning...

Drugs, Girls, Crime, Prison, University & Near Deaths (DGCPUND) Part 2
Got to love the city lights, we don't love the other side


The day had arrived and I was to meet my mother and sister on a visit. I saw them seated as I walked across the room to give them a hug. It was sad to see them there. It would have been nice to spend some quality family time outside, something my mother always wanted. I took my seat and opened a pack of KitKat and started eating. They both looked confused waiting for me to break the news to them. "I need to stay here another 2 months" I said calmly. "What?!?" my mother replied hysterically. This was not something she wanted to hear. "What the fuck did you do Ali?" my sister asked. I was trying to avoid eye contact. I was extremely ashamed to be in there. This was not what my mother ever expected when she moved us to the UK. It was hard trying to rationalise everything. "I spoke to my solicitor he said I would get 1 year or 2 years maximum. In this country you only do half of the sentence. I'm hoping I will get 1 year and be out in 3 months" I explained. My mother had now turned away and was facing another table. She looked really down, it was hard to see. "I stood by the door and my friends robbed somewhere, someone got stabbed, we are just waiting for them to find out who done it" I continued. My sister hugged her from the side to comfort her. "I always told you your friends were bad, now look...you got yourself in here" she said. I didn't want to hear that at that time. I knew my mistakes already. I just wanted to learn how to be a man end of the day, that's why I moved out to begin with. I had to teach myself the hardest lessons in life. The visit ended and we said our goodbyes. I returned to my cell and watched some TV. Gym wasn't being provided for us yet. The guards explained that the rota would begin once we got on our permanent wings. The next week or so flew by with not much happening. The boy from my area moved to another wing, I remained for an extra day and was assigned a wing called Raven. This was where I would have had to spend the remainder of my time at Feltham. This wing was slightly cleaner than the other one. When we walked in we were approached by a group of boys who asked us some questions. They wanted to get to know us better. They were cleaners or worked on servery. I was placed in a cell with a boy from Peckham, South London on my right. He was trouble, constantly getting into fights. His TV would be removed all the time and he spent a lot of time on Basic. There are 3 levels in prison: Basic, Standard and Enhanced. Depending on your behaviour you are placed in these groups. Basic is when you get your TV removed and are under strict supervision. You are let out your cell much less and at intervals when others are not present. Standard is what everyone is on when they first enter. Enhanced is mainly for the workers and the well behaved individuals. They are even allowed a PlayStation 2 with games & DVDs, of course these items need to be sent in from the outside. Me and this boy would talk the entire day, he was an entertaining character. He felt like everyone was against him and would be getting into fist fights every other day. The guards knew what kind of person he was, they would escort him in and out the cell. "Why you always fighting" I would ask him. "I got bare pagans in here bro, these man are haters" he would say. Yes he did have some enemies, but I think he just got a thrill from fighting. The fights would rarely last more than 10 seconds, the guards would get involved rapidly. We built a close relationship me and this guy, we would joke until the early hours of the morning. A few of my other friends from the outside entered that wing, I was well occupied. I knew a lot of people and was eating good food. Gym also started and the two sessions a week were doing us justice. I got close to a boy from Barking in his early 20s. He had a double cell. His cellmate had left and there was a space free. I decided to move in with him. We would play cards, smoke tobacco and joke until the early hours of the morning. This really passed the time. He was super addicted to nicotine. I would catch him waking up to spark one up. What a fucking weirdo I would think. After about a month of being locked up together, his behaviour would irritate me. He would take too long on the toilet. Smoke way too much and watch boring programs about antics and auctions. We had a fight one day in the cell. I wrestled him to the ground and punched him a few times. After the fight we both went to bed without saying a word to each other. It was very tense for a few days, I didn't like the atmosphere. The guards opened his cell and he moved to another wing, a request he had put in before I even came there. One of his friends was in the prison and he went to double up with him. I had a whole double cell to myself. A couple of the boys wanted to bang up with me. One day the cell door opened randomly. "You have a visitor" said one of the guards. It was one of my co-defendants. What a thrill to see him there. I had no idea he was sorting out his move to my wing. Time would fly by now, I thought to myself. We found new ways to entertain ourselves. The 2 months passed quickly.

Get me a KitKat, I need a break

All three of us pled guilty to the robbery and not guilty to the stabbing. The driver who was the eldest pled not guilty to the entire thing. Bail seemed magical at this time and we all knew it would not be granted. We just wanted to know the date for the sentencing. We were sent to the court cells again waiting to see our solicitors. They told us that sentencing would be mid November times, around 3 months away. This meant we had another 3 months to serve inside at least. This did not come as a shock to us, we expected more prison time. We said our goodbyes once again and headed back to jail. A couple weeks later another boy I knew on the outside came to our wing. He moved next door to me and my co-defendant. We would talk through the metal pipes, passing tobacco to each other with a string. This place would have been home for another few months, we had to make the most of it. A man who appeared to be in his early thirties moved on the wing also. He had clearly lied about his age, he did not look 21. He was from Libya and they wanted to deport him. With whatever broken English he knew, he would express his sadness to me. We became good friends me and him. At times he would self-harm, he had cuts all over his arms. He was crazy nonetheless. One day on association me and this other inmate were playing pool. I won that game, surprisingly, and was set to play another inmate. Libya had just come out the shower and claimed it was his turn. The other inmate disagreed and they got into a heated argument. He then picked up the pool balls and dashed them everywhere. Everyone took cover, including the guards. No one could restrain him, the balls were just flying everywhere. If one of those hit your head you could be facing serious injuries. Eventually one of the guards floored him and took him away. Till today I still don't understand why he did that, maybe for them to keep him there. He hadn't called his turn and he never played pool anyway. He really was a madman. A week later I saw him on the wing. The guards had fucked up his arm really bad. "Why did you do that Libs" I asked him. "Brother they want to deport, I have stay here. It's good here you know" he replied. It made sense, I assumed that was the reason. They did gradually get him off the wing. I think they took him back to Libya, who knows. Besides, he looked older than some of the guards. I had not put on that much muscle, we didn't get much gym time in Feltham. Education had started however. Everyday we would be escorted off the wing and to the education department. They taught basic Maths, English, Art, Music and other subjects. None of which benefited me in any way. I had already learnt these things on the outside. It was more of a place for us to socialise. Frequent fights would kick off in these places. Boys from different areas catching their oppositions lacking. The fights wouldn't last long, guards were scattered everywhere. One place you did not want a fight to start was in carpentry. They had serious tools in there. Regular postal orders from my girlfriend, a dozen letters a month. Where she was getting all that money I had no idea, I wouldn't ask. My mother and sister came to see me a few times too. The day came for my ID parade. I was taken out of the prison to a building where me and my solicitor could choose 9 other people who looked similar to me. I chose the boys who had a beard like me and were middle eastern looking. In the end it was even hard to identify myself, even Desmond appreciated my choices. These would have then been shown to the victim and any witnesses. They would have to pick me out amongst the midst. In the end the victim and witnesses could not identify me, this was good news for my sentencing. Time went by rather slowly, but I was in good company. Not much left till I get sentenced. Everyone on the inside turns into a solicitor when it comes to sentences. "Your gonna bust that" one of them would say. "No I think you man will get 2 do 1" another would say. "What you need to do is plead guilty and you should get 3 do half" another would add. In the end no one knew what the outcome would be, they just wanted to sound educated on the subject. As if knowing these things would prove who was the ultimate criminal. There was only one way to find out, and that was by going into court on the day of sentencing. Nonetheless we packed all our things, with the sound advice we had just heard from a large pool of experts, it was looking likely we would get released that same day.

It's none of them

The night before sentencing me and my co-d couldn't really sleep. He was excited jumping around. "We are going home my guy, I know it" he would say. I was hopeful too, everyone believed our sentences would have been served. "Na but seriously, you think we going home Ali S" he asked. "I don't know g, I hope so...I can't stay here much longer" I replied. It was around 3am and we had to wake up in a few hours for court. We were doing press ups and my co-d was playing cards by himself, mainly to occupy his brain. "I spoke to my girl, she coming to the court. I think they gonna bring the victim there too" he said. I wasn't looking forward to seeing that man again. I had just gotten over the trauma of what we had done to him. It would have been a scary set of events for a regular working class person. "I ain't even trynna see that guy" I said bluntly. We listened to some music and dosed off, he was on the upper deck. With what felt like the shortest sleep I've ever had we were woken up. "Get your things...you have court today I'm sure you know" shouted one of the guards. We picked up our bags with all our possessions in them and made our way out the cell. The walk to the Serco van felt like a century. My co-d was talking to one of his boys who also had court that day. I was walking with the guard leading us. "You gonna keep our cell yeah? we ain't trynna lose it" I asked him. "Yes no one would take your cell, but you might be going home so try think positive" he replied. Think positive...think positive...I felt positive to be honest. I just thought there was a chance of us being released from Feltham, I would have preferred walking out those gates. The journey to court did not take very long. This time we were taken to a court in Central London, Southwark Crown Court. From my understanding serious sentences had been handed in there in the past, not something I wanted to hear. A meeting with Desmond at court made me feel slightly nervous. "Ok how are you feeling? I'm feeling a tad bit nervous. I am going to see if we can go for a 3 do half sentence" he said apprehensively. What is this guy talking about? All this time he told me that I was facing 1 year or 2 maximum, now on the day of sentencing he is talking about 3 years. If that was the case I'd still have just under a year to serve inside. No fuck that, another year?!? that is crazy. Before we knew it, we were seated on the stand waiting for the judge to arrive. The victim was not there, but his wife had made an appearance. A few news reporters from local papers were also present. I had told my girlfriend and mother not to come, I wanted to break it to them on a visit, worse case scenario. Desmond kept looking back at me, giving me the thumbs up. "Fam I'm nervous still" said one of my co-ds. "They hand mad sentences in this court, I asked bare man on the wing" he continued. Stay positive...stay positive...that don't mean shit. Our eldest co-d was seated in the back, his brother had just arrived. The judge was taking ages, that was not helping with my anxiety. Finally, with what felt like a decade, he entered the court abruptly. We all stood waiting for him to take a seat. The prosecutor was explaining the events that took place that day. His use of words made it sound absolutely barbaric, not leaving much sympathy for us on the table. Was he even talking about what had happened that day? he made it sound like a horror flick. In reality it wasn't that extreme. "These group of boys savagely entered the home of an innocent member of the public, with clear aims of causing harm. They intentionally stabbed the victim causing grievous bodily harm and permanent scarring" he proclaimed. "They felt no remorse for the victim as they slashed him across the arm using a large kitchen knife from his own kitchen" he added. Was this guy a barrister or an actor? he was working in the wrong profession. He should have tried his luck in a theatre. His tone of voice, body language and enthusiasm, hell...I was even scared. Everyone sat there lost in his story, which was 10% factual and 90% staged. He really deserved a standing ovation. "They then understood their blunder, but this did not deter them" he continued. Ok...hurry up please...stop this now...you was not there. The cries from the victim's wife did not help the situation neither. The judge was glancing at us in disgust. Even the mother of my co-d was almost in tears. Our barristers were then given a chance to explain our set of events, a job they did not do too well. We all had written a letter to the victim apologising for what we had done. The judge barely read through those. He just scanned them with his eyes. I had spent a significant amount of time writing that shit, was this guy taking the piss? he just didn't care. "Taking into account all of the information I have just heard. I will sentence these boys accordingly. I have had the chance to read through the letters you have written. I understand you all sound sympathetic towards the victim. This was a serious offence however, one which took place in an innocent member of the publics home" he explained. There was a moment of silence and he called for us to all stand. "As we could not identify who the perpetrator of this offence was, I have decided to consider this case as a joint enterprise" he added. He then looked towards my co-d who was staying in Feltham with me. He said his name and acknowledged a few defending statements from his barrister. "I have decided to hand you the sentence of 6 years in custody of which you shall serve a minimum of 3 years inside" he shouted. What the fuck? he got 6 years?!? that meant he had to serve just under another 2 and a half years inside. My heart was pounding, I felt extremely nervous now. He then turned towards my youngest co-d. "Once again taking into account you only have 1 previous conviction, for a charge which had no relation to this one. I sentence you to 5 years in prison of which you have to face a minimum of 2 and a half years inside" he shouted once again. No way! the youngest one had to stay inside for another year and 11 months. This is crazy. I was dreading what he would hand me and when he turned to face me, I felt my heart literally beating out my chest. "Ali I understand that this is your first offence. You are an educated individual with what could have been considered a bright future. I understand that you have a great deal of remorse for the victim but you have still committed a serious crime. I will be handing you a sentence of 5 years in custody of which you have to serve a minimum of 2 and a half years inside. Take him away" he explained. No fucking way! I have to be in prison for another 2 years. That can't be true. It felt like a dream, I just wanted to wake up. We were taken outside waiting for the eldest one out of us to receive his sentence. He had pled not guilty to both offences but was later found guilty in trial. His sentence would have been harsh, given he had a previous for robbery already. Me and the boys spoke about what we had just been handed. That was for sure one of the worst, if not the worse day of our lives. A few moments later our eldest co-d arrived looking exhausted. They had sentenced him to 7 years inside, of which he had to serve at least 3 and a half years. I didn't even want to speak with Desmond. He came to see me anyway, mainly for support. "Look that was really harsh. We can look at appeals later. Try stay positive, do you have anyone to talk to?" he asked. I barely responded I just looked away. "I will start first thing with your appeal. You will be moved to another prison eventually anyway, just stay optimistic" he said. The guards locked all of us in the same cell. Me and my co-d who had stabbed the victim got into a heated argument. I was really angry with him, he dragged us into all of this. We would have been handed short sentences if the robbery was the only thing we would have got done for, this was a joke. The journey back to Feltham and back to our cells was extremely quiet. Me and my co-d barely spoke to one another. How could they hand such harsh sentences to a group of young boys with no mental power to form rational decisions. The system is an actual joke. Not to mention their incapability to identify the perpetrator, instead sharing the blame on everyone. I was not looking forward to tomorrow. "Ali S bro, they fucked us" he said lying down on his bed. "They really done us dirty" he added. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted to sleep, and so with quite some difficulty we managed to fade out.

I sentence you to 5 years in custody, take them away

The next day dragged as if we had spent a week there. I called my girlfriend and told her what they had handed me. She burst out into tears cursing everyone in the court. "How could they do that? They have no right! please baby tell them it was your boy" she cried. I did not want to hear that right now, I barely had much energy left in me. "Look b...I need to let you go. You need to find someone and settle down. I can't remain with you. I'm no good as you know besides when I come out I'd probably still cheat on you" I told her. She was adamant to stay and wait for my release, she said she was not going anywhere and that she loved me. "No fucking way...I'm gonna wait 2 years won't be that long" she was crying hysterically. I then called my mother and booked her a visit, luckily she didn't even ask what sentence I had been handed. I could definitely not tell her on the phone. She came to see me a week later. The conversation was full of agonising pain and tears. She was in a state of shock. Another 2 years I had to stay in this place, not to mention an unspent criminal record on my name for the rest of my life. It was a hard pill to swallow. With what felt like officially the worse day of my life I left her and my sister from the visiting hall. My girlfriend as supportive as ever, sending me postal orders in large amounts. A dozen letters a month expressing deep emotions, emotions I could not deal with then. The field of experts on the wing were shocked to hear the sentences we had received. I think they finally understood how the system worked. I mean on the left of our cell, we had a boy who had spent a couple years doing fraud. He had made over £5m in the course of a couple years. Lived the best life, full of jet skis, girls, luxuries and savings. He had been given a 3 and a half year sentence for his lavish lifestyle. Which meant the record being completed wiped off his name in under 8 years. Us on the other hand had to face the consequences for the rest of our lives, and forced into a life of crime or low wage salaries. Whoever had made this system has clearly lacked empathy and life experience. Probably a board room full of old men who never committed a crime in their lives, or never made an error due to their convenient up rising. Who put them in charge of such life changing decisions, who knows. After a couple weeks my co-d was taken to another prison in Cambridgeshire. This was a non remand prison, with everyone already handed sentences. I was also taken there a week later.

I have to let you go

The new prison in Cambridgeshire was much better than Feltham. It was a newly built young offenders, everything looked new. The journey there took some time, but it was worth it. This was a Category C prison which meant we were free to walk around the landing and occupy other inmates in our cells, with the doors open. We were handed a key to our cells and could lock the doors ourselves. The guards would then use their main key to seal the doors during lockdown. Feltham was a Category A prison which meant strong security and us being escorted everywhere, so this felt more free. I was shocked to find that each of our cells had a shower. You only got three presses for the water. Each lasting 1 minute. The first press would be to pour some water on your body. We would then use shampoo and shower gel to wash ourselves. The second press would be to wash everything down, and the final press would be an extra 1 minute under the warm water. You could only use your 3 presses once every hour. The facilities were all really clean and fresh, including the pool tables and table tennis equipment. At first I was extremely delighted to be placed there. The guards were more friendly and the atmosphere was overall more relaxing, but it was still prison and we were deprived of our freedom. My co-d was on another wing and I had just entered the induction wing. I made a few friends, like minded down to earth individuals. I asked the guards to place me on the same wing as my co-d, which they denied at first, but eventually granted my request. In the beginning I was on a 23 hour bang up. We got more channels on our TVs, including a few Freeview channels. The most important one was the music channels, playing new anthems for the week and top of the charts. On the wing with my co-d we were really comfortable. There was a large group of us, and we use to socialise frequently. Fights would still kick off, new boys entering the wing and having issues with others. The fights in this prison would be less but would turn more violent. Given that anyone was allowed to enter someone else's cell. Weapons were easier to make and use due to the freedom. Blades burnt on the end of toothbrushes. Drugs and mobile phones were also more common. The gym rota was much more frequent and I was hitting weights 3 or 4 days a week. I decided to quit smoking and build muscle, there really was not much to do there. We would cook food in our kettles, mainly tuna and eggs. Tuna was a really popular item as it contained protein, something vital for muscle building. I started attending education, Art was my first subject. We would sketch silly paintings and were encouraged to continue our talents on the outside. We also got paid a small amount to attend, maybe around £10 a week. This could have then been used on canteen. I was really comfortable there, and I got close to a boy who was serving an IPP sentence. He was the closest friend I had in there. He was serving a 3 year IPP which meant that he would have to complete the 3 years before getting parole. He would attend parole once every year after that, and they would decide whether he was ready to join society or not. Any time they rejected him, he would have to wait another year. When I first saw him, he had already served 4 years inside. 2 charges of attempt murder and 1 charge of GBH with intent. Serious crimes he got done for. Nonetheless he was a great guy and his offences were from when we was really young, just turned 16. Someone had mistaken his twin for him and hospitalised him. He went to seek revenge as you would if you are young and misguided. Especially if you are caught up in a silly life. He was in the cell next door and we would talk pretty much the entire day. We even went gym together and education. I tried to apply for a gym position, but there were many inmates on the waiting list. The boys on that role all looked huge. A few months had passed and I was still receiving postal orders from my girlfriend. She would come to see me twice a month. Many many letters through the post. My mother and sister would come to see me once a month also. Time was flying in there, I had served a year of my sentence already.

The best one so far

I decided to apply for a job on servery. I wanted to eat good food in order to gain weight. After a short while, and with the semi-friendships I had formed with the guards, they gave it to me. There were 8 of us on servery and we were in charge of collecting the food trays from the main kitchen. We would then bring those back on the wing and set up for serving. I worked as a cleaner on there too, which meant I was out my cell pretty much the entire day. I managed to work up to an enhanced level and get sent in a PlayStation too, something which sped up the process. I was eating enough to hit the gym, and even topped up my friends too. I was always one of the first people on the pool tables, as we was out ours cells the most. I would collect games and DVDs from everyone and move around the wing when others may have been locked up. The benefits of working as a cleaner of course. I did that for a few months, even got my friend next door on that. My co-d started too, so we were all really nice. After a few months I wanted to get off the wing more, I was being neglected from all the action on the outside. I did a short course in barbering, the woman was really hot, or she appeared to be given that we had been in prison for a while. She really liked me and found me humorous, so she chose me as her teaching assistant. I would cut many inmates hairs in a semi-professional workshop they had created for barbers. A lot of the inmates use to come in there to just speak with her, she had a great body. At times we would flirt, but only discreetly. She didn't want to get into trouble and neither did I. No girl is worth extra days in the can. Besides, she would face a sentence herself if anything happened. We just flirted with the idea, plus she knew we all were incredibly horny in there. My girlfriend would send me nude pictures through the post, most of which the guards would have a detailed look at before passing them to us. The horny bastards. A year and a half had gone by now, it was starting to drag. I would cross days off the calendar and attend the mosque when I felt low. Islam really helped on the inside. Religion helped all the prisoners in times of need, regardless of which religion they chose. I reached a conclusion that I had to leave my girlfriend. My love for her had grown dramatically, as it would given the dedication and energy she placed in me. I could not handle paranoia. Thinking what she was doing on a Friday night and not being able to get in contact with her frequently. I felt weak and emotionally all over the place. She had done me justice and shown a great deal of loyalty, but it was all getting too much. Besides, the way she would hug me and kiss me on the visits were too sexual. It was not healthy for me or her. I kept thinking she is bound to cheat, even though she had remained loyal up till then. End of the day, I was her first. I decided to book her a visit, and break the news to her. It was time.

Size up

I had to do it for both of us. I had hurt her a lot in the past, given all the cheating and verbal abuse. Most of which were unintentional, I was not mature enough to comprehend. She was a good looking young girl, plenty of boys wanted to be with her. I had to set her free, it was only right. I saw her approaching the table with a tray full of snacks. She gave me a hug and a long kiss and sat down. "How are you baby?" she asked. "Yeah I'm good" I replied. We spoke about random things and I could feel the love I had for her. It was really hard to cope with, I had never experienced emotions for a girl in the past. On the outside anytime I got close to a girl I would cheat in order to reduce the emotions. I guess I was young and scared of the unknown emotions love brought. In there, it was hard to distract myself or run away from it. Besides, all that love stuff in prison is not beneficial. You are in a emotionless environment, and the other inmates just see that as a weakness. Unless they have served many years inside, then they would be in touch with their emotions. I waited till the last 20 minutes of the visit to break it to her. This meant me seeing her cry less. "Look I have to tell you something" I said dreading it. "I need you to continue your life. You have done me well so far and I'll try repay you one day. You need to go and live your life. Sitting here waiting for me to come out. I'll just end up cheating anyway" I continued. She already had tears in her eyes. "I've decided its for the best, for both of us" I added. "No fucking way...I am not going anywhere" she would say. "I've waited this long, what's another year. Ali seriously don't even try it" she said. She could see I was serious this time. I managed to hide all my emotions and be direct about the issue. I told her I could not deal with the paranoia. She expressed how loyal she had been up till now and that she had not cheated. Regardless if she was telling the truth or not, I did not want that on my mind. "You need to go! that's it. Fuck off" I said aggressively. The gentle approach wasn't working, I had to switch it up. She was crying really heavily. Thankfully the visit ended, but she wasn't leaving. The guards had to walk pass our table and ask us to finish up. "Can you just go for fuck sake...I don't want to be with you" I lied. I had to lie. For years I was trying to get rid of her. I guess I always felt like she deserved a proper relationship, one I could not provide due to my lifestyle. Eventually she got up and gave me the tightest hug. "You do know this is the last time right?" I said. "No way...see you soon" she replied walking off. Surely she knew I was serious. I felt really down when I got back to the wing. I didn't talk to many people. If I was not to call her, then there would be no way she could get hold of me. She sent me money and letters still. Asking me to contact her. Asking me to call her or book her a visit. I ignored all of them with quite some difficulty. It was very hard. She was writing more and more letters. I could see she was in pain. The rate of the letters went up dramatically. I was receiving 2 or 3 a week. The postal orders did not stop neither. I would still contact my mother who would tell me to call her. I stuck with my decision. After a couple months, which felt like a year, the letters reduced. Until finally she wrote a letter just asking me to call her, less emotions this time. I called her and she picked up the phone. There was a guy in the background, he wanted to be heard. "How are you?" I asked. "Look Ali I wanted to tell you something. I met this guy and we kissed briefly. He really likes me. I still don't feel much towards him" she replied. I knew where she was going with this. I felt pain at that time, it was hard to hear she had met someone else, but she deserved it. The guy picked up the phone and spoke with me. "Oi stop calling her, what the fuck, what you on?" he said. I got angry at him for taking the phone off her but I didn't want to ridicule him in front of her. End of the day this guy may soon be her new man. He seemed protective enough and sounded like he had love for her. It was for the best. She still said I love you on the phone in front of him, I told her not to say that. In what felt like the most undesired goodbye, we ended the call. I felt like shit for a couple weeks, really down. She sent me a couple other postal orders but no letter this time. What a girl I thought. Time dragged even more now. The woman from the barber shop really helped. She would comfort me and keep me distracted, mainly sexually. Seeing her every day would keep me in check. I had now served 2 years of my sentence. Only 6 months to go.

Stop sending mail

The last 6 months were the longest, maybe because I kept anticipating my release. I had now seen a mental health worker who deemed me fit to re-join society. Immigration did try to get in contact, given I wasn't born in the UK, but a scan of my British passport sorted them out. I had put on a significant amount of weight and was actively attending gym. I maintained my barbering job and it paid me well. It was one of the highest paying jobs in the prison at the time. I had a good relationship with the guards, they liked my unusual personality. You wouldn't want a bad relationship with them, especially if you are serving a long sentence. They will make your life hell. I noticed that the boys with longer serving sentences were more calm and at peace. They would only get into violence if they felt offended or if someone fucked with them. The new guys would come in super hyped up, constantly making noise. It wouldn't take long for them to be humbled. It reached a stage where I could identify the ones with long sentences, and the ones who were there short term looking to prove a point, or to get a name for themselves. There is no point trying to prove your the man, there will always be someone who is harder than you or has been through more shit. That is always the case. If I had been released in the early stages of my sentence, then I would have come out feeling invincible too. The extra year or so really did open my eyes. Made me think about the impact my life had on my family, the closest ones to me. How much I had hurt them. My mother had become really ill. I would notice physical changes in her anytime she came to visit me. That really bothered me, and I wanted to use the last 6 months to work on myself spiritually. I read a lot of books, mainly to pass the time, but also to get my brain into thinking deeper. To not make irrational decisions. I wanted to make myself a better person for my family, in order to improve my mother's health. To be honest with you, the extra year and a half was really riding someone else's sentence. The role I had played in the robbery should have been served a long time ago, but when you enter a life of crime, you have to follow the codes. In any life really, even in a legitimate environment, they have codes. Not many people do nowadays. What they consider 'snitching' is common. Most of the boys I met during my time there had a bone to pick with someone on the outside. Someone had told on them. Someone had behaved unethical. Me on the other hand never wanted to see a cell again. It was a waste of time. I could have learnt the same lessons staying home for long periods. No regrets however, it made me into the person I am today. It was a journey I had to go on to discover myself, which I did in depth. It was almost time for my release. A week to go. The boys on the landing would keep reminding me, as if I didn't know. They seemed happy for me most of them. The boy next door who was serving an IPP, my closest friend inside had a sad look on his face. We had built quite the friendship. I guess he was just sad to see me go, even the guards. On your last day inside you would be called upstairs in one of the cells. The boys would then all punch you, a going away present. The guards would allow it too, end of the day it was all banter. Everyone would express how much they would miss you as they struck you with anger. I was on the receiving end this time, I had given others my share of punches on their departure. I took the hits like a man, even got a few punches in there myself. My day was almost here, I could not wait. I went to bed early, somewhat bruised and spoke to my next door. "Fam your gone tomorrow shit! Your gassed" he said. I tried my best not to show my excitement I felt bad for him. He had served a long time and who knew when they would release him. "I know man, but its minor your next anyway" I said trying to offer some moral support. "I'll shout you bro don't watch that" I told him. I gradually fell asleep. Tomorrow was the big day.

It was time

I had given most of my things away to the boys on the wing. My stereo, DVDs, PlayStation, games and anything else they saw lying around in my cell. So when the guard opened my door that morning there was not much left to carry. I just took all the letters I had received, my journal and items which had meaning to me. "Its time" he said with a rare smile on his face. I didn't know whether he was happy to see me leave or just happy for me. It didn't matter to be honest, I was leaving regardless. I said goodbye to a few friends including my co-d. He was set to be released a few months after me. Some of the boys were shouting through their cells as I walked pass. They seemed excited for me. I said goodbye to all the prison guards I knew, the ones I had built a relationship with. "Top man, wish you all the best on the outside" one of them said. I shook their hands and made my way out of the door on the wing. I walked pass the different wings, most of the inmates were sleeping. No one knew about my release date apart from my mother and sister who were set to collect me from a local station. There was a couple of us being released that day. "Fam I can't wait, where you going when you get released" one of the inmates asked me. "Ima spend some time with the famo. They coming to collect me" I replied. He had his boys meeting him at the gates. They took us to the changing rooms where they handed us back our possessions. The clothes I had come in with were now tight on me, I had put on a significant amount of weight, mainly muscle. I saw my reflection in the mirror, I felt good. The prison gave me around £40 for transport, got me to sign a sheet and wished me all the best. Someone told me not to look back as I exited. Apparently it wouldn't bring me luck in the future. I told myself that day, if I ever came back to jail it would be for murder, god forbid. No silly petty crimes. My mobile had ran out of battery I could not turn it on. I waited by the main gates with one other inmate. "I can't fucking wait" he said. We saw the two large gates open slowly as we made our way out. What a feeling, I will remember that for life. I can't imagine how people who had served longer sentences would have felt at that time, I'm guessing pretty amazing. I walked out of there and took a deep breath, fucking freedom. It was priceless. Across the street was a mini cab office. I would then use the transport money to get a lift to the local station where my mother and sister were waiting for me eagerly. They had a charging point, so I asked if I could charge my phone. When it turned on I was getting many notifications. It was all overwhelming. The cab arrived shortly after and I made my way to the station. Fucking hell is this where my family had to travel just to see me. It looked like a place no one ever visited. It took a few minutes to get to the station, I gave the guy a tenner. My mother had not arrived yet and so I went into an off licence to buy a drink. How convenient it was to walk into a shop, things I use to take for granted. On the inside we had to wait for days to received some of these items. I had a craving for a cool beverage for ages, I bought a Diet Coke. "You just got out of prison yeah?" the shopkeeper asked. He must have had plenty of prisoners heading there after release. When I came out the shop my mother and sister had arrived. They jumped out the car excitedly and we hugged. I sat in the back munching away on all the food they had brought. Iranian snacks, chicken wings, pizza and many more. I had lost my appetite all of a sudden and only took a small bite from each. I was listening to music and staring out the window, what a feeling. All the songs I had on my mp3 brought back memories. Most of those songs could not be sent into prison. They only accepted legitimate CDs and those songs were mostly underground music. The journey to my mums new house took a couple hours. It made me think about the effort they had placed to come and see me every time. It must have been difficult and time consuming. We eventually stopped at a supermarket. I went in there with my sister and bought some personal items, toothbrush, razor, shower gel etc. We then made our way home. I had not seen her new place before, it was rather exciting for me. She had prepared a popular Persian cuisine. We sat around the table as a family and ate. It was a great feeling. I even helped her with the dishes, something I had not done before going in. My income support allowance had piled up in my bank account. It had reached around a £1000 which was needed then. In the night I went for a walk alone, something I had wanted to do for a couple years. Walk in the fresh air undisturbed in open space. I was finally free but I had work to do.

Free at last

I remained low key for the next few days, no one knew I was out. I had to attend probation the next day. The most important thing was seeing who would be assigned as my probation officer. I hope I don't get some prick with a lack of understanding or someone inquisitive. I still had to be on licence for another 2 and a half years, meaning I would have to visit this person to discuss my affairs. I went and bought some clothes from a local store and created a Facebook page online. I wanted to check up on the boys from the area and some of the girls too. My main intention was to pursue my music career, something I had worked on inside. A CD was going round on the wing and the boys had encouraged me to do it, plus I had written many songs. After a few days I decided to make my Facebook account public and follow everyone I knew. People were excited to find out I was out and they came to see me one by one. I even got in contact with one of my close friends from childhood. We had lost touch and our friendship had ended abruptly. Most of the boys were still doing pretty much the same thing. Smoking weed till late hours and chilling in large groups. I went to my first studio session and recorded a song. Everyone was encouraging me to push my music career. They were feeling my songs. I posted on social media, nothing too major mainly on Facebook and Soundcloud. The local area was hearing my songs and I had a little bit of a buzz. I managed to save up a couple grand and spent the money on building a little home studio in my mothers house. I would spend my free time recording songs to release on social media. I also recorded a budget video which I released on my own channel. It only got a couple thousand views, but it motivated me. The girls that were feeling my music I would invite to mine, mainly for entertainment. I rarely spent much money on girls, the gift of the gab went a long way. I found myself in a relationship with a girl younger than me. I guess I wanted to feel the same emotions I had felt in my previous relationship. Besides, she was infatuated by me and most of the boys were feeling her. At first I liked her but she was clingy, it reminded me of my ex. I was also her first, or so she claims. I've heard that a fair few times from girls growing up. Maybe it was their way of tricking me into a long term relationship. The first few months were going well. She was motivating me to release new content constantly. Her family were really over protective, they barely let her out the house. She would come to see me a couple days a week, at mine. My mother was not really keen on her. They were from a part of Iran where a lot of crime and drug dealers are from. She was born in the UK however. Her father had somehow gotten my number and would call me randomly. "When I catch you I am going to kill you" he would say. "Where are you, I'm on my way" he would shout. It was all getting too much, besides, I only saw her as a temporary option. The 'you are my first' comment really guilt tripped me into a full blown relationship. A couple other guys had told me they linked her before anyway, so I'm not sure who she was kidding. Who knows, guys also lie, a lot. The point is I just didn't want her in my life forever and her family were driving me insane. She would behave like a little gremlin and secretly call me when they were asleep. I was just turning 21 at the time. I felt mature and that relationship was too childish for my liking. Some of these girls parents would keep their daughters under strict supervision until they reach the age of 25, sometimes even more. They really need to adapt to the western world or educate their children in a better way. Less force and more guidance would gain the same results, if not better ones. I use to break up with her again and again, she wouldn't leave me alone. She would create fake social media profiles and check up on me. It was all too creepy. Her friends would also hit me up, I was never sure if they genuinely liked me or if they had given their profiles to her. Calls from various unknown numbers and strange friend requests online. Mary_adsadjas_7738 wants to send you a message. Yeah no thanks, I didn't want to read whatever it had to say. No offence. I don't mean to be heartless at times. I see myself as quite the opposite. A heartless person would keep the girls he doesn't want around and use them at his or her convenience. It takes a good person to push them away or let them down when its no longer working. Sometimes harshly, if the gentle treatment does not work first, unfortunately that's the case at times. I had released a dozen songs and my Facebook page had picked up a small crowd. I knew I wouldn't make it through social media, I needed to get onto larger channels, known ones. That would mean I needed a regular income. At the time all I was doing was chilling with my childhood friend and smoking weed with a group of boys all day. I tried selling some weed but I didn't want to go back inside, the police and probation had a hard on for me. Besides, most of the boys had their futures set in stone. Their career paths were either already written or they did not want much out of life. Me on the other hand had no credentials, worthy ones anyway. So a few months after release I decided to apply for work, as recommended by my close friends. I got the interview and the office was in Angel Town. From my understanding it was an upper class area, so I presumed the job would be top of the range.

My music career

I never had a professional job before this. I worked at a few car washes and did a bit of leafletting for pizza shops previously, but never an office based role. I didn't know what to expect. The interview was set to start at 11am and so I put on the most formal garments I could find. A Black short sleeved shirt, Black trousers and a pair of Black shoes. I made my way to the office on a bus listening to music on my mp3 the entire journey. When I arrived in Angel I asked people for directions. Everyone seemed to know where the place was, which made me think the establishment must have been credible. I pressed the buzzer and waited for the receptionist. "Hello?" she said. "Yeah...hi...can you let me in I have an interview at 11" I replied. She released the door and I made my way to the top floor where the main reception was. The atmosphere of the office was electric, everyone was shouting numbers and girls and boys were running up and down the corridors. All of them were carrying mini booklets and wearing formal clothing. The boys all had on suits and the girls wore business attire. I walked up to the receptionist and showed her the email I had received. She told me to take a seat and wait for them to call my name. A moment later someone handed me a sheet to fill out. It asked about my previous work experience, educational background, health and worse of all any unspent criminal convictions. I left most of the fields blank and answered 'no' to all other questions, including the criminal record section. I handed the sheet back to the receptionist and took a seat opposite a large room which occupied about 40 employees. "Guess who else rang the bell yesterday? Ahmed...everyone clap for Ahmed" one of them shouted. They would then all scream and shout enthusiastically. Whoever Ahmed was must have been having the time of his life. The place had real energy, all positive. They would then ring a metallic bell again and again as more names were called. I assumed those were the over performing individuals. After a while I was approached by a woman who appeared to be in her early 30s. She looked Asian, was average height and walked like she was somebody in the office. She was wearing a skirt with black tights, a red shirt and had her hair in a bun. She looked quite attractive. "Are you Ali?" she asked. I nodded and she shook my hand. She then escorted me to a room for the interview. We both took a seat and she introduced herself. "I am the assistant owner here. We have been recruiting heavily and I came across your CV. Let me give you more info about the role" she said. She then went into details about what the job entailed. From my understanding it was a door to door sales role. You would have to go to different areas in London and sign people up for charity. She showed me a sheet we had to fill out. The goal was to find donors who wanted to donate to specific charities for long term. We would have to take down their name and address, donation amount and direct debit details. This sheet would then be returned back to the office. For each person you signed up you would receive £40. She said on average employees would return 3 or 4 sheets a day. Which meant them making around £120-£160 a day. "Wow...that's good money" I told her. She smiled and continued to explain the role. It was simple. The charities would allocate a budget for marketing. For every £1 raised, 25p would go towards advertisement. That would in turn find them more donors and the cycle would repeat again and again. We were paid from the marketing funds and so the donations would in fact still be going to charity. Good...I definitely did not want to take money from those places, besides I needed to give something back to the society. "Any questions?" she asked. I thought I might as well as tell her about my conviction. Since the role was commission based I doubt it would have been an issue. "Yeah I have two questions...what if I fail to sign anyone up?" I asked. "Then you don't make anything...but don't worry we will train you and you will make sales" she responded. Well that's all good in that case. "Yeah and another thing I have a criminal record, I didn't know what to write on the sheet. It's only just the one" I said somewhat nervously. She asked me what the offence was and a few other basic details. In the end she didn't seem too bothered and said that I could still start. She was so friendly, I liked her. She told me that I would be joining her team and that I was set to start tomorrow. We shook hands again and joked as she guided me out the building. I called my mother to give her the good news. She was so happy, that made me feel accomplished. I jumped on the bus and made my way back home. Tomorrow was my first day, I was excited.

My first day

When I arrived early that morning everyone had gathered in the main room. People would greet you as they walked in, the atmosphere was really friendly. I didn't know where to stand I wasn't too comfortable. I kept placing my hands in my pocket and taking it back out again. Am I standing too firm? Maybe I should lean on the wall. "Do you have a tie?" one of the boys asked. "No...I don't" I responded in confusion. "You need to get one...come with me...we need to practice a basic pitch" he said as he guided me to another room. Who was this guy? Fuck it...it's better not to ask any questions. "Ima be your sales leader, your under me. We gon make money together. This job is cool ma brudda...you'll soon get the hang of it" he said. I felt more at home when he spoke to me in a friendly way. That formal talk felt unnatural to me then. He was a Jamaican man in his mid thirties. His hair had started fading and he looked like he smoked a lot. Not cigarettes obviously, besides, I could smell it on him. "You bun right?" I asked him. He laughed and nodded. "What can you smell it? I thought I sprayed it all out man" he said with a huge smile on his face. He was running me through a few basic sales techniques. Smile, eye contact and body language. It was all basic stuff, things I had learnt in a non professional environment before. Hell...most of those things came natural to me. They must have been engraved in my DNA already. Some time passed and more employees would come over to greet me. They were all entertaining characters and very charismatic. The assistant owner who had employed me also made an appearance. "How you getting on?" she asked. "Yeah it's all good...he is teaching me some basics" I replied with an artificial smile. Smiling was not my thing. I had not been in many environments before where smiling would benefit me. After about half an hour me and my team leader headed back to the main room to join the others. The owner of the company, a Turkish man in his late 40s was giving a speech. He had on a lavish navy suit, a white shirt and an expensive watch. You could tell he was making a good income from the place. "Juice by you Becky. You did well" he applauded one of the girls. She walked across the room to collect an envelope as everyone clapped. I joined in somewhat awkwardly. "Now...we did 130 sales yesterday. That is better than every day last week. Let's keep up the momentum. I am taking the leading sales person for breakfast in the morning...my treat" he shouted emphatically. He then left the room as another owner made a speech. "Guys make sure you get the donors to sign their names properly. We are having problems with your sheets everyday. Take time and get them to sign the damn thing right" he shouted aggressively. My team leader was standing next to me and explained that he was another one of the owners in the company. How many owners did this place have? The company had a simple structure. You started as a field representative. You would then be promoted to team leader once you had made 10 sells a week for two weeks running. You could then train people under your name. Once you and your team had made 60 sales a week, you would be promoted to sales manager. You would then need to grow your team and reach 120 sales a week. You could then become an assistant owner and work your way towards starting your own advertising firm. The only issue was retaining employees. The job was commission based, so people would constantly drop out. Sales would go up and down. You had to maintain a positive attitude at all times and eliminate any rotten apples, or employees they considered as neg heads or negative energies. It was crucial to remain happy at all times. Negative individuals would be sent home or segregated from the rest of the team. One moment of weakness would mean no sales that entire day. No sales meant no money, plus you would have been down on income because of all the travel expenses. It did not seem like an easy job, I mean how many people would trust you with their bank details on the door. The goal was to speak to 120 people on average a day, law of attraction meant that out of the 120 you should be able to sign up 4. If that was the case I'd be making £160 a day. 5 days a week would mean £800 a week, £3200 a month, around £40,000 a year. The really talented and experienced sales people were making between 5-10 sales a day and on average around £60,000 a year, just from knocking doors. Besides, I didn't even know how to declare tax. I had not been in a working environment before, it was all new to me. After the meeting we met up with some other guys. Adrian, my team leader was gathering his things. We were being sent to an area in North London, travel was provided on the first day. The weather was horrible it was raining heavily. I remember thinking all of the sheets would get wet, plus I had come out with a short sleeved shirt, not a smart idea. Adrian had an umbrella and he shielded me from the rain. He needed to retain me in order for his team to grow. We made our way to the train station and spoke about weed the entire journey. "Fam Thai weed is dead. I don't even get high off that" I told him. "Na trust me man, you don't wan smoke all that chemically planted shit. It's not healthy" he replied knowledgably. He was at least 10 years older than me, I took his word for it. He told me that he use to be a Chef in the past. We talked about the different cuisines he knew how to cook. That really made me hungry. We got to the underground and made our journey to Seven Sisters, that was the area we were going to pitch. He paid for my travel and we sat on the train getting to know each other better. The other boys also spoke to me, the team was organised and driven. I liked the atmosphere.

Not even the rain can stop me

When we arrived we were split into groups of 3, each of us given a specific section of the area. I stood with Adrian waiting for him to guide the other guys. They went off and me and Adrian walked towards the backroads. We would start from the top of the road and knock our way down. I was only observing him and holding the umbrella. The rain hadn't stopped it was a hard environment to work in. My arms were wet and my hair was all over the place. He seemed super positive, I remember thinking he was mad. How could anyone remain positive in that weather doing the job we were doing. We knocked on about 20 doors, most of which didn't answer. He would keep a list of the doors we knocked in order to return to them at the end of the day. The ones that did open the door did not seem interested. He would barely get to the middle of his pitch. "I'm sorry love...I already give to loads of charities" they would say. "Charity begins at home!" another would shout. Adrian remained positive and just kept knocking. I had a sandwich in my bag, I was starving. "Bro...can we stop for a minute...I wanna eat" I told him. He said we were nearly done and that we could go for lunch soon. Good thing we didn't stop, he managed to sign someone up. I saw how it worked but it was not an easy role. "Come inside...it's raining" the donor said in a welcoming manner. We walked into this strangers house as he went to grab his bank card. He gave Adrian his details along with his sort code and account number. He then offered us a drink, a cup of tea. How nice of him to do that it was really needed. I drank mine with delight and Adrian continued to speak to the man about food. When we finished our drinks we went back out. The rain had not stopped and I felt like shit leaving the donors house. We ate lunch under a shelter as he organised his sheets. "Bro this job is hard" I said as I took a bite of my sandwich. He laughed, "You came on a shit day man. When the weather is nice people are more happy" he replied positively. What the fuck? This guy is not human. How could you remain positive at this time? I took another bite and waited for him to start eating. He had prepared some Jamaican food, Jerk Chicken with some vegetables. We ate as we spoke about the income the work was bringing him. The other guys from the train would call him frequently updating him of their progress. After we ate we spent another hour or so knocking doors. Adrian was having a bad day too the sales were not coming. He could tell I was agitated and told me that I could go home soon, something I was looking forward to. I heard some really harsh responses from the public. "I've had enough of sales people knocking my door. Can you just go away" a middle aged woman yelled. It was kind of embarrassing. Eventually we stopped and he told me I could go home. "Make sure you come early in the morning tomorrow. I am going to teach you your pitch" he said unconfidently. He had a strong feeling I would not come back the next day. We rocked fists and I made my way to the train station. Thank god the day ended, I couldn't take much more of that. When I got home I relaxed and ate some good food. My mother asked how it went to which I replied it was tiring. I genuinely did not want to go back in the next day. Somehow I did.

= £

A couple months down the line and I had been promoted to team leader. I was averaging 12-20 sales a week. I would be taking home around £300-£400 weekly, which was decent at the time. I brought some energy into the office, it was constant excitement and laughter. I started training people too, most of which never returned, the ungrateful bastards. At times I would train someone so hard all for them to pull a disappearing act on me. A couple would even leave secretly on the field, I would then spend hours searching for them, the pricks. All in all it was a hard job but I had gotten the hang of it. My relationship with the assistant owner had grown too, we got really close. She would pay me directly now straight into my account. Some days I would make 4 sales, others only 1 or 2. On average I would make 3 a day. My main strengths were in the quality of the sales, my retention rate was amazing. The people I would sign on would go on to donate for years. "Please understand that your money is going such a long way. What you have done today is truly amazing and I pray the blessing reaches you" I would say with deep emotions. Where all those words came from I don't know, it all sounded deep and comforting. The other guys just focused on getting as much sales as possible, a lot of them were pressure sales. They would manipulate the donors into signing up at times. They made a lot more money but their cancellation rates were sky high. "For god sake, can you fucking sign these people up properly. You are costing me so much money. You do know I have to give that back to the charity when they cancel in under 3 months" the Turkish owner would say in disgust to the guys. Some of the boys were hitting 6-8 sales a day, most of which would cancel on the first phone call. I managed to get my team up to 5 people. A very diverse and energetic team all driven towards weekly targets. We would all hit the field together. I found myself in a weird relationship with one of the girls. She was from Nigeria and had a baby. I had never dated a mother before so it felt different. She was extremely flirtatious in the office with everyone. At first I didn't think much of her but eventually we got close. She would stay at mine and we would go to the field together. Besides she had a car so I had free transport all the time. That saved me money. In the end the relationship ended and she left the office. A few 'you fucking dickhead' text messages and constant abusive phone calls later. I rarely ever end on good terms with the girls I break up with, maybe its for the best. Besides, I had borrowed £300 off her which I eventually paid off. After about a year on the job I had become a fluent sales person. I could just about sell anything. The owner of the company, the Turkish man, was a prolific gambler. He had lost a significant amount of money and could not pay us for the week. This caused a massive upset in the office and everyone raged. The assistant owner had to come on the field with us too. She needed to grow her team again her office was practically empty. The only difference was for every sale she would make she would get £120, so she needed the money I guess. We got even closer as we pitched together. Maybe a little too close. One day randomly on the field she asked if I wanted to go for a drink, her treat. "What about work?" I asked her. "Don't worry I will pay you double for the sales you've done today" she replied as we walked to a local pub. That was fine by me. At first I thought she was just treating me for my loyalty. A lot of people had left her office at that time, her team had gone down to 6. We drank and talked about random things. It came as a surprise when she kissed me. It felt weird I did not expect that. She was my assistant owner and a somebody in the company, not to mention she was several years older than me, the paedophile. I'm only joking I loved it to be honest. "Do you stay with your mum?" she asked. I nodded and she then went on to ask if it was ok with her coming to mine. I was really nervous. I had never been with a girl that much older than me, let alone someone in a high position. I kept thinking the excitement would show in the bedroom, if you know what I mean. Fast forward and she had stayed in my mothers house for 4 days in a row, in a small room that I had. Hell...she even spoke to my mum and everything. What a weird experience. The relationship between us was pretty heated at times in the office. I mean the company was technically hers, so who could anyone complain too. Besides many people were in relationships in there. The Turkish owner had now moved to another department across the road and restarted his business from scratch. The assistant owner also moved there with him. There was a bidding war between the new owners of the place and them. Every one of us became an asset. They would throw ridiculous numbers in the air. "£80 a sale if you stay here" one of them would say. In the end I stuck with my assistant owner and moved across the street, a wrong move. The other guys were making so much more plus we had a gambler as an owner. I stayed a few months but the new office was a shambles, very unorganised and the atmosphere was dark. I also found out that the assistant owner had a fiancé. Why would she cheat on him? and keep the news so secretive. I felt bad for the guy. He came to the office one day and we spoke briefly. I think she had told him about us hooking up. He did not seem too angry, more annoyed than anything when he saw me. I guess he had forgiven her. In the end I decided to move back to the original building as encouraged by a boy called Bobbie. He made a lot of sales and was a key player in the office. They had given him his own company and he asked me to join his team. I was now making much more and stuck with that job for another 2 months. Overall I had spent 2 years in direct sales and had learnt everything there was to know. I was experienced enough to take on a new role. Besides that place was getting tiring. Too much pressure and constant energy was needed. I decided to quit and went on a search to find a new one, a more professional one this time.

Target driven

fact or fiction
Ali Elyas Shahali
Ali Elyas Shahali
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Ali Elyas Shahali
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