In the lead up to the mass sackings next month, Albert is spending the final weeks in his boss's chair, while the boss blows all his leave entitlement on a world tour.
Albert's discovered he's actually rather good as a manager. He's still useless at the awful meetings, where there's endless talk about nothing. But he's very efficient at getting things done, while treating people with warmth. The other managers sit plonked at their desks all day, tied to keyboard and phone, but Albert uses his legs and the stairs to visit people and talk. With all the exercise and the adrenalin buzz, Albert will surely come out ahead, or in a box.
I'm a bit like that myself, thanks to the toilet training and nob school. If the navy hadn't knocked me back on the eyesight test when I was young, I'd have worked my way up to Executive Officer, the person below the captain who actually gets things done. Of course the free rum ration would have sunk me long ago.
Albert's actually rather hoping he's not re-employed after the sackings, but what on earth would he do with his forced retirement? Probably start blowing dough on holidays and food, like Rodders. Or on drugs and escorts, like Hotters.