Some holidays are shorter & better than others and so it is only right that some are longer and worse than others. How come the good ones are short and the crap ones are long.
I apologise for the enforced absence holiday and my inability to communicate with people, alas it was not of my making.
Still that was then this is now as my pal billy says, and I hope to get back into the swing of things over the next few weeks if I can persuade the bank and internet company that I have not died AGAIN. I went through all of this with them before, bloody hell how many times does a bloke have to die before they will believe you are alive. I will have to ring Mandy in Mumbai and see what the SP is.
Heres another question, how come my PC has started correcting my typos and turning them into German words?
Everyone is well – more or less, although the Ant Hill Mob are less than they were.
I trust all is well with you and yours.
BF sorry to hear about Drew he was top man when I get myself sorted we will mark his passing.
We all have life changing experiences such as our first kss, getting married, getting divorced, having children, death. etc etc.
However sometimes we have a major experience which from the moment it happens it is as clear as lady Gagas clothing that things are going to change.
When I got shot not so long ago everything changed the instant the gun went off. A split second later the first round had gone into my chest and the second round was on its way.
Newtons third law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction and various Eastern philosophies teach the same lesson but from a different perspective. Whether we are talking physics or philosophy the message is the same.
In this case the reaction to the gun being fired was for me to shoot my assailant in the face with a harpoon ( not the Moby Dick type of harpoon, but one from a sports shop that scuba divers use)
I have no recollection of this and had no idea the person in question had sustained what transpired to be fatal injuries.
Needles to say that the police of the country where all this took place took a dim view of people being shot in the street be it with a hand gun or harpoon.
The investigation was thorough and fair, but it did involve a lot of lawyers of different nationalities and expertise coming and going.
After quite a bit of time a preliminary hearing was set for some legal bod to decide if there was a case to answer and how the whole matter should be dealt with. To cut long story short, they eventually decided that I had acted in self defence, in so far as the assailant who had a history of mental illness had attempted kill me whilst I was on my way to do some snorkelling.
In the process of getting to this point I had several meetings with different UK lawyers who seemed to struggle with my job description. One firm refused to work for me stating they felt what we did was immoral and wrong, even if they could not prove it was illegal. For the record I really admire them for having the backbone and integrity to stick to their beliefs. I have had great leasure in recommending them and their services to people in more conventional situations.
However , I found myself at several meetings where some of these people talked a language I am not really familiar with. Corporate speak. This takes a vast quantity of English words and throws them together in such a ways as to give total and utter bollocks some meaning.
The first rule of corporate speak is never use one word when you can use several.
The second rule is to take clichés, management jargon and sporting metaphors and string them together. The good orators can actually make some sense but most talk pure and utter bollocks.
Fortunately I have got to a point in my ife where I am not embarrassed or afraid to say “Excuse me, I understand the meaning of the individual words you are using, but I have no idea what the fuck you are on about when you string them together to form sentences”.
Eventaully however and old friend from School put me in touch with another school friend who now has a law firm in Manchester.
He may have lost his hair but he had lost none of his simple approach to life and the law.
“Norm, your problem is that you and your business fall outside most business models”
“We are registered UK company and have accountants (bastards), pay tax and national insurance and all that stuff, we even have professional and public liability insurance, how can we not be legal or fit a model” I asked
“Ah well you see governments the world over will take your takes and deductions but it doesn’t mean you are legal and acceptable and until now it has never been a major issue. Now there is an issue, until now I suspect that the individuals and corporations that have paid you to go here and there to resolve issues have written your expenses off as general security or investigations. Furthermore s most of your work is going to be in places most politicians and judges don’t even know exist let alone care about they can turn a blind eye or wash their hands of knowing about it. Unfortunately you have been shot and in return have killed your attacker in a European street and that my friend puts your right in the spot light.”
I could see his point, but it was not my fault I got shot, well not entirely although I could se why I was aguido number 1 for the dead person, but that aside how in our business do you get and stay legal and how can you be acceptable?
“Ah that is a good point and in essence there are two choices. the first is to register your business in a country where you can be licensed or two register in a country where you don’t need to be licensed” He said
“And which is better and what do you recommend?”
“Good question and to be honest I dont know, but I know a man who does, so I will ask him and find out, but I do know that whatever happens” he paused and looked me in the eyes and said quietly ” you will need to undergo corporate restructuring”
He said the words like a doctor telling a client he was terminally ill but it was the reassuring pat of my forearm that told me this could be bad, but at least he told me in real English what was what and didn’t bullshit me when he didn’t know the answer to the difficult question.
The answer of course is baby size. Your baby is that size and everyone elses is sort of fatter or skinnier than yours, but your baby is baby size.
The thing is that you forget just how small they are, or at least I had. The funny thing is, that its not like I have not had any contact with young children or babies, yet I have still been taken aback by the tiny fingers and toes.
I know one thing I am glad I’m not a woman. I hadn’t forgotten that bit, but had not quite remembered what they go through either. Not for me, labour, child birth, milk coming through and the chapped nipples that look like red raw licorice torpedos with the colour half sucked off. Ladies I salute you and am humbeled at your bravery. I really mean that, that is not me taking the piss.
Serious design fault here God. Trying to push a good size oven ready chicken out of such a small opening is no mean feat.
Moving on with tears in my eyes, I should tell you that since my sort of return to domestication and a more regular and normal (ahem) lif, I have on occasions been able to catch up on some viewing. My friends over the years constantly worry about me being out of the telly loop. I do not share their concerns or feel hard done by.
Dr House – hard to take Black Adders artistocratic side kick seriously.
Desperate Housewives – cure for insomnia even if I dont need one.
I have revised my parenting skills with Outnumbered, although I have to say that the ineffectual parents do represent a lot of people I know. I enjoy it apart from the fact it makes me shout at the telly, which is daft, or not, maybe thats the sign of good TV. Of course it could just be that I have lost it.
Strictly cum dancing sounded promising, but the time and the fact that old ladies talk you into a coma about it at any given opportunity should have warned me it was not suitable viewing for a chap of my sensitive disposition.
However I have seen some gems. The IT Crowd has had me chuckling – usually out of context at 3am as I try to feed and change the new offspring. The Big Bang Theory is also highly entertaining, and without wishing to appear sexist, the actress who plays Penny makes me think of breast feeding and the benfits that it gives a child. She also reminds me the benefits breast feeding gives fathers as they cant do it at anytime let alone in the middle of the night and thus remain asleep despite the racket that such a small bundle of arms and legs can make.
However I have really taken to one programme called How I Met Your Mother. Highly amusing all in all, for those of you who have been with this blog since the early days you will no doubt understand that I might have to make something up when asked this question in the future or risk a serious Eastern European beating.
Who’d have thought it tee hee.
Good job she doesn’t read this blog or I would be a deadman.
I would also like to say a very big thank you to all of those of you who emailed me to see if I was OK. It has been a very long long few months. Grated we have made some money and the bills are paid , but there is no such thing as a free lunch.
Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
Sometimes I feel like saying “Lord I just don’t care”
Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
Time after time I think “Oh Lord what’s the use?”
Time after time I think it’s just no good
Sooner or later in life, the things you love you loose
Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
Sometimes I feel like saying “Lord I just don’t care”
But you’ve got the love I need to see me through
See you next week when I hope normal service can get under way.
I just need to take tine out and to get used to being a dad again.
Oh and just for the record, Florence does the song much better than we do.
A firefighter was working on the engine outside the station, when he noticed a little girl nearby in a little red wagon with little ladders hung off the sides, and a garden hose tightly coiled in the middle.
The girl was wearing a firefighters helmet. The wagon was being pulled by her dog and her cat. The firefighter walked over to take a closer look.
‘That sure is a nice fire truck,’ the firefighter said with admiration… ‘Thanks,’ the girl replied. The firefighter looked a little closer. The girl had tied the wagon to her dog’s collar and to the cat’s testicles..
‘Little partner,’ the firefighter said, ‘I don’t want to tell you how to run your rig, but if you were to tie that rope around the cat’s collar, I think you could go faster.’
The little girl replied thoughtfully, ‘You’re probably right, but then I wouldn’t have a siren.’
Please excuse me if this post has slightly more typos than normal, but I am a very tired boy as the result of an urgent job we dealt with which I am pleased to say has had a happy ending.
The media is full of stories of murder an mayhem resulting from people meeting on social networking sites. One in particular seems to be a favourite. Meeting strangers that you have not actually met is always a risky business be it somebody with a sexy voice on the phone to somebody in a chat room or on fartbook or wherever.
However, the internet can actually make it a bit safer than the telephone because with web cams being an almost standard feature on a lot of PCs and net books etc you can see who you are talking to.
The job we have dealt with was a boy meets girl saga and as I said before it has happy ending, but it could have been very different and for awhile gave a few people some anxious moments.
At about 6.30pm on Sunday evening I got a phone call from somebody I had met and given one of my cards to who said that their 14 year old daughter had gone missing from home near Nice and the parents had reason to believe she had gone to Paris to meet a man twice her age could we help.
Of course we could, although I am not sure why they did not ring the police first as really this is their domain, but they did what they did and so did we.
The brief story was that it would seem that she met this bloke on line, chatted for several weeks and then arranged to meet in Paris.
Long story short the girl tells mum she is going to stay with a friend and heads to Paris. Fortunately the friend had not got the text telling her to cover for her and so rang Miss X at home to see if she could go out the next day. Mun answers the phone and says “Err I thought she was with you” Light blue touch paper and stand well back while ma heads into orbit. Which I fully understand.
I was able to get them to calm down and guided them through a search of her bedroom and her computer. I was a bit surprised at the parents reluctance to “Break the bond of trust by violating he privacy” Kin Ada your daughter is missing and you are worried about her privacy. Give me bloody strength. They almost had kittens about accessing her PC “Do you really think we should?” YES MADAM I DO.
Fortunately the PC was not password protected and we quickly established that she had bought her travel tickets and on line and although we did not know exactly where she was staying for sure, there was enough of a trail and clues for us to head for Paris. However there was still the fact that she had been lured away from home by a pervert and was possibly in danger.
One call to Cyclops was ll it took and by 10pm UK time two lads were on a Eurostar from London to Paris whilst I headed North on the TGV.
It was not the best nights kip I have ever had but by 6.30 I was with the others looking at what we had over coffee and croissant.
I wont bore you with the who did what as that is not the point of this post, however we were there for the two love birds first meeting. I think it fair to say it did not go quite as they had planned, actually it almost did not go as we planned it.
At about 10am we were where we thought the meeting was going to take place and indeed there was a very sexy young lady who appeared to be waiting for somebody. The problem was that we weren’t quite sure and she almost fitted the description BUT certainly did NOT look like the photo of a sweet innocent school girl we had been given by mum and dad.
At just after 10am on a cloudy Parisian morning a smiling young man with a shorish black curly hair carrying a lovely bunch of flowers walked confidently towards the girl. They looked at each other smiled big big smiles and leant forward to kiss when we intercpeted loves first kiss.
She was our girl and here was the pervert, although i have to say he didn’t look like a pervert just a normal young bloke who has suddenly found himself in the hands of two gentleman who very discreetly but forceably taken hold of him and clearly meant business and I have to say le looked very frightened and not at all dangerous.
I had a bad feeling about this.
The two parties were seperatedand I quickly established the young lady was the girl we were looking for her story fitted with what we knew and that this was their first meeting. I told her to stay where she was and went to have a word with the child snatcher.
It transpires he was doctor and that they had met on line blah blah blah the story was the same. I told him her age and his face drained of what remaining colour it had. He clearly went weak at the knees as the enormity of the situation it him and he kept saying “No No You’re joking, you have to be Joking” We assured him we were not some new comedy act and that we most certainly were not joking. He then started uttering “Oh my God” over and over. We sat him on a bench as it looked at one point as if he was going to faint.
He calmed down enough to tell us that she had told him that she was 18 and would soon be 19 and had been studying in France as part of a degree course. For her part she just cried and said she was sorry.
It was actually quite sad, him sitting there on a bench in the middle of Paris limply holding the beautiful bunch of flowers and her all dolled up with her cheeks stteaked with mascara.
Paris is not the best place to get a cup of tea in a crisis, but we eventually overcame this little problem and sat them down and sorted out what had happened.
There was nothing sinister. Silly and ill advised maybe but nothing untoward.
It took quite a while for us to get them calmed down, but eventually it was all sorted out with no hard feelings and time for us all to go our separate ways. Instead of tearful lovers kisses that would normally mark a romantic parting they gave each other shy embarrassed smiles and there was one last touch of his sleeve and a sorry and we turned and walked towards the train.
The story just emphasises that it makes good practice to know who you are dealing with. I dont just mean when dealing with people on line but in general. The story of the parking attendant is a variation of the same theme.
If you are going to meet somebody you have met on line (or do any kind of finacial transation with) then I would suggest that you ask for the most basic form of Identity verification and ask to produce and obtain a copy of
Some form of photo ID such as a passport, driving licence or ID card in countries that have them, so you can compare the picture on this document to the person you are talking to. Make sure you keep a copy of this . A video rental card or similar non official document will not suffice.
A bill with their address on. Ideally this is utility bill such as Tax bill, electricity, gas, Telephone land line NOT a mobile phone bill.
When and ONLY when you have these documents and are satisfied that the person on these documents is the same as the personcyou are talking is it OK to move on to arranging the meet.
If the person inquestion won’t or can’t show then treat them with suspicion, because in this day and age of scanners, digital cameras, web cams, skype, MS messenger it is dead easy to do this and there is no reason why somebody cannot provide you with a copy of one of these types of document.
Last but by no means least it is essential that you tell at least one person, but ideally two, the full details of who, where and when you are meeting and arrange a check in time. If you dont ring in they must ring you and if they dont get hold of you then they must alert the authorities.
These are our basic standard operating procedures and they work us and there is no reason they should not work for you and hopefully make things a bit safer for you.
Some time ago we received a request by an organisation to track down a gentleman who had allegedly stolen a considerable amount of money.The communication was notably short on detail and the only contact we had was a mobile number and a gmail email account.
When we did speak to them the clients were vague to say the least and very cagey on how much had been stolen and how the theft had occurred.The combination of the lack of detail and us being somewhat intrigued as to why they had not approached les garcons en bleu we decided to have a nosey and see what was what.
So we contacted them to arrange a meet. They were very cloak and dagger and insisted on the utmost secrecy and we agreed to meet in a cafe in Weston Super Mare. It was a horrid day and the rain was lashing down and I was bloody soaked by the time I got the RV which was a grotty little café.
There were two middle aged men in suites looking very furtive in the corner and they could not have looked more out of place if they had tried. I got myself a cup of tea and went to the table and introduced myself. The two gents looked about them and I wondered if I should break the news to them that the Berlin Wall had come down some years ago and that there was no longer an East and West.
I decided that it would be wasted on them and sat down.
“Well gentleman what can I do for you?
They looked even more furtive.
This is very sensitive said the older man looking very serious.
So I understand which is why I am here I assured him.
We represent .and organisation which has a car park for 150 cars He said tentatively and stopped.
Yes and so?
And 8 coaches added the second chap.
A further silence.Christ this is going to take frigging weeks I thought seriously regretting not sending Cyclops.
It was manned by a very pleasant attendantSilence
Good I am so pleased but what has that got to do with a substantial theft and me
He had a ticket machine
I think you will find that to be fairly standard practice I said getting a little irritable.
They nodded.The older bloke continued Charging cars £1 and coaches £5
Ok do I take it then that this fella has nicked some of the parking money then? I asked trying to speed things a long a bit.
They looked even more sheepish and nodded Well sort of
so why dont you dig his details out from your HR records and hand them to the police or was he shagging the MD or something and is now blackmailing you
The older man blushed I did no such thing he said indignantly Sorry I was speaking metaphorically no offence intended
This parking attendant continued the younger man worked there for 25 years.
An impressive records, shame there arent more people like that I said
Hmmm yes I suppose He agreed half heartedly But you see one day, he just didn’t turn up for work.
So? I said not really following where this was going
Well we thought we had better phone the Council and get them to send a new parking attendant…”
They said the car park was our responsibility”…they went very silent But we told them that was not correct and that the attendant was employed by the City Council
I looked at them He wasnt employed by the council was he?They shook their heads and he obviously wasnt employed by you or you wouldnt have rung the council and we wouldnt be having this chat would we?
They shook their heads and looked very sorry for themselves.
How much does the car ark take per day since he left I asked
In a barely audible whisper the younger man said On average £400 a day based on a 7 day week.
I prodded the calculator on my snappy new Iphone and oohh lala assuming he took£400 per day, 7 days a week for 25 years this amounts to just over £36 million…Fuck me they weren’t lying when they used the word substantial and no wonder they were looking glum, but I couldnt help myself smile.
Its not laughing matter said the older man rather crossly.
Youre right I said and then followed this little lie with a verbal estimate of our fees plus our commission.
The old fella looked rather put out and said You have to be joking I looked at him very intently. Oh no Im not and I just agree it is not a laughing matter.Furthermore I dont take to kindly to being dragged to Weston super Mud on a wet day to have my time wasted. Is that understood
Do you own the land that the car park is situated on?
Yes we do and our organisation has done for over 150 years said the younger man more positively
Right well thats something , so if you want us to get some of your money back you know our fees and we will want as much information about this man that you can give us
They looked embarrassed and the starred at their tea cups
You dont know anything about this man do you?
Err no not really they said
Oh people called him Reg, he had a hip replacement and he had once been a water ski instructor in Spain in about 1970 and we think he had a villa there
I dont know why, but they looked very pleased with themselves at knowing so little about a man who stood on their land for 25 years making a possible £36 Million.
I have to say I sort of admire the bloke’s front, but the story just serves to underline that you should not take things for granted and always check who you are dealing with and make sure you know what is what, because if you don’t you will loose out.
The last couple of days have seen the media focusing on the death of Raoul Moat and it cropped up in conversation yesterday when I was at a barbecue at the Mother in laws.
I was just enjoying a nice cold beer when I focused on the conversation around me. It made me wonder at what the world is coming to as I listened to people who really should know better saying that he police should have allowed family members into the inner cordon to assist in the negotiations. This prompted me to chip in and ask if Mr Plod should have also allowed Gaza in as well with his beers and chicken to give “Moaty” some support. Gazza of course is well know for his calm rational approach to life and is something of an expert on police procedures, albeit in relation to drinking and driving and domestic violence. I also ventured to suggest that maybe they could have got a local caterer to do a cake and all in all they could have had a nice little family gathering with us the tax payer footing the bill. The people looked at me and one chap with very trendy round wire frame glasses who looked like Ben Elton asked me “Are you taking the piss?”
“Duh yes of course I am taking the piss, this was an armed siege not a friggin Moat family get together”
“But even so ” said one lady
“Even so what?” I asked
“The fact that the police used a Tazer cold have caused the man to spasm and shoot himself” she said
“And your point is what exactly. No doubt the police fired the tazer at him in an attempt to bring the situation to a non fatal conclusion.”
“Ah but it didn’t work so they killed him” said the lady triumphantly.
“I have to be honest with you madam, I think the police did cock up, because the truth is that they should have just shot him before the media circus arrived. I can tell you that in every country I know, they would have just popped him as soon as they found him. The story would be this…..We found him, he was armed he had used the weapons already he clearly was not prepared to surrender and thus presented a clear and present danger to the public and the public alike so we shot him”
They looked at me as if I was made of dog shit.
“In every other country in the world nobody would be having this stupid conversation. The fact is Moat was a murderer who chose to resort to cold blooded premeditated violence.” The mother in law had joined us and was beside me listening to the conversation and then said quietly to the other people “I think you are forgetting that this man shot and killed one man, seriously injured a young lady and then carried out a totally unprovoked attack on another.”
“Ah but the third man was a police officer” said Mr Glasses smugly looking and sounding more like Ben Elton by the minute.
“That is immaterial” said the MIL “And the fact that you seem to think it excuses the act shows that you have no sense of decency or reality”
He blushed slightly, but carried on “Oh I know all about reality and crime, I lecture in criminology at XXXX university.”
I Looked at him ” Very impressive, but I bet you don’t teach your students section one of The International Law of The Gun”
“Section one states that If you choose to live by the gun you have to except to die by the gun.”
The trendy lady looked at me and said “Oh and I suppose you are an expert are you?” the group laughed, but in a flash my mother in law had lifted the front of my shirt to show the scar on my chest where the bullets had hit me last year. “As a matter of fact he is” she said. They went quiet for a few seconds and shuffled uncomfortably and looked at their glasses.
Ben Elton looked at me “So you think its OK for the police to have shot this man.
“Actually I do, but the fact you have over looked Mr Criminologist is that they didn’t shoot him, he shot himself. ”
“Ah but if he hadn’t been hit with a tazer he could still be alive”He retorted
“Look a few years ago nobody had Tazers so it would have been bang bang you’re dead straight off. I have to say I expect the officer used the Tazer in the hope the dick head would drop the gun thus saving him a) the need to write a report that would resemble war and peace and b) the ensuing investigation and questioning at the hands of load of office dwellers who have probably never even seen a real gun let alone had to deal with somebody holding one.”
“Oh yes, well that’s all well and good” said trendy lady ” But the police do have Tazers and they did use them and they could have and should have given him more time to make a reasoned decision”
“Reasoned decision? the police negotiated with him for six hours for fucks sake how much time did Moat give his victims, I’ll tell you fuck all”
“Language please Norman” chided the MIL
“Sorry. But all of this situation came about because of Moats decisions. It was his decision to get the gun, his decision to shoot the people he shot. It was his decision to go on the run and his decision not to surrender peacefully. He was a big boy playing in a big boys playground to big boys rules. Don’t make the murdering fucker sound like a victim because he wasn’t and I cannot believe that you even think that”
“They could have….”she said half heartedly
“Could have what? let me ask you do you have children?”
“Yes my eldest in just finishing her second year at University and my son goes up to Oxford the year”
“So how would you feel if Moat had shot your daughter and son”
“Oh you can’t say that, it is not the same thing at all” she said crossly
“Why not, he shot somebody else’s sons and daughter, just because they are not yours does not mean they don’t matter. You know full well that if it had been one of your kids that had been shot by Moat you would be saying why did the the filth waste so much time negotiating with his and they should have popped the fucker earlier”
“How can you be so sure” said the Ben Elton look alike
“Because Einstein people like you bump their gums and come out with wise words when it does not affect them, but they ain’t so philosophical when it is their turn to be touched by these things. I hope it never happens to you but if it does you wont be pontificating about the assailant being a victim, you will want them to suffer or die and when that happens I want you to remember this conversation. I think another beer is in order”
Victim my fat arse.
Live by the gun die by the gun Moat got what he deserved.
I recently fulfilled a longstianding obligation to a young lady who visits this site reguarly.
She wrote to me a long time ago from the USA saying her brother was seriously injured whilst on service with the US Army and she was very concerned about him. I did say I would visit one day if I got the chance and I did finally manage to honour that promise.
The thing about being injured is that to start with it may make the papers and everyone is there for you, but as the days slip by other casualties fill those pages and you slip down the pecking order of importance until you re just some guy being a royal pain the arse holding everyone up.
“Hey fella you got no legs or some gaddamn thing move your arse, we got lives to lead”
“Fuck you ! do you think I would have stopped buying shoes and taken to using this fuckin wheel chair if I still had my legs you numb nut”
To start with there is support and assistance and counselling etc but that only lasts for so long and then you are on your own with of course the various departments of social services to help you.
There are a number of organisations, both in the UK and USA , who do excellent work fund-raising to help support these men and women who have had their lives so irrevocably changed in the the service of their country.
However whilst I applaud these efforts and the assistance they give I have a quaetion to ask.
Why is it necessary?
If you have a contract of employment with your country to fight its wars then in my opinion that country has a contract or duty of care to support you if you are injured in the execution of its policies.
The care and its financisng should not need to be subsidised by individuals.
I do not wish to insult those people who give so much time and make such an effort to help those who have been injured, I just feel that if you go and do the governments fighting then the least that government can do in return is provide sufficient support and assistance from the moment you hit the deck pumping blood to the moment your suffering ends. You should not be pushed from pillar to post and fed bullshit and made to fight tooth and nail for the bare minimum of assistance.
Unfortunately I recently had the misfortune to attend a meeting in London with some corporate go getters.
It is a long story as to why I was there, and to be honest, I had been had over and had been conned into going. I wont bore you with the details, but if you are reading this you bastards I hope you sleep with one eye open.
And exhale and relax.
Any way, What a bunch of knobs they executive were,over three bloody hours of yak and the only bit that made any sense was when they said “Lets take a break”.
I have been fortunate to have missed or should I say ducked and dodged the managerial bullshit that seems to enthral us 24/7. That’s a joke by the way. At this meeting somebody accused me of being a communist because I did not hold with people being pestered whilst on holiday over some trivial bit of bollocks. Nor do I think people should answer calls on their days off or outside business hours. Yes there are times and certain jobs when it happens, but for the most part it is either just crap time/man management or plain stupidity on the part of people who think that work is the be all and end all.
Anyway whilst at this meeting some silly young lady was banging on about “team Players” and the “Team identity” and giving 110% and it made me think of one of those silly round robin things you get in your email.
The more I thought about it the more it made me smile. I was brought to my sense by this young lass saying to me in a very aggressive tone “Have I said something funny surrr?” in a somewhat insolent tone.
It took me an instant to realise that this pubescent bint was addressing me
“Sadly not ” – I replied with some serious restraint
“Why then” she snorted with anger “are you smiling during my presentation.”
It was bad mannered of me I will admit and I suppose if I had been in her position I would have been vexed as well. But I was not in her position, I was in my bum numbing brain deadening position.
I looked at this serious young lady with her wide angry eyes, flared nostrils and blushing cheeks. Did you know by the way that you blush from the nipples up and regrettably this thought filtered into my sexist head. My brain then sent a message to my eyes, which through no fault of mine, homed in on her chest. I know its wrong and I am not proud.
However, it will tell you the level of my boredom when I say that for the first time during this torture session did I realise that she not only had a rather exquisite chest, but it was only just contained in a revealing see through blouse with what looked like very slinky underwear.
I didn’t mean to smile more broadly, but alas I did.
More regret and head hanging on my part.
“What is so funny she bellowed” apoplectic with rage.
I stopped smiling and fixed her with a gamma death stare.
“Regrettably nothing” I said light blue touch paper stand well back
She let rip with a tirade of sound bytes about commitment, professionalism, something else and this and that and then she said if your not prepared to give 110% percent to this organisation then you should really consider if you should be in it.
I hardened my stare and she flushed and then I stood up. Everyone went quiet and looked uncomfortable.
“Well teacher if you have finished, let me start by saying that fortunately I am not a member of this organisation and I thank God for that with all my heart. Secondly, let me tell you something that might help you in the future.”
She was going to say something but decided against it.
“Perhaps young lady you would like to tell us what Makes 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?”
You and your colleagues have banged on about giving more than 100% and infact some have asked for 103%, but do you know what makes up 100% in life?”
And at this point I have to be honest and say I had to dig deep into the old memory to hope I got the witty email right
“Here’s a little mathematical formula that might help you answer these questions”
A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z is represented as: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26., Then H-A -R -D-W-O -R -K is 8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%.“
“K -N -O -W-L -E-D-G-E is 11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96% ,but A-T -T -I -T -U -D-E is
1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%”
The audience approved and I think the young lady appreciated it. I waited for the murmurs to die down. Actually I was hurriedly making sure that I go the rest right, because to be honest I am not the worlds best mathematician, but I had sort of learn this email off by heart, but even so.
“However B -U -L -L -S -H-I -T is 2+21+12+12+19+8+9+20 and that my friends equals 103%. but if you look at A-S -S -K -I -S-S -I -N-G that adds up to a staggering 118%” I have to be honest I couldn’t be arsed giving the individual numbers by this stage
“So, young lady one can conclude with mathematical certainty, that While Hard work and Knowledge will get you closeand Attitude will get you there, its the Bullshit and Ass kissing that will be seen as giving more than 100% and that’s why I was smiling”
Actually the real reason why I was smiling was that the original email concluded with the words “REMEMBER SOME PEOPLE ARE ALIVE SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS ILLEGAL TO SHOOT THEM’ and the wag who had sent it to me had added -OR NOT in your case (allegedly).
I do not envisage a return invite to the corporate ladder.
Actually, on a serious note. I asked if we would get tea and biscuits and they said that there was “no fiscal allocation for light refreshment” It made me ask how much does a cup of tea costs in theses places and to make such a dent in the corporate profit that they could not authorisation a fiscal allocation for such light refreshment.