2 June 2015, 6 pm
When I have finished all the meetings, and some phone calls, and dealt with 1,001 emails – by sending 998 back – I pop home to my London pad. (Does that not sound impressive?) Then I pop out for a meal with my daughter, who is at university in London. Back in the Wess Curntry, this process would take the whole evening. In London, you finish your meal and still have three hours spare to do the grocery shopping and catch a glimpse of Michael Flatley’s bottom. (Should you be that way inclined. Which I am not. I stick to the groceries.) My daughter knows I am not young and carefree. But she also knows I have a credit card. So she is prepared to humour me for a few hours in return for a full stomach and some complimentary alcohol. 3 June 2015, 10 am The emails keep coming. Generally, they wait until I’m in a meeting, and then 47 of them arrive at once so that by the time I come out of the meeting, I am already an hour behind. This morning I have managed to get an hour behind almost before I arrived at CIPA HQ. It seems that everybody wants to copy the Pee on everything they write, presumably because they can then claim that the buck stops with somebody else. There is nothing like a Someone-at-the-Top, however incompetent, to collect other people’s bucks. I put the bucks in a neat pile under the desk I have pinched from Mr Lampert. When the pile is big enough, I will give Mr Lampert his desk back. One of the emails this morning is from Mr Davies. It is about setting up a mentoring scheme. Fantastic, I think, I could do with someone to share my woes with. Probably I could pass them my bucks too. I presume that’s how mentoring works. Apparently Mr Davies is trained in mentoring. But I imagine being mentored by Mr Davies is exhausting. There is only so much enthusiasm you can take before you decide you might actually prefer to be a miserable sod after all.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Archives
July 2019
Categories |