19 May 2015 It is my first full day as CIPA President. I am so excited. I cannot wait to start walking the Corridors of Power, even if there is only one of them at CIPA. So I get to 95 Chancery Lane nice and early, and pretend that it is the Biscuit Pixies’ fault that I have arrived with two large boxes of celebratory chocolate things in tow. No sooner have I found myself a desk to sit at, than Mr Lampert, our Chief Shouty Person, comes running in shouting: “Can you do me a quick statement for a press release? And some words for the whizzy e-newsletter? And by the way I am off on holiday at 2 pm so from 11.30 onwards I will no longer care what you write anyway.”
Oh. It occurs to me that both the Chief Shouty Person and the Pee-to-Be should, in the circumstances, have been able to predict that press releases might be needed on this particular morning, and that they would need to be finished before the Chief Shouty Person downed tools and wandered off into a Caribbean sunset. But we didn’t. So I abandon the things I was planning to do and draft some Presidential words instead. And then we email them to some journalists, who remove all but the bits that sound stupid and publish them backwards with their own headings attached. For the rest of the day – when I am not walking up and down the Corridor of Power – I sit next to Unlucky Gary and answer emails and make plans, and draft documents about the plans, and generally keep busy making not the slightest bit of difference to anyone’s life. On my agenda: the next EPO oral proceedings workshop, and what we are going to have for lunch there; the new network of regional representatives; the breakfast meeting about diversity and flaky pastries; the diversity task force (da-da-da-DA!!!) and what we are going to call ourselves (The Diversibles, perhaps?); how CIPA can do more for its retired members (who cornered me after the AGM last night and told me off for not caring about them enough); the agenda for the first Council meeting I chair, which may also be the last Council meeting I chair; what I am going to say to the committee leaders when they come to the meeting I have summoned tomorrow and ask what the hell I am playing at; and how to organise lots of meetings with influential people, without Spreadsheet Spurgeon noticing that all said meetings revolve around food and drink. I send about two thousand emails. I write five lists of things I need to do, précis three of them, and draft another of the lists I still need to write. I update two calendars and a paperback diary. And I even get to sign some Presidential letters, which are to the new Cabinet ministers who have recently been reshuffled and ended up in IP-related roles. The letters say: Welcome! We are CIPA and we know all about IP being good for the Economy and the UPC being good for the UK, perhaps, although obviously not if we vote to leave the EU, in which case everything goes a little bit haywire on the IP front, but until then we are happy to meet with you and tell you about Article 123 EPC. I notice that Unlucky Gary gets loads done but he also sighs a lot. I hope this is not because of me.
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