14 November 2017
In a teleconference of IP Inclusive’s new Management Committee, which is in charge of making the task force Proper and Serious, some people say they do not know what is happening in IP Inclusive and it needs to be more transparent. I bite my tongue. Everything we do is covered in the website blog and on Twitter and in the emails I persist in circulating to everyone who told me they were interested. If people do not read these things it is not my fault. Although perhaps it is, because I write such long-winded twaddle that they lose the will to live a third of the way through it. I resist the temptation to say You do not know what is happening in IP Inclusive because it is done by the Pixies while you are asleep, by MAGIC. We all know it is not the Pixies really; it is me. Although on occasions it genuinely is done while I am asleep. As a committee, we now have to decide some very important things about the official aspects of IP Inclusive, which have so far, thanks to me, not existed. For example:
Nobody specifically says I have to do these things on my own. But nor do they suggest any alternatives. I may write long-winded twaddle, and I may do things in too much detail – as I believe the current EyePeePee has said on more than one occasion – but when it comes to IP Inclusive, I am still the only Pixie in town.
0 Comments
12 November 2017
I am supposed to be preparing for my Grand Visit to The Palace, at which I am to be officially OBE-d by whichever member of the royal family drew the short straw. The visit is on Thursday. So it is time I got grown-up and decided what to wear. At moments like this, there is a small child in me who stamps her feet and refuses to do as she is told. I do not want to wear posh shoes; I cannot walk in them. I do not want to wear tights; they are uncomfortable and also insufficiently robust. I do not want to carry a handbag; I do not like handbags. And do not talk to me about fascinators. They are silly. End of. But I have bought a posh frock, and I have gone without chocolate for nearly two weeks in order to fit into the posh frock (because it was bought before I went to France, consumed cheese and wine toute la journée pour amuser maself, and became une poids-lourde), and so it is that with a heavy heart (but a light stomach) I shove into a suitcase the rubbishy things that are supposed to accompany a posh frock. Shoes. Handbag. Tights. Even a fascinator. But because I like to keep my options open, I am also going to take to London: one pair of boots, in case I lose my nerve with the shoes at the last minute (or indeed half-way through); one rucksack (because there is room in a rucksack for all the things I might need at The Palace, such as Red Bull®, snacks, a spare pair of tights and a Sudoku); a hoodie, in case the fascinator looks too silly; and gin, in case I have to throw a tantrum and need sedating. I pad out the corners of the suitcase with straw. There is no particular reason for the straw; it is just habit. 9 November 2017, 6 pm
My last public appearance in London, before I head back to what Mr Davies generously refers to as Oblivion, is at an IP Out event. Two speakers tell us about family law for people who do not want to do families the Proper Way. Apparently UK law has yet to get its head around unconventional parenting practices; it continues to apply its tried and tested legislative codes, based on the premise that a woman gets appended to a husband who thenceforth controls both his wife and his offspring. Luckily, if this proves too awkward, most authorities are prepared to take a more flexible approach, and thus, apparently, can LGBT+ people have families too, even in the UK. The law is more accommodating in the US, apparently, but only if you are rich. As a feminist, I am heartened by any kind of progress in this area. The sooner people accept that not all parents are women, and indeed that not all women are parents, the sooner we can stop deducting 30% from women’s salaries as insurance against nappy-related absences. I commend the organisers for their brave choice of topic. We are in the glitzy London offices of a major international law firm. We are drinking their wine and eating their high-class canapés. But there has been not one mention of intellectual property law. The world is changing. 9 November 2017, 2.30 pm
It is a while since I last visited Mr Bader, and therefore lovely to see him again. Mr Bader is the Chief Eggsek of CITMA, like Mr Davies is the Chief Eggsek of CIPA, although there the similarity ends. For example, Mr Bader has never been seen at a conference in comedy shoes. I have brought Mr Bader some chocolates to say thank you for opening the IP Inclusive bank account, something which many of us had been trying and failing to do for almost longer than IP Inclusive has existed. I have also brought him the magnificent glass trophy that IP Inclusive received in March. I say: Here you are; put it on display at your place for a bit; I am scared we are going to lose it if it stays at CIPA. Only be careful, I say, because it collects dust. Well, it did in my house anyway. Mr Bader smiles politely and puts the trophy and chocolates to one side so that we can talk Important Business Matters. Mainly the Important Business Matters are to do with the wacky plans for a Careers in Ideas reception. Mr Bader thinks this is a good idea and he might be prepared to give me some money towards it. But he makes it clear that if I want help with the wacky plans I am on my own, because he and his staff are too busy with important trade mark stuff and they do not have time for wackiness. He says: I do know a man who might be able to help you, though. He is very good at wackiness. He has made a career of it. I say: You mean Mr Davies? Mr Bader goes quiet. 9 November 2017, 11 am
Unroiled after a good night’s sleep, I attend a meeting in a Virtual Office. Or perhaps I mean a Metaphoric Office. Or even a Pretend Office. Whatever. The Pretend Office looks just like a coffee shop from the outside, but you can tell it is an office because the people inside have clearly been there all morning; they have picked their seats, plugged in their laptops and set up their desk tidies and family photographs alongside their coffees, and they are not going to move until they have held three meetings and answered all their emails. My meeting is with two lovely HR consultants and a cappuccino. After I have tripped over their laptop cables a few times on my way to and from the coffee-dispensing part of the Pretend Office, they sit me down in a corner and talk nicely to me about how they can help IP Inclusive. One of the things they are going to help with is a talk about workplace banter and harassment. This is obviously very topical right now, as 50% of Westminster is in the process of being found out for turning workplace harassment into a form of compulsory CPD for junior staff members, particularly female junior staff members with provocatively-shaped body parts and no sense of humour. We want to make sure the IP professions are not like that. They tell me all sorts of stories about workplace banter going wrong. This is humbling. I am keen on a bit of banter myself, and often I am guilty of assuming that everyone else will be as thick-skinned (for which read emotionally incompetent) as I am and not be upset by the banter. But it turns out that often people are upset by banter, even if they do not say so because you will not let them get a word in edgeways and anyway because you would laugh at them if they did. I resolve to be more careful from now on. But I also resolve that the next time someone teases me for drinking Red Bull®, or shedding straw, or wearing boots wherever I go, I will punch them. 8 November 2017, 7 pm
Finally, I join an old college friend at a solicitors’ drinks reception. It is being held in a hot, dark basement room which is possibly the closest I have come to the real actual centre of the earth for some time. Apart from when the EyeEyePeePee and I went out for comedy cocktails and accidentally ended up with a custard cream each. My friend and I try manfully (or more accurately, womanfully) to exchange news and family updates above the noise of two hundred solicitors networking their way to the centre of the earth. After twenty minutes or so, I have pretty much lost my voice. I decide it is time to head back to the flat and I stumble inelegantly towards the outside world, ejected like lava from a roiling volcano. 8 November 2017, 4 pm
On I go to the IP Inclusive workshop on unconscious bias. Of course, as I have mentioned a few times before, we do not have unconscious bias in the IP professions. However, a few people have nevertheless turned up to learn about it. For a friend. All I have to do at the workshop is welcome everyone at the beginning and say goodbye at the end. In between these dazzling displays of expertise, some very compelling speakers and facilitators ensure that the delegates undergo a bit of useful training. First up, an exercise about stereotyping and implicit assumptions. “Here is Dominic,” says Ben, “He works with me at the IPO. Now you have to guess some things about him, just by looking at him.” Dominic squares his shoulders bravely. Says Ben: “What car does Dominic drive?” There is unanimous agreement that Dominic drives a Mondeo®. Dominic does not look happy about this. Next: “What newspaper does Dominic read?” Again unanimous: Dominic reads The Guardian®. Then: “What is his favourite food?” Fish and chips. It is an odd kind of picture we are building of Dominic. Later, Dominic puts us all right about his reading habits, his holiday destinations and his culinary preferences. But most of all, he puts us right about his car. And at ten-minute intervals during the remainder of the event, he continues to remind us that he is not really Mondeo Man. He is clearly pretty cut-up about this. The irony is, I think to myself, that Dominic would not mind being labelled a Mondeo driver, were it not for the assumptions and stereotypes he associates with owning this particular form of transport. So we have revealed not only our own biases in categorising Dominic, but also Dominic’s biases in responding thereto. After the talks, we split the delegates into groups and facilitate them into discussing things. Then we facilitate the bringing together of the results of the facilitated discussions, which is called a Plenary Session. Dominic says he will write up the Key Outcomes of the Plenary Session, to create an unconscious bias Toolkit for us. We will share this Toolkit with everyone else in IP Inclusive. Because everybody loves a good Toolkit. “But I will not include the bits about the Mondeo,” Dominic points out. He is still smarting. The facilitated Plenary Session is followed by some facilitated standing around chatting, which is called a Networking Opportunity. There is far more food and drink than any of us can eat, particularly since we are talking too much – which I take to be a good sign. Some of the food is extremely fancy, and apparently designed to test our unconscious biases to the limit, for instance the bias about not eating strawberries that are bright green in colour: it turns out that our biases were misplaced, because the bright green strawberries are pickled strawberries (of course! Dur!) and perfectly edible if you close your eyes and think of gherkins. Who knew? 8 November 2017, 2 pm
I meet with some people to invent wacky plans for a Careers in Ideas event. This would have been a launch event if we had organised it in time for the launch, but we did not, so now it is simply going to be an Event. The wacky plans involve interactive panel discussions about how to make best use of the Careers in Ideas resources. They involve putting Careers in Ideas posters up around the room. They involve many guests, both IP professionals and also people who have never heard of IP professionals, like teachers and careers advisers. They involve exhibition stands where the people who have not can learn from the people who are. And they involve – because everything I organise does – the provision of refreshments, loosely disguised as a Networking Opportunity. Mr Davies has already said we should hold this event in Parliament, because after all our plans are not yet wacky enough and we fancy an additional challenge or two. Personally I think a small conference hall would be better, and anyway once Mr Davies finds out I have been messing with his desk, we are likely to have to make do with a village hall in the suburbs. 8 November 2017, 9 am
I arrive early in London and dump my suitcase at the flat that my kindly friend is still letting me borrow. He is looking for a polite way to ask me to give the keys back please. From there, I head into CIPA to do a bit of work. I sit at Mr Davies’s desk. The others tell me to. Only later does it emerge that Mr Davies hates other people sitting at his desk and moving his stuff around, and now he is going to be Livid with me. The others are going to find that very entertaining. It is a momentous morning, in more ways than one. For a start, Twitter® has switched to allowing 280 characters per tweet instead of 140. I am proud of myself because amazingly, due to spending the early hours of the morning on a train, I found out about this before Mr Lampert, who is supposed to be our Chief Shouty and Twittery Person. There is of course outcry among the Twitter-using community, who are now going to have to put more punctuation in their tweets simply to pad them out!!!!!!!!! I quietly get on and make use of the new verbal laxity to tweet rambling and largely incoherent messages about the workshop I am running this afternoon. The second momentous thing to happen is that our super new IP Inclusive business cards have arrived. These new cards are printed on both sides so that they cannot be appropriated for shopping lists or phone numbers or coded messages between conference delegates. On one side they say IP Inclusive and on the other they say Careers in Ideas. In both cases the business cards are about the most properly official things we possess, apart from the bank account that we have at long last – thanks to Mr Bader at CITMA – acquired for the money we do not have. Before I leave CIPA, I make sure to leave lunch crumbs all over Mr Davies’s desk, to turn his phone charger round and to move his pen to a different position. By the time he finds out, I will be safely out of reach. 1 November 2017, 2.30 pm
How exciting! A potential new member has turned up at today’s Council meeting, to see what it is like. LOL. We are all on our best behaviour, to make sure she does not find out what it is like until it is too late and Mr Davies has signed her up for the year. This is the nearest we may get to undergoing an Ofsted inspection and we do not want to embarrass ourselves. The new Pee, who is almost as fierce at chairing as I was, tries to ensure a sprightly romp through the agenda, without the usual repetitions and deviations. He succeeds in one respect, in that he reaches the end of the agenda in record time, but not in another, because several other people in the room are still discussing item 4. Amazingly, instead of being put off by the first thirty minutes, our potential recruit says she wants to continue. I find myself wondering whether she is really a spy, but this is unduly cynical of me and in any case, there is nothing worth spying on in a CIPA Council meeting, unless you enjoy watching paint dry grumpily. So our new recruit is immediately co-opted onto Council (there being a couple of vacancies following the recent election-that-was-not-an-election), there and then, before she can change her mind. It is amazing how rapid the CIPA procedures can be when we put our minds to it. Thus do we have yet another patent attorneyette on Council, which gives me a very warm feeling inside. The male versions are particularly well-behaved today as the news has been breaking about sexual harassment in Westminster and it is becoming clear that being a sleaze-bag, or even hinting at potentially being a sleaze-bag (for example in the pub afterwards), is no longer acceptable. Anyway, no one needs to go to the pub afterwards, because the CIPA wine store has been supplemented by most elegant-looking whisky, brandy and gin bottles. Mr Davies has been doing his stuff. He gives me a dark look and says No, I am not allowed to start on the gin during the Council meeting. I ask you! What is the point having the stuff if you are not going to drink it at the time when you need it the most? |
Archives
July 2019
Categories |