25 January 2016, 2 pm
Spreadsheet Spurgeon and I have set aside a happy hour or two to go through the accounts for the 2015 Congress. This turns into a mystifying exercise, even for Spurgeon who understands money. It appears that at the heart of the Congress Hotel’s invoicing system there sits a massive random number generator, and a bloke with a creative writing degree who didn’t quite make it in creative writing. Between them they have concocted a string of made-up things that the hotel might have wanted to charge us for, multiplied by delegate numbers they sort-of felt looked appropriate, on dates they seem to remember having been open for business. What is this “dinner bev” figure? I ask Spreadsheet Spurgeon. He says perhaps that is the alcohol we consumed at the Congress dinner. I say if we drank that much alcohol we would still be sobering up now. He looks at me a little strangely, but lets the moment pass. Perhaps what I should have asked is: how many of the hotel staff were legless under the dinner tables after we left?
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